Avengers 1. Chapter 1

11 PM rolled around in Stark Tower and Tony found himself ready to pound his head into a wall. The new equipment he'd ordered from Germany two months ago had finally arrived, sans one tiny crucial part. A fact that he'd only figured out _after_ he had spent hours setting it all up. Now, the panels, meant to convert excess heat into energy, just made a faint whirring sound whenever he placed his palm against them. Frustrated, he pushed away from his desk, debating whether or not to get some coffee and keep working or go collapse on the couch, when JARVIS interrupted him.

"Sir, Agents Romanoff and Barton have entered the building. Agent Barton wants to know if you'll allow them to stay here tonight."

Tony yawned and ran his hand through his hair. "No problem. Ask them if I should get the gang back together."

Whenever the two SHIELD agents stopped by, it was usually to give the team some information from Fury. Ever suspicious, SHIELD didn't trust phone calls, so usually Banner, Rogers, and Thor, if he was on Earth, would have to come to Stark Tower from wherever they were for periodic team meetings.

"Agent Barton says that won't be necessary," he paused, "Sir, it appears as though Agent Romanoff is injured."

At this, Tony paled before stumbling out of his chair to the nearest elevator. "Damn it, Jarvis, why didn't you tell me that first?" he growled, repeatedly jamming his thumb on the glowing down button.

"Agent Barton tells me the injuries aren't life threatening and that Agent Romanoff is expected to make a full recovery." JARVIS replied.

Tony hit the button for floor eight. It had been three months since he'd last seen the two spies. After the Battle of New York the Avengers had gone their separate ways, and since there hadn't been any major world disasters, they hadn't fought together in over a year.

Banner ended up getting a place in the city, and Rogers had a place in New York as well, so Tony saw them occasionally. When he wasn't travelling or working, Bruce would drop by once or twice a month to talk science and catch up. Despite a rocky start, Tony actually ended up as Steve's friend, and he enjoyed going out to dinner with the super soldier and helping him catch up to today's world. Thor had been to Stark Tower a few times as well. He gave news of life on Asgard and came with Jane once, since Tony, well, actually Pepper, had invited her to use his equipment.

Barton and Romanoff were a mystery though. This visit would mark the third time he'd seen them since New York. As far as he could tell, the two were always off on super secret missions. Whenever they did come, they would relay whatever message Fury had before bolting out the door. They were never rude, but Tony felt like he didn't know them at all. The elevator doors opened and Tony put on a smile for his secretive guests. His smile quickly faded though as he saw Romanoff passed out on the couch, her feet up on the armrest, with Barton hunched over examining her feet intently.

At his entrance, Barton looked up with a tired smile. "Stark, good to see you. Thanks for taking us in on such short notice."

Tony could only stare in shock at the bandages surrounding Barton's head and covering his nose. It was only after Barton looked back down did he notice the bandages around Romanoff's feet.

"What happened?" he choked out, eyeing her unconscious form, "What, what's wrong with her?" Dressed in civilian clothes, covered in cuts and bruises, and passed out on the couch, Natasha seemed small and vulnerable.

"We just got back from a mission," he sighed, slowly unwrapping the bandages from Natasha's feet, "needless to say, it didn't end well." He grimaced and dropped the first set of bloody bandages into the trash bag at his feet.

"I'll say," Tony murmured, leaning over to look at Natasha's feet before quickly turning away from the bloody mess.

"We were careful," he said quietly, his gaze never leaving his partner's feet, "but they figured us out. Natasha, of course, managed to cover my ass, and convinced them I was just some poor sap she'd suckered into helping her." His eyes darted to her face with a rueful smile. "They dumped her in a cell and me in the desert," he paused, "so that's that."

Tony sat down on the coffee table and took a closer look at the two spies, eyeing the deep bruises on Natasha's wrists and small cuts on her face. It didn't seem right, seeing the normally composed agent passed out on the couch.

