Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any Marvel characters. That being said, I needed a good happy story before Infinity war comes out and my heart is shattered.
Steve Rogers opened the pantry door to get a granola bar after his run and his hand immediately bumped something hairy. He shut the door hastily and took a deep breath. From inside the pantry, something whined.
"Quiet…"
Steve yanked the door back open and stuck his hand back in the pantry, groping for the light switch. He clicked it on and found Tony curled up on the lowest shelf, his head pillowed on a box of granola bars while the rest of him contorted into a tiny ball on a bag of rice. He squinted up at the intrusion of light.
"St-Steeeeeve?"
"Tony? What are you doing in here?"
Tony threw an arm theatrically over his eyes and mumbled something unintelligible ending with "seven years of water polo and a red hula hoop."
"What?"
"I scienced too hard, Steve." Tony rolled over so his back was to the door, making the shelf flex dangerously. "Go 'way."
Steve stared down at his teammate and sucked in a deep breath through his nose. Sometimes he wondered if Fury had put him on the team just so it wasn't run by the children his teammates actually were.
"Tony, you're not sleeping in there. You're on a burlap sack of grain in a hall closet. Come on." Steve stuck his hands under Tony's arms and pried him off the shelf, pulling him into an upright position where Tony promptly sagged against the wall and giggled.
"Steeeef. Stev. Stevie." Tony huffed out a breath through his nose. "Captain Ameeeerica." The inventor's head dipped to his chest and without warning his legs collapsed.
"Woah!" Steve lunged forward, grabbing the smaller man and scooping him up as Tony sagged into an unconscious pile of limbs. He ended up holding Stark bridal style to be able to support his head as he made his way out of the darkened hall and into the common room, where Clint was thumbing through channels from the top of the sofa.
"Clint, have you seen Bruce?"
Clint didn't look up from the TV, which was displaying a brightly colored survival show.
"Nope. Haven't seen him since Monday."
"Clint, it's Thursday."
Clint finally looked up from the TV and saw Steve's predicament. He slipped off the back of the sofa and bounded over to them, worry creasing his face.
"What happened? Is he hurt?"
"No." Steve hiked Tony up closer to his chest. "I found him asleep in the hall pantry." He reflected on their brief conversation and fought a smile.
"He said he...scienced too hard?"
"We scienced too hard." Bruce padded past them into the kitchen looking like he'd spent the night sleeping in the remains of a campfire. "I want a shower."
"What exactly were you two doing?"
Bruce was flicking through the tea packets on the counter, his puffy eyes blinking as he tried to read the flavors. When he went through them for a third time with no answer, Clint strode over, picked one at random, and began making a cup.
"Thanks." Bruce slid into a seat at the counter and rubbed his hands over his face, leaving grey streaks behind.
"So...what were you two doing?"
"Oh. Right. Well, we started out ok. He wanted to talk to me about making some adjustment to the material in Hulk's pants, and we were looking into a couple different materials. Then the fabrication unit caught fire."
Steve settled Tony onto the couch, where he curled into a boneless puddle against one armrest. Steve dropped a thick blanket over the engineer's feet and tugged it up to cover everything but the man's face, which bore dark purple smears of exhaustion under each eye. Tony's thousand mile an hour pace was stopped where he had, leaving a sleepy, limp, and pliable Tony in a pile. Steve smoothed a hand over the blanket, dropped a kiss on rumpled brown hair, and then took a seat by Tony's feet and snagged the remote, thumbing the volume down to an almost inaudible murmur. This way, he could still hear Bruce while he kept an eye on the sleeping genius.
He heard Clint set a mug down on the counter, and there was a murmur of thanks from Bruce. Steve could almost see him melting his throat with the burning hot tea, but neither Tony nor Bruce ever seemed daunted by the temperature of their morning drinks.
"So why did the fabricator catch on fire?"
"You know, I'm not really sure. We were following all the proper safety procedures with our experiment but the next thing I knew it was beeping at us and then flames were flying out of the input panel. Dum-E got there with the fire extinguishing foam but it was pretty smoky so we had to evacuate."
"How many trials did you guys go through?"
"Probably twenty or so." Bruce set his mug down and hummed. "We've done more trials than that before. After the fire, we relocated to the R&D floors and Tony had one of the empty labs repurposed pretty soon."
"Repurposed for what?"
"I think originally he wanted to see if we could work on a couple of things with the suit, but pretty shortly after that we ended up talking about Mjolnir and then it went downhill from there."
Steve reflected on Tony's last science binge, which had resulted in weirdly specific cleaning robots rolling around the tower attempting to vacuum the bottoms of people's socks while they were still wearing said socks. He could imagine pretty well the kind of things Tony and Bruce had come up with.
There was a clattering noise from the kitchen, followed by a whirring noise and a decidedly not-screaming noise from Clint.
"What the fuck, man?!"
"Ah, yeah."
Steve got up as quickly as he could and ran into the kitchen to see Clint brandishing a hunting knife at the refrigerator as it waved what appeared to be a large mechanical arm at him. His mouth dropped open against his will.
"I thought I dreamed that. Guess not." Bruce put his nose back into the mug of tea, looking unconcerned about the spectacle.
