Big double choc chip cookies to everyone that knew who Hank and Janet were! Now, here's the big question since I've noticed a few people are confused, what or should I say who, is Hank responsible for creating? The web is slowly coming together, and as the string pulls, will the Avengers fall? Need to read to find out! :)


The next morning was not one overly enjoyed by all.

Dragging the genius philanthropist out of the bedroom by the ear, Harry had forced the man to sit down beside the still fuming Lieutenant and refused to remove the sticking charm keeping them there, until they had both talked it out. Needless to say, that took some time.

"I'm not apologizing for something I didn't do Stark!"

"Yeah, well you should. It was the Army that did it, and you freaking bleed karki."

"And what about you? You threw a glass at my head!"

"It slipped?"

It wasn't until the sun began to set, that the pair were finally allowed to move, despite Clint's begging to keep them there.

"C'mon," Hawkeye whined, his legs crossed in front of him with a bowl of cereal lying on top. "They still have hours of entertainment to give!"

"No Clint; and if you keep going, I'll stick your arse to the seat."

Rolling his eyes at the whole scene, Steve turned back to the frowning agent and grinned. Out of everyone in the house, the old war vet found that he was the most comfortable when he was around the blue eyed man. He couldn't explain why or how, it was just a bond that the pair had formed over time, and he wasn't going to start complaining about it.

Glancing down at the paperwork spread out across the kitchen table, thick blonde eyebrows scrunched together. It was quite common to see the SHIELD agent pouring himself into whatever file he was working, and it was one thing that Steve did not like. Don't get him wrong, he understood that what the shorter man did was important, but that didn't mean that he had to spend every waking minute focusing on it.

Sticking his tongue out at the paper work in rebellion, Steve looked back up at the muttering agent and took a long hard look. The man was tired; anyone could see that, but he was also overworked. The strain of the long hours and hard shifts was clear in the agent's slumped shoulders and piercing eyes. But there was also a flicker of happiness. Barely noticeable if you weren't looking for it, but to Steve it was as clear as day.

Reaching down for the satchel that lay beside his feet, Steve quietly dragged out his pad and paper, and shifted so that he was more comfortable.

"What are you doing Mr Rogers?"

The murmured words were barely audio, and yet they still caught the super soldier's ears. Shrugging in what he hoped was an indifferent way, Steve propped his leg up against the table, and placed the pad on his thigh. "Just drawing," he replied, the pencil already making its way gracefully across the paper. "And it's Steve, Mr Coulson."

Lifting his head slightly so that he could eye the Captain from under his lashes, Coulson beamed. "Then it's Phil, Steve."


Placing the last of the potatoes into a saucepan, Harry glanced over at the pair quietly sitting at the kitchen table, and indulged himself in a small quirk of the lips. Steve and Phil may not see it, but with each passing day, the rest of them were noticing how close they were becoming. The soldier would pull the agent away to eat and rest every now and then; and in return, the agent would catch the other back up on current events and social standards that the frozen man may have missed. It was as Clint liked to often chock out; 'very mushy'.

Watching as the super soldier focused intently on the drawing in front of him, as the unaware model continued to work through whatever papers Fury had forwarded on; Harry felt two firm hands wind their way around his waist, and grinned.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself."

Ignoring the lack of actual talking that had occurred the night before, the intimacy they had shared had helped them to heal. The fact that Tony was even showing affection to this degree, and Harry allowing him, was showing just how far they had come.

Placing his hands over the slightly larger ones wrapped around him, the wizard closed his eyes and moaned happily. This was what they were like, what they should have always been like...

It was the first time in three weeks that Tony had come home before midnight, and the CEO had taken every advantage available. Ordering the finest dishes he could get from his favourite restaurant, the brunette had set everything up on the dining room table for a simple, romantic night in with his future husband and a bottle of wine.

Placing his used napkin down beside the empty plate, Tony took a sip of his glass and grinned.

"What's got you so happy?"

"You."

Soft candle light danced across Harry's face; his emerald eyes sparkling like no gem Tony had ever seen. Blushing lightly, Harry glanced down at the dazzling ring on finger, and looked back up through his lashes. "I think you've had too much to drink Mr Stark."

