"You know, these RomComs would only be five minutes long if people only talked to each other," Clint sniffs as the wannabe-suitor on screen risks his future happiness on a hare-brained assumption that could be cleared up in a minute if he only picked up the phone.

"Yes, but then we wouldn't have anything to watch tonight," Natasha frowns absently, "unless you think Die Hard is an option, which it's not: Willis' talks way too much and his undershirt is filthy."

"Well," Clint says, "maybe we can work this out yet: you talk to me for five minutes and I'll take off my very clean tank top while you watch."