A/N: I had a few ideas running around in my head about some one-shots that I hadn't seen before. Some of them are funny, some aren't, but I write them anyway because I think I'll enjoy them. There's no time order to these, and while I know that a lot of these stories may not be quite canon, you've just got to raise your suspension of disbelief. Most of the stories are Steve, Natasha, and Clint-centered, and there's a Natasha/Steve relationship to most of them.

Please read and review! Also, please excuse any mistakes I didn't find; I often find that I read what I intend to have written rather than what I actually wrote.

Enjoy (or at least try to)!

I own nothing!


Steve, Tony, Thor, Bruce, and Clint were gathered around the kitchen table, tacos in hand and a couple of beers cracked; even Steve, who couldn't get drunk, had already downed two bottles. It was just after one o'clock, and the sun poured in through the windows of the tower, bathing the team in a warm afternoon light. Steve sat in silence, observing his teammates and enjoying their communal day off. With two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, one scientist, an Asgardian god, Tony Stark, and Steve Rogers (a so-called "independent contractor" for S.H.I.E.L.D.), the days where they all shared breaks from work were few and far between. It was nice, Steve thought, being together as friends rather than a task force in the battlefield.

Steve took another quick swig of his beer when, suddenly, a blood-curdling scream erupted from the direction of the bathroom, the door practically vibrating from the pounding of the high-pitched sound waves.

"What the Hell was that?" Clint asked.

"I don't know, man. Sounded like Natahsa," replied Tony.

"Natasha? No, she doesn't do that. Couldn't have been her," Clint assured.

"Oh really," says a low, accusatory voice from the bathroom. Everyone stopped, and then the door burst open, Natasha stepping out with a murderous look on her face. "I need one of you to go get me tampons. NOW."

Steve froze, stopping himself as his teeth sunk into the taco with an echoing crunch. His mouth was still pressed against the hard shell when a stray piece of lettuce fell from the end of the taco, impacting the table with a soft thud that could be heard throughout the room due to the silence created by the one and only Natasha Romanoff.

"Excuse me?" Bruce practically gasped.

"Unless one of you ladies has an extra stash somewhere, I need you to go get me a box of tampons."

"Can't you borrow some of Pepper's?" asked Tony.

"I just used the last of hers," Natasha snarled in disgust at the memory of Pepper's light flow tampons, the bitch. Natasha had to use two at once just to slow the flow.

"I must return to Asgard," announced Thor a bit too quickly. He stood up, toppling the chair behind him before rushing out the door.

"Oh, look at the time. My tests are almost done." Bruce practically ran out of the room, followed by Clint, who didn't say a word.

"Pepper's calling. I have to take this." Tony brought the phone up to his face despite the phone not ringing. He exited the dining room in a dash, leaving a Natasha with an anxious and speechless Steve, taco still in hand.

"Looks like you're the only one left, Rogers," Natasha mused. "Kotex. And make sure you pick up some Midol for my cramps."

Natasha stormed back to the bathroom before calling back to Steve, who was still frozen in his seat, eyes wide and mouth agape. "Now, Rogers! The dam's about to break!"


Steve stared at the shelf in front of him, overwhelmed by the dozens of different brands and styles with so many different colors. His motorcycle helmet was tucked under one arm of his brown, worn leather jacket. Several women walked by him, quietly snickering at how the man furrowed his brow at the selection in front of him. He was fairly sure one of them made an "aww" noise, and he was positive he heard one woman whisper to her friend how "cute" it was for a "big, masculine guy to buy his girlfriend feminine products." Steve, however, just wanted to slump into a deep, dark hole at all the attention he was receiving.

Finally, he gave up, practically throwing his arms up in frustration before pulling out his phone. He flipped it open a bit more violently than he intended, scrolling through the 7 contacts he had before finding Natasha and pressing the green call button.

"Hello," a voice answered after several rings. Something about the voice echoed, and Steve realized she must have still been in the bathroom.

