Glaring at the mirror like it offended him, Clint impatiently rubbed the foundation into his skin. "Damnit, Clint Barton!" he growled at his reflection. "You need to eat better, you fucking slob..."

Finally satisfied with the coverage, he powdered it over and set to work at highlighting his eyes. He was so absorbed in his navy eyeliner that he didn't notice the door to his room whooshing open and closed. "Clint?"

Luckily for Clint, he'd been doing his makeup for long enough that he managed not to smear it when he jumped. "Steve?"

"You don't need makeup, sweetheart. You're beautiful."