"I have not." Feeling the entire weight of the day lift off his shoulders, Tony reached across the table and tilted the man's chin so he could look at him dead on.

"I don't know what I've done to deserve you," he whispered, letting the side of him he usually kept hidden come through. "But I'm so glad that I did it."

The smile he received in return could have run his entire company. Moving his hand away from the soft flesh of the other's face, Tony felt a small pang of loss, till he reconnected again, gripping his love's hand.

"Dance with me."

He knew the answer before he even received it; but this time he wasn't going to take no. Pulling the protesting brunette out of his seat, Tony muttered at Jarvis to play something soft, and began to sway. It was nothing flashy or show-offie, but that was ok.

It was just them.

Locking eyes with the taller man, emerald eyes shone in the light. "You still didn't tell me what this was for," he whispered, leaning up to brush his lips against Tony's chin.

Struggling for breath, Tony leant down further and sucked the man's earlobe. "Did I need a reason?"

"No."

"Good."

Smiling at the memory of one of Tony's many random dates; Harry tightened his hold on the arms around his waist, his head tilting back to lean against the other's collar bone.

The solid circle buzzing next to his ear had taken some getting used to; along with the engineer's low self esteem about it, but Harry never once hesitated to touch it during their passionate night of lovemaking. Breathing in deeply, Harry tightened his hold on his husband; swaying to a song that only he could hear.

"Have you figured anything else out?"

The sudden breeze through his hair was more than enough of an answer.

"You don't have to figure it out right away," he whispered, knowing that the lack of answers would be killing the man. "It's ok to not know everything."

Twirling the shorter man around, Tony wrapped his husband's arms around his shoulders; his own gently going for the neck. "I forgot just how wonderful you were," he muttered, leaning in so their foreheads were touching. "You still are the only person to look at me, and not expect me to be Tony Stark, billionaire, playboy, genius, philanthropist."

"Well then I guess we're even."

It was one of the many things that had drawn the pair towards each other. A life of having their faces plastered all over the magazines and people throwing themselves at them had caused the men to shy away from relationships and the headaches that were attached. Lowering his arm so it returned to the brunette's waist, Tony gently grabbed hold of the other, and slowly began to sway.

Feeling his body sluggishly move to the invisible tune, Harry chuckled softly. "I still can't dance."

"Then it's a good thing that we're not dancing."

The sways slowly picked up, and before the wizard could protest, he found his feet on top of the engineer's. "This is very demeaning," he grumbled, tightening the hold he had on the man's shoulders. "I feel like a child."

Scoffing, Tony waltzed his way around the kitchen bench. "You didn't complain when we got married."

"We were stone cold drunk."

"And your point?"

Laying his head down on the logo emblazed chest, Harry breathed in the deep oil and metal aroma that he had always defined as Tony's. "Do you remember that time you tried to cook for me?"

Stopping the leisurely steps, Tony glanced down at the mop of hair buried in his chest ludicrously. "You want to talk about that?"

Humming Harry rubbed his head up against the firm muscle and closed his eyes. "You nearly burnt the house down," he muttered.

"I was trying to be romantic."

"Jarvis still has photos of the whole thing."

Feeling the pressure of the wizard's weight finally build on his toes, Tony gently pushed him off and wrapped his arms around him. "Is there a reason you're bringing up my past failings?"

The question was asked in an almost vague way, but Harry could feel the weight that they carried. Tony was afraid that he was going to leave him again, and Harry couldn't say for certain that he wouldn't, that's why the genius would run or distract him every time he brought up their impending talk.

Removing himself fully from the other's clutches, Harry turned to face the bubbling potatoes, and clenched his teeth. He didn't want to do this, but they couldn't just rush in and act like they had never been apart. Tony was still hurting from it, he could tell, and despite the fact that the billionaire had never been with anyone else, Harry still needed to come to terms with it, and not the firm belief he had held onto since he found out the man was alive.

"We need some time apart."

An explosion could have happened right next to him and Tony wouldn't have even flinched. He finally got his husband back, and now he wanted to break up? Whirling the brunette around, the engineer gripped his arms tightly. He didn't care that his eyes were most likely red, or that his face was showing all the pain and desperation that was flooding him; he only cared that the emerald eyed man stayed there and didn't leave.

