#avengersfluff

Then came the team. Again, Natasha kept her secrets tight to her chest. She even pulled away from Clint for a time, terrified that he would somehow betray her. It has taken years for her to accept that this team is the only family she has ever known. Slowly, and without even realising it at first, she has come to trust them as fully and intimately as she trusts Clint.

Maybe that’s why she doesn’t think to contain herself. The team has been waiting for her return for six weeks, and she is surprised to realise, in the elevator up to the common floor of the complex, that she is excited to see them.

As the doors open, she can hear the chatter of voices. She steps out into the warmth of the plush lounge area where they have spent so many nights drinking and laughing, watching movies, or just talking until the small hours. She spies Steve first, sitting on the couch beside Bucky. Her vision is quickly blocked by Clint, who all but tackles her with a hug. Natasha folds into him, exhaling for what feels like the first time in a month and a half.

“Welcome home,” Clint says. Natasha feels the warmth of his chest, and there’s warmth in her own chest at the idea of home. Yes, this is home. Not the only home she’s ever known, but the safest and happiest place in her universe. She raises her head, and the glow of the place knocks any thought of discretion from her mind as she kisses him, right on the lips. She only stops when she feels his hands tense. Then, she remembers.

She pulls back sheepishly, hoping against hope that it was fast enough that no one saw. No such luck. Steve is frozen with a beer halfway to his lips. Bucky is staring. Tony, who Natasha has only just spotted, is leaning against the bench in the open kitchen, with Bruce standing opposite. Everyone is silent.

“Oops,” she mutters, and in her periphery she sees Clint trying to suppress a smile. Natasha untangles herself from Clint’s arms, and brushes herself off.

“Get me a beer?” she asks Clint. He nods, and does as he’s told. Without a word, Natasha drops her duffel bag by the door and heads for the couch opposite Steve and Bucky.

“How… uhm… how was the mission?” Steve asks. He’s blushing on her behalf, Natasha thinks. Her own cheeks remain their usual colour. She knows how to combat embarrassment.

“Good,” she says. “Textbook.”

Bucky opens his mouth, but is stopped by a quick elbow to the ribs from Steve. Clint returns from the kitchen with two beers, and hands her one. Natasha smiles politely.

“We were going to watch a movie,” Bruce says, hovering awkwardly in the kitchen.

“Sounds great,” she answers. She can tell Clint is barely suppressing laughter, and she resists the urge to kick him in the shins.

Bruce sets up the screens, and soon they are watching a light-hearted buddy cop film. Natasha can sense the eyes on her, and dutifully ignores them. About half an hour in, she rearranges herself so she’s leaning on Clint. He knows this routine, but they’ve never done it in front of anyone else. Nevertheless, he shifts so he can drape an arm around her. Aside from the accidental kiss earlier, this is the most intimate display they’ve ever made in front of the others, and it occurs to Natasha that maybe they didn’t know about the two of them. They’ve made jokes, sure, but she assumed from those jokes that they knew, or at least had their suspicions. It seems like they have surprised their team.

Natasha settles into Clint, and she is surprised to feel no embarrassment, no nerves. She feels content. She feels safe. Everyone knows now, and… it’s okay. She’s okay, and nothing much has changed.

Later, when they’re heading to bed, Natasha takes Clint’s hand. She knows Steve can see from behind her, and no doubt he’ll tell the others, but she doesn’t care anymore. These people are her family. She can be totally and unashamedly herself.

-

“What are you doing?”

Tony gestures with his paintbrush. “Redecorating.”

Steve enters the room, and looks around. Brand new pieces of furniture are covered with plastic sheeting to protect them from the paint.

“What’s it for?” Steve asks. Tony seems to hesitate, and turns away to start rolling paint onto the wall before he answers.

“The kid. Don’t start,” Tony warns him, as he opens his mouth. “You’ve said your piece about teenagers in dangerous situations. He still needs somewhere to sleep when he comes to stay.”

“If he’s not on the team, why would he be staying?” Steve asks. His tone is innocent enough, but he clearly wants to hear something from Tony that Tony is not yet willing to say out loud.

“He’s a smart kid,” Tony shrugs. “Interested in R&D. Where better to learn, and learn from the best?”

“Right. You’re gonna… what, teach him?”

Tony nods. “Me and Banner.”

“Oh, you’re going to let Bruce in on it?”

Tony throws him a withering look. “I don’t have a monopoly on the genius kid, alright?”

“Really? Because every time I’ve seen him he’s been hanging off you like a puppy.”

Tony shrugs again. “Can’t blame him. I’m amazing.”

Steve shakes his head, and leaves Tony to the painting. It takes him the better part of the day to finish the walls and unwrap all the furniture. Then comes the fun part - setting up the tech, wiring in various systems, and decorating. Tony agonises for almost an hour over whether or not to put the framed photo of him and Peter on the mantle. Too sappy? He leaves it, convincing himself that it’ll make the kid happy and that’s the only reason.

