Reasons

The smiles that I had,
You were the reason behind it.

The tears that I shed today,
It was also for you,
Because of you,
Came from you.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"But I've been hurt."

you feel me?

Ichinen Nikagetsu to Hatsuka (1 Year 2 Months and 20 Days)

Hontou wa hanaretaku naiyou
Hontou wa daijobu janai you
Uso da you tte
Baka da na tte
Waratte hoshii you

Demo kimi no kokoro ni watashi wa inai
Saigou ni semete say goodbye

Kimi ni aete yokatta
Suki ni natte yokatta
______________________________

Actually I don't want to let go
Actually I'm not okay
It was a lie
What an idiot
I want you to laugh

But I don't have a place in your heart
This time finally it's the last to say goodbye

I'm glad I met you
I'm glad I liked you 

A Day With Uncle Clint

"Cool Uncle Clint. Say it. Co-ollll Uh-un-cul Cl-in-t," Clint enunciated his name slowly at the young toddler in front of him."You and I aren't leaving here until you learn my name."

"Kwool 'ncle Cwuin." Peter shrieked and then laughed.

Clint sighed. "Close enough," he muttered as he scooped up the giggling toddler and climbed down from the platform of Stark Tower's antenna.

________________________________________________________

"OK kid, it's important that you're prepared and fast because if a motherfucking super villain is shooting your ass down from the top of the building, you won't have time to double check or else you're spider-patty. Got it?"

"Got it," Peter mumbled as he mentally went through his checklist. His harness felt secure, the ropes were all in place. Should be good.

"Now, every other abseiling instructor would tell you to walk down the side slowly and carefully, but trust me - when a little shit like Loki is firing at you, you're not going to have time to play safe. So it's a run off the ledge, push on the handle, down you go for today's training. And for gods sake don't touch the rope because I don't want to be the one having to explain to your dads why your skin has shredded off," Clint said. "Ready?"

"I don't really have a choice do I?" Peter replied.

"Nah you don't. You'll be fine though," Clint gave him a wink. "Remember, the rope's not going to be long enough, so don't worry when you suddenly feel like you're bungy-jumping back up. Just hang in there, give me your position and I'll open the window for you. Ready? JUMP!"

Peter ran, turned and jumped off the ledge of Stark Tower, with his hand on the handle. Down he went, almost as fast as free falling, mimicking the effects of how the webshooters would feel like. Free - except with ropes and harnesses, for now.

The fall was only for a few seconds, and it ended too soon when he felt himself being snapped back up by the rope. Then, he was dangling from side to side, the momentum of his fall slowing down until he was barely moving anymore. He released the handle and his breath, then reached up to the com attached to his ear.

"Hey Uncle Clint? I've stopped falling," Peter said, sounding breathless.

"Great, how'd it feel?" he heard the grin in his uncles voice and broke into a smile himself. Finally, he understood why his uncle liked free falling from the sides of buildings so much - it was an exhilarating feeling, falling down from a perch but knowing at the same time that there would be something to keep him safe, whether it be grabbling hooks or a team member.

"It felt great! Can we do it again?" Peter said excitedly.

Clint laughed. "Yeah, well you need to give me your position first so that I can let you in and up."

Peter squinted his eyes. The UV-protected reflective glass used on the windows of his fathers tower made it hard to see what was inside. Peter cupped his hands over the sides of his eyes and leaned in, then yelped at what he saw.

"Uncle Clint - er how do I say this - um you might want to leave me dangling out here for awhile. Maybe get a longer rope," Peter spluttered.

"What's wrong kid? Where are you?"

"I'm outside pop's room."

Santa Mall

The gasp that Peter emitted was followed shortly by what Tony could only describe as a shriek of delight.

“Daddy! DADDY!” Peter started jumping up and down, tearing his hand away from his father’s in his excitement. He knew better than to run off like some unruly child parents couldn’t seem to raise properly these days. Seriously, if you’re going to have a child and you plan on bringing it into a public forum during the Christmas season, at least teach it how to behave.

“What’s up, Peter?” When Tony glanced down at his son, the boy was bouncing energetically in place with one finger pointing frantically in a certain direction. Tony followed to where Peter wanted his attention to be and was greeted with the wondrous sight of the mall’s Santa. He was sat in the corner of the corridor, surrounded by fake snowy fencing, fake trees and presents, perched in a large chair. There was a long line of children that spread out from the gate, where a woman dressed as an elf was letting children in whenever it was their turn.

Tony laughed, shaking his head. “Do you want to go see Santa?”

Peter nodded frantically as though he’d transformed into the bobble headed Captain America Tony had bought Steve as a joke gift.

Steve was still in one of the other stores exchanging some shoes that he’d bought for Natasha at the wrong size and he said he was going to pick up a few more things for Tony and Peter, so they should continue on without him. Leave it to Steve to do secret shopping while they were still in the same building.

As soon as Peter got the go ahead from his father, he grabbed his father’s hand and led the way at the fastest pace he could muster while dragging his father along.

Peter rambled on and on about all the things he could ask Santa for Christmas and anyone listening would probably be confused at what the boy was asking. It mostly involved chemistry sets and different types of scientific or electronic equipment. Some power tools were mentioned and even though Tony would love to get Peter started on blow torch safety… Steve would have other things to say about their six year old operating the dangerous equipment.

“Petey!” Tony looked to his left just in time to see a small boy dressed in red and black pummel into his son. It was definitely a hug, Tony couldn’t deny that, but it nearly sent both boys down to the floor with the force at which the older boy jumped at Peter.

“Hello Wade.” Tony sighed, because he knew this wasn’t going to be a simple visit to the North Pole anymore.

“Hey Mr. S!” The kid, three years older than Peter, grinned up at him from underneath his black and red beanie that pushed his mop of blonde hair over his eyes. His arms were still locked around Peter’s shoulders, keeping him close and Peter didn’t seem to have a problem with Wade’s clingy behavior. He was always like this though, anytime Tony saw the two kids together.

“Are you going to see Santa too?” Peter smiled over his shoulder to the boy behind him, hands gripping Wade’s red and black sweater. Did his parents have no ability to dress him in anything over than those two colors?

“Nah, I’m too cool for Santa.” Wade shrugged it off and Tony couldn’t help but smile at the confused pout that found its way onto Peter’s face.

“No way! Santa’s cooler than anyone!”

Wade let his arm slip away from Peter and he stepped back as Peter turned around so they could face each other. “More cool than me? I don’t think so Petey, I’m awesomer than him. He has a lame wooden sleigh pulled by reindeer. My sleigh is… metal… with flames on the side and it’s pulled by moose.”

“What’s a moose?”

“It’s a Canadian deer.” Wade’s all knowing voice made Tony chuckle and the boy glared up at him, ready to argue with Tony that he was right because he was born in Canada and Tony wasn’t. He’d had many Canadian focused arguments with the child before but he wasn’t about to participate in one when they were in the middle of the mall so he held up his hands and let Wade continue.