Unable to look into the chocolate brown eyes without feeling his chest tightening, Harry wrapped his arms around his husband's shaking shoulders, and choked back a sob. "It won't be forever," he promised, running his hands through the usually stylized hair. "We just need to do this slowly, that's all."

"But why?"

The desperation was almost killing the wizard.

"You know why. We've had so much happen between us, you died Tony; twice, and I just need to wrap my head around that. You never looked for me, and as far as you're concerned, I walked out on you." The anxiety was filling the wizard to his very core, but he had to do this. "Things are different now, and if we go rushing into it, we won't be the only ones affected. I'm not saying that we need to divorce; Merlin no! We just need to start back at the beginning and take this one step at a time, ok?"

Lifting his head off the brunette's shoulder, Tony stared down into the watery emerald eyes, and knew that he was right. They were going too fast, and if they suddenly hit a speed bump, then they were going to crash spectacularly. But that didn't mean that he liked it. No, he was going to go after every single one of the son of a bitches that did this to his happiness, and rip them apart. Surging forward, he placed every ounce of love and passion he held for the wizard into that one kiss, before pulling away.

Watching as the ruffled brunette stalked away, Harry couldn't stop from blurting out. "What are you doing?"

Not even glancing back over his shoulder, Tony snarled.

"I'm going to find the bastards that did this to us and watch them burn."


The night quickly died after Tony's abrupt departure to his lab.

Harry and Pepper retreated to her bedroom; Rhodey having left a couple of hours before hand when he received a call in from his commanding officer, leaving Natasha and Steve to finish dinner and serve up. Bruce disappeared with two plates not much later, saying that he was going to make sure that; as he put it, 'the dumbass with the wearable bottle rocket', didn't take off and go on a rampage.

Eating in silence, the four swiftly washed up and made their way into the lounge room. Rogers and Coulson sat beside each other, a reasonable gap between them; whilst Clint simply flopped his head down into the red head's lap and stretched the rest of his body out in the left over space.

Watching as Steve and Phil shuffled closer every now and then; Natasha ran a hand through dirty blonde hair and hummed. "It would seem that Stark and Potter are having another lover's quarrel," she mused, her fingers twisting a lock of hair.

Grunting, Clint stared at the random show the television was on, and shrugged. "It's their problem, they'll figure it out."

Not quite sure if that was the answer she was after, Natasha pulled harshly on the lock, forcing the blonde to turn his gaze to her.

"What was that for?"

"You seriously have to ask?"

Sitting up, Clint ignored the blushing virgins in the corner, and rounded on the assassin. "Yes, I really have to ask. What was that for Nat? You've been in a funk since we got here, and I can't deal with you going Jeckel/Hyde on me every five seconds."

Feeling the sudden itch in the palm of her hand, Natasha glared at the bewildered man. Forcing the strong urge to lean over and give the archer a black eye, the red head instead stood up and stalked her way out of the house; the glass door slamming behind her. If he didn't know what was getting her fur up, then fine, he could find somewhere else to sleep.

Watching his partner leave in a huff, Clint rubbed a hand over his face and grumbled. This was all Stark's fault.

"Clint, you should go after her."

Rounding on the sincere Captain, Clint sneered. "You think?"

"Barton," Coulson warned, his body unconsciously shifting to protect the abashed soldier. "That was uncal-"

"Oh screw the tin soldier already, why don't you."

Paying no attention to the sputtering coming from the blushing pair, or the heavy ball of guilt sitting in his stomach, the archer followed the path his partner took, and quickly found himself outside. The air was cool and crisp, cutting softy at his overheated cheeks as he glanced around for the missing red head.

Even in this state, he knew that she wouldn't go far; it was a survival issue that she had never quite ridden herself of, no matter how much she hated the fact. Finally catching sight of blood red clashing against moonlit skin, Clint sucked it up and slowly made his way towards her.

"I want to be left alone."

He didn't even need to see her face to know that she had been crying. Something that worried him greatly.

"Nat-"

"I said go away!"

Surging forward, Clint wrapped his arms around the struggling woman, and waited until she calmed down. Shifting so that they were both sitting comfortably, the archer ran his hand through the fiery red mane, and hushed softly.