"She's going to be alright?"

Clint paused in his steady bandaging of her feet. "A week of sleep deprivation and torture isn't fun but she'll be fine," he grunted, "just needs a little R&amp;R, that's all."

Tony stared back at him disbelievingly. "A little R&amp;R?" he sputtered, "she looks half dead! She should be in a hospital or the med bay—"

"I said she's going to be fine," Clint snapped, glaring at Tony with shocking intensity, "medical already checked her out and she's fine."

Tony looked slightly taken aback by Clint's sudden anger but he pressed on.

"See, you keep saying that but I'm not really sure you understand what the word 'fine' means. Let me get JARVIS to scan the both of you or I'll call Bruce and he can—"

"Look, Stark," Clint cut in tiredly, "I appreciate that you want to help, I do, but I've got everything covered. We just need a place to crash tonight."

At this Tony fell silent. He couldn't help but ask the question that had been on the tip of his tongue since they arrived.

"Why did you come here, Barton?" he asked softly. "I know you two have a place in the city you could've gone to."

"The apartment's been compromised," he replied, taping the last bit of bandage down to Natasha's foot, "and sleeping in SHIELD medical wasn't an appealing prospect. Those beds start to feel like cinderblocks after a while."

Clint reached into the air, stretching his back out from its hunched position while Stark nodded, seeming satisfied with this answer.

"Alright, well, I'll leave you to it then. Tell JARVIS to wake me if you need anything. Goodnight, Barton. And Romanoff," he added, nodding at her, before turning and heading back into the elevator.

As soon as the elevator doors shut Natasha's eyes snapped open.

"Nicely done, Barton. The outburst was a little unexpected though," she said carefully, examining him from the couch.

"It's been a long day," he sighed, moving to sit next to her, "he probably thinks I'm just tired and worried about you."

He looked down at her and started running a hand absentmindedly along her short red hair.

"Well, you haven't blown our cover yet, Barton," she said with a light smirk.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to anyone reading and/or following this story. Constructive criticism and reviews are always welcome and appreciated. Enjoy.**

**Song of the chapter: A Million Ways – Uncle Lucius**

No alarm was needed for Clint to wake up precisely at 8 AM. Rolling over in bed he glanced at Natasha sleeping peacefully beside him, her breathing even and relaxed. That last mission must have really taken its toll on her; she was usually up before him. Once again Clint mentally cursed Fury for giving them this mission so soon on the heels of their last one.

He grabbed his hearing aids off the nightstand and carefully inserted them, adjusting until he could hear Natasha's soft inhales and exhales. His body groaned in protest as he stood up, shuffled over to his duffel bag, and pulled on a mostly clean t-shirt and some sweatpants.

Blinking heavily, he ambled into the bright kitchen and made a beeline for the coffee pot. With the coffee brewing Clint rummaged around in the cabinets, grabbing two mugs, a bowl, and a box of slightly stale Cheerios. It wasn't until he'd eaten two bowls of dry cereal, washed down with two cups of coffee, that Natasha came hobbling out of their room. In a few strides Clint was by her side, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"You really shouldn't be walking, Nat." he gently chided.

"You worry too much. I've walked with worse than a few cuts on my feet." Her lips curved upwards in small smile but he knew from the tightness around her eyes and the way she leaned heavily against him that she was in pain.

"That may be true but you'll ruin my beautiful bandaging job if you insist on walking around," he said, pressing her against his body and lifting her ever so slightly so her feet only lightly brushed the floor.

She shot him a grateful look as he almost completely relieved the pressure on her aching feet. Clint cheered internally that she was accepting his help without a fight. It had taken years of working together for them to fully trust and rely on each other. He knew that if anyone else had tried to help her in such a way they would end up flat on their back. Her face melted into a teasing smile.

"Oh, so it's not me you're worried about?" she asked, as Clint helped lower her into a kitchen chair. Clint shook his head emphatically as he went to pour her a cup of coffee.

