For this prompt at comment_fic:'Marvel Cinematic Universe, Natasha Romanoff + any, Natasha knits [name] a hat, a scarf and some mittens; they don't dare say no thanks'.

Since I know nothing about knitting I will apologize in advance if any of this is completely ridiculous from a knitting perspective.

Clint has to work hard, really hard, to keep his voice sincere and natural when he says, "Wow, Nat, these are nice." The way she smiles makes it worth it; she either believes him (he's pretty sure that's not the case) or appreciates the effort he's putting into his show. Regardless, she looks happy, which is reason enough for him to do it.

"Thanks. It's a great stress reliever—you should try it."

He eyes the knitting arrayed on the sectional seat between them, and is supremely thankful no one else is present in the great room to witness this. "I'll stick with the range."

If she's knitting only when she's stressed that could explain the lumpy, misshapen, dome-like thing which is probably supposed to be a hat. The scarf is contorted and varies in thickness its entire length, and the mittens—at least, he thinks they're mittens, they could be socks?—are a disaster. The black and purple yarn colors (his favorites) meander all over without form or design, making it hard to tell if she even used a pattern.

She's watching him closely, so he pulls all of it on without further hesitation. They may look awful, but the yarn is soft and as a set they're warm and comfy (though he has to double-wrap the scarf to make it appear properly scarf-like).

Nat reaches out and adjusts the hat. "I was thinking of making some for Rogers next."

"You should totally do that," Clint says with a nod. "Hill too."

Nat makes a face. "I don't think she likes knit clothes. But maybe Pepper would."

"Well if you're making some for Potts you need to make some for Stark too. A matching set."

She gives him a sly smile, and now he knows he hasn't really fooled her so he has to wonder if she's just doing this to mess with him. (But even if she is he can't pass up a chance to turn her on Stark and Rogers.)

Wilson comes in from the hall, and the second his eyes land on Clint he heads towards them. So much for no witnesses.

"Very nice, Barton," Wilson says, and flicks the slumped top of the hat once he's in range. "You learning how to knit?"

Before Clint can think of a suitable response, Nat says, "I made them," and gives Wilson a challenging look. Wilson blinks.

"Oh. They uh...they look great."

"Thank you," Nat says, and smiles winningly. "I can knit some for you too, if you want."

Wilson starts towards the kitchen in full retreat. "Ah, no, I'm good. But thanks."

"Let me know if you change your mind," Nat calls after him.

"Will do!"

"You should make him some anyways," Clint says in a low voice. "In red and white."

Nat nods. She's surveying Wilson while he goes about making his lunch, maybe guessing at appropriate sizes. "I think I will."

Steve Rogers is many things, but a master of masking his reactions is not one of them.

"Thanks, Natasha. You, ah, shouldn't have."

"I just do it for stress relief." There's a wicked gleam in Nat's eyes and false note in her otherwise innocent tone that Rogers is either oblivious to or pretending isn't there for the sake of their friendship. "Do you like them?"

"Yeah, yeah." Rogers clears his throat. "They're fantastic. The colors are," he seems like he wants to grimace but knows better, "especially nice."

"Clint helped me pick them out."

Rogers turns a dry, unforgiving look on Clint. "You don't say."

Clint adjusts his scarf and meets Rogers' accusation with a raised chin. For all that it's horrible to behold, the scarf Nat made for Clint is actually very comfortable. It matches his suit, fits around most of his gear without snagging, and protects his neck. He's taken to wearing it all over if the temperatures allow.

Nat waves at Rogers. "Try them on, let's make sure they fit."

With another glare at Clint, Rogers proceeds to do so. His mittens, hat, and scarf are a riotous combination of pearly white, tomato red, and neon blue yarns, all in a metallic finish. They're gaudy in the extreme, and if Clint thought his hat was bad it's got nothing on the one Rogers is reluctantly shoving onto his head. There's a distorted sort of triangular blob on the top which might be a star, and the red and white stripes along the band aren't really stripes so much as lines that intersect randomly.

Once he has everything on Rogers considers his scarf. It has more of the white, pointy blobs running along its length, set against an uneven red and blue field. "Well, Barton, you certainly have an eye for color."

Clint grins. "Thanks," he says, and Rogers' only response is a tight, sardonic smile.

"I made some for Sam too," Nat says. "Same red and white yarn."

Rogers sucks in a breath and lets it out. "I'm sure he'll love them."

The only person who's honest about liking the knitting is Thor. Or at least Clint thinks he's being honest. It's hard to tell with Thor; he's surprisingly good at acting gracious when it's necessary. Royal training, Clint figures. He was supposed to be ruling a whole planet (Realm, whatever), and Clint has to assume that would have called for an understanding of politicking which didn't involve lightning or the hammer.

"These are fine gifts, Natasha, I am very thankful for them," Thor says. The silvery-metallic squiggle down the center of his otherwise dark gray scarf is, Clint thinks, meant to be lightning. His hat bears evidence that Nat is putting at least a little bit of effort into getting better: the solid, dark red band is almost even, and the black and white yarns forming the rest seem to have some kind of cloud design going on. The mittens are unfortunately no better than any of their predecessors, and given their odd combination of colors (one starts out dark gray and randomly turns red about halfway down, and the other is red with some white and black) she may have been running low on yarn when she did them.

For her part Nat seems to think Thor is being genuine, because she's gracing him with one of her rare, real smiles. "You're welcome. I hope they fit okay."

"They appear to." Thor tugs at the hat experimentally, pulls the scarf so it's sitting open and not so tight, and flexes his hands in the mittens (which somehow manage to accommodate the motion). "Could I persuade you to make some for Jane and Darcy?"

Clint chokes on his coffee. Thor raises his eyebrows at Clint, looking mildly inquisitive, and it dawns on Clint that Thor's sanguine attitude may just be a front for his own nefarious plan to drag Foster and Lewis into the same predicament.

Clint manages to say, "I'm fine," without laughing, and wipes at his eyes. Luckily none of the coffee got on his scarf.

Nat ignores Clint completely. "Sure thing," she says, still smiling.