Entry #26: Manhattan [or, "Captain America and the Dangerous Household Appliance"]

Natasha was sitting anxiously by the window, clutching her cell phone and waiting for Clint to pull into the driveway. There was no telling what had happened in the Bellavia Salon. She could only hope that Clint would walk through the door in one piece, and Loki would follow close behind sporting a crewcut (or at least a serious trim job).

Several more moments passed in silence.

And then Natasha heard a loud bang in the kitchen—like the sound made by frying pans clinking together in the cupboard.

Alarmed, Nat got up and marched into Clint's kitchen. Her brow deeply furrowed when she saw Steve Rogers bent over and rummaging around in the drawers.

"Cap?"

Steve straightened instantly and whirled around to see Natasha standing in the doorway. He was holding an open cookbook in one hand. "Yes, Miss Romanoff?"

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to make fudge-mint brownies," he confessed. "I found the recipe in this book, and Clint had marked it as a favorite, so…"

"Steve. Can you cook?"

Steve glanced down at the old, greasy cookbook, looking a little disappointed. "Well, sort of. I know how to make pancakes!"

Natasha sighed and started to leave. "Alright, but promise to call me if you need any help?"

The captain immediately brightened. "Of course! But I'm sure I can handle this by myself, Miss Romanoff."

"For Clint's sake, I really hope so," Natasha warned him. "He's had a very stressful weekend."

Steve saluted. "You don't have to worry about a thing. This looks very easy. I'm sure I can make these brownies."

Natasha resisted the urge to roll her eyes and stalked toward her post by the window. She hoped Clint got home soon. Tony had already re-programmed his computer twice and installed JARVIS, accidentally blown a breaker three times (although to his credit he had gone to the breaker box in the pantry and reset the power for the house), and somehow managed to reset the alarm on Clint's clock to say, "Good morning, demigod-sitter. Welcome back to reality."

Dr. Banner had mostly laid low all morning, although he had politely requested the use of Clint's laptop once or twice.

Back in the kitchen, Steve had gotten out a mixing bowl and most of the ingredients listed on the page. He couldn't find any milk, so he used coffee creamer instead. Unfortunately, pumpkin flavor was the only kind available. But pumpkins were tasty, right?

When he got to the part that read, "Use a mixer to blend ingredients," he stopped and thought for a moment. Why use a hand-mixer? Steve had seen a few electric mixers in his day, but he'd never had the opportunity to use one. Clint had pulled out a sleek, modern electric mixer the previous night in order to make a batch of chocolate-chip cookie dough. Thor had eaten the whole thing before the dough had a chance to become actual cookies, however.

Steve had never really been much for cooking, but he'd always wanted to try one of those neat electric mixers. Smiling broadly, Steve plugged in the mixer and set it down on the counter for later use.

Then he began dumping the ingredients into the large glass bowl.

Natasha was still sitting by the window, staring at the driveway.

…and then Clint's sports car pulled up.

Leaping from the chair, Natasha sprinted to the door and hurriedly punched in the combination, blurting out some random nonsense to appease the voice-print monitor. When the lock finally clicked, Nat flung the door open.

Two men were standing on the front porch… one of them considerably taller than the other. The taller man was pale, grim, and held a balloon in one hand. The shorter man held about twenty more balloons, all of them bobbing above his head in a giant cloud.

Natasha was extremely disappointed to see that Loki's hair was still the exact same length and style, complete with the annoying bird-perch-like layering effect in the back. "…I'm guessing the appointment was canceled?"

Clint stalked in, releasing the balloons once he reached the living room. They all floated up to the ceiling. "Something like that," he growled. "I need caffeine. Now."

Before he could enter the kitchen, Natasha remembered that Steve wanted to surprise Clint, and grabbed his sleeve. "Umm… no, I think you need to sit down. I'll get you a root beer, okay?"

Clint gave Natasha an eyeroll. "Please, Nat, don't try that 'Miss Goody-Two-Shoes' stuff on me. Not after what you put me through today."

Nat flashed him an innocent look. "Whatever do you mean?"

Clint turned his Wide-Eyed-Stare-of-Incredulity on Natasha. "What do you MEAN 'what do you mean'?!" he accused. "I did what you told me to—against my better judgment—and took the big galoot to the Bellavia Salon! Our exit was less than dignified, and on top of that I'll probably face charges for theft, since Loki walked out with that purple leopard-print whatsit…"

Loki said nothing (he was still trying to figure out whether "big galoot" was an insult) but Nat sighed and reached out to hug Clint. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Clint pulled away, brushed off his jacket and resumed his march to the kitchen. "You're darned right it won't."

"Wait, Clint—"

Suddenly a very loud electronic buzz came from the kitchen, and then a shout, followed by loud coughing.

Clint sprinted into the kitchen, fearing the worst. Nat and Loki were close behind.

The sight that greeted him was so extremely bizarre that Clint had to perform three double-takes in a row before it actually registered.

Steve was standing by the counter, holding Clint's brand-new mixer at arm's length. It was stuffed down in the glass bowl and spinning on high-speed. A deadly mixture of sugar, baking powder, and all-purpose flour was forming a thick dust storm in the kitchen.

The two egg yolks and one-and-a-half cups of coffee creamer were sitting peacefully in a little bowl to one side. Obviously Steve had gotten the idea that it would be somehow beneficial to mix the dry ingredients separately. Or maybe he just wanted to experience a snow-storm in the middle of July. His motives were not entirely clear at this point.

Steve turned around in time to see Clint's jaw drop five feet to the floor, and Nat and Loki standing on either side of him with similar looks of disbelief.

"OH, CLINT!" Steve shouted to make himself heard above the whirling mixer. "YOU'RE BACK SO SOON!" His eyes were nearly as round as Clint's. "I'M NOT QUITE SURE I'M DOING THIS RIGHT, AND THE SWITCH IS STUCK! COULD YOU—?"

Steve tried to turn to face Clint, but the rotating mixer caught on the bowl and the whole thing crashed to the kitchen floor in a poof of flour. All at once, the spinning dervish that was Clint's new mixer was aimed directly at the three of them, since Steve was holding the out-of-control appliance as far away from his body as possible.

Loki immediately took this as a threat and—grabbing the biggest weapon currently available (Clint's iron skillet)—sprang forward with a savage battle cry. Steve dropped it in a flash, leaping out of the way with remarkable reflexes as Loki proceeded to beat the stuffing out of the mixer. Nat dove for the cord and unplugged the appliance from the electrical outlet (which had started sparking).

Even after the vile machine had ceased whirring, the demigod continued to demolish his perceived enemy. Only when it was lying on the floor in unrecognizable pieces did he step back, still holding the skillet in a defensive position.

Clint did nothing. He did not even move from his spot by the door. He just stared blankly at the mess-that-may-or-may-not-have-been-his-kitchen-at-one-point.

Steve looked close to tears. "I—I was trying to make fudge-mint brownies…. I wanted to surprise you."

Nat stepped over the remains of Clint's mixer to stand next to Steve. She patted him on the back. "Don't worry, Steve," she sighed. "I'm pretty sure he's surprised."

I do so love making fun of men in the kitchen - even though I happen know quite a few men who can cook better than me! Clint Barton included, no doubt. He's quite the homemaker...

Please take a few seconds to leave a review; they encourage me. ;)

~Alassiel