“They’re much bigger than American deer and they have bigger antlers. Much better than Santa’s lame reindeer.”

Peter’s eyes lit up at Wade’s boasting. Tony wouldn’t normally let Peter admire the boy’s lies this easily but he decided to let it slide. It was Christmas after all and Wade didn’t have that many friends. Eventually the kid would have to learn that his pathological lying would be a problem, though. He’d have a long conversation with his parents one of these days, with Steve because the X-Men were more cooperative when Captain America was present.

“It’s my turn next!” Peter shouted as he noticed how far they’d moved up in the line.

Wade rolled his eyes, unimpressed with Peter’s excitement to see a jolly old fat man, as Wade so eloquently pointed out during their loud debate.

“What are you going to ask him?” Tony asked and received an embarrassed look from his son. One that said, ‘Dad why are you talking to me when Wade’s here?’

“I can’t tell you that!” He hissed, averting his eyes from Wade who was watching him skeptically.

“Better ask for something small. Santa’s stingy lately, didn’t even bother getting me the AK-47 I asked for last year.”

Tony’s eyes widened, though he wasn’t sure why he was surprised. The boy had an arsenal of airsoft guns and quite a few paintball guns. Hopefully he was referring to an airsoft one but chances are…

Peter blushed as the gate opened and he hurried away from Tony and Wade who moved to stand off by the side, Wade stating he was too old and popular to be seen sitting on Santa’s lap. He did have a reputation after all.

They watched as Peter was lifted onto Santa’s lap and he glanced in their direction before he cupped his hand over his mouth and whispered in Santa’s ear. The man laughed heartedly and made a promise to see what he could do. Peter ducked his head but smiled and thanked Santa before scrambling down and out the opposite gate to meet up with his father and his friend.

“So what did you ask him for?” Wade mimicked Tony’s question from earlier, curiosity leaking into his attempt at an apathetic voice.

Peter looked up at him shyly, bit his lower lip and then leaned forward to kiss Wade on the cheek. Wade blinked, shock clear in his eyes before a grin spread wide across his lips.

“Oh shit…” Tony sighed, shaking his head.

“What did I miss?” Steve’s voice brought Tony’s attention to behind him, where he was pulling up with the cart full of their shopping.

“Just the start of the worst years to come.”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows as he glanced between his husband and the two boys, completely unaware of what had transpired and what this would mean for Peter’s future relationships.

Playdate With The Spiderspawn

The doorbell rings and Tony answers it cautiously. He didn't order pizza, yet at least, and he isn't expecting anyone to come over so who was...He opens the door to see Natasha standing there. Next to her is mini-Clintasha wearing a bright red Mario t-shirt and obnoxiously-neon green pants.

Tony's lips pull back in a scowl. “God, those are obnoxious.”

“Don't be rude, Tony,” Natasha tells him. “Go ahead Maddie.”

When the little girl starts walking in, Tony flings his arms up. “AH! What, what is this? What're you doing? She can't come in here.”

“Maddie's here to play with Peter for a few hours.”

“Steve was supposed to watch them.”

“Yeah...” she admits, nodding.

“Well, he's not here. Somewhat impromptu training with some new SHIELD agents.”

“Okay?” Natasha asks, shaking her head. “So...”

Tony gestures at them. “So, you're not supposed to be here.”

Natasha lets out an exasperated sigh. “You're fully capable of watching them.”

“No. No I can't. I'm busy.”

“Tinkering? Yeah, you're fine, Tony.”

Tony's eyebrows furrow. “I don't know what to do with a baby.”

Maddie's glares up at Tony, saying indignantly, “I'm not a baby! I'm four years old!”

“It's not house broken, it'll pee on the furniture,” Tony insists, ignoring the bright small thing.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “She's not a dog, Tony.”

“I know how to use a toilet,” Maddie tells him, hand on her hip.

“What's with the attitude?” Tony asks incredulous, gesturing at the little girl.

“You do have a knack for bringing out the best in people,” Natasha tells him.

“Where's Peter?” Maddie asks, all sugar and sweetness.

“In his room.” The words are barely out of his mouth when Maddie takes off down the hall. “Wait – no!” he yells after her. He turns to Natasha. “Now, Miss Romanov-”

“It's Barton, now,” Natasha says, cutting him off. “Remember? I got married? You should, you were at my wedding. And I thought I told you to just call me Natasha.”

“Wouldn't be appropriate,” he replies quickly, “as we're business associates.” Changing topics, he asks, “Why're you trusting your most prized possession with me? I'll probably break it – I've no idea how to care for a toddler. Did you bring the manual? No?”

Natasha lets out another sigh. “You have a seven year old.”

“Steve did most of the work until it was potty trained. I just dealt with potentially fatal entertainment and bath time.”

“You'll be fine,” she tells him, patting him on the shoulder lightly.

“I hope you got an extended warranty.”

“I'll be back at 4:30,” she says just before closing the door behind her.

Tony just stands there in the hallway and stares at the door for a while, finally moving when he hears Maddie and Peter come out into the living room.

“We're going to play Mario Party, Dad,” Peter says as he turns on the Wii and TV. “Want to play with us?”

“Naw, it wouldn't be fair since I am the reigning champ.”

Peter's eyebrows come down, and he looks up in thought, his eyes squinting. “But I beat you last time.”

“I let you win.”

“Pops beat you the time before that,” Peter continues.

“That was just a fluke,” Tony says, waving it off.

“And before that-”

“You just never stop do you?”

Peter's grinning broadly as he plops on the couch with two controllers.

“Can I have something to drink, please?” Maddie asks Tony politely.

Tony shakes his head. “Sorry, can't have you leaving puddles on the floor – just had it cleaned it yesterday.”

“I told you. I can use the bathroom,” she tells him defiantly.

“Do you still wet the bed?” Tony asks, crossing his arms.

Maddie puts her hand on her hip, her expression pure defiance. “No. Do you?”

“Rude. You really do take after your mother.”

“Thank you,” she says in her little voice, a broad smile on her face.

“It wasn't really-”

Peter interrupts him. “Dad, just go get her a drink.”

Tony mumbles to himself in annoyance as he makes his way to the kitchen.

“Don't mind him,” Peter tells Maddie, “he's always grumpy before his nap.”

“Hey,” Tony yells from across the house, “who taught you to sass like that?”

“You,” Peter answers.

“Good.”

When Tony comes back with a cup of juice for Maddie, he tells her, “You break it you bought it – don't spill on the upholstery.”

Maddie's little face scrunches up in consternation. “The what?”

“The couch,” Peter answers her as the game starts.

“Oh. Okay. Thank you, Mr. Iron Man.”

Tony puffs up a little at the title. “You're welcome, Spider Spawn.”