"What is it doing?"
"Y'know, I don't really know. I took a nap on one of the couches in the lab and when I woke up, Tony was powering through a bunch of appliance upgrades. I thought he was just gonna stick with cars, but he tried to make the microwave fly and then I had to get involved."
Steve let out a sigh of relief.
"So it's not going to fly?"
Bruce looked up. "What? No. It should. I just had to talk him out of four repulsors. Two were plenty, but he wanted it to be able to change direction."
"Ignoring this fascinating commentary for now," Clint said, poking at the arm as it waved too close to his face, "what possible use does this arm have on a refrigerator?"
"I think it's supposed to hold stuff for you."
"Okay…" Clint ran a hand over his face. "And how do you get the door open?"
Bruce looked at the door and saw that the arm was soldered to the hinge, making a fused lump of metal that sealed the door shut. "Huh."
"I had a half a pizza in there I was going to eat this morning. Now it's imprisoned. That does it, I'm going to the gym."
Just then, Steve's phone began making a shrill sound that sounded like a sheep. He almost dropped it in his haste to make the noise stop.
"This is Rogers."
He listened intently for a minute before nodding, aware that Clint and Bruce were both watching him.
"Yes, sir. I'll be right over."
He hung up.
"Are you aware that your ringtone is Spongebob laughing?" Clint's expression had changed from frustration to delight.
"What's Spongebob?"
"Nothing. Who was that?"
"It's Fury. He needs me to go over our last mission report with him. It seems someone didn't fill in some boxes and now HR is trying to figure out what exactly they're supposed to do with the files."
"Sounds incredibly dull. I'll let you have at it." Clint made to leave, but Steve held up a hand, stopping him.
"Hold up."
"What?" Clint whined, sliding further out the door.
"Someone needs to watch Tony and make sure he doesn't do anything else until he's gotten enough sleep."
Clint cast a pleading gaze at Bruce, who simply shook his head and threw back the last of his tea before padding to the elevator.
"Sorry. I'm going to go wash up and then sleep on an actual bed. I did my part in making sure he didn't make the refrigerator fly as well." The doctor disappeared behind the chrome doors, and when Clint turned back to the kitchen Steve was already sliding his shoes back on and grabbing his jacket.
"Steve, come on. He's a grown man." Steve turned around and made full use of what Tony called the "righteous baby blues" stare.
"Tony has the self-preservation instincts of a newt and you know it. You're his teammate, Clint. All you need to do is sit with him and wrangle him if he tries to go anywhere. You're it for people around the house."
"What about Jarvis? Can't he be part of Tony-tag?"
"If I may, Sir," Jarvis interrupted, "While I may be capable of 'watching' Mr. Stark, I cannot prevent him from doing anything if he does awaken other than locking him out of his workshop. And since Sir has hidden tools about the tower, I cannot stop this type of activity from occurring."
Steve gave him a pointed look and pulled on his jacket. "It's just a few hours, Clint. I'm sure I'll have this sorted out in no time. I'd sit with him myself, but someone needs to sort this out."
Clint walked back through the common room, dodging the arm as it waved at him once more. He flipped it off, satisfied, and then watched with resentment as it repeated the gesture at him.
"There's just no winning in this house."
He went back to the couch and flopped down on it, jostling Tony in the process.
"Heeeey, Hawkeye." One sleepy golden-brown eye peered out from a mess of scruff. It blinked a few times. "How'd I end up on the couch?"
"Your refrigerator carried you here and wouldn't let us move you," Clint said, strightfaced, "and I like you, Stark, you're a great guy, but I'm not fighting sentient food storage."
Tony blinked at him some more. He opened and closed his mouth, finally settling for, "...the fuck?"
"I meant Steve. But seriously, an arm on the refrigerator is going a little far, Tony. You made him give me the disappointed stare. You know I hate that."
Tony rolled over and put his face back in the armrest, mumbling something unintelligible. Clint let out a sigh of relief that he didn't have to try and talk an overtired Tony into staying put instead of playing Frankenstein with the kitchen.
An hour later, Natasha kicked off her boots by the door and pushed them out of the way with one owl-patterned sock. She shot a half-hearted kick at one of Stark's pet robots as it pointed its tiny vacuum head at her foot, and it rolled backwards down the hallway. It had taken a few hours longer than she'd liked, but they'd learned.
Natasha Romanoff was not to be a victim of the sock purge that rocked the tower.
She went into the kitchen and picked an apple off the counter, where it sat next to the dregs of tea and a smudgy spot on the counter. The smudgy spot continued all the way to the wall, where a conspicuously blank spot glared.
The microwave was missing.
"Clint!"
"Shh!" The whisper came from down the hall, and Natasha strode into the commons, prepared to be fed an idiotic reason for why she couldn't have warmed up food. She was stopped short by the almost domestic scene in front of her.
Clint lounged on the sofa, feet propped up on the ottoman. Next to his feet sat the microwave, still lit up despite not being plugged in. And sprawled on the couch next to him was Tony, with his face mushed into a pillow and one arm sticking straight up in the air. He gestured for her to come over.
