Work Text:
“Nat,” Clint said, smacking her ankle as they made their way slowly through the ducts, “careful here, there’s a screw loose.”
“I am ahead of you,” Nat hissed back. “Did you think I didn’t notice?”
“Well, you didn’t tell me,” Clint groused. “How much further? I’ve gotten spoiled. Tony’s vents are so much nicer. These guys, I swear, how do they breathe with the dust this thick?” He tucked his face mask back up before he started sneezing and cost them the whole gig.
“Probably by not crawling around in the ducts,” Nat suggested. She paused, peering out a grate to check their positions. “Almost there. Another ten feet. Remind me why we’re breaking into the donut shop again?”
“They have the best donuts,” Clint said. “Aaaand, I might have mentioned to Tony that they existed. Aaaaand Tony has people. You know, like lots of them. People who buy things. They’re professional shoppers. Literally, how do you get a job like that? Spending other people’s money? So… he might have bought them all. For the last four days running.”
Nat actually stopped crawling forward to look back at Clint in disbelief. “He’s bought out a donut shop for four days in a row,” she repeated. “What does he do with them? He’s not sharing them, because this is the first I’ve heard of it. And I don’t care how unhealthy his diet is, he can’t possibly be eating all of them.”
“Taunting me,” Clint said, woeful. “I don’t know. Knowing Tony, his professional shoppers are taking them to the cancer ward in the kid’s hospital or something. But I still want one. And I aim to have them. And you know, I never miss.”
Nat rolled her eyes and resumed crawling. When she reached the access hatch, she paused long enough to remind him, “Just remember, if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English.”
Clint threw a few quick obscenities in Nat’s direction in sign language, before adding, “What’d you say?”
Nat sighed and took hold of the grate. “О, черт, я уже ощущаю вкус сожаления... Right. Let’s do this.”