“Dad, no name calling,” Peter scolds, rolling his eyes.

Tony ignores his son. “I bet 3 gummy bears each that neither of you can get the star in the next 10 minutes.”

“Deal.”

“You're on!” Maddie shouts excitedly.

Thirty minutes later and Tony's out 2 scoops of ice cream on waffle cones for each of the “devil spawn” (“What did I say about name calling?!” Peter admonishes).

“So,” Tony says, letting out a sign as he leans far back into the couch. “What do we do now?”

“Can we go outside?” Peter asks.

Maddie immediately jumps up. “Yeah! I wanna go to the park!”

“But it's hot out there,” Tony whines. He gets two times the puppy eyes. “You guys are too good at that,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 ______________________________________________________________

Natasha comes to pick Maddie up a few hours later, 4:30PM on the dot.

“Punctual, as always,” Tony comments as he opens the door to let her in.

“Why're you wet?” she asks.

Maddie runs up then, crying out, “Mama!”

“Moye solnyshko!” Natasha picks her up in a big hug. “Why're you wet?”

“We were playing in the backyard,” Tony tells her.

Natasha looks at him incredulously. “You live on the 21^st floor,” she says, matter-of-factly.

“We took a dip in the pool.”

“You don't have a pool.”

Tony shrugs. “Had one installed on the 27^th floor.”

“We went to the park!” Maddie interrupted enthusiastically.

Tony lets out a frustrated grumble. “I thought we were going to stick to the plan. Remember that complicated and elaborate plan we came up with just before your mom got here? The one where we- No, of course you don't remember. Forget it. That's the last time I'm doing a co-op with you.”

“Still doesn't explain why you're both wet.” Natasha says.

“Oh, we're not the only ones – Peter's pretty soaked, too.”

Natasha just rolls her eyes.

“We wanted to go outside, but Mr. Iron Man said it was too hot, so we went to the park with super soaker guns!” Maddie says, finally spilling the beans under all that pressure. Traitor.

“We compromised. You been training her? She's a pretty good shot.”

Steve comes in through the door just then. “I'm home!” he calls out. Peter runs over, shirtless and still dripping. “Hey, there's my big man!” Peter runs to give him a hug, but Tony steps in front of the kid.

“He was talking about me.” Peter laughs and rolls his eyes as Tony leans in to give Steve a quick kiss. “Welcome home, handsome.”

“Why're you guys all wet?” Steve asks as he picks Peter up in a bear hug.

“Went for a quick swim in our pool,” Tony tells him.

Steve shakes his head in confusion. “When did we get a pool? And why'd you go in your clothes?”

“Today, apparently,” Natasha butted in. “27^th floor.”

“We brought the water guns to the park,” Peter explained.

Tony threw up his hands in surrender as he turns and walks away. “I can't work with any of you people!” he shouts in frustration.

One of A Kind

Erin Morgenstern's The Night Circus can be complemented as very, very addictive.

Sure, the book can be very confusing at first,

But as the pages turned,

Everything became so alive.

As an avid reader,

I can say that every character,

Even the circus herself,

seems like it's coming to life.

From the black and white circus,

The most enchanting imagery that I can never forget,

Would be the "Lovers Statue" and Herr Friedrick Thiessen's clock.

And  frankly,

If the book will (ever) be adapted into movie,

The characters I've been dreaded to see the most

Would be Poppet, Widget, and Alexander.

It's as if there's love and loss at the same time, together in a kind of beautiful pain - Isobel

Baking Disaster

“Tony?”

“Yes, Steve?”

“What happened?”

Steve stood in the doorway of the kitchen... or what he remembered to be the kitchen. Right now it looked like a war zone or the streets of the city after the Avengers fought off another threat to humanity. Dirty dishes were everywhere, some sort of batter had splattered against every wall, every surface, his son's face, Tony's hair and beard. And there was a good deal of smoke emanating from the stove despite Tony's efforts to fan it with Steve's favorite apron.

“Um...” Tony's eyes shifted nervously before he looked down at his son, scooping him into his arms as he yelled. “Abort mission!” And ran away from Steve through the other door to the kitchen.

~Previously in Stark Towers...

“Peter careful with that, stir it gently.” Tony warned his six year old son as he mixed the cake batter.

“But Papa always uses a whisk.” Peter looked up from the bowl and the small spork he had been given to gaze questionably at his father.

Tony stared back, eyebrow raised ever-so slightly, thinking smartass in his head but not saying it aloud. Heaven forbid Steve find out that Tony taught him a swear word.

“Fine. We'll find a... whisk... Where would Steve keep a... Jarvis can you scan the kitchen-”

“Right here, Daddy.” Peter pulled said whisk out of the door opposite of him, holding it up triumphantly.

“Yes, very cute, Peter. Clearly you're the pro here.” Tony grumbled, almost astonished at his inability to bake a cake or function productively in a kitchen if not for the fact that he was Tony Stark. It was a known fact that he was useless when it came to mundane tasks like cooking, sleeping, eating on a schedule, or finding his son without the use of a tracking device.

Peter smiled proudly as Tony lifted him up onto the counter where he immediately began putting Tony to shame with his ability to use a whisk – which Tony hadn't thought he'd heard of until this day.

Tony's fingers fumbled as he ran his finger down the recipe list.

“Okay... we got this right, kid? We can do this?”

Peter nodded confidently. “For Papa.”

Tony returned his smile in two-fold. “Yeah, for Papa. It's his favorite isn't it.” Tony searched his memory, sure that he was getting this right and not mixing it up like the time his mind had replaced Pepper's favorite food with the one food she was actually allergic to.

“Yup, Papa loves strawberry cheese cake.”

Thank god he had a smart son who was going to turn out to be a functional member of society because Tony sure as hell wasn't.

~Meanwhile, back in the present...

“Tony!” Steve yelled in confusion as he started to chase after his husband, only to find himself stopping to turn the oven off and open the windows. “Jarvis, can you make sure the house doesn't burn down?”

“As that would be detrimental to my own well-being, sir. I'll see it does not happen.”

“Thanks. Where's my husband?”

“Hiding in his lab, sir.”

“Great. Unlock the door?”

“Already done.”

“Brilliant.” Steve rushed off in pursuit of his husband, pulling the lab door open to find the room apparently empty when he arrived. For a moment he thought Tony had told Jarvis to lie to him about his location but Steve knew better. Jarvis had always been honest during their disputes and if Tony had instructed the AI not to divulge his whereabouts... Jarvis would have told Steve that.

“Tony?” Steve called out into the lab, hearing his voice echo off empty space. “Peter?” He tried again, hearing a shush from behind Tony's Saleen S7. Of course his husband would hide behind the expensive vehicles.

