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"Barbarian," Natasha hissed and whisked the cup of cold tea out of the microwave. "You reheat tea on a stove."
Clint just gave her that easygoing shrug of his and kept running down the mission brief. "Tea is tea."
Natasha had been pouring the cup into a glass coffeepot, but she paused and sighed. "This isn't even tea, is it? This came out of a teabag."
That stopped him. "Well..." He saw her look and let the words trail off.
To Clint, tea was tea, but to Natasha, vodka was only vodka if it was the 'good' kind from Russia and tea was only tea if it had been brewed up properly from loose leaf.
He closed the laptop and came around the counter to fish out a bag from the pantry. "I'll make you some tea."
"You do that."