"I'm sorry that I've done something to upset you cor meum," he whispered, grazing his lips over the exposed shoulder. "But you need to tell me what's going on in that determined head of yours."

Keeping her head down, Natasha wiped away the few tears still clinging to her cheeks, and hiccupped. "It's stupid," she muttered. "I shouldn't have said anything."

Placing two fingers under her chin, Clint forced the trained assassin to look up and face him. "It can't have been that stupid if it's got you this wound up. C'mon, I promise that I won't laugh."

They both knew that that was a lie, but the sentiment still made the red head's heart flutter. Eyeing the bright blue orbs that were two seconds off going into puppy dog mode, Natasha pulled back out of the archer's hold, and wrapped her arms around herself.

"I thought that you were going to leave me."

The whispered words took any humour Clint may have had left, and drowned it in the ocean below. "You- me- What?"

Glancing back up, Natasha huffed. "I thought that you were going to leave me," She repeated, hoping that she didn't have to again, or she was going to deck the idiot.

"Yeah, I heard that," running a hand through his hair, Clint glanced around for something to help him, but couldn't find anything. "But- why? What in Thor's kinky underwear drawer made you think that I would ever leave you?"

Shrugging, Natasha let her arms fall into her lap as her gaze moved out to the horizon. "You haven't exactly been yourself around me since the Chitari attack, and then Harry-"

The final puzzle piece clicked into place in Clint's mind. "You thought that I was going to leave you for Harry."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement, and the silent woman didn't have to reply for the marksman to know it was the truth. Reaching out, Clint dragged the shameful Natasha towards him, and enveloped her in a strong embrace.

"You told me all about him," she babbled, holding her arms against her chest between them. "And you always seemed so infatuated with him, and now here he is, and Stark's done something stupid again and-"

Placing a single finger on the trembling lips, Clint placed small, heartfelt kisses across her temple. "I did have a crush on Harry," he admitted, strengthening his hold when Natasha jerked back. "But, it was once upon a time, and nothing like how I feel for you."

Raising her head, hazel eyes glanced up at shinning blue. "And how is that?"

"Well..." Going back to the last spot he had brushed with his lips, Clint punctuated each sentence with a kiss. "My heart stops when you walk through the room. I can't breathe when you smile. I count each second until I can have you in my arms again. And when we're on a mission, I pray that you come out of it safe and whole, even if I get hurt because of it."

Natasha couldn't breathe. They were always open with each other; or at least more so than with the rest of the world, but this was the first time ever that the man before her had said anything close to romantic.

"I-I-"

Shushing her, Clint leant forward, and carefully sealed his lips over hers. There was none of the fire and heated lust that usually fuelled their kisses, but Natasha would mentally swear until the day she died, that it was the best kiss they had shared.


The next morning had started off like any other; each person slowly making their way out of whichever hole they had crawled into the night before...

...only to come face to face with a large picture of Director Fury on the living room screen.

Not quite sure if it was real or a nightmarish vision his sleep deprived hangover had superimposed over the television, Tony had made to walk straight past, but was stopped when a very real sounding Fury growled at him.

"Stark get your arse back in here and sit down."

Not able to form any kind of rebellion without at least two cups of coffee in his system, Tony wheeled back around and plonked down between Pepper and Natasha.

"What do you want Captain Crunch?" he yawned, rubbing his hand over his face. "As you can see, not all of us are morning people."

Glaring at the brunette, Fury twitched is head in negative, when Natasha lifted her eyebrow in question.

"I've called this morning to announce your new group exercises, that start as of immediately."

Rounding on the Agent sitting on the other side of Steve, Clint frowned. "You said that we were free to do what we want."

Still pissed with the archer about his behaviour the night before, Phil clenched his hands and scowled. "No," he corrected, ignoring the heat of everyone's gaze on his face. "I said that I was only here to make sure you didn't blow anything up. I never said that SHIELD wouldn't have orders for you."

"What the fuck?" Standing up, Clint made to storm out if the room, but stopped when Natasha ran after him.

"You knew that this was only temporary," she whispered, hoping to calm the man; their night had been wonderful after they had straightened out everything, and like bloody hell she was going to let this slight hiccup ruin it. "We are still SHIELD agents."

