"I assure you that Sir's scream was nothing short of manly, despite what the recordings will have you believe," JARVIS's voice filtered out of the ceiling with no small tinge of amusement, and once again Agent Coulson wondered just how the ratio of artificial to intelligence fell when it came to the oldest of Tony's friends.
He was standing in the open door of the penthouse suit in the Avenger's Tower. Behind him was the nice, safe, quiet, clean elevator, which led down to the many floors of research and development that Tony funded, ran, or tinkered with.
Before him was chaos.
Tony Stark… or was he Iron Man at the moment? Either way, the half-suited billionaire was chasing Clint around the sofa, dodging left and right in an effort to catch the much faster archer. Tony had the suit's boots and gauntlets on, as well as the neck circlet, and each time he slipped around the edge of his trashed leather couch he fired off a small burst of energy; more light that harmful, at Clint.
Thor and Steve were trying, in vain, to hold Natasha back from attacking…
Coulson blinked. He couldn't tell if their fiery red-headed assassin was trying to kill Tony, or Hawkeye, but she looked dead set on some type of blood.
Bruce was still seated in his chair at the remains of the kitchen table, holding the handle of a destroyed coffee cup and a singed fork above the smoking rubble. A shattered arrow shaft was planted dead centre in the pile, betraying the cause of the formerly beautiful oak slab.
"Jarvis?" Phil closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose for a moment before watching as Tony flew over the couch to tackled Clint, who dodged into Thor, releasing Natasha, who's momentum carried her and Steve into Bruce's chair, sending the wild-eyed scientist fleeing past Coulson into the elevator with bits of rubble falling from his hair.
"Mister Barton has taken to sleeping with his eyes open," JARVIS explained unhelpfully.
"Like… he has since he started working for S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
"With his eyes open perched atop the fridge, television, table, shelves, stairs, or shower curtain rod," JARVIS's voice almost had a hint of amusement colouring it.
"Um…" Phil calmly dodged a teacup.
"Let me rephrase, Agent Coulson," JARVIS paused almost as if the computer program were relishing it's next sentence, "Mister Barton has taken to sleeping with his eyes open, in areas he knows Sir frequents at odd hours of the morning, with the expressed purpose of scaring Sir,"
Phil's mouth dropped open.
"It has appeared to be very successful," JARVIS added.
"Jarvis… You said there was video?" a grin stretched across Coulson's face as he was already keying up an email to Pepper on his phone.
"There are many videos, Agent," Definitely amused.