Movie: The Avengers

Pairing(s): Tony/Pepper, Clint/Natasha

Genre: Humor/Friendship

Rating: T

An Order of Pepperonis with a Side of Black Hawk

"If your son ever messes with my daughter, there will be hell to pay Stark."

Thick eyebrows shot up in surprise, hands pausing in their fluid motions. The baby that rested on the changing table—whose bottom was currently exposed to the cool air conditioning being pumped into the room—gurgled and spit at the pause, shrieking his impatience. The owner of the eyebrows had the left brow raise in amusement before relaxing in a more neutral state, the head upon which the eyebrows rested shifting slightly to stare at the only other adult in the room.

"Pardon me, Barton?" Tony Stark asked, a bit of incredulity in his tone. "I must need to make myself a pair of cochlear implants because I could have sworn that I just heard you say,"—and here he paused to take in a deep breath before doing his best impersonation—"'If your son ever messes with my daughter, there will be hell to pay Stark.'"

Clint Barton frowned, staring intensely at the genius billionaire former-playboy philanthropist. His sharp blue eyes held a warning within them, his jaw set firmly in an attempt to appear more intimidating. The muscles that made up his chest, abdomen, and arms were well outlined in the tight purple t-shirt he wore and made him out to be quite the imposing figure. If he had not been in the act of changing a diaper—and Clint had to pause and wonder what on Earth had possessed Stark to buy such a huge changing table—he would have looked like he was some god about to go to war. Even Thor, the actual god in their little ragtag group, would have had to admit to that.

The threats however, be they verbal or physical, meant little to Stark—he had dealt with far, far worse after all—and the aging Iron Man couldn't help but smile at his comrade's feeble attempt to intimidate him. As it was, the two rarely interacted—Clint finding Tony insufferable company—but they were by no means on bad terms. The little interactions they'd had here and there had always been cordial, a sort of strained politeness being exercised on Clint's part as Tony flaunted his intelligence.

Clint knew that he was brilliant in his own right, but didn't want to start some sort of intellectual war with the arrogant, cocky, and competitive man. Clint could be competitive too, but he knew how to pick and choose his battles, unlike Stark (hell, the man had stupidly invited terrorists to his front door not too long ago). Sure, he might have been able to best Tony physically or perhaps have scored a hit or two in a verbal spar, but there was no point in doing so because Tony would either a) deny it ever happened, b) be unaware that it happened, or c) say something that would piss Clint off even more and make him storm away, thus giving the man of iron further ammunition for future encounters.

The two were polar opposites in personality and temper and the things they had in common were few and far between. However, they belonged to the Avengers, were married to kickass redheads, and had children. Those similarities weren't enough to keep sparks from flying every now and then though, and Tony's bafflement at why Clint didn't want his son pursuing his daughter was a bit annoying.

"You heard me right Stark," the archer said, not even needing to look at what he was doing, so practiced in the art of diapering he was. "I have an arrow with Anthony's name on it if he ever even thinks of pursuing Olivia."

Tony's eyes widened marginally at the use of his son's full name and he bit back the grunt of disgust that wanted to escape his lips, instead settling for shaking his head. "It's Tony Jr., or Junior," he corrected as he began to finish up putting the diaper on his son. "Calling him Anthony just makes him sound"—and here he made a face—"old."

"I will call him Anthony, for that is his name," Clint said, narrowing his eyes. "You should have named him something else if you didn't want him to be called that."

Tony let out a laugh, earning himself a scowl. "Try telling Pepper that. She was the one who named him. She wanted to name him Howard, after my father, but there was no way I about to let my only son be called 'Howie'. It's an old man's name. No offense to my dad of course," he added quickly, looking around as if he expected the ghost of his father to suddenly materialize out of thin air.

Clint sighed and shook his head, the task of changing his daughter's diaper complete. He finally looked away from Tony and down at the little redhead, his lips twitching at the edges in the smallest of smiles, the greatest show of affection he could allow himself in front of the Iron Man.

