Actions

Work Header

Laundry Loads of Self-Preservation

Work Text:


“Now this is a sight I never thought I'd see. The great assassin Hawkeye does his own laundry.”

Clint tensed at the sound of that voice. He didn't know what he'd done to get on Eastman's bad side—sometimes he thought it was because Coulson recruited him, sometimes he figured the guy didn't like anyone, and sometimes he knew it was because he'd pulled a lot of pranks on the man since he joined S.H.I.E.L.D.

“You want me to make a comment about how laundry is a good way to kill someone?” Clint asked, leaning against the machine and folding his arms over his chest. “We've got water. We've got soap. We've got deadly machinery. I think you could die in here any number of ways. You want to push it?”

Eastman grunted. “S.H.I.E.L.D. has a dry cleaning service. You're not a hero for doing your own laundry. What is it? Can't stand to be even that much of a team player, can you?”

“Doing my own laundry is self-preservation.”

“Because everyone hates you.”

“More like because if I don't, Natasha will take all of my shirts again,” Clint said, not sure where she managed to hide them because every time he went looking for where his partner had stashed his latest favorite shirt, he got nowhere. If he wanted to keep any of the ones he liked, he needed to do his own laundry.

“You're not much of a man if you can't keep one woman from taking your clothes.”

Clint started to say something, but Natasha beat him there with a bit of Russian. Eastman gave her a dark look as he left the room. Clint shook his head. “You didn't have to rescue me. I was handling it. Just like I handle my own laundry. I'm a big grown man.”

“I know,” she said. “I told him that.”

“That was Russian for real men do their own laundry?”

“No, it was Russian for at least it's more of a challenge when you do your own laundry,” she said, and he was still frowning when she reached around him and grabbed his S.H.I.E.L.D. academy tee from the laundry basket. She smirked as she walked away.

Clint grumbled to himself as he turned back to the washing machine. This should mean war.

It probably would if she ever figured out he was letting her take the shirts.