"Tony what the hell is going on here?" Pepper sounded beyond furious.
Personnel had been evacuated from the floors above and below the workroom and several alarms were still shrieking. The sprinkler system had given up dousing everything within reach and was now sputtering halfheartedly at the smoky remains of the workroom.
Tony and Clint stood in the hallway outside the demolished room, each with a hand against the wall for stability, but glaring at each other despite their apparent physical shakiness and looking prepared to attack at any moment. Half of Tony's t-shirt was singed away and angry red welts showed between the burn blisters across his chest and shoulder. Clint obviously kept all his weight off one leg. His face rivaled Tony's for bruises, his jeans and shirt sported freshly-burnt holes, and his left arm was streaked with blood. They both looked murderous, Clint clutching one last arrow and Tony holding what might've been a remote control to something.
"He started it," Tony announced, holding his gadget up threateningly in Clint's direction.
Clint took a menacing step toward the genius billionaire. "Oh, yeah, sure I did," he muttered.
Pepper had apparently just come from the offices. Her perfectly-tailored pinstripe suit and heels made a striking contrast to the devastation, and she looked anything but pleased with the situation. She actually took one step toward the men, as if she could somehow stop a pair of enraged Avengers from trying to kill each other.
"Hulk was winning." The angry growl behind them interrupted before any more damage could be done, and both men turned their glares on the massive green figure approaching. The Hulk still held half a soaked Queen of Spades between one thumb and forefinger, and the other hand was already fisted, ready to smash whomever had interrupted his game. Natasha, Steve, and Maria followed behind him.
"He wasn't winning," Natasha called. "Cap had the Joker and the King and Queen of Hearts in his hand."
"You were cheating!" Steve's indignant accusation was followed immediately by Maria's chuckle.
"She always cheats, Captain. Don't you know that by now?" As they reached Tony and Clint, however, her slightly amused tone gave way to surprise and irritation. "What the hell did you do, Stark?"
They all stared through the jagged hole in the wall at the soggy, smouldering rubble that had been a workroom so recently. Bits of damaged machinery sizzled and sparked, and one half-built robot was spinning in circles, letting out a continuous, high-pitched, plaintive whine.
"Tell me you weren't playing dodgeball with test-tubes and experimental drugs again," Natasha said.
Clint looked offended. "I'm very responsible. I would never do that." She turned enough to raise an eyebrow at him, and he rolled his eyes. "That was one time," he amended. "And nothing blew up. This is Tony's fault."
"Absolutely not." Tony had found part of a half-repaired IronMan suit and was trying to hotwire the repulser in the dented palm, but he glanced up long enough to make an attempt at an innocent expression. "Never my fault. This guy started firing on me. Damn thinskin." He waved one hand disparagingly at Clint.
"HULK SMASH BOTH OF YOU. STUPID."
The roar startled Tony into momentarily dropping the robotic hand.
Pepper managed to jump in and put one hand against the Hulk's rising fist. "Wait, wait – I think those two did enough smashing already. We've got surveillance tapes. I wanna know what happened so I know what lies to tell the insurance people."
Tony blinked. "We're insured?"
The Hulk blew out an angry breath that scattered more ashes from Tony's and Clint's clothes and turned around. "Show the tapes. Then Hulk smash," he muttered.
Pepper led the way, heels clicking around puddles and past scattered piles of shattered concrete, crumbled drywall, and twisted metal.
"Thought you guys agreed to leave the whole war-torn décor thing for outside," Maria said as she followed along, arms crossed, eyes on the Hulk as if unsure he would keep from smashing anyone long enough see the security tapes. "Don't you get enough explosions and close calls on the job?"
"Tony has no common sense," Natasha explained. "I put that in his file myself. And Clint thinks common sense is boring. They're an explosion waiting to happen."
Clint managed to stick his tongue out at her without quite taking his wary gaze off Tony. "It is." He snatched up a fist-sized chunk of blackened, dampened concrete from the ground and chucked it at Stark's head. "At least I have some common sense."
"Hey – Bird-Brain – common sense is not throwing rocks at the guy who just kicked your butt," Tony said immediately, catching the chunk and flinging it back.
Clint dodged, and Tony followed the concrete with a weak blast from the robotic hand, which seemed to be trying hard to be useful despite its complete lack of any actual power source. Clint swore under his breath and launched himself at the other man, legs flying around in a move Natasha usually used to bring him down, one fist going in for a hard punch and the other still closed around his last arrow.
"They're gonna take down the rest of the Tower," Steve observed. He frowned, paused to kick a few chunks of concrete toward the wall, and waved one hand toward the fighting pair. "Hulk, can you–?"
