"Clint! Clint, wait."

Barton pauses, feeling five kinds of unfriendly, and turns around to see Natasha jogging up to him.

"Hey," she says when she catches up. He just grunts and goes back to stomping up the street. This time, she keeps pace with him. "You know they don't mean it."

"Bullshit," he snaps. He thinks of Stark's eyes and Banner's downturned mouth and Thor's grip on Mjolnir and Rogers's fidgeting and Natasha's silence. It cut deep.

"Okay, they meant it," she relents, "but not the way you think."

Right," he snorts. To use an example, "Because Thor never takes his own manhood and honor seriously."

"Thor's from a different planet, Clint -"

"Rogers isn't," and he knows he's starting to get petty but he was hurt and they were jerks and so he feels he has the right.

"Rogers is from a different time. You can't hold it against him. He's still trying to wrap his head around digital clocks, no matter how well he hides it. You know him - he's got to completelt understand how it works, not just the fact that it does work. He doesn't get what changed in people yet, is all."

She's silent for a few minutes after her speech, letting it sink in. And it does. Clint can feel his angry defensiveness fading the longer he thinks about it. It doesn't solve the problem, but the whole situation this morning seems a little less harsh.

"Clint," she tries again.

"I know," he says gruffly. "It's just - hard. Stark didn't help."

"Please," she scoffs, smirking, "that was him trying and you know it."

"Pretty pathetic."

"I know."

She digs into her pockets and pulls out his wallet, tossing it to him. He catches it and wonders how he left it behind.

She smirks; maybe he didn't leave it, after all. "Bob's Burgers, on you?"

He rolls his eyes but can't help the smile. "Fine. But no bitching about my extra large chocolate malt."

**8**

"Doctor Banner, are you well?"

"Oh, sure," Bruce puffs, flat on his back on half-frozen earth without a shirt or shoes. Or underwear, for that matter. Tony should really work on making stretchy briefs to go with the stretchy pants. "I'm wonderful. Did you have to dump Hulk in the lake? I think I'm going hypothermic."

Thor grins. "Do not worry," he says, "the flight back to New York will dry you off."

"And turn me into an icicle, and you know it," Bruce returns, making a face. He swears he can feel his back hair clinging to the icy ground as he sits up.

"A hulksicle?" Thor teases. "Stark will enjoy that name thoroughly."

Bruce groans. "Please don't."

His grin widens. "We shall see." He offers a hand, which Bruce takes, and helps the smaller man to his feet. "How shall we get home, then?"

Bruce looks around the devastated lakeside clearing, at the shattered ice, the splintered trees, the gaping craters in the cracked ground. It's all a little blurry, which is easily remedied by his... by his broken glasses at Thor's feet. He shrugs. "We're a good twenty miles away from any sort of civilization," he says. "Do you have your phone?"

"No," answers Thor, "but I have my comm. "Does this help?"

Bruce makes a face. "Not really." A cold wind blows through the clearing, from the mountains, and he shudders.

Thor notices. "Are you alright?"

"Cold," Bruce replies, "and half-naked."

"Ah." Thor nods his understanding. He shivers again, and this time it doesn't stop until there's a heavy cloth draped over his shoulders.

"Thanks," Bruce says, startled. The cape is still warm. Thor smiles.

"I certainly don't need it," he aays. "Altough I'd like it back sometime."

"I'll have it dry-cleaned," Bruce deadpans, but he really does appreciate it. A thought strikes him. "Hey, Thor?"

"Hm?"

"Your cape," he says, wondering how to word this, "it's a... sign of adulthood. Right?"

"Indeed," Thor confirms with pride. "It shows all that I have become a man."

That's what Bruce thought. "And you just let me borrow it."

"I did."

"Does that... diminish your manhood in any way?"

Thor looks affronted. "Of course not."

Now to really test the waters. "You're still a warrior and all."

"I am."

"So... Steve doesn't have a cape."

"No...?"

"So is he lesser?"

"No." And now he's starting to look suspicious. "Why?"

Bruce wonders if this is really a good idea. Sexuality can't really be compared to a cape, anyway. "Clint doesn't have a cape, either."

Thor stiffens. "I do not wish to talk about this."

"But Thor," he presses, "Clint works with us, too, as an Avenger."

"It is different."

"It really isn't."

Thor huffs. "If I swear to think on this, may we end the conversation?"

Bruce considers this. "Fine."

"Thank you." And he really does look relieved. "Let us attempt to contact the others."

**8**

Steve parks after a few hours to take a breather, to feel something other than frustration and cold wind knifing through his clothes. He's on the outskirts of the city by now, having been driving his bike for the last hour.

He doesn't really want to think about what happened at the Tower, but he knows he upset Clint. It's just, it's hard to separate his time from now. His morals and laws versus today's morals and laws.

He does know he upset Clint, though. And he should apologize. He just needs time to figure out how to mean it the way the agent would want it to. And if that means taking time away to come to terms with reality, then fine. The last thing he wants is to mess up with his team mates again.

He can do this, he thinks. He can be open-minded and not judgemental and work with his team and -

His comm, hooked up in his ear, squeals to life.

"Avengers," Fury snaps over the line, "call in. Where the hell are you?"

"This is Hawkeye and Widow," Barton's voice comes in, Natasha's voice echoing in the background.

"Banner and I are still in Canada," Thor announces over the comm, and then, "Doctor Banner! The comm has activated!"

Quieter, "That's great, Thor. Ask them for a ride."

Steve clears his throat. "This is Rogers."

There's a moment's pause while they all wait for Stark.

"Anybody seen Stark?" he asks.

"Stark's unavailable at the moment," Fury says.

"Sir?" Barton asks. "What happened?"

"Avengers Tower was attacked," Fury says grimly. "Stark was caught in the crossfire. Get your asses to HQ."

The line clicks off to a chorus of protests and requests for information.