“I'm not mad.” Steve lied because the sight of his kitchen in such... disarray wasn't strong enough of a word... made his insides boil. The kitchen was the one place Steve had made off limits. He didn't want to see it become the rubble that Tony's lab turned into every time a light bulb went off in his head and suddenly he'd need to laser the walls to create a new element. “Come out and tell my why my kitchen is a disaster zone and maybe I'll go easy on you.”

“Take the kid! He accepts one hundred percent of the blame.” His son was lifted above the roof of the car, held up by Tony's hands. Peter giggled, enjoying the game his fathers were playing.

Steve shook his head, waving at his son. “What were you and Daddy doing in the kitchen, Peter?”

“Baking.” He answered plainly, as though there was no other logical answer.

“Baking what?” Steve's eyes narrowed, focusing more on his hidden husband rather than his son.

“A cake.” Peter continued, not sure why his Papa was asking questions with such obvious explanations.

Steve heard Tony sigh loudly and cough awkwardly before standing up and lifting his son up to sit on his shoulders.

“We destroyed the kitchen attempting to bake you a strawberry cheesecake and from this endeavor I have learned that from this point on I will remain distanced from any kitchen appliance and stick to buying cakes from a bakery for birthdays in the future. So if you'll excuse us. Your son and I have a mess to clean.”

Steve's confused, perturbed and frustrated expression melted softly into an amused, affectionate smile. “You remembered?”

Tony smirked, eyes flustered but he brushed away any chance to linger on the subject. “Yes, it's not the first time I've remembered a date and a desert you happen to like. No need to throw a parade about it, it's your day and we have to fly in a cake from Paris because the bakeries here are closed.”

“Paris Tony?”

“Or Seattle, it doesn't really matter.”

Steve rolled his eyes as his husband tried to rush by him but instead he grabbed his arms and pulled him close. “Thanks, Tony.” He whispered, kissing Tony sweetly on the lips before breaking away and looking up at their son who was feigning disgust at his parents' display of affection. “Thank you, Peter for trying to make me a cake.”

Peter grinned widely, the same grin he'd no doubt inherited from his dad. “Happy birthday, Papa!”

Hogwarts. Twilight, and Steve

Steve walked into Tony’s lab, bouncing with purpose in his step. “Tony, I’ve got an idea for Peter’s 11th birthday.”

Tony sighed. He knew what the idea was - it didn’t take a genius to figure it out, especially when his husband was decked from head to toe in wizard gear. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you’ve just read through fiction of the 90’s and devoured all the Harry Potter books in a week would it?” Tony was going to blast whoever taught Steve how to use eBay with his repulsors the next time they’re in battle.

Steve’s excitement crumbled. “But Tony-“

“No.”

“Tony it would be really cute-“

“No Steve.”

“Tony-“

“Steve, do you know how many kids crack their skulls every single year from running into a brick barrier at Kings Cross in London? Hundreds. I’m not going to let me son fall into the delusion that ‘Hogwarts is real’.”

Don’t look at him don’t look at him he’s got those puppy dog eyes…

Steve deflated. “Ok fine then…” He turned around and was about to leave the lab when Tony spotted the book he was carrying.

“Hey, is that the book you’re holding the one you’re reading next?” Tony casually walked over to Steve and took the book from him as calmly as he could.

“Yeah, Pepper lent it to me, something about a vampire love story that’s extremely popular - TONY - OH MY GOD GET IT OUT OF THE FURNACE - I HAVE TO GIVE THAT BACK IT’S A SIGNED COPY!”

Movie Nights

Every Sunday night at the Avengers tower was movie night. All of the Avengers would get together and watch a movie. Because Peter was only seven the only movies they could watch were kids movies. They would rotate who got to pick the movie each week. Unfortunately each avenger seemed to pick the same movie every single time.

Tony would always pick the Iron Giant. He felt for the poor giant, who just wanted a friend.

Bruce loved Beauty and the Beast. He could appreciate the suffering that the beast went through. And the movie always left him feeling hopeful, because maybe a beast like him could find love.

On Clint’s nights they would always end up watching either Dumbo or Brave. Dumbo reminded him of the days he spent in the circus with his brother. And Brave needs no explanation.

Natasha always picked Mulan. Strong female characters? Hell yeah.

Thor, though at first very confused by the idea of a movie, ended up choosing Lilo and Stich. It reminded him of his relationship with Loki.

Later when he joined the team Loki would choose Pinocchio. If a wooden puppet could become a real person, so could a Frost-giant.

Coulson would pick Men in Black. No explanation needed.

Nick Fury would choose the Incredibles.

Maria Hill always picked something new each time, but it usually included a princess.

Steve always made everyone watch The Wizard of Oz, even back when Peter wasn’t around and they could have watched any movie. Everyone always made fun of him about it. Then one day after a snide comment from Clint, Peter turned to Steve and said “I think it’s a good movie daddy.” That was the first time Peter called Steve dad. If it wasn't Steve's favorite movie before, it certainly was after.

And lastly on Peter’s days they were all stuck watching Avengers cartoons.

Trust

Bruce was particularly uncomfortable around military types; previous experience made him wary, and frankly, the way they looked at him, like he was nothing more than a monster, a ticking time bomb…he didn't like it. He knew he was dangerous, knew he would never be a normal human being again-he didn't need their constant reminder thrown in his face.

Director Fury and Agent Hill fell into that category easily. They didn't look at him with quite the disgust Ross had at least, just measured caution, something that Bruce didn't love but fully understood. Natasha was as properly terrified of him as she should be, though she masked it well. He felt awful about the incident in the Helicarrier, hated himself for it, but she hadn't so much as flinched fighting beside him in the final attack. She was scared of him, but she never let it control her; Bruce found her bravery incredibly admirable, though he'd come to expect no less from her. She was a truly amazing woman, but respect for her courage was not the same as trust.

She was a spy, and he knew she was too well trained to ignore the all too clear threat he posed to her and to the team. The same went for Clint, for Coulson, for all the SHIELD agents; he didn't blame them, not necessarily, but he wasn't comfortable around them all the same.

Thor was impossible not to love. Of all of them, he didn't have to be there. He could have left Earth to deal with the disaster it had brought upon itself by unearthing the Tesseract and trying to make weapons from it. Sure, okay, the woman he loved lived here, but he could have easily taken her and left. Instead, he stayed. He fought against his own brother-his own evil, batshit crazy brother, but his brother nonetheless.

The guy was strong, too; not many people could go toe to toe with the Other Guy, but Thor took him head on. Like Natasha, Thor had unquestionably earned Bruce's respect; but not his trust. For all Thor's good-natured enthusiasm, he was a bit of a loose cannon. He wasn't even on Earth anymore, off on Asgard bringing his brother to justice. Sure, if he was around he might help Bruce, but he wasn't someone Bruce could actually count on.

But Tony.

