It's not that Natasha didn't like her new roommates. She did. Staying at Avengers Tower was much better than staying at SHIELD headquarters, on a number of levels. The beds were more comfortable, the food was delicious, even if it was take-out half the time, and JARVIS could find anything or anyone she needed. Even better, no one had tried to harass her when she was walking around the halls, whether it be in uniform or pajamas. (Only one overzealous agent had made a grab at her ass when she was first hired by SHIELD, and he still walked with a limp. Word travelled fast and no one else dared try.)

Avengers Tower was infinitely more enjoyable than the structure of SHIELD bunkers or the loneliness of safe houses. There were group training sessions and actual conversations and fights over the coffeepot and, so help her, movie nights. Someone was usually laughing about something, unless there was an explosion, in which case someone was yelling, generally Pepper yelling at Stark (which made Nat want to laugh). It was, dare she say it, fun.

But sometimes it did get tiring.

There were six people with very distinct personalities living in that tower, seven when Thor was visiting. Nat got along with everyone for the most part. She already knew from her stint as Natalie Rushman that she and Pepper worked well together. Clint she knew inside and out. Rogers had her respect and was quickly gaining her trust, while Banner had earned both in spades. Thor was a little exuberant, but understood the concept of going too far. Stark on the other hand…

Tony Stark liked knowing which buttons to push to make things happen, whether it be on man or machine. They all had different reactions to this treatment: Thor smiled and refused to let it affect him; Clint gave as good as he got; Rogers simply shut it down; Pepper seemed to live in a permanent state of fond exasperation; and Banner just stopped listening, mostly because he knew Tony wanted a large, green reaction. Nat for her part liked going on long walks when she felt like snapping, mostly so she wouldn't snap Stark in half.

It was on one of these wanderings that she found it, near where the theatre district met Hell's Kitchen. The red logo in the window nearly made her roll her eyes, but the words printed on the navy blue awning made her smile to herself. Decision made, Nat opened the door and entered the Russian Vodka Room.

The atmosphere wasn't quite to her taste, full of Americans and piano music. But the wall of vodka still looked appetizing, so she found a seat and glanced over the menu. In the end, she ordered herself a plate of cheese blintzes and a large carafe of the house blueberry vodka. The dessert was decent and the vodka passable, but she had admittedly high standards.

The quality of company took a downturn when she looked up to see Stark entering the room.

He tried to make a casual approach, keeping his eyes anywhere but on Nat's table. When he was about to walk past, she kicked out the chair opposite her to block his path. He nearly tripped over it, but caught himself, grinning at her.

"Is this an invitation to join?"

"It's a strong request for an explanation," she fired back.

He ignored the implied threat. "You here for the happy hour?"

"I'm not here to be happy. I'm here to adjust my attitude to slightly above 'break off Stark's arm and hit him with it.'" She leaned over and tapped on the table. "Take a seat and explain before the adjustment is a negative one."

His smile turned a little sheepish as he lowered himself into the seat. "I was concerned."

"Why?"

"Your tracker stopped moving."

The fact that he had been tracking her should have angered her immensely, but the most Nat could register was vague irritation at herself. She should have known he would find some way to keep tabs on her. "And why exactly is that a cause for concern?"

"Because you never stop moving when you're out of the tower alone," he said. "If you're alone, you usually keep moving, trying not to be a stationary target. The more backup you have, the more likely you're able to sit still." Against her better judgment, she found herself nodding, conceding the point. "None of the other trackers were near you, so unless Thor opened his wormhole in the middle of 52nd Street, you were by yourself and not moving for a decent amount of time. I thought I'd check it out."

"You're tracking all of us?"

Stark nodded. "Everyone who regularly works with the Avengers, except Thor. Something about the Rainbow Bridge has shorted out every tracker prototype I put on him. Bruce keeps telling me to give up because he's a big boy who can take care of himself. I just think it might be easier to strategize during a fight if I can check where everyone is in real time. Also, kidnappings are a thing. Just… FYI."

"I'm aware," she deadpanned. Kidnapping, torture, and brainwashing. Just a day at the office. "So you decided to come down here and take on these imaginary kidnappers by yourself?"

"This was just recon," he said, waving his hand around like he was brushing it off. Or like he was swiping away his holographic screens when he was done with them. "If it looked like you were in trouble, I would have called Barton to tell me if you were faking. If he told me you actually needed help, I would have called everyone else."

The thought made Nat's heart swell in her chest. Not just a partner for backup, but a whole team willing to take people out. Even better, they would gauge the situation to find out if she actually needed it. He might have a strange way of showing it, but Tony Stark cared about his team.

Instead of smiling at him, thanking him, or doing what any other 'normal' person would have done, she nudged the carafe in his direction. "Blueberry vodka?"

"Aw, I knew you liked me! Barton owes me five bucks."

"Don't push your luck."

"Noted."