"Not anymore."

Whirling around to face the screen, the pair looked up at the Director and gaped. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The temperature of the room dropped considerably. SHEILD had been the only stable thing in the pair's lives; giving them a base to call home and an admittedly small network to rely on. For the Director to denounce that, was like a dagger to the heart. Knowing what this could potentially mean for the couple, the rest of the team glared up at the screen, but wisely stayed quiet. This was for the agents to work out, but if it came to it, they would have their back.

"It means that as of this moment, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton are no longer level nine agents of SHIELD."

"THAT'S BULLSHIT!"

Roaring at the unruffled man staring at them through the screen, Clint moved to throw an ugly vase, that Tony had no idea why he had, but was quickly restrained by Steve and Tony.

"Did you know about this?" Glaring down at the man that had taken them in and treated them like his own, Natasha hoped to god that he would say no; but knew when he didn't reply, that it was true. "You knew? You knew and didn't try and stop him?"

Refusing to look up at the shaking red head or the fuming blonde, Coulson wrung his hands in his lap and gulped. "I asked him not to tell you like this," he answered, his voice barely wavering.

"How else was he going to tell us? With a big bright bouquet, and a fuck you very much?" Struggling against the hold the two men had on him, Clint glared holes into the screen.

"If you let me finish," Fury sparred, his voice drilling holes into the side of the assassin's head.

"No! Fuck you Fury! We did everything you asked us, and this is how you repay us? Go sit on it and fuck yourself!"

"Clint-"

"Don't you dare talk to him!"

Not sure where this was going, but knowing that the Director was a man for theatrics, Harry patted a wide eyed Pepper on the shoulder, before stepping onto the couch and whistling loudly. "I swear it's the Helicarrier all over again," he muttered, waiting for everyone to shut up and face him.

Motioning for everyone to sit down, emerald eyes made sure that Steve still had a good hold on the marksman, and Phil was as far away from the two former agents as possible, before turning back to the screen and raising an eyebrow. "Now," he huffed, folding his arms in his 'no nonsense' way. "Finish what you've got to say, and don't continue with the dramatics, or I swear to Merlin that I'll sink your battleship. You know I will."

Eyeing the shortest person in the room, Fury thought the possibility over for a moment, and nodded. "As I was saying before Agent Barton began his detailed account of what I can do," he growled, flicking his glance over to the still snarling man. "Barton and Romanoff are as of now, no longer level nine Agents. The Council has just signed off on the Avenger's Initiative becoming a classified Secret Sub-Agency of SHIELD, and anyone involved, having the clearance of Special Agents. Congratulations gentlemen and lady, the Avengers have just become official."


The shock had still yet to set in.

After the Director dropped his bomb, he had passed off the details and questions to Coulson; stating that he had better things to than listen to Stark go on about how 'they needed him, they really needed him'.

Coulson had taken the transfer of attention quite well, and had even sat quietly when Natasha walked up to the man and slapped him across the face.

"Don't ever do that that to us again Phil, or I'll cut out your tongue while you sleep."

Once the he was sure that the others had gotten any form of violence towards him out of their minds, the now Special Agent forced the group; minus Pepper, into their superhero suits, and pushed them into the waiting SUV.

They had a long day awaiting them.

"Holy hell."

There were no words to describe the monstrosity that they had been dumped in. Not that Clint wasn't trying.

Rolling his eyes at the blonde as he went through his array of curse words; alphabetically, Steve eyed the massive white room they had been pushed into, and whistled. The building could have fit ten football fields in it easily and still have room for the crowds...

But there was nothing in it.

Following Coulson quietly as he clipped his way across the room, Steve glanced over at his fellow team members and frowned. They looked just as confused and bone weary as he felt; the emotional rollercoaster of the last two days finally taking its toll.

Stopping suddenly, Coulson whirled around on the spot, and stared at them. His standard 'agent' smirk sliding into place. "I would like to be the first to introduce you all to Hanger 96."

Feeling the need to glance around again, Steve let his eyes wander to the roof, before the man's voice caught his attention once more.

"The object of the game is to capture the flag."