A pair of green hands shot into the tangle. One caught Clint by the torso and the other closed around Tony's ankles. The Hulk ripped them apart without any apparent concern for their limbs remaining attached to their bodies and held them up, one on each side. For a moment they squirmed like rabbits in traps, still kicking and swinging and flailing, and then they stopped.
"STUPID CUPID. STUPID TINMAN." And then, as if amused by his own rhyme, he repeated, "STUPID CUPID."
Natasha snorted. Clint made a sound of protest that was cut off by another shake from the Hulk.
Pepper let them into the nearest office, and they all crowded around the screen as she pulled up the security footage from the workroom prior to the explosions, sirens, emergency sprinklers, and evacuations.
"Big guy. You can put me down. Or hold me right side up." Tony's voice sounded thick and his face was getting red. The Hulk gave him a quick shake and he swore. "Fine. Have it your way."
Clint snickered, and the Hulk glowered at him and then quickly flung him up and caught his legs, hanging him upside-down as well.
"Video's not gonna make a difference," Tony called. "Still Clint's fault. Room's still blown up. Pepper – make this guy put me down."
Pepper ignored him, found the exact moment Tony walked into the workshop, and started the video running.
"Hey." Tony's voice came crackly through the speakers. "Secure area. Unauthorized personnel – JARVIS, exterminate."
A figure recognizable as Clint turned away from a pile of arrows. "Woah – no – totally unnecessary – dammit, it takes you seriously. Call off the bots, would you?"
"You're unnecessary. Why are you in my workroom? JARVIS, let him answer. Then exterminate." Tony sat on a desk and crossed his arms.
"I just needed to get some soldering done. For future reference, your password's way too easy." Clint turned back to the arrows.
"There's an open workshop downstairs," Tony said. "Use that. I'm busy. Doing…important things."
"What, busy upgrading a toaster? This is more convenient. Take me five minutes, tops. I have, like, three of them left to finish."
The video version of Tony looked indignant. "No! I'm making –"
"Toaster. I see it on the table there," Clint repeated. Tony glared at Clint's back and put one hand protectively on the half-dismantled toaster. "That's what you're supposed to think about it. Toaster. It'll be something else soon."
Steve took a half step forward, squinted at the screen, and then stepped back to shoot upside-down Tony a reproving look, but he didn't say anything and the recording kept going.
"Hey. Don't you, like, buy those things in bulk? Arrows-R-Us or something?"
"Oh sure. They sell bulk orders of electrically-charged arrow tips." Clint picked up an arrow and started working again. "Shafts I buy. The rest…mostly depends on what materials I can get hold of."
"What," Tony's voice continued, "they let you make all that? You know amateurs playing with wiring is the top cause of electrocution? I mean, besides two-year-olds and pets chewing on vacuum cords."
"Yeah, I – what, you didn't know? I'm not an amateur at this point. Been making these things for years."
"How come you haven't killed yourself yet?"
"Dunno," Clint said. "Seem to be alive still, I think. I've had a lot of practice with the stuff. Can I use your machines or not?"
Tony poked at something and seemed to be starting a game of Tetris. "You break it, you buy it. Don't hurt my bots."
"I don't bug the bots if they don't bug me," Clint muttered, shoving one to the side to reach a can of something or other.
"You sound like Pepper. Stop it. Only Pepper's allowed to sound like Pepper."
Pepper turned a questioning look on Tony, who tried to look intimidating while hanging by his ankles from the Hulk's fist.
In the video, Clint didn't respond to Tony, and after a few seconds of focus on his game, Tony added, "Who the hell let you start messing with those things anyway? Aren't you chronically irresponsible?"
"Didn't wait for permission. I just kinda started. Anyway, I thought you were the chronically irresponsible one – isn't it in your file?"
"My file was written by people in suits. It's boring. And wrong. They're boring."
"I think she'd resent that," Clint muttered.
Natasha glanced over her shoulder at him. His upside-down smirk was more of a grimace.
"I do," she said.
"She resents everything," Tony shot back.
"Hey," Tony called in the present, managing to swing his torso almost upright and craning his neck in an attempt to catch Pepper's eye. "How about skipping this whole instant-replay thing before I get shot by the homicidal Russian?"
"Not a chance," Pepper said.
"Don't – hey that was holding things together; what the hell, Bird-Brain?" Tony was yelling on the video. He jumped off the desk to catch a stack of falling papers and wrenches, and Clint appeared to watch in interest as the genius juggled it all for a moment before managing to set it down. Tony bent over the arrows once he'd emptied his hands. "What are you doing to that one?"
"This one's got a timed charge," Clint explained. "I'll finish programming it later and set the time, but that's the easy part."
"I don't like people touching my stuff," Tony grumbled again.
"I'm not breaking anything."
