This fic is dedicated to everyone who took the time to review my other Brutasha-tastic fic, "Blank Walls, Empty Spaces." You guys are amazing. Please consider this my apology for the canonicity of that fic. The Marvel canon blasts us all from time to time...

Readers new and old, please let me know what you think!

The Grapevine

"It's actually disgusting," Clint Barton commented to no one in particular. He sat on his porch in his favorite chair - conveniently angled to afford him a perfect view through the window into his living room and kitchen - and sighed in irritation. The sun sank low in the sky and the deep silence of the countryside was only broken by the hum of insects and the distant strikes of an axe. Clint glanced toward the woodpile that threatened to become a wood mountain. "I'm going to have to call Cap off firewood detail," he muttered, "Or deforestation might be our newest nemesis."

"Leave him," came Tony's voice as he climbed the stairs to the porch, avoiding the unfinished railing. "I think he's one of those types that finds manual labor therapeutic." His tone communicated very clearly that he did not agree. Clint refrained from pointing out that mere moments before, Stark had been hard at work chopping wood, too. "And what's disgusting?" Tony wondered aloud, oblivious to Clint's superhuman level of self-control. He leaned against the side of the house and stared at the distant tree line distractedly.

"My wife said something to me and I thought maybe she was kidding, or her and Nat were trying to pull something…" Clint said after a moment. "But she was right, as usual." He looked through the window again and shook his head in disbelief. "Did you know that Banner and Nat were an item?"

"Hm?" Tony replied distantly, still staring at who-knew-what. "Oh, sure. They flirt pathetically all the time." Clint was about to officially give up on his chosen career in subterfuge when Tony blinked, and looked at him. Clint saw his distant thoughts come careening back in their direction. "Wait. You mean an actual item? A bona fide thing?"

Clint nodded toward the window and Tony followed his gaze. Inside, Bruce and Natasha sat at the kitchen table. His kids were playing on the living room floor and occasionally calling out to their Auntie Nat with a LEGO creation or a drawing held high for approval. Natasha smiled sweetly at them - her real smile, he noticed - and offered a few words of praise each time. And each time her head was turned, Banner looked at her like a blind man beholding the sun for the first time.

"Like I said," Clint said to Tony's look of slack-jawed astonishment. "It's disgusting. She's been all sunshine and smiles in there too." He leaned back in his chair and felt like a very old man to have missed the signs. "Laura and I were never this bad," he mused absently. Inside, Natasha and Bruce laughed. For just a moment they looked weightless, far away from the problems he knew they had both dragged here with them. Fools in love.

Beside him, Tony's eyes narrowed in suspicion and his jaw finally clicked shut. Of course, Stark's jaw never stayed that way for long.

"Bruce has been holding out on me," he grumbled, turning away from the window and leaning heavily against the wall. "I might've known the whole adorkable routine was an act. Nobody's that accidentally charming." He stared off at the darkening sky. "Banner's got…" he paused and a look of horror blossomed across his face. "…game?"

Clint tried to mask his snort of laughter as a cough, but he was pretty sure it didn't work. Tony lifted his eyes and shrugged at the heavens. "I'll never understand this universe," he muttered, and sounded half-serious.

"It blindsided me, too," Clint commiserated, but he was almost certain that Tony wasn't listening.

Tony whirled to face the window again, his eyes darting between Banner and Natasha. Inside, Banner was wearing another one of his lovestruck smiles.

"Bruce never smiles at me like that," Tony said morosely. It was Clint's turn to send a shrug heavenward.

"Stark, I don't even know how to respond to that."

Clint went inside to help find food for the houseful of people that had suddenly been added to the list of mouths to feed. The rest of the Avengers drifted in gradually, drawn by the prospect of dinner. Even Earth's Mightiest Heroes had to eat, Clint mused. Bruce still sat beside Natasha, but their smiles had gone underground as soon as other people entered their bubble. They thought nobody was on to their little act. Clint looked up from the bread he was slicing and caught the way that Tony's gaze was locked onto the pair of them. He wondered for a moment whether he should have said anything… Natasha wouldn't thank him for putting anybody on the scent of whatever intrigue they had going. But then again, Nat hadn't even bothered to tell him about said intrigue in the first place.

She had it coming, he decided, and reached for the butter.