As reckless as Tony could be, as sarcastic and argumentative and even downright childlike as he could be, Tony was honest. If Tony genuinely believed the Other Guy to be a monster, he wouldn't have let Bruce anywhere near him. He wouldn't have said and done the things he did, and he certainly wouldn't have invited Bruce to his R&D candyland. Yet, Tony had. Tony had poked and prodded at him, both physically and mentally. Sure, he'd tried the obvious sharp objects route, but he'd also gotten Bruce to really consider the Other Guy's purpose, a philosophical sort of question Bruce had pushed to the back of his mind for a long time.

Tony believed that the Other Guy had saved Bruce's life; something Bruce himself had perhaps considered a long time ago, before people like Ross beat it into him what a monstrosity he'd become. Tony talked about how his arc reactor was simultaneously killing him and keeping him alive, and Bruce had to wonder if he might not have the same sort of question on his hands. For so long he'd simply pushed the Other Guy to the background, considered him dangerous and a monster and something to simply contain-ironic, considering how much he hated it when others tried to do the same to him. After that final battle in New York, it had become clear to Bruce that he'd been going about things the wrong way. The Other Guy could be a force of good. Yes, Bruce would still need to take precautions and keep himself in check and work on directing his anger in the heat of a battle, but…he could really do some good.

And that was entirely thanks to Tony.

Tony, who never once looked at him with anything resembling fear. Tony, who had treated him like a human being from day one. Tony, who was comfortable enough around him to tease him, something he can't remember happening once since the Other Guy showed up. Tony, who talked science to him and shared his blueberries and offered up his candyland and fast-talked Bruce into a friendship before he could think to stop it.

Tony, who believed Bruce was a hero when no one else did, not even Bruce himself.

Tony was the one person Bruce trusted, so Bruce had to admit, he hadn't been too keen on Steve at first. Though they had all been under the influence of Loki's staff, and of course Tony had shot off his mouth plenty in return, the things the Captain had said to Tony in the Helicarrier had been vicious-Steve had gone straight for Tony's deepest insecurities. It had been plain as day on Tony's face, at least to Bruce; as much as Tony had lashed back, Steve's comments had hit their mark in a damaging way.

It only made it worse that Tony obviously idolized Steve. Had since the moment the Captain walked in, and it sure didn't take a genius to figure that out. Tony constantly looked to Steve for his reaction and opinions, the moment Steve opened his mouth Tony was all but hanging on his words, and of course, his eyes went cold and glassy every time Steve shot him down or outright insulted him.

You may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero.

Big man in a suit of armor; take that away and what are you?

I know guys with none of that worth 10 of you.

Again, magical influence brought out the worst in people, but Bruce still couldn't shake the haunted look in Tony's eyes as Steve had shot line after line at him.

Twenty three, his mind supplied, Steve's only twenty three, after all. Still a kid, really, and he'd been through so much; he was only just a month or so out of the worst war in history, everyone he'd ever known was dead or ancient, and he was still struggling just to understand the new world around him. Then the world that isn't even fully his is attacked by aliens, and he's somehow expected to be the one to turn a bunch of sarcastic, independent, super-powered vigilantes that can barely breathe the same air into a team?

Hell, at twenty three, Bruce had still been in school. Nights were spent in the underfunded school lab or studying for exams, and days were filled with coffee, classes, and failed attempts to attract girls' attentions, not saving a world he didn't belong in and mourning the loss of everything he'd ever known.

Though he still didn't like the way Steve had treated Tony, the kid deserved another chance. He hadn't been in the best place at the time; he still probably wasn't. It was only just three months after the attack on New York. There had been other attempts as well, though none quite so grandscale. Loki had already escaped twice, and some Dr. Doom guy liked to pop in every once in a while when the Fantastic Four-who presence, for the record, sure as hell would have been appreciated in the New York attack-were busy.

Assorted other costumed megalomaniacs made attempts pretty regularly as well now, thus their one time save-the-day gig had become a day job. Fury claimed that they needed to live together for ease of access-though, really, Bruce suspected SHIELD was just glad to be rid of their crazy-so they moved into Tony's obscenely large Tower, turning Stark Tower the Avengers Tower, much to Tony's initial displeasure and eventual grudging fondness.

Bruce had to admit, Steve had proven to be generally a very good person, in spite of initial impressions. He made breakfast for everyone, was always willing to spar with them, and was a commanding but fair leader in the field. Not to mention he was a genuine, honest person, and nice to absolutely everyone they came across-Bruce had actually seen Steve walk little old ladies across the street with his own two eyes. More than once.

It was just Tony that Steve couldn't get along with.

They bickered constantly. At home, at parties and fundraisers, even in the field. Admittedly, Tony started most fights-because for all he claimed not to, Tony still obviously idolized Steve, but now he felt the need to go to great lengths to prove he didn't. Thus: fighting.

Steve wasn't much help on that front; he never seemed able to ignore Tony's bait, always ready to pick up where they left off. Tony clearly frustrated him, whether it was just Tony being Tony or if there were other reasons-that he looked like Howard, that he symbolized the future Steve hadn't quite caught up to-Bruce wasn't sure. Regardless, Bruce knew it was silly to hold any grudges against the Captain on Tony's behalf. He knew that if he ever had half a real conversation with Steve, he'd like him just fine, which led him to his current question.

How to spend time with Steve?

Steve liked to draw and read quite a bit, but he liked to do it alone. He liked movies-well, sometimes, it depended on the movie-but those were usually group affairs and Bruce wanted a chance to talk to Steve alone, get to know the guy a little. Steve was gone in the mornings for runs, and he was around for breakfast but didn't talk much other than to argue with Tony or separate Tony and Clint. Sometime in the afternoon then? That was usually when he disappeared to draw or read, but maybe Bruce could come up with something Steve would want to do more? It shouldn't be hard, Steve would make time in his day for anyone, even little old ladies crossing the street-

Oh. Well there's an idea.

Bruce didn't need any help crossing the street, obviously, but Steve liked to help people. Bruce could ask him to help out in the lab sometime, surely Steve wouldn't mind. In fact, Bruce knew he had a book on feng shui in the modern space somewhere aroung here…perhaps his lab could use a little reorganizing? Yes, a little reorganizing would be a good change of pace.

---

It was Clint's turn to cook, which meant some fancy, complicated meal most of them had never had before. The archer had turned out to be a fantastic chef, most likely to do with the master assassin's fine-tuned patience and precision. He made a polenta lasagna with rice and grilled vegetables, and while Clint started to serve them, Bruce took his opportunity.

"Steve, I was wonderin-"

"Wait until everyone's seated," Clint chided suddenly, leaning over Bruce to swat at Tony's hand.

"Shut up, Barton, I'm hungry," Tony just rolled his eyes, swiping another piece of bread for good measure.

"I grew up in a circus and I have better manners than you," Clint huffed in return.