"I don't like people touching my stuff. This is mine. Go get your own." He didn't seem too upset, though, because he immediately pointed at the arrow tip and added, "You running the charge through here? Lemme see. You'd be better off if you rerouted it through this side here."
Clint tipped his head to one side. "I don't exactly have my own, you know. Nat doesn't really like explosives stored in the room. And I can't move the wires around. Throw off the balance and it won't shoot worth a damn."
"No, look, move this whole thing this way and slide this over here to even the weight out."
"What, like – this? That…could work, actually."
Tony straightened smugly. "Told you. Get your own workroom. There's only what, like twenty in the building? My stuff. I don't want it touched."
"You've made that point," Clint said dryly, bending over the arrow again. "How would you propose I get my own? It's just stuff anyway; you can always get more. Not like you can't afford it."
"You get more," Tony said. "Just order a load of purple…hell, drills and soldering guns and whatever. Tell them to ship to Stark Tower and they'll bill Pepper. Then you can quit touching my stuff."
Pepper turned away from the screen long enough to give Tony a look that Clint assumed was dangerous, and Tony managed to flinch while hanging upside-down.
"I'd – wait, why purple?" Clint on the video turned away from his arrows again to face Tony. "What is it with you and your stuff anyway?"
"Purple's…like…your thing, right?" Tony shrugged. "Purple vest, purple leotard, whatever?"
Natasha choked and Clint muttered something under his breath that might've been a death-threat.
"Hell, you – how the hell did you find any evidence of that costume? Thought I'd gotten rid of all that."
"I almost own the internet," Tony said, sounding ridiculously pleased with himself. "And I'm paranoid. Or a control freak. Or something. Your girlfriend said so; I heard her. So of course I found that."
"You can't own the internet…can you?"
Tony shrugged. "Still working on it; I'm getting there. It's gotta be possible. If that costume ever makes a comeback, can I have merchandizing rights?"
"It won't be making a comeback, trust me."
"That's really too bad. It was so flattering."
Clint turned back to the arrows. "Shut up, Stark."
"No, really. I mean, On some guys, it would've been…just…" Tony's exaggerated shudder was visible even on the video. "But on you, it really brought out the shape of your legs."
"Considering the materials I'm working with, I'd be careful what you say," Clint warned darkly. "It was the circus. I was fifteen."
"Fifteen's old enough to take responsibility for your own tights and leotard, Legolas," Tony said. "And it was a great look. You have nice legs."
Clint turned quickly enough that the image blurred. Something flew toward Tony's face. Tony ducked, and an explosion shattered the small computer monitor behind him. He threw the nearest thing at hand – what might have been a large wrench – back at Clint. The sound of breaking glass obscured his words, but "tights" and "purple" were clearly audible. Clint's next projectile caused a larger explosion, and there was a burst of light before the video ended.
For a moment there was silence. Then the Hulk opened both hands abruptly and Clint and Tony let out identical yells of, "Hey – wait – no!" as they thunked to the floor.
Four pairs of eyes turned away from the now-blank screen to glare at the two men on the floor rubbing their heads and ankles.
"You destroyed half a floor because Clint wore a circus costume?" Pepper said at last, eyes narrowed at Tony.
"Hey, that's not fair. He very obviously tried to kill me in there," Tony said.
Natasha looked more amused than annoyed. "This is all about Clint's legs?"
Maria rolled her eyes and stepped past Tony. "Let me know when it's safe to move back in. I think we're overdue for lunch."
Steve hesitated, eyes darting around from face to face for a moment, and then, seeming to decide that Pepper and Natasha had the situation well in hand with the Hulk doing the physical restraining stuff, nodded and followed his wife out.
"It's not about – no!" Clint spluttered.
"Because actually, I think Tony had a point," Natasha continued. "I mean –" she turned to Pepper – "Clint does have nice legs. I kept saying he looked good in purple tights."
Pepper, to her credit, managed to keep a straight face and nodded understandingly.
"What – no, Nat – shut up!" Clint tried to scramble to his feet, swayed, and sat hard again.
Tony smirked. "See? I was right."
Pepper shut the system back down. "Tony, you're personally cleaning that mess up," she called over her shoulder as she walked toward the doorway. Then she added to Natasha, "You have pictures of that? I wouldn't mind seeing that."
"Nat – wait – no, dammit, don't show her…." Clint's voice trailed off into horrified silence.
It was too late; the door closed behind the two women. Tony managed to stagger to his feet, and Clint found the wall to help himself up.
The Hulk's slow laughter made the floor tremble. "Cupid wore tights."
Clint managed to let himself out of the room. As he staggered down the hallway, a hand against the wall to keep himself upright, the Hulk's rumbling laugh followed him. Before he turned a corner, he thought he heard one last muttered, "Stupid Cupid…"