"Me? Worry about you?" he scoffed, as if the idea was completely ridiculous, "No, no, no, it's the lovely bandages _I'm_ worried about." He set a cup of black coffee in front of her along with her antibiotics before sliding into his own seat. "I mean look at them," he gestured to her feet, "their elegant lines, the beautiful simplicity of their design, the way they gleam in the morning light, why, it'll almost be a shame when you have to take them off."

"Almost," she deadpanned, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of coffee. Just then the elevator pinged and the doors slid open to reveal a grocery laden Tony Stark.

"Hey there Spy Kids," he said, striding into the kitchen, "I come bearing gifts."

His wide smile faltered a bit as he took in the two battered pajama clad spies sitting around the kitchen table, immediately feeling he was intruding on a private moment.

"Morning, Stark," Clint replied while Natasha nodded in greeting.

"Sorry the kitchen isn't stocked. These rooms aren't normally used. They're kind of my backup backup guest rooms," he babbled nervously. "Anyway I wasn't sure what to get so I just got a little of everything."

Tony avoided eye contact as he unloaded bagels, cereal, orange juice, and various fruits onto the counter top. Clint eyed Stark's back. Stark obviously felt uncomfortable seeing them in such a vulnerable, and well, human, state. He'd only ever seen them as Hawkeye and the Black Widow, "badass master assassins". Natasha caught his gaze and with a look, clearly communicated her displeasure with the situation.

He knew Natasha. Knew her inside and out. She hated appearing weak or incapable in front of anyone. It drove him insane sometimes. How she'd limp bloody and beaten up to Fury to report on a mission, even though she was about to collapse. How she'd lie to medical, understating the severity of her injuries so they would let her leave. She never lied to him though. He'd never it take for granted. Her trust and ability to be vulnerable with him were hard won.

"Thank you," Clint replied with a tired smile, standing to take out two pre sliced bagels and pop them in the toaster, "we really appreciate it."

"Not a problem." Stark mumbled around part of a bagel as he continued to put an exorbitant amount of food into the fridge and the cabinets.

"We'll be out of here soon," Natasha interjected, "so you shouldn't be unpacking all this food in here."

At this Tony turned to face them both. "See, that's kind of the reason I came down here," Tony said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I was thinking you guys could stay here for a while."

There was a beat of silence while Clint stared back evenly and Natasha delicately arched an eyebrow. Finally, Clint spoke.

"That's a generous offer, Stark, but it's much easier to just stay at SHIELD until the apartment is fixed."

Tony pursed his lips, seeming to wage some sort of internal debate before coming to a decision. "Look, I'm going to be straight with you two. Fury called me this morning. Said I should invite you two to stay at the tower. And to get the team back together while I'm at it."

Clint feigned surprise.

"Why would he do that?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but there's got to be something big going on and I'm going to find out what. I've already called Bruce and Steve, they'll be here tomorrow."

Before either of them can respond, Stark's phone rings. He smiles looking at the caller ID and gives them a two-fingered salute before walking back to the elevator, talking animatedly to Pepper the whole way.

The minute the doors close Natasha relaxed back into her chair, groaning and rubbing her eyes.

"I already hate this assignment. Spying on Stark doesn't count as a break. It's a form of torture."

At this Clint's expression darkened.

"You were tortured, Natasha, by men who had access to Stark technology and money. I doubt Stark himself is the one behind this, but we can't rule him out."

"It's not investigating Stark I'm worried about. It's dealing with Steve, Bruce, and Thor. This team bonding bullshit is just going to complicate the mission."

"I don't like this either, Tasha, but Fury says he has a plan," Clint shrugged, passing her a bagel and the cream cheese. "Besides, who knows, maybe it'll be fun."

Natasha shot him a withering look. "Trust me, Clint, dealing with Tony Stark is going to be anything but fun."


End file.

Avengers