February 6: Netflix and Chill
(Steve/Tony, Toasterverse. All of these can be found under Sci's Fluffuary)
“You know, you don’t have to eat oatmeal anymore.”
Steve set his bowl on the table before he slid into his seat. “When did they repeal that law?” he asked, the faintest hint of a smile hovering around his lips.
“When the Oat Farmers of America were finally defeated in the war of 1983,” Clint said, stabbing his spoon in Steve’s direction. “Seriously. I know you didn’t have a choice in the thirties, but we have options now. Things that don’t taste like wallpaper paste mixed with a sprinkling of dirt.”
“Clint, you’re eating Cocoa Puffs,” Natasha said from her spot at the counter. She took a bite of her whole wheat toast and honey as the blender whirred away merrily next to her. “At least what’s in Steve’s bowl counts as food.”
“Legally?” Clint held up his bowl. “This is a food product.”
“Safe for human consumption in limited quantities," Phil said, sipping his coffee.
“Exactly.” Clint dropped it back to the tabletop. “At least it’s not cardboard on step 3 of 5 of the recycling process. Damp and slightly slimy.”
“I don’t always eat oatmeal,” Steve said, giving his bowl a quick stir. “But I do like the stuff.” He considered his spoon, eyebrows arched. “It’s comforting. And filling.”
“Yes, but you can put things on it now,” Clint said, around a mouthful of cereal. “Like, y’know, brown sugar. Or chocolate chips.”
“Or fruit?” Nat suggested.
“Insanity,” Phil said, his voice utterly deadpan.
“I put cinnamon on there,” Steve said. “And walnuts. Extra crunch.”
“You should try overnight oats,” Nat told him. The blender clicked off, and she reached for her cup. “It’s a game changer.”
“I don’t know how I feel about cold oatmeal,” Steve said. He made a face. “No, actually, I do. Cold oatmeal is a punishment, not a meal. At least not a voluntary one.”
Nat smiled. “Point taken.” She set the blender pitcher back on the base and headed for the table.
Phil gestured at her toast. “There’s peach ginger jelly in the fridge.”
“Strongly considering that for lunch.” She sat down with a ghost of a wince. “If I live that long.”
“No dying,” Clint told her, trying to sound stern.
She flipped him off. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Barton.” Still, she was smiling as she put a foot up on an empty chair. “I wasn’t the one who ended up in medical.”
“Again,” Phil mumbled into his coffee cup.
Clint threw up a double V-for-victory sign, leaning back in his chair. “Busted myself right back out again, too.”
Steve’s eyes bounced between the two of them. “Do we need to go back to medical?” he asked, and his tone made it clear this was not a joke.
“No, Cap,” Nat said. She took a long sip from her smoothie. “I just need about 48 hours where we don’t have to deal with-” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “Anything.”
“Let’s just take the phone off the hook, let the X-Men deal with everything for a couple of days,” Clint suggested.
“No, Clint,” Steve said, his lips twitching.
Clint groaned, his head falling back. “Why is it always ‘no, Clint’ and ‘you’ll die, Clint’ and ‘stop jumping off of stuff, Clint.’ Why is it never ‘good idea, Clint,’ or ‘I totally want to help you blow up that bridge, Clint’ or-”
Steve stared at him as he took a bite of oatmeal. “Clint.”
Clint straightened up. “Yes?”
“No.”
Clint grinned at him. “Doc! Tell me yes!”
“Did I, uh, hear something about a bridge?” Bruce asked from the kitchen doorway. He squinted at them, running his fingers through his hair. Judging by the state of it, this wasn’t the first time.
Bruce stared at him. Clint did his best to look trustworthy. “Uh, no.” He wandered towards the pantry. “What is this discussion?”
“Our plans for the weekend,” Nat said. “There’s smoothie in the blender if you want some.”
“Oatmeal on the stove,” Steve said.
“And coffee,” Phil said, pushing himself to his feet. “So much coffee.”
Bruce smiled. “All the usual, huh?” He scratched the back of his neck, his head rolling to the side. “I, uh, might go for the oatmeal, actually.” He pulled a container of dried fruit off the shelf. “Do we have plans?”
“I have no plans,” Clint said, going back to his cereal. It had degraded into a chocolatey sludge. Just the way he liked it. “I never have plans.”
“That’s, uh, probably for the best,” Bruce said. “I should probably go over some of my lab results.” He gave them a quick smile and a shrug. “If that’s, uh, exciting enough for everyone.”
“Tony said we were going to Netflix and chill,” Steve said. “If anyone wants to join us.”