"He's right, Tony," Steve added, not noticing that Bruce had been speaking, "It's polite to wait until the cook sits down to-"

"Well, excuseme, Captain Table Manners. He's sitting down in half a minute, isn't he?"

"It's just common courtesy," Steve sighed, then, because he couldn't seem to resist the little quips when it came to Tony, "Not that you'd recognize if it walked up and introduced itself to you."

"Here we go," Natasha shook her head with a sigh.

"Because I'm so rude, is that it?" Tony threw his hands up, "Hate to break it to you Gramps, but we're not all so prissy in the future. It's called 'casual', maybe you've heard of it?"

"Alright, Clint's sitting now, we can all just ea-" Bruce tried.

"It's called manners, maybe you've heard of it?" Steve shot back.

"Not everyone's gonna trip over themselves to lick your boots, soldier boy," Tony flashed a grin, all teeth, "If the future ain't living up to your high expectations, I'd be more than happy to flash-freeze your uptight ass again."

"Oh god," Clint moaned, recognizing the point of no return.

"You're the ass, Stark," Steve hissed, his voice dropping low as he growled harshly, "That's not funny. And I'll tell you one thing, it's certainly not the future that's not living up to expect-"

Steve abruptly cut himself off, a vaguely regretful look in his eyes.

"No, please, do go on, Rogers," Tony spat, all fire now, "Do tell, what isn't living up to expectation? Would that be darling Howard's boy, maybe? Not quite what you imagined, yeah?"

"I'm not letting you drag me down this road, Tony," Steve shook his head resolutely.

"Good, right, let's maybe return to dinner then-"

"Oh, I'm Tony now?" Tony just couldn't let it lie, "Not Stark? Not Howard? I know you still have to watch your tongue with that one."

"Once," Steve snapped, "I made that mistake once, can you please let it go? Believe me, you have made it perfectly clear that you aren't your father."

"One of the many men worth ten of me, right?" Tony snarled.

"Tony, could you just-" Bruce attempted to placate him, but Steve was suddenly on his feet, and Tony was quick to follow.

"Look, I know you don't think I do, but I get it, Tony! I am perfectly aware that he was not the same man to you that I knew before you-"

"Before I what, ruined his life?" Tony spat.

"I was going to say before you born, jeez!" Steve ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, "You know, maybe if you let me finish a damn sentence once in a while-"

"Ooh, look, Captain America knows a curse word," Tony mocked.

"Tony, I-!"

"Enough!"

There were certain times when the Other Guy came in handy. For one thing, when you slammed your palms on the dinner table, people tended to drop what they were doing and pay attention to you.

"Tony, Steve met your father, get over it and stop taking your resentment of him out on Steve. Steve, Tony just wants a rise out of you so stop rising. Both of you, for goodness sake's. Just drop it and eat, would you? Christ," Bruce muttered, grabbing his finished plate and dropping it off in the kitchen sink. As an afterthought, he added, "Steve, when you're finished, meet me in my lab, would you?"

"What?" Steve blinked widely, his expression clearly saying what he didn't. Am I in trouble?

"I'm rearranging and I could use your muscles," Bruce clarified, raising an amused eyebrow.

He should get involved in their spats more often. When Clint did they just yelled over him, and Natasha never seemed bothered by it enough to say anything, taking it with her usual impassiveness. Bruce usually followed suit, either ignoring them or leaving the room, but yelling back seemed to do quite nicely. Tony leaned back in his chair, watching Bruce with wide eyes that were equal parts proud and dumb-founded. Considering how rare a speechless Tony was, Bruce was rather proud of himself as well. Steve just seemed surprised, but a surprised Steve apparently meant a compliant Steve.

"Oh! Yes, of course, Dr. Banner."

"Bruce is fine."

"Bruce. Yes. Got it."

Bruce walked off to his lab then, an amused smile on his face.

---

"Dr. Ba-uh, Bruce?"

Bruce glanced up from his work to see Steve leaning in the doorway.

"Oh, Steve. Good to see you," he stood, crossing to where Steve was, "Thanks for helping me. I apologize if I was a little short with you at dinner earlier."

"Don't apologize," Steve shook his head, "Entirely our fault. You're right, of course. I know rationally that Tony's just baiting me, I just…he's hard to ignore, at times."

"I'm all too aware," Bruce smiled.

"You needed me to…move furniture?"

"Right, yes. If you could switch these cabinets with the desk on the other side, that'd be great."

"Not a problem," Steve nodded, going to lift the first of the file cabinets.

"If you don't mind my asking…how're you adjusting?" Bruce questioned while he cleared his desk off.

"That's a broad question," Steve sighed, though there was a hint of a smile on his face, "To the future, you mean? Well enough, I suppose. Tony's been a help, for all his big talk."

"Really?" Bruce raised an eyebrow in surprise.

All he'd heard from Tony was complaint after complaint about Steve had done this, Steve had said that. At some point, Bruce had learned to start tuning out sometime after the first 'you'll never believe how Steve talked/acted/blinked today'. It made sense, that if Tony was talking so much about Steve, it sort of meant they had to be spending some time together outside of their usual spats. Bruce had just never given it any thought, since it seemed so odd to picture them spending time together without any attempted strangulation.

"Yeah," Steve nodded, not seeming to notice Bruce's surprise, "He's caught me up to date on most of the technology around the house, especially cellphones. Though I can't say I like texting, the buttons are far too small if you ask me. We're easing into the internet, since Tony says there's a lot to cover and apparently if I just dive in I'll get bombarded with porn and Nigerian princes who want money. Also, the computer could catch a disease if I don't learn how to be careful first."

"A…virus?" Bruce couldn't help but chuckle at Steve's all too serious tone.

"Right, that."

"So Tony's been helping you, then?"

"Of course," Steve looked startled at that as he finished placing the second file cabinet, "What do you think we do in his workshop all afternoon?"

"I…I didn't know you two were friends," Bruce's surprise translated into direct frankness, "To be perfectly honest, Captain, you guys don't act like it."

"We don't act much different in private," Steve shrugged, "We still bicker a lot. But…I know it's strange, but he means well. The thing I've learned about Tony, is you have to focus on what he does, not what he says."

"That's certainly true," Bruce nodded.

"I think…I could be wrong, of course, and I may just be projecting, but…" Steve paused, then, "Tony hasn't said it in so many words, but I get the feeling Howard expected Tony to live up to the image I left behind. That wasn't fair to Tony, of course, but I think…I think in his own way, he's trying to pick fights with me now as a way of showing me he knows I'm not as perfect as the Captain America title would like people to believe. We've both had Captain America held over our heads, and we're both a little tired of it, Tony probably far more than I. In his own strange way, Tony's just trying to interact with Steve Rogers instead of Captain America. And…I appreciate that, I really do, even if I wish he'd go about it differently."

There was a moment of silence between them as Steve adjusted the last filing cabinet against the far wall.

"You understand him a lot more than you let on," Bruce said at last.

