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They were in the elevator, returning from SHIELD when Clint decided to make soup for dinner. “JARVIS,” he said, “tell everyone I'm making dinner and they better be there when it's done. And can you ask Natasha to come help? Tell her she can play with the knives.”
“You're going to make enough to feed everyone?” Phil asked, raising an eyebrow at Clint and ignoring the knife comment, “You do realize Jane and Darcy are here right now.” Along with the seven Avengers, Pepper and any hanger-ons that happened to show up.
-Yep! I'm going to make a lot of food.- Clint grinned and said, “Bet you there will be leftovers.”
“No bet,” Phil said as the elevator stopped at their floor. -You'll just engineer it so there's some left anyway,- He got off and held out a hand for Clint's backpack. -I still think you should carry a briefcase if you have SHIELD files.-
Clint shrugged it off and tossed it to Phil. -It is a briefcase, just in awesome form- he said, hitting the door close button and waving as the doors shut.
-It's probably time for the next class to be introduced to the briefcase and suit- Phil said as he set his briefcase and Clint's backpack in the office and keyed the password to lock it. He toed off his shoes in the cubby next to the door, dropping them next to Clint's second pair of combat boots, a pair of purple converse and Natasha's running sneakers.
The briefcase and suit was a training exercise Clint would do for the newer agents in their Infiltration and Deception class to teach them that, yes, the people who look incredibly deadly most of the time can be unassuming or boring looking. It was a useful skill.
-Mmm, yeah- Clint said, pushing the button for their floor as he disembarked onto the common floor. -I just need to finish up the marksmen training on Glark and Lee and then my morning training slot will be open for a week or two.-
-Sounds good- Phil said, changing into jeans and a sweater.
Clint dropped out partially, talking to JARVIS about food preparation. Phil slipped on his pair of wool lined moccasins and made it back to the elevator just as the doors opened.
Thankfully, issues requiring the Avengers had been low lately, no major fights or battles so the whole team was around the Tower and relaxing. When the elevator opened onto the common floor, Steve was sitting in a chair sketching with a perfect sightline onto the balcony where Tony and Spiderman were talking. Darcy was leaning over Steve's shoulder, looking at the drawing and whispering in his ear.
Carol was lounging across one of the many couches, her beat-up old laptop resting on her lap. She gave Phil a look and a nod as he walked by and he returned it.
Since Carol Danvers had joined the Avengers after Phil and Clint left the field, she didn't have the same rapport with them as they had with the original members. While she and Spiderman knew about the Loki incident and the bond between Phil and Clint, neither of them really understood.
-Phil, come and help in the kitchen- Clint called, a burst of warmth coming across the bond.
“Yes, dear,” Phil deadpanned, ignoring the giggle that erupted from Darcy. While she was an excellent assistant and member of The Avengers Initiative (TM) board of directors, Darcy was also a twenty-five year old who ran the internet section of the Public Relations team. She could get a little dramatic on occasion.
As soon as Phil walked into the kitchen, Clint tossed a knife at Phil, handle first. He caught it, obviously, but gave Clint a half-hearted glare.
Clint had taken over half of the counters in the very large kitchen, and Natasha and Bruce were both chopping various items already. Several bags of frozen corns and peas lay next to two giant pots, a tub of butter about the size of Phil's head, a bag of flour, some chicken bullion cubes and three jugs of milk. Clint was muttering to himself as he dug through the giant spice cabinet, dropping little jars next to the other ingredients.
“Come chop potatoes with me,” Natasha said. She turned and smiled at him, not even looking at the potato she was slicing into pieces.
“Sure,” Phil said and began working on the large pile of potatoes stacked on the counter. Bruce was chopping carrots on the other side of Natasha and it was quiet for a few minutes; the only sound being the slice of knives and the banging of glass as Clint dug through cabinets.
“JARVIS, can you order, hmm,” -seven Avengers, me, Phil, Pepper, Jane, Darcy, that's twelve- “twenty baguettes from the bakery down the street and have them delivered?” Clint said, dropping a ten pound bag of pasta on the counter.
“Of course, Agent Barton,” JARVIS replied.
Phil focused back on his potatoes and saw there was seven left. As subtly as he could, he increased the speed of his chopping. Unfortunately it wasn't subtly enough and Natasha noticed, slicing her potatoes incredibly fast. They raced through the last few until one was left. Phil was reaching for it when Natasha flicked her knife out and stabbed the potato, an inch away from his fingers.
He froze and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Natasha was grinning, a challenge and a gloat all in one. Phil took a step back and gave a small, slightly teasing smile, “As you wish, Miss Romanov.”
On the other side of her, Bruce spoke up, “I'm all finished,” he gestured at the heaping pile of carrot cubes as Natasha sliced the final potato.
-Phil can you put the potatoes and carrots in two different pots, fill them with water until its an inch above the top of them, and set them on the stove to boil- Clint said absently while pushing around ground meat in a saucepan. The bag of pasta was half empty and the pot next to him was boiling.