Phil choked on his coffee. Clint opened his mouth, and Nat pointed at him. “No.”
He slumped back into his chair. “Story of my life.”
Bruce held the fruit in front of him, the bag clutched in both hands. “Uh, well, that-” His eyes darted towards Nat, desperation written on his face.
“Probably not,” Nat said, resting her chin on one hand. “Though it’s nice of you to offer.”
Steve nodded. “No idea what he wants to watch, he hasn’t been talking about anything new, but sometimes he gets this-” He waved his spoon through the air, looking amused. “This need to show me a tv show from the 90s that I ‘missed’ when I was in the ice, and that is always a trip.”
“They’re never as good as you remember,” Bruce said. The fruit bag crinkled in his grip, his fingers biting into the plastic. “Also, usually sexist.”
“And homophobic,” Clint said. He stared at Phil, who was still coughing. He grinned. “We okay over there, sir?”
Phil held up a finger. It wasn’t his middle one, so Clint took that as a win. Phil cleared his throat. “We are not,” he said, his voice rough.
Steve passed him a napkin. “I can ask him what he’s planning, if that’d help.”
“Oh, we know what he’s planning,” Clint said. Phil’s eyes pinched shut, his hand pressing the napkin against his mouth. Clint tapped his spoon against his cheek. “Phil, do you want to ask Tony what he’s-”
“I will end you,” Phil said, his voice dire.
“I mean, I’d say better men than you have tried, but that’s probably not true,” Clint mused.
Steve’s brows drew up tight. “What am I missing?”
“‘Netflix and chill’ is slang for sex,” Nat told him. One finger tip bounced against her smoothie cup.
Steve looked at her. Looked at Bruce. Bruce nodded, his cheeks flushed. “Yeah, it’s… That has nothing to do with watching, well, anything? It’s-” He stopped, his mouth working. “Sex?”
Steve put his spoon down. “What’s sex?”
“That’s what he means,” Clint said, considering the box of cereal. This conversation might take a little more energy than he had right now. He grabbed it. “When he said ‘netflix and chill,’ that’s just a booty call, Steve, and I KNOW you know what that means.”
“Yeah, because we already had that discussion.” Steve leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “Why didn’t he just say sex, then?”
“Well, he could,” Nat mused, stealing a piece of Clint’s cereal. He swiped at her knuckles with his spoon, and she grinned at him. “But that would be rather tacky.”
“Even for him,” Bruce said.
Clint pointed his spoon at Bruce. “Even for him,” he agreed.
“‘Netflix and Chill’ isn’t tacky?” Steve asked.
“Fine,” Phil said, and Clint was pretty sure that single word was forced out from between his teeth.
Clint watched at Phil buried his face behind his tented fingers. He grinned. “How’re we doing over there?”
“Really?” Clint dumped milk into his bowl. “Not taking mental damage from hearing your childhood hero use the phrase ‘Netflix and Chill’?”
Phil’s eyes cracked open just far enough to level a vicious look in Clint’s direction. Clint grinned at him, unconcerned. “I’m immune to that look,you know.”
Phil arched one eyebrow, just the tiniest twitch of motion, and Clint felt a shiver run down the full length of his body. He swallowed. “That’s a new one, though.”
“I’m full of surprises,” Phil intoned, his voice as dry as the Sahara.
“Morning,” Tony said, as he walked into the kitchen, staring down at his phone. He swung his suit jacket over his other shoulder. “It’s okay if I kill say, 12% of my board of directors, right? Less than 20% seems acceptable.”
“No, Tony,” Steve said, the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.
Tony made a face. “Fine. The things I do for love.”
“Speaking off, I invited everyone to join us,” Steve said. “In the ‘Netflix and Chill’ thing?”
Tony paused, his hand reaching for the cabinet door. He looked around the kitchen. “Everyone?”
“Well, Thor’s not up yet, so…” Natasha mused, stirring her smoothie.
“Oh, well, that’s fine, I can handle the rest of you,” Tony said. He paused, looking over at the table. “Unless Phil-”
Phil held up a hand. “Do not finish that statement, Stark, or I will not be responsible for my actions.”
“My life continues to be a series of disappointments,” Tony said, dumping an unsafe amount of coffee into his mug.
“So, sex,” Steve said.
Tony sipped his coffee. “I take it back, my life is awesome.”
“What if I wanted to watch something?” Steve asked him, his eyes dancing.
Tony brushed a kiss over his hair. “Bring the team. I can take a hint.”
“I don’t think he can, actually,” Clint said to Nat.
“I guess we’ll find out. I call movie choice.”
