Clint stares blankly at the wall in front of him. The array of pink and green and blue and yellow packaging does nothing to ease his confusion and neither does his eyes jumping from Natasha's neat cursive list to the product names. His mind pauses its screaming in circles in time to notice another young man standing beside him a few feet away. He's also looking at the wall but his face is a lot more stern so Clint's sure he knows more than himself.

"Hey!" He calls softly. "Hey, uh could I ask you a question?" The man turns slightly before pointing a finger at himself. "Yeah, you. You seem like you know what you're doing."

"Depends," He laughs. "What's the question?"

"Do you know what these are?" Clint's arm juts out, offering the list to him. The man takes it, lets his eyes scan over it, then grins.

"Your girlfriend set you up for this?"

"Yeah- well, wait is there a space between girl and friend?"

"There can be," He says and realization is evident on hi features.

"Okay, well, it's my buddy Natasha, she asked if I'd do her a favor and then her eyes got real narrow like she was challenging me so I challenged her back cause like how hard can it be right?" Clint rambles quickly, his hands gesticulating. "Boy, was I wrong."

"That sounds like quite a predicament there, my friend," The man chuckles. "Well, for starters, I've never seen the brand Naty here, but I do know the next best organic pads they do sell are..." he pauses to locate them, then pulls a pack out and tosses it into Clint's basket. "L.'s a great brand from what I know. And uh.. Here! They also have the overnights and tampons she wants."

"You're... quite the feminine product expert, huh?" Clint thinks that was meant to be a joke, but it's actually an honest question. He's never known a guy to be so educated on... well, periods. Unless he's...

"I've got three little sisters, bud, I've been buying for them since I was 14."

"Sounds like a drug deal." Well that solves that for Clint.

"Well it kind of was. That should be all, right?"

"Y-Yeah, sorry to bother you." Clint's suddenly blushing like a school girl, staring down at this guy he just met who helped him pick out fucking pads.

"Oh, it's no problem. Glad I could be of some assistance." The guy's eyes squint as he smiles again, but he pauses like he's hesitant to continue his own shopping. Then he tugs a pen from his pocket and folds over Clint's list, scribbling on the back of it. "There, let me know if Nat's happy with your choices."

Clint takes the piece of paper from him, turning it over and finding Nice Pad Guy's phone number scrawled over it in red ink. Red. Fitting. He also discovers that Nice Pad Guy's name is actually James. "Oh, thanks, yeah, I'll let you know. Thank you again, James."

"Hey, hey, hey, I don't know your name."

"Oh, right!" Clint grins, then makes a grabby motion for the pen still in James' hand. "Give."

"Alright okay!" James laughs and hands over the pen. Clint immediately yanks the cap off and takes hold of James' right arm. When he's done, CLINT is drawn across his forearm in blocky letters. "Well, thanks, Clint."

"An eye," he caps the pen and hands it over, "for an eye."

"But I didn't write on your arm."

"Touché, I suppose."

"But thank you anyways, I appreciate it. It's not every day a hot guy writes his name on your arm." James smirks at him.

"Well, it's not every day a hot guy helps you pick out pads and tampons for your friend, so thanks for that, James."

"Okay, wait no, just call me Bucky."

"Bucky?" Clint asks and this time it is a question but he wants to laugh.

"My middle name is Buchanan, shut up," He groans but he's laughing too.

"Okay, Bucky," Clint grins, "I hope I'll see you soon?"

"Text the number and we'll find out, now won't we?"