"I suppose," Steve sighed, leaning against the cabinet, clearly thinking about something, "It's…complicated."

"That's Tony for you," Bruce gave a hint of a smile, then, "If you need a sounding board, I'm all ears."

"I wouldn't want to intrude, here, I'll finish moving your desk and get out of your hair," Steve just picked up Bruce's desk, walking it over easily to the new location.

"Steve," Bruce chuckled, crossing to where he was making tea in the corner, "I appreciate you moving my furniture, but the real reason I invited you down here was because I wanted to talk to you. I feel we haven't really had a chance to get to know each other as much as the others, and I'd like to remedy that. You're not intruding at all."

"Oh," Steve smiled brightly as he placed the desk in it's new spot, "Thank you. I'd like to get to know you too, Dr. Banner."

"Bruce," Bruce corrected with a smile.

"Right. Bruce," he nodded sheepishly.

"Would you like some tea, Steve?" Bruce offered, and Steve nodded.

"Yes, please. What kind do you have?"

They spent fifteen minutes chit chatting about the types of tea Bruce had, the herbal effects they were known for and Bruce's thoughts on aromatherapy-not particularly effective, but it certainly didn't hurt in addition to more effective practices-and finally landed on the topic of yoga. Steve hadn't heard anything about it in his time, and he seemed confused now. Bruce explained as best he could.

"So is Pilates similar, then?"

"Well…" Bruce hesitated, then, "Not exactly, but in the sense that they're both exercises to stretch and relax your body, I suppose they're similar, yes."

"Oh."

"Has someone suggested you try Pilates?" Bruce raised an eyebrow; he wouldn't have pinned Steve as the type.

"Tony asked me about it when we first met, he seemed to think it was how I'd kept limber over the 70 years. I wondered what it was," Steve admitted, then added, "Of course, in retrospect I know he was kidding."

"You've gotten better at recognizing his poorly timed jokes, then?" Bruce chuckled, bringing the conversation back to Tony.

It was clear that Tony and Steve had a different relationship than he'd thought; Steve had alluded to spending a lot of time in Tony's workshop, and that wasn't something Tony let just anyone do. He also seemed to understand Tony's relationship with his father, at least somewhat, and that was most definitely something Tony was not open about. Bruce had to admit, he was rather curious.

"Oh yes," Steve snorted, "Doesn't mean I think he should be making them."

"You know, Steve," Bruce said thoughtfully, contemplating his words before he spoke, "Tony's a more complicated man than he appears. I can see you're beginning to realize that on your own, but, it's still something you should keep in mind. He's…sensitive is the wrong word, of course, he's stubborn as all hell, but he takes things to heart more than he'd like people to believe."

At that, Steve looked absolutely miserable. Bruce couldn't remember kicking the man's puppy, but Steve was certainly looking like he had.

"I know," Steve said softly, staring into his almost empty mug of chamomile tea as if it held the answers, "I can't even…you were there, you heard the things I said. I didn't even know him, but I tore him down like I did, I bullied him, and I feel…I can't begin to tell you how horrible I feel about that."

Bruce couldn't quite look Steve in the eyes. Luckily the other man didn't seem intent on making eye contact at the moment anyway, but Bruce found himself feeling guilty. He'd spent so much time bristling in Tony's defense over the whole thing that it hadn't really occurred to him that Steve-polite, respectful, nice Steve-of course felt awful about it.

"I didn't say that to make you feel guilty-"

"Oh, no, I know-"

"We all said things-"

"Loki's staff-"

"Exactly-"

"Right, well," Steve shifted as they finished overlapping each other, then admitted, "Tony has said, on the rare occasion he wasn't trying to bait me into another fight, that he's forgiven me, and I believe him. But just because he's forgiven me doesn't mean my words don't still sting. I'm doing my best to make it up to him, Dr. Ba-uh, Bruce. I really am."

"I'm glad, Steve," Bruce smiled, "Tony could use a friend li-"

Avengers Assemble, repeat, Avengers Assemble.

The blaring sirens that accompanied this announcement overshadowed the rest of Bruce's sentiment.

---

Over the next few weeks, Bruce quickly let go of his initial reservations. He found he actually really liked having Steve around; he was respectful, funny, and a genuinely kind, steady kind of person, and Bruce enjoyed their conversations. He found himself even coming up with excuses to invite the man down to his lab; help with experiments, more reorganization, even just a conversation when he wanted to take a break.

He learned quickly that Steve spent an inordinate amount of time with Tony, pretty much whenever they weren't sleeping, hanging out in a group, or fighting evil, and for a while, Bruce couldn't fathom why. All they seemed to do was bicker, and the tension when they even shared a room was almost blinding. After a week or two, Bruce finally managed to pull his head up out of his work long enough to see it. Steve was talking about Tony-not an unusual occurrence-but there was something about the look in Steve's eyes. He was complaining, sure, but his eyes were fond, affectionate; loving, really. Like an old man complaining about his wife's bad habits.

After that, Bruce couldn't unsee it.

It was all he noticed when they debated whose turn it was to pick the movie, when they stole food from each other's plates at dinner, even when they bickered over the comm units while tag teaming like they'd know each other all their lives. They were married, really, and Bruce wasn't entirely sure what to do with that information. He wasn't one to pry in others affairs; to be honest, he wasn't one to even really care about others affairs, but the Avengers had wormed their way into his heart. They were his family, and he had to wonder if they all might be better off if "mom and dad" kissed and made up.

Of course, they'd both deny it to their graves, so talking to them about it wouldn't likely do anyone much good.

So for a while, Bruce did nothing. He listened and nodded sympathetically when Steve came to him about this crazy thing Tony said, or this stupid thing Tony had done, and not bothered to point out that Steve was the one who repeatedly sought Tony out in spite of all these crazy, stupid actions. He did the same for Tony when Tony came bursting into his lab every few days, ranting about how Steve was treating him like a kid-making him eat andsleep, how preposterous.

Then, about three weeks after Steve and Bruce's first conversation, it all suddenly stopped.

Steve and Bruce still chatted, but the word 'Tony', usually the single most common word, was entirely absent from their conversation. As much as Bruce liked talking to Steve about other subjects, he was definitely curious. He didn't mention it, but when Tony was mum about Steve for the entire time he was in the lab later that day, then it was just plain suspicious.

They were acting different around the others, too. They didn't speak directly to each other unless they had to, and then it was strangely polite. Not the good polite, like civil conversation, but the bad polite, like they were strangers crammed together on a plane who both wanted the armrest but were too polite to say anything so they just not-so-subtly nudged elbows for an hour.

Things were always tense between them, but suddenly there was a level of weirdness to it that neither of them would say anything about, and Bruce wasn't the only one who found it unnerving.

"Twenty bucks says Stark kicked Rogers' puppy," Clint threw out as he collapsed on the couch with a box of lo mein, chopsticks in hand.

