Because I couldn’t resist, I give you this wee drabble (and gods, people should be impressed that I kept it wee since I’m not known for wee writing):
“You can wear my underwear. It’ll be like old times,” Natasha told Clint while they sat together on the med-bed where Clint was recovering from yet another blow to the head. The dangers of range fighting was that he wasn’t always prepared to be punched in the back of the head by what he didn’t see coming up behind him. It also didn’t help that his hands were usually occupied with his bow and arrows of badassery.
Clint chuckled and then winced when the movement jostled his already sore head.
“Tash…don’t. It hurts still. And don’t make promises you don’t want to keep. I know you went shopping the other day. You probably won’t let me wear the new tiny silky underwear I’m betting you bought,” Clint fussed. He pouted his bottom lip when she nodded her head. “Granny panties for me, huh?”
Natasha just gave that smile that was usually reserved for Clint because of their shared past and because he understood her better than most.
“Nah. I’ll let you wear an older pair of slinky panties,” she promised and patted his cheek, which brightened him up considerably.
Clint replied, “Promise? One of the really good slinky pairs? Like…one of the red slinky pairs that you reserve for really good dates or seducing the really tough targets before you go in for the kill?” He stared right into her eyes and would have wiggled in place at the prospect, but it would have hurt too much.
She laughed and nodded. “Yeah. One of the really good slinky red pairs.”
They’d never noticed Steve standing in the doorway. He’d come to check on Clint and found Natasha with him. He was going to step inside and check anyway except that he’d heard the conversation about Natasha’s underwear and the prospects of Clint wearing them.
Steve had turned around and left the two alone. At best, that was a private conversation full of humorous anecdotes about Budapest that he might have laughed at had he understood the context. At worst, it was a prelude to something more private that he wasn’t meant to witness. So, he’d covered his bases and bowed out before they even knew he was there.
When Tony found Steve an hour later at the kitchen table, he was on the laptop he’d been given. While he fixed an energy shake, he peeked over Steve’s shoulder to see what he was doing, which was obviously researching all the references he heard that he didn’t understand on account of being a Capsicle for all those years.
Tony’s eyebrow quirked when he read the webpage article ‘Men Who Love to Wear Women’s Underwear’. His right eye twitched when he glanced down at Steve’s notebook – the one he’d been carrying around lately with all the ‘things to be researched’ list, and he saw a sub-list underneath ‘Wearing Natasha’s red slinky unmentionables’ that consisted of the phrases: ‘What are Granny panties?’ ‘Why does Natasha have her grandmother’s panties?’ ‘Why do other people wear her grandmother’s panties?’ ‘Men wearing women’s underthings.’ Under that was another sub-list that merely had ‘Transvestites, Transexuals, and Transgender’ written down in Steve’s neat handwriting.
“Hey there, buddy,” Tony greeted as he moved around where he could look into Steve’s clean-cut All-American face. “Got uh…something you want to talk about? Are you…uh…action or executive? Or weirdo?” He side-eyed the other Avenger and went back to making his shake as if none of this was strange at all. “Given what I know of you, I’d say action. I’m more your executive type.”
Steve looked up at Tony in confusion then down at his research list and sighed as he added yet more to it. He didn’t understand that reference at all.
Posted also at my AO3 acct: Steve Didn’t Get that Reference