Clint had found that conversations amongst the Avengers could be downright normal from time to time. Over dinner, the conversation started with Clint's farm and Tony asked him pointed questions about its upkeep (and spared no opportunity to throw verbal stones about secrets and lies). City slickers, Clint sighed mentally. After a few minutes, the conversation finally branched out towards other people's personal business, much to Clint's satisfaction.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Steve?" Laura asked as innocently as only she could. Clint caught both Steve's sigh and Tony's smirk in his peripheral vision.

"Weren't you trying to set him up, Nat?" he asked wickedly before Steve could respond.

"Trying being the operative word," Natasha answered with an air of longsuffering. "He shot down every suggestion I made."

"Maybe they were terrible suggestions," Steve commented lightly, finally getting a foot in the door. Natasha looked distantly unimpressed.

"Or maybe you're more afraid of girls than of Hydra," she replied smoothly.

"I'm not afraid of Hydra or of g-"

"What about that nice girl? Sharon?" Steve's mouth snapped shut, but he recovered quickly. "Not my type," he answered with studied - and obviously false - indifference. Natasha smirked.

"Agent Romanoff, matchmaker," Tony interrupted suddenly. "But not a particularly successful one, it seems… Maybe you just need a chance to prove yourself. Alright, you've talked me into it. If you're so smart, Romanoff, then what's your type?" He glanced pointedly at Bruce. "Tall, green, and angry?" Behind Natasha, Bruce was shaking his head at Tony in horror. No he mouthed across the table. Tony smiled beatifically.

Clint glanced between Tony (bull) and Natasha and Bruce (china shop) as the silence in the kitchen became uncomfortable.

Natasha's smirk had turned rigid. Clint's mental alarms went off with abandon. Abort, Stark, he thought frantically. Abort…

"Maybe I don't have a type," she demurred, and her vicious smile sent a chill down Clint's spine. It had been a long time since she had leveled that particular look at him, and he wasn't eager to repeat the experience; it was the look she wore just before taking out a target.

"But, you know…" Natasha made a great show of considering. "I do know what I don't like."

Here it comes, Clint thought with resignation. He wondered if it would be possible to start an evacuation before the verbal flak started flying.

"I don't like navel-gazing billionaires who wear sunglasses inside and spend more time with their toy suits than their girlfriends," Natasha said in a voice as flat and sharp as an assassin's blade.

Behind her, Bruce was failing at stifling a laugh.

Just when Clint was wondering how to defuse this particular bomb of a situation, his little girl came running in. "Auntie Nat," she called. "Come see my new doll! I named her Natasha." And just like that, the stony look slid from Nat's face and she smiled again.

"Of course, sweetheart," she answered, and left the table. Clint pretended not to see the discreet high-five that she and Banner exchanged under the table.

"Et tu, Bruce?" Tony sighed. Bruce rubbed his neck and shrugged.

Tony shook his head and looked at the doorway Nat had just disappeared through. "Touché, Agent Romanoff," he muttered. "But we'll see who gets the last laugh. Just see if I come to the wedding. We're not coming, Bruce." He turned back to look at his friend. "Pepper and I won't be there."

Bruce looked like he was about to object to the direction of the entire conversation, but Clint caught the moment that his thoughts changed course and a tiny smile broke over his face. "I'm pretty sure that Pepper will come if I invite her, Tony…"

"Shut up," Tony replied loftily. But he smiled.

Notes: This fic originated in part when I started to think about when exactly Tony caught on to the situation blossoming between Bruce and Natasha. He doesn't seem to be "in the know" early in the movie, but then at the end he makes a joke about the two of them ("You better not be playing 'hide the zucchini.'"). So when did he find out? Tony knowing that romantic intrigue was afoot all along and saying nothing would be very weird... so I decided that he figured it out during their stay at Clint's place. Who knows, really? But this was fun, so the end justifies the means lol.

Also, Bruce and Natasha's tête-à-tête was set after their bedroom conversation. They had to have at least tentatively agreed on leaving together during that conversation, so I would imagine that they were at their closest during this period.

Scarlet Witch: I already died. Do you know what that felt like?

Ultron:...

Me: *points to my unreviewed ficlet* IT FELT LIKE THAT

(Please review!)