-Sure.- Phil did as directed, making sure that the correct burner was turned on and set to boil. There had been a few...mishaps with his cooking before. For all that he was very good at his job where he helped save the world every few days, could take on both human and non-human enemies and faced down a god and survived, Phil could not cook. That's what mess halls and restaurants were for.
With nothing else to do, Phil joined Bruce and Natasha at the island, watching Clint pop back and forth between supplies and pots and ingredients. It was like some kind of bizarre dance made even more hilarious when Clint had JARVIS turn on his cooking music, which consisted of Daft Punk and ridiculous pop songs.
Soon enough, the potatoes and carrots were cooked, and then Clint started on the soup, splitting the ingredients between the two giant pots. Butter, flour, milk, and the bullion cubes mixed and Clint sang along to Around the World, which just consisted of the words “around the world”, over and over and over.
Bruce made himself some tea and sipped at it, ignoring how Natasha stole it and drank some. Spiderman wandered in on the ceiling, apparently curious about the noise.
“No webs on the ceiling,” Phil said, giving the teen a warning look.
“Yeah, sure!” Spiderman said, “I'm just gonna-” he gestured nonsensically towards the wall and crawled back out, leaving Natasha laughing at the table.
“He is very young,” Bruce said as Natasha snorted into the tea mug. “I suppose he's trying.”
Phil sighed, “It would be slightly easier if he would spend time without his uniform on, but I guess understandable from his position.”
An amazing smell wafted from the stove area and Phil realized Clint had dumped a third of a spice jar into one of the pots, then dumped a third in the second pot. And then proceeded to do the same with the other spices.
-Phil can you grab the corn and peas?- Clint said as he mixed the spices in.
Wordlessly, he brought them over and followed Clint's directions to open them and dump them into the pots.
Here Clint was in his element, being in charge and coordinating each bit of cooking with just enough time to catch the other pot from sticking. He sent Natasha and Bruce to get bowls, plates and silverware, setting the supplies along the island in an assembly line. Steve wandered in with the pile of baguettes in his arms and set to breaking them in half as per Clint's orders.
Phil watched a broad smile cross Clint's face as he tested the taste of the soup and found it excellent. “This will be done in five minutes or so,” he said, moving back to the pasta. “JARVIS, where's that tomato sauce Tony really likes?”
“In the pantry, third shelf from the left, at the bottom,” JARVIS said, “Also Agent Barton, the team can smell your soup and may join you shortly.”
Clint laughed softly, “I did invite them JARVIS, as long as everyone joins, we'll be good.” He smirked for a second, a streak of amusement flashing through the bond, “Hey Nat, why don't you go corral Stark. He might need a little incentive to actually come to dinner.”
Natasha slowly looked up from the tablet she was sharing with Bruce. “Oh, Clint, yes. That is a fantastic idea. If you don't want dinner to be served to anyone.” She stalked closer to Clint and Phil made sure to not pay attention to what she was doing. Better not give Clint a heads-up.
There was a yelp and a thud and Phil felt the wrestling battle going on. It was all in fun and Natasha grinned as she tried to pin Clint facedown. He resisted, twisting enough to break the holds and Phil left them to it, stepping over them to check on the soup.
“Ow, Nat, Jesus.”
“Clint, you big baby. Suck it up.”
“Nat, hang on.”
“Nope.”
-Phil, please, ow, mix the soup.- Clint said as he wrapped a hand around Natasha's shoulder and tried lever her away.
-Sure, sure- Phil said, stirring the two pots.
“See, this is the reason why you could just have the chefs do this,” Tony said as he walked into the kitchen. “I only have some on call twenty-four-seven so we wouldn't have to worry about our food being burned when the cook gets ambushed by deadly Russian spies.”
“You love my soup, Stark, and you know it,” Clint grunted as Natasha twisted his arm.
“I would say JARVIS just makes your food,” Steve said, “but I actually met your chefs. They're nice people.” He stepped over Natasha's leg and checked on the pasta and sauce. Clint yelped from the floor.
“How did you meet my chefs?” Tony asked, disbelief coloring his voice.
“When he evacuated them after the Tower attack,” Bruce commented, stepping to the side as Clint and Natasha almost rolled into his legs. “They were pretty calm about the whole thing.”
“They have to be calm,” Phil said, still mixing the soup, “That was what, the fifth or sixth time the building they're working in has been destroyed? After a certain amount it becomes routine.”
“Ow, Nat, I give, I give,” Clint said, his voice muffled by the floor. Natasha had him on his stomach, one of his legs trapped in hers, while one of his arms was wrapped around his head, the other in an arm bar across it. Natasha smiled up at the others. “I get first serving,” she said and let Clint go.
Phil raised an eyebrow, “How about our cook gets up and serves the food before you call dibs.”
“I'm coming,” Clint said as he hopped off the floor, “Impatient.”
“Well, it smells amazing, so c'mon,” Darcy said from the doorway, “The Amazing Hawkeye, show us what you got.”
Phil smiled, wide and genuine and so he and Clint served the food and drinks, fed the Avengers, their friends and family and even though they were no longer in the field, they were still part of it. Part of the cheerful conversation and devouring of food, the races to get the last bite of a certain dish, the laughter and the happiness.
This was home.