Despite being such a "hard-ass", as he had once been described by a certain someone that was currently driving him up a wall, he was a good father and had his moments when the stone wall crumbled, a softer side of him appearing. Only his wife, the beautiful and deadly Natasha Romanoff, and his little Princess, Olivia Romanoff-Barton, got to see the side that he carefully tucked away, for fear that if his enemies ever saw the deep affection he held for the both of them they would use it against him.

He rarely got to spend time with Olivia because of that worry and had even begun limiting his interactions with Natasha. He wanted them both to stay safe, and while his wife could handle herself and was often off doing only God knew what, he still felt compelled to do whatever he could to keep them out of harm's way. Natasha would have none of his treating-her-like-a-princess deal though, even if she understood why he did it. And when Natasha didn't want something, she didn't get that something.

Natasha also had more confidence in the SHIELD agents that watched their daughter while they were away. Clint had assumed that she would be the one worrying, but instead he always found himself to be the one driven up a wall when he was away from her for too long. That wasn't to say that Natasha didn't worry, but she seemed better able to cope with the distance between them than he could. If it hadn't been for her reassuring words and calming, no-nonsense presence, something that he normally had, he was certain he would have gotten a bullet in the brain on more than one occasion.

Who would have known that becoming a parent would have turned him into such a nervous wreck? And speaking of nervous wrecks…

"I win," Tony chirped, picking up his son as Clint smoothed the front of Olivia's dress, making sure all the wrinkles were out.

Clint's small smile disappeared, his head tilting up so he could regard the eccentric man-child. "What?"

"It seems that you're the one that needs a hearing aid now," the older Stark grinned smugly. "I said, 'I win.'"

The marksman glowered and picked his daughter up, her red curls bouncing and brilliant blue eyes sparkling with glee as her father held her close. She stuck one hand in her mouth, the other going to grip the shirt he wore, a smile on her chubby face.

"Win what?" Clint asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're not making any sense. Again."

Tony smiled wider as he gave his son a fond look. "You look just like your old man," he said proudly. "Hopefully you'll have your mother's common sense though. Then you'll have smoldering good looks, intelligence, and wisdom. And yes, there is a difference between intelligence and wisdom."

"Stark," Clint cut in, deep voice booming. "What were you jabbering about winning a moment ago?"

"Oh, you know, the Diaper War," Tony replied nonchalantly.

"The what?"

Tony gestured at the changing table. "What we were just doing? We came in here at the same time, saw the table, grabbed diapers almost in unison…I assumed we were in a contest to see who could finish first. And I did. So…I win."

By Thor's hammer.

Clint let out a breath, exasperated.

What was it with this guy and being number one at everything?

Were aliens invading your world? Well, guess who was going to almost die trying to stop them. Getting married in a small ceremony because you barely had any living friends? Well, guess who was creating his own mini floating palace so he could broadcast to the world that the Iron Man had eyes for one and only one woman and was officially tying the knot. Expecting a child? Guess who was expecting not one, not two, but three.

Tony friggin' Stark.

If Tony ever went rogue, Clint was going to have a lot of fun taking him down.

"So…what's wrong with Jr.?"

The two were now headed down the hall back towards where their wives were chatting. It was thanks to Pepper that the Romanoff-Barton family was at the Stark residence; despite not having a super suit, being a genetically enhanced super solider, or having extensive combat training, Pepper had at one time been endowed with super human gifts and had had to fight for not only her own life, but Tony's as well. She had always supported him and the Avengers, but ever since that incident she had become more involved. Even if it was only watching the Avenger kids despite having her hands full with three of her own, she was always there for them.

Clint rather liked Pepper in all honesty; she reminded him of his own ginger in many ways. Strong, smart, confident, witty, resourceful, and the ability to put up with Tony's bull. Well, ability to put up with Tony's bull most of the time. Therefore he—or rather Tony—could survive the visit.

