Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, save the plot.
Rating: Teen for language.
Summary: Tony is used to being alone on Thanksgiving, thank you very much. But when Barton tries and hilariously fails at comforting him for whatever reason, and people start showing up at his living room, he suspects there are Plans he did not know about.
Author's Note: A 10-minute scribble just for fun.
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By Kasmi Kassim
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Plans Not Involving Tony Stark
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Clint was standing at the doorway, staring at him. "Why are you here?"
Tony looked up from his Starkpad. "Why are you?"
"I live here, man."
"No, you live in a farm and a massive Freudian projection of your subconsciousness." Tony dropped his gaze back down onto his work. "Unless you count sleeping on my bookshelf as living. Please don't do that, by the way. I don't have gargoyles in my mansion for a reason."
"Hell, Stark, why aren't you home celebrating? It's Thanksgiving." Clint wandered over and plopped on a couch perpendicular to him, and flipped on the TV. "My wife went home to her folks. I'm staying away 'cuz they don't like me. The whole secret agent thing."
"Can't imagine why they wouldn't be peachy keen about that." Tony's hands danced deftly on the pad. "I have no family, thank you very much, asshole. And in case you didn't notice, I own this place and this is my Thanksgiving."
Clint looked at him a second. "No grandparents? Uncles? Distant nieces?"
"Christ, does no one read SHIELD's files?"
Clint ran through the channels at breakneck speed. "Well, I guess it has its perks. You don't have to worry about embarrassing relations."
"I'm the embarrassing relation, no one can outdo me. Unless you're talking bailing cousins out of jail and throwing money at uncles to shut up about my baby home videos." Tony stilled, and stared up. "Wait. Are you trying to - comfort me, Barton?"
"Hell no." Barton resolutely flipped through the TV. "You're a self-righteous prick."
"Love you too, bird boy."
"Fuck off."
"Language," said Steve, wandering into the living room with a tray. Tony stared, frowned, looked at the tray, and stared back at Steve. "It's popcorn," Steve explained, setting the tray down. Clint dove in like a dying man. "What are you watching?"
Tony opened his mouth, and reconsidered it. "At least Bruce went somewhere, right?" he said instead.
"And here I thought you liked me, Tony," Bruce said mildly, wandering in with a disheveled lab doctor look. Tony jerked upright, and glanced around the room.
"Is it Ambush Tony Stark day?" he demanded. "Because you guys are creeping in like some kind of plotting agents, and I've been around Natasha, and Jesus, that was a mind-trip and I don't need that again."
Clint and Steve exchanged amused looks. Tony tensed, and sighed. "Nat," he called aloud. "Where are you?"
"Above you, party boy."
Tony refused to look up.
Steve looked around. "Is everyone here, then?"
"Everyone? Is this a planned thing?" Tony scrolled madly through the pad. "Please don't tell me you're expecting a party. I'm out of booze, and don't have the energy to rearrange couches."
Clint threw a popcorn at his face. "Relax, host, stay on your ass. It's just a movie."
"Should I also change into pajamas and bring pillows?"
"Ignore him," Bruce said, and leaned forward for a handful of popcorn. "I vote mystery thriller."
"But I want torture porn," Clint complained.
"Can we do something romantic? Happy?" Steve suggested, looking tentative. Tony stared.
"I don't know," Natasha said, dropping next to Tony on the couch and casually taking the Starkpad out of his hands. "I like art films. Indie stuff."
"What about you, Tony?." Steve turned to Tony with an open look, effectively stopping him from going after Natasha's outstretched hand and his work with it. "Anything you want to watch?"
Tony looked around himself, at a loss for words for once. "I'm over forty," he said at last. "It's Thanksgiving, and I have a cluster of grown-ass adults in my living room asking me to pick out a movie for them."
"I think he means he wants to see things blow up."
"I think a family film would be nice for this kind of thing -"
"I swear, Cap, if you make me sit through one more Homeward Bound, I'm gonna shoot you-"
Tony burrowed deep into his couch. So this was now his life.
He glanced up, and met Steve's eyes watching him. Steve offered a small smile, and Tony decided it wasn't too bad. He's had worse Thanksgivings, after all.
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The End