"Tony did bad engineering and made the kitchen sentient. Steve will remove my arms if I leave him unattended, but I really gotta go. I have a check in in a half hour for a flight. So tag, you're it." He slid his feet off the ottoman and ran a hand over the microwave when it let out a beep. "Bye, buddy. Be good for Natasha or she'll rip out your insides."
"What's the deal with the microwave?"
"Tony made it able to fly. It ripped itself out of the wall an hour ago and started looking for things to do but I guess it likes the sounds of the TV. So it's been hanging out here with me."
Natasha looked at the microwave, then back to Clint.
"Please, Nat. All you have to do is make sure he stays put until Steve gets back. Two hours, tops."
"Fine." She ignored Clint's puppy face and reached beside the sofa, where a basket of yarn and a pair of knitting needles sat inconspicuously. "I can make sure he stays put."
"Thanks, Nat." Clint bounded out of the room and ran for the door, where Natasha could hear a faint shriek as one of the bots got lucky and found a pair of absolutely filthy socks. She pretended not to hear.
Natasha picked up a skein of fuzzy grey yarn and looked at the microwave as it let out a ding. The repulsor jets on the bottom flickered to life, and Tony mumbled something into the couch cushion.
"If you wake him up and make me get up I'll rip your cord out faster than you can time it." She settled in for the long haul, casting a long row of stitches. The microwave remained silent.
Fifteen minutes later, Tony sat up like he'd been electrocuted. Natasha looked at him from across the sofa.
"But if we use silver putty, is it still a charcoal heap or could we compress that and get better tensile strength?" Natasha shrugged and continued on her row, watching as he sagged back into the sofa cushions.
"What're you doing here?"
"Yes, it's nice to see you too. Clint put me on Stark watch, and if you give me a reason to get up before this is done I will be disappointed in you."
Tony's head tilted back so he was staring at the ceiling. Then he stood up.
"I have to go to the bathroom."
"If you don't come back in two minutes I'm coming to find you."
Tony waved a mock salute at her. It would have been less amusing had he not stumbled into the doorframe and stubbed his toe on the trim.
"Children. I am dealing with children," Natasha hissed at the toaster, which beeped at her in reply.
One minute and fifty five seconds later, Tony Stark stumbled back through the doorway and slumped onto the couch, sliding down until his head rested on Natasha's leg with a theatrical sigh. She looked down at him, unimpressed.
"I could kill you with these." She held up her knitting needles.
"Yeah, but you won't." His eyes slid shut and he returned to whatever dreams he'd been engaging. Natasha sighed and continued on with her project.
Three hours later, Steve Rogers stepped out of a shield car on the sidewalk outside of Stark Tower. He waved at the driver as they merged back into traffic and then stepped through the doors, enjoying the refreshing puff of cool air as he headed to the elevator doors.
"Hey, Jarvis. Is Tony still asleep?"
"He is, Captain Rogers. Sir has been asleep nearly the entire time you were out. It would seem your plan worked itself out after all." The AI sounded amused for reasons Steve didn't understand. He shrugged it off.
A short elevator ride later, Steve stepped out into the Avenger's communal floor and removed his shoes, seeing Natasha's black boots toed off by the door. He headed through the kitchen and found the sofa full to capacity.
Thor sat on one end, with Tony's feet over one knee and the kitchen microwave balanced under one hand as it sat on the sofa arm. He appeared to be talking to it softly. Natasha held Tony's head in her lap, while his face had vanished into the black jacket she wore. Her hands moved efficiently through a ball of grey yarn, knitting what Steve could best describe as an oddly shaped box.
"What…?"
"Steven!" Thor murmured, looking up from the microwave, which dinged in annoyance at being forgotten. "Anthony has once again created a marvel."
"Clint had to run out, so he dropped these two on me," Natasha said, tying a knot in her creation and cutting a thread. "Here, Thor, it's a cozy for the microwave. Like a sweater."
"A wonderful skill. Thank you, Natasha."
Steve looked away from where Thor was slipping a microwave into a sweater and looked at Natasha again. "Thanks for staying with him. I didn't want him to be left alone and do something like that-" he pointed at the microwave- "again."
Natasha offered him a soft smile and slid out from underneath Tony. "I didn't mind all that much. Besides, you're the only one who can get him to fix the refrigerator. I think the microwave is a lost cause."
They both looked to where Thor was petting the microwave in its new cozy.
"Anyway. I'll let you get this one to bed." She stood on tiptoe and gave him a brief hug, followed by Thor, who slipped Tony's feet back onto the couch and offered Steve a powerful one armed hug before following Natasha into the elevator with his new acquisition.
"Hey, Steve?" He looked up to where the elevator doors were sliding shut. Natasha had a smirk on her face. "Tag."
Steve turned back to Tony and gently picked him up, a warm pile of blanket and limbs spilling everywhere. Tony made a sleepy noise, but Steve shushed him and headed over to wait by the elevator, pressing the button with his elbow.
"It's alright, Tony. I'm just taking you up to bed."
"Mmmm...but if we just make the material resistant to heat as well-"
"No more science, Tony." Steve stepped through the elevator doors. "Sleep."
And Tony did.