"There's nothing wrong with Anthony," Clint responded. "I just don't want Olivia getting involved with him. Ever."

Tony snorted. "I don't see why not! The kid's got me for a dad. How bad can he be?"

Clint looked at Stark in vexation, an expression of "Really?" on his face.

"Hey! Those days are over and behind me! Don't blame my son for something his father did." Tony's words were dark, and a flash of emotion that Clint couldn't identify went through his eyes. No doubt he was thinking back to his more unsavory days and the legacy his father had left behind for him to live up to; just about everyone knew about his unresolved daddy issues, though no one mentioned them.

However, it wasn't what Clint was trying to get at and he quickly clarified.

"Not what I meant Stark. It's just…" the archer scrunched his face up as he tried to think of an example. "What if Thor's son suddenly started hitting on Antonia? Or Steve's son started getting sweet with Carolina?"

"Don't even joke about that," Tony said seriously, stopping mid-stride, a look of horror on his face. "I've got enough trouble keeping my hair grey-free as it is." He puffed his cheeks up with air and exhaled slowly, anxiety tightening the muscles in his neck and jaw. "Do you have any idea what it's going to be like living with three strong-willed reds? Hell, they aren't even a year old and I can see that my daughters have inherited my love of fun and their mother's tenacity. If they took in an interest in some…boys…" He shivered, almost as if the word itself was poison. "…I doubt I could keep them away from them. I'm lucky my hair isn't all white already."

Clint glanced briefly at his peer's hair, noticed the thin white streaks, and decided to not comment. Perhaps he does understand. "Get where I'm coming from now Stark?" he asked instead.

Tony relaxed, glad the topic was off of his daughters and back on his son and little Olivia. His face lit up once again with an easy smile, his posture loosening up as he continued walking, a bounce in every step he took.

"No, not really. Jr. here is special. He's my son, like I was saying. And besides…" he grinned, chocolate brown eyes bright with laughter. "…I'm fairly sure that Agent Coulson is planning on having his daughter marry Cap's kid."

Clint opened his mouth to argue, realized that Tony wouldn't see his son as anything other than special and that he was indeed right about Coulson, and sealed his lips together again.

Pepper's and Natasha's voices were growing louder by the second and Clint decided to nip the conversation in the bud. Knowing his wife, she would agree with the opposite opinion—which happened to be Tony's—just to give him grief. Or, even worse, she could actually like the idea.

Clint shuddered slightly, cringing.

No, there was no way he was ever talking about it with Natasha.

Luckily, Tony seemed to have forgotten about the discussion as they walked back into the family room. The two little Stark girls that completed the triplet Anthony Jr. were each being held, Antonia—or Toni—was in Pepper's arms and Carolina in Natasha's.

"The men have returned!" Tony announced triumphantly.

"And lady," the Black Widow said, nodding her head towards her daughter before giving her husband a confused look. If there was one downside to being married to a spy it was that they could read the subtle changes in your mood in as little as a glance.

"Yes, right, of course. How could I forget? After all—"

Clint froze.

Oh no. Stark, you son of a bitch, don't you dare—

"—ol' Feathers and I were just talking about what a lovely couple Jr. here and Olivia would make some day. 'Course they're still young, but who knows what'll happen in a few decades?"

"Were you now?" the spy smiled wickedly at her husband, now knowing the cause of his distress.

Shit.

"Yup! And you know, Agent's daughter will be marrying Cap's son, so, we might as well keep this a family business, you know?"

"By 'Agent' you mean 'Phil', right?" Pepper piped up, shifting Toni in her arms as the little girl shrieked upon seeing her brother.

"Hey! What'd I tell you? His name is not Phil. It's Agent."

Clint sighed as Pepper and Tony began to discuss the proper name for the Avenger's resident Captain America fanboy, his wife simply eyeing him deviously.

He was going to hear about this later.