It’s about a week before Peter gets a chance to come up to the facility. He’s on summer break, and his aunt has begrudgingly allowed him to stay for a few weeks on the strict proviso that he is not to do anything stupid, or let anyone else talk him into doing anything stupid, or encourage anyone to do anything stupid, and several other similar rules. May’s hesitation is only slightly curbed by an all-expenses paid trip to Aruba with Happy as personal security.

Peter tries not to think about any of that as he arrives at the facility. It’s breathtaking, and it’s still crazy to him that he’s been invited here. He did technically help save the world a couple of times, but still. Wow.

Tony meets him in the main foyer.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter chirps, waving as though he’s not the only one standing there with a duffel bag.

“Follow me,” he says.

Peter fills the silence on the way to wherever they’re going with chatter about his latest iteration of the web fluid, and how he’s had a few ideas for the suit, and by the time they arrive he’s forgotten they were walking with a purpose. They are standing inside a large room, furnished with a bed, a desk, and replete with all the tech Peter could want. It takes him a minute, but he turns to Tony with wide eyes.

“Is… is this my room?”

Tony nods. “Can’t have you staying in the guest rooms. The wifi’s atrocious.”

Peter, aware of Tony’s aversion to hugs, grins so wide his face starts to hurt, and drops his bag on the bed so he can race around and inspect every gadget and interface. When his hand lands on the framed photo of them, he stops, and picks it up.

“Thought you’d like that,” Tony says, his voice dismissive.

“You can actually have this back,” Peter says, passing it to him. Tony doesn’t let his face fall.

“Too homey for you?” he asks, a shade coolly.

“No, it’s just-” Peter pulls a notebook out of his bag, and rustles through it. He produces a print of the exact same photo, and rests it on the mantle. “There. So we’ve both got one.”

Tony just stares for a few moments.

“Mr. Stark?”

He blinks. “Yeah, kid?”

“I’m gonna hug you, if that’s okay.”

Tony’s instinct is to mock, and to reject, but that’s not what he wants. He looks over his shoulder to make sure Cap isn’t anywhere nearby, and then nods.

“Uh. Yeah, kid, that’s okay.”

Peter hugs him, and Tony hugs him back for a moment, and wonders what life would have been like if his dad had hugged him like this once in a while.

“Get settled, centre yourself,” he says, clearing his throat. “Dinner with the Avengers is in an hour. Try not to get too excited.”

Natasha has access to every area of the facility, but her new habit of appearing in Tony’s lab without warning is still a strange phenomenon to him. They’ve been collaborating on new gear, a process which has mostly involved Natasha coming up with outlandish ideas (let’s put a holster here/I want three knives accessible at all times/how high can you get the voltage before a malfunction would kill me?) and Tony making as many as possible a reality. She seems to be enjoying these sessions, which he wouldn’t have guessed would be the case. Tony Stark is the most extroverted person on the planet, and though Natasha is a largely public figure these days, she’s still a private, and mostly quiet person.

“I’ve been thinking about the stingers,” she calls out, in lieu of an actual greeting. “I know they’re less bulky than they used to be, but they could still be more compact.”

“They’re part of the look though,” Tony replies. He doesn’t look up from the disassembled arm guard on the bench in front of him.

“I know,” she sighs. “Everyone’s Halloween costumes would be ruined.”

He huffs in amusement turns his focus to a circuit board on his left. He misses it on the first grab, and gets it on the second. Odd. He can feel Natasha scrutinising him.

“You look like death,” she tells him. “When did you last sleep?”

“Last night.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

He doesn’t see her roll her eyes, but he can practically feel the expression. “Did you sleep well?”

“I never sleep well.”

“Me neither.”

He looks up. Natasha swims into focus after a moment.

“Is there a point to this conversation? Because I’m working.”

Blunt. Maybe she’ll leave him alone. He’s suddenly irritated by her closeness.

“Have you eaten today?”

That gives him pause. He looks up from the circuitry, and has to concentrate to remember when he was out of the lab last. “No. I don’t think so. Maybe at breakfast? Wait, no. I ate yesterday.”

She sighs. “How long have you been in here?”

“Spiritually? Since time began.”

“Actually?”

“Sometime early. Maybe five.”

Natasha reaches over and shuts off his lamp.

“I’m working on your dumb gauntlet idea,” he says, he can’t hide his exasperation. This was a vague notion she had a couple of days ago about backup power for the stingers. She doesn’t ask him that if the gauntlet idea is so dumb, why he’s working on it at all, which is fortunate, because Tony doesn’t have the excess energy to come up with a zinger, or even an excuse.

“Come on,” she says, motioning for him to follow her. “I can’t be the reason you starve to death. Steve made burritos for lunch, I’m pretty sure there are leftovers.”