They'd been left alone; Tony and Steve were getting dinner on their own. Apparently, Steve had convinced Tony to break in his big project and eat something by letting Tony take him to one of those big fancy restaurants that Steve hated and Tony loved. At the last second, Steve seemed to remember that there were other people on the team and had a thrown a "you're all welcome to come along, of course?" over his shoulder, but it was pretty clear that they weren't really wanted. Thus, Chinese takeout, a Bruce Lee movie, and debate over the Tony and Steve thing.

"Steve would be furious, and hardly silent," Natasha shot his theory down, "Also, he doesn't own a puppy. Maybe Steve broke something of Stark's? Some new gadget, maybe?"

"No, Tony would have been complaining about it all week," Bruce shook his head, "And he most definitely would have temporarily locked Steve out of his workshop, and we'd have all heard about that."

"Y'know, what if they're not fighting?" Clint mused, "What if they've run out of things to fight about, so they're all tense and weird because they want to hit each other but can't think of a reason?"

"They always have reasons to fight," Natasha snorted, "And when they don't, they make them up."

"True. I think Clint's right about one thing, they aren't fighting," Bruce agreed, "They've never had a problem shouting at each other before, even when we begged them not to. Why would they suddenly play cold shoulder now?"

"What else could it be, though? You think it's got anything to do with SHIELD, something they're not supposed to tell us?" Clint waved the bowl of popcorn wildly as his inner conspiracy theorist began to show, "I mean, I know Cap is technically our leader, but let's be honest, Tony's kinda like co-captain, or just-barely-sub-captain, or something like that."

"It can't be SHIELD related, Tony's always complaining that they never tell him anything," Bruce pointed out.

"True enough, but c'mon, it's Tony," Clint raised an eyebrow at him, "SHIELD's system is secure as all hell don't get me wrong, but let's not kid ourselves here, when it comes to computer systems he can get into whatever he sets his mind to."

"So you think SHIELD clued Steve into something big, something no one else is supposed to know, but Tony found out on his own, so now they're tiptoeing around each other?" Bruce considered it, then, "That could work. Steve wouldn't know how to broach it, because he wouldn't want to falsely accuse Tony of hacking if he didn't. Doesn't quite explain Tony's weirdness, since he's usually rather proud of his hacking feats, but it's the best we've come up with yet, anyway."

"You know," Clint huffed, "You really have to wonder what they think they can't tell us. I mean, we fight with and against extraterrestrials on a regular basis, there's like two objects in this whole Tower Tony haven't made sentient out of boredom, and dinosaurs roamed Wall Street last week-I'm not talking the usual old white guys, either. Seriously, we're like, the champions of taking shit in stride. You could tell me Obama's a Dalek and I'm pretty sure I'd be like, sure, okay, where do I aim for that?"

"Clint, don't talk about shooting the President," Natasha sighed, and her tone very clearly implied that this was not the first time she'd had to say this. Bruce chuckled.

"You get my point though, right?" Clint insisted, "What do you think they're keeping from us?"

"I don't know, and I don't want to know. If it's got Tony tiptoeing, I'm nervous already," Bruce sighed, "That man doesn't know the definition of discretion."

"What are you three talking about?" Steve voice cut in, and he popped a head into the room, looking alarmed, "What hasn't Tony been discreet about?"

"Aren't you supposed to be at dinner?" Clint raised an eyebrow, but Steve wasn't to be distracted.

"Forgot my jacket," he dismissed Clint, focusing on Bruce again, "What do you mean, Tony can't be discreet? Did he say something to you?"

"Uh…no."

"Oh. You said…well," Steve blinked, but he didn't look particularly convinced, "Alright then."

Just as he was about to leave, Clint caught sight of what was hanging around Steve's neck.

"Steve," Clint gaped, "Are you wearing a life alert?"

"A what?"

"He is," Bruce blinked, catching sight of it too.

"A twenty says it's Tony's doing," Natasha just snorted.

"What, this? Yeah, Tony said…" Steve pulled it off, examining it. He sighed then, clearly realizing he'd been played, "Oh, shoot."

"Oh, I want to hear this," Clint grinned, "What did Stark tell you that was?"

"He said it was for emergencies," Steve shifted uncomfortably, "It isn't to assemble the Avengers?"

"Youtube 'life alert commercial'," Clint laughed.

"I can do that," Steve brightened, clearly happy he understood what it meant to youtube something, "After dinner though, we have reservations."

"You do?" Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, yes. Tony has to eat, sometimes, and he forgets, often, so I made reservations. For him. And me. To, y'know, eat," Steve stammered.

"Of course you did," Natasha nodded, waving him off, "Have fun."

"Right. Well…Tony didn't say anything to you guys, then?" Steve checked one last time, and they all shook their heads. He still looked dubious, but seemed to decide he didn't have the time to press it, so he collected his jacket and left.

When the door closed behind him, Clint slammed his chopsticks down on the coffee table.

"That's it! I'm calling it. This is officially a conspiracy."

"Admittedly, we work in an environment rife with conspiracy," Bruce shrugged, "And Steve did seem awfully concerned about whether or not Tony had said anything, but I highly doubt there's an actual conspiracy here."

"I'm doing recon," Clint decided, getting up, and Natasha just rolled her eyes.

"I wouldn't do that unless you want to watch them screw in the back seat of the Maserati for another hour."

"What?" Clint nearly swallowed his tongue, and Bruce's eyes were borderline owlish.

"Oh, settle down. I was curious if you would come to the right conclusion on your own, but apparently not," Clint was halfway out the door before Natasha stopped him, "There are some things you don't want to see, Clint."

"When did this happen?" Bruce asked, vaguely upset that he'd missed the signs, but not really all that surprised.

"Oh, a few weeks ago. It's why I've been sleeping on a different level; the floor separating our suites is thin and 'Captain Cock' is rather vocal," Natasha looked more bemused than anything else.

"Christ, Tasha," Clint flinched, giving a full body shudder, "Imagery not needed, thanks."

"Should we tell them we know?" Bruce wondered aloud.

"Hell no!" Clint cringed, "You think I want to walk into the rec room and find them making out on the couch or something? Let the honeymoon phase run it's course first. Once they're normal again, then we tell em the cat's been out of the bag."

Bruce just chuckled, finishing off the last of his dinner. He was watching Bruce Lee movies in the billion dollar Stark-turned-Avengers Tower with two master assassins and debating the love life of a 90-year-old super soldier and a genius self-made superhero; he had never really imagined this as his life. But…it wasn't just Steve and Tony he'd grown close to. These people, the Avengers, they were his family. They knew and accepted him as Dr. Banner, as the Hulk, as Just Bruce. They knew what he was capable of, and they stuck by him anyway.

Maybe this wasn't the life he'd imagined for himself, but he wouldn't trade that trust for anything.