"Tasha," he whispered. He turned his head to see if anyone was listening in on the conversation. "I don't know what I'm doing here. Are you..." he picked up the nearest two boxes, comparing the brand names and descriptions. "Intermediate or heavy flow?"

"Neither of those are going to stop Niagara Falls, Rogers. I need ultimate flow protection."

Steve was about to ask her where he could find that when he heard the distinct ringing of a dial tone. She had hung up on him. It was so dramatic; it was so Natasha. Sighing in frustration, Steve reached forward and grabbed an armful of the closest boxes to him.

"That time of the month, eh?" the older man at the counter asked, a knowing smirk on his face as he picked up the first of eight boxes of tampons. "Girlfriend?"

"Something like that," Steve murmured. He stood in silence for a moment before reaching over, picking up a box of chocolates from the nearest shelf, and haphazardly tossing it on the conveyor belt. The cashier's grin widened.

"Those usually keep them satisfied."

"What?"

"The chocolates, kid. Women love them."

"Oh, well... Yeah." He had actually bought them for himself, but now that he thought about it, of course Natasha would have devoured them all anyway.

"How about some roses?"

"No thanks." Natasha would probably burn them.

"Some ice cream?"

"Already have it." If there was any left.

"Midol?"

The second item Natasha had made him come for. "...Shit."


The ride back to the tower was interesting, to say the least. The clear, so-called earth-friendly bag dangled from his elbow, revealing its contents to anyone who happened to look over. Several young men shouted at him, commenting on his purchase as his motorcycle thundered past them until the bag decided to break, dropping its contents into the middle of a busy intersection.

"Mom, that man just dropped a bunch of boxes of tampons!" Steve heard the little girl's snickering over the sound of his bike's engine.

He quickly hopped off the bike, scrambling to gather the boxes from the pavement as the thundering of horns filled his ears. He tucked as many as he could into his jacket, zipping it up until he looked like a burnt marshmallow. He grabbed the remaining two boxes, tucked them under his arm, and rode off on his bike at a dangerous pace.


"What is this shit?" Natasha snapped before taking all of the boxes Steve had set on the table and throwing them all off in a fury. "I said ultimate flow!"

"And what's this?!" she picked up one particular box, crushing the cardboard with her fist. "Do I look like I have a wide-set vagina?!"

"Uhh... I-I don't know," Steve flustered.

"Go back and get me what I asked for!"

"I'm sorry, Natasha," Steve frantically yelled as he was running toward the elevator, ears and cheeks red.


"Depends, Steve? Are you kidding me?!" Natasha picked up the box of adult diapers and whipped it at Steve's head, the man ducking as it whizzed by his cheek.

"Be back soon!" he hollered without daring to look back, already in the elevator.


Natasha squinted at the box in front of her face. "Organic?"

Steve prepared himself for the onslaught of boxes, flinching when she moved the box to take a closer look.

"I'll go back."


When Steve returned for the fourth time, Natasha was not waiting for him in the living room. He cautiously made his way around the common floor, searching for her. Just as he was about to give up, he heard a low, primal grunting coming from the staff bathroom. He made his way to the door when a deafening shriek exploded from the bathroom. Steve jumped back in surprise, stunned.

"Natasha?" Steve knocked on the door. "I'm back. I got pads this time."

"Steven Grant Rogers," she growled at him.

"Natasha?"

"I tried the organic ones." Just then, the door opened, revealing Natasha, dressed in loose, grey sweatpants and a white tank top. "The string broke when I tried to pull it out."

"S-so...?"

"So what do you propose we do, Captain?"

"We?" he practically squealed. She narrowed her eyes and advanced on him.

"Yes, we. You bought them. You're deep into this as I am. Get in here," she motioned to the bathroom behind ehr.

Steve's eyes were practically bulging out of their skull, and he took a wary step back as Natasha took another one forward. Her mouth slightly curved upward as her eyebrow rose, and before she knew he was even moving, Steve was gone, the only evidence he was there being the change in air pressure from his escape. "I think we should start to call you Captain Gullible," Natasha said to herself before retreating back into the bathroom.