“Mexican food? Doesn’t seem super patriotic.”

He gets up to follow her, but the floor suddenly stops obeying the laws of physics and starts to spin. He feels a rush of blood to his head, or maybe away from his head, he can’t remember which one is which. The spinning floor is rushing up to meet him, and everything spins away into blackness. From somewhere nearby his body, he feels the thump of the floor hitting his head, shoulder and knee, and then the weight of the rest of his body slumping onto the cool floor of the lab. Things drift in and out for what could be moments or hours, he’s not sure.

He comes to slowly. His legs are propped up on a chair, and his head is resting on- where is his head? He opens his eyes to find Natasha’s concerned face looking at him upside-down.

“You okay?” she asks. He blinks.

“Mm- yeah. Yes. Conscious.”

“I don’t think you hit your head,” she says. He becomes aware of the fact that her hands are on his head. In his hair. This is the most intimate position he’s ever been in with her. It feels simultaneously dangerous and kind of pleasant. Just for a moment, he feels a burst of warmth that she actually gives a shit if he’s okay. Then his unconquerable asshole tendencies come roaring back at full speed.

“My head’s on your lap,” he says. She scowls at him, and he manages a fuzzy grin. “Does this mean you don’t hate me after all?”

“I will knock you right out again, Stark.”

“You’re ruining a nice moment. It was kind of romantic.”

“Yeah, you fainting and dragging down half your toolbox on top of you was really sexy. Actually, hand me that hammer, I want to recreate the moment.”

“You can’t fool me,” he chuckles. “You care about me. Am I your friend?”

“Go to hell,” she instructs him, even as she helps him to his feet. She’s still cursing him quietly as she helps him walk to the elevator, and once she’s deposited him at the table in the kitchen, she flips him off.

“There,” she says, practically flinging a plate of microwaved burrito leftovers at him. “Eat. Let me know if you want me to set you an alarm for next time.”

“Don’t go,” he laughs, poking the warm burrito. “C’mon, I was just getting used to you looking after me. It was hot.”

“Get fucked, Stark.”

“See you tomorrow.”

-

“No.”

“Come on,” Tony pleaded, giving Pepper his best puppy eyes. The actual puppy in his arms yawned and shifted comfortably, then licked Tony’s sweater.

“No,” Pepper repeated. “We can’t keep a dog in the tower, Tony, no one on the team is equipped to look after one, especially you.”

“Pepper,” Tony complained. “We’re superheroes. We save the world, like, all the time. Surely we can take care of a little puppy?”

“What does it eat?” Pepper asked, folding her arms.

Tony bit his lip guiltily. “Um...”

“Take it back,” Pepper instructed.

“I can’t!” Tony said. “I adopted it from the pound!”

“Then give it to someone else!”

Tony hefted the little dog more securely into his arms. “Everyone else is going to love her,” he said, and left the room.

-

“We can’t have a dog in the tower.”

“Bruce!” Tony exclaimed. “Look at her. She’s adorable!”

“That doesn’t change the fact that this is a dangerous environment, and putting a dog at risk is just one more thing I don’t want to deal with,” Bruce snapped. “Now get it out of here before-”

“Is that a dog?” came Clint’s voice. He was by Tony’s side in an instant, and in a couple of moments Tony found himself puppy-less. Clint bundled the little dog into his arms and the sleepy little thing blinked up at him.

“She’s so cute!” the archer gushed.

“Great, now you’ve turned Barton into a complete girl,” Natasha sighed from the kitchen counter.

“Nat, come over here and look at this little sweetheart,” Clint called. Natasha reluctantly obeyed, and Clint turned so the puppy was examining her inquisitively, tilting her little head to the side.

“Isn’t that the cutest thing ever?” Clint demanded. “Tell me she’s not adorable.”

“Okay, she’s cute,” Natasha admitted. “But that doesn’t mean we can keep her.”

“Sure it does!” Clint grinned. “She looks like a labrador. Tony?”

“Labrador,” Tony confirmed.

“So she’ll get big enough that it will be hard to accidentally blow her up,” Clint justified. “Or... whatever you seem to think is the problem.”

“This is a really bad idea,” Bruce warned. “Trust me, you will be sick of this dog before the week is up.”

“Will not,” Tony shot back, taking the puppy from Clint and sitting cross-legged on the floor with her in front of him. The puppy got clumsily to its feet and began to explore, sniffing here and there. Steve emerged from the hall just in time to have the little dog run into his shins excitedly.

“Hi there little one,” he grinned, scooping up the little dog, who pawed playfully at him. “Who might you be?”

“Newest member of the team,” Tony called triumphantly. “Right, Barton?”

“Right,” Clint grinned. The rest of the team promptly gave up.

“If it pees anywhere in this tower, you are cleaning it up,” Pepper warned.