Clint:
Tuesday was always pizza night.
Natasha ordered; a large stuffed-crust Meat Lovers' for her, a small thin-crust veggie for Coulson, two large pepperonis for Bruce, and a medium thin-crust broccoli-covered one for Clint.
Bird's gotta eat.
Natasha would dig in crust-first.
"Angela Anaconda used to eat like that…" Clint would caution when Nat came up for air, sometime between her second and fifth piece. She would glare at him, cheese hanging from her mouth, and then she'd open up her full mouth to show him the food inside.
Clint would always chuckle and reach for another slice of what Natasha called "herbi-hurl pizza."
Coulson would smile down at his plate, cutting another small piece, always careful not to get any pizza sauce, cheese, or toppings on his suit.
Bruce would scarf his first pizza and be midway through his second before he'd sheepishly offer a slice to the others. They would always decline with their mouths full and Bruce would silently finish his pies.
Occasionally, Tony would snag a slice of Bruce's or Clint's pizzas – never Coulson's or Natasha's because Coulson's was sacred and small – "Peasant food," Tony called it – and Natasha was lethal enough without adding hungry to the mix. Steve would always ask before receiving and Thor would crash the party about once a month, forcing the entire tower to get most of Pizza Hut's carry-out orders.
But most of the time, it was just Phil, Nat, Clint, and Bruce.
And that's how they liked their days off.
The next day, Nat would slug Clint in the shoulder and moan to him how she shouldn't have eaten the entire pizza and wailing that he should have stopped her before spending the next two hours kicking ass at the S.H.I.E.L.D. gym.
Clint would grin, grab his quiver, and wink at Bruce in his lab, who would let out a soft, pepperoni-scented burp followed by a softer "Excuse me."
Around noon, Coulson would call down to Clint, Nat, and Bruce for their dinner orders.
Because Wednesday was always Chinese food night.