The night before and then the excitement of that morning had been hard on everyone; that much was obvious, but that wouldn't deter Coulson from his plans for the day. Eyeing up the red faced and half asleep super heroes lined up before him, the agent couldn't help the slight wince as he thought about what they were about to do.

"This room has been specially designed for you to train, and when we return to New York, there has been a similar room installed into the Avenger's Tower. The walls have been fortified so even the Hulk will take some time getting through them. The ro-"

Glancing over his sunglasses at the primped and proper Agent, Tony slurped at his 7/11 slurppie, making sure that it was loud and annoying. "Yeah," he popped, smacking his lips together. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't play kiddie's games, so I'm going to sit over there and sleep off this hangover."

"Stark stay."

Not even a step out of line, Tony glared up at the agent, but did not move.

"Why are we even here?" he whined, the slurppie sloshing around in its container as his armour hands waved around. "What does a piece of cloth have to do with training?"

Not liking the way the genius was acting, Steve turned to him. "If you had listened to Phil on the way over-"

"Phil?" Rounding on said agent, Tony frowned. "How come everyone else gets to call you Phil but I don't? Are you that pissed that I broke house arrest?"

"Can we please just get back to what we're supposed to be doing?"

Shushing the doctor up with a wave of a hand, Tony glanced from Coulson to Steve, and then back again. If it had been a cartoon, the others would have been able to see a light bulb come to life over the billionaire's head, as he came to a conclusion. "You two are doing it!"

Feeling heat spread across his face and down his neck, Steve glared at the whooping brunette, and shook his head. "We are not doing anything Stark, and even if we were, it would be none of your business."

"Oh you two are so doing it," Tony crowed, ignoring the huffing super soldier. "And if not, then very soon. So who's on top? I bet it's Coulson! Does the Cap have a shield fetish that we don't know about? C'mon, we're supposed to be shar-"

Not noticing the unamused wizard walking up behind him, Tony gave a startled yelp when his suit was pulled backwards, forcing him onto the ground. Hacking for air, brown eyes widened slightly as they caught sight of the single finger pointing at him.

"If they don't ask about our sex life, then you aren't allowed to ask about theirs, understood?"

Pouting, Tony eyed the finger for another moment before reluctantly nodding and being allowed back up. Glowering at the sniggering idiots that were meant to be his teammates, Tony lifted his armoured hand to take another sip of his slurppie, but found that it was no longer there.

Breaking out into full blown giggles, Bruce clapped the billionaire on the back as he looked down forlornly at the puddle of slurppie goodness, before turning him back around to face the smirking Agent and smug Captain. Shifting slightly to readjust his suit, Coulson inclined his head in thanks towards the once again silent wizard, before he continued.

"As I was saying, this was originally created for the research and development of new possible weapons; but over the last week, the Director and I have been able to transform it into a new playground. It is reinforced to the point that even the Hulk would take some time to break through. Everything else is replaceable."

Moving to leave, Coulson made it half way back to the door they had entered from, and twirled back around. "Oh, and one more thing," he called back out, the grin on his face getting wider. "Have fun."

The click of the man's heels was the only thing that could be heard as he left the team in the middle of the room. Steve had no idea what was going on, and as he glanced around at the others, he could tell that they were in the same boat.


Harry could tell the moment that Coulson opened the warehouse doors, that he wouldn't like what was inside. Glaring at the smug bastard's back, emerald eyes steeled over as the heavy metal door slid shut, locking them inside.

"Well," Bruce quipped, not exactly liking the caged feeling. "Anyone got an idea of what's going on?"

Opening his mouth to no doubt say something snarky, Clint left it hanging, when the whooshing sound of something opening caught his attention. Whirling around, the team watched as a metal pole rose from the ground; a plain white flag tied to the top. It was a sight that brought back bad memories to much of the group of lives that they no longer wished to remember.

"Is this what Phil meant?" Steve asked, obviously having no clue what was going on. "We just have to get the flag? I thought that this was a kid's game?"

Shrugging, Tony finally gave up on the thought of sleep, and focused on the possibility of blowing things up. "I have no idea what Pinocchio was going on about, but if the only way we're getting out is by grabbing that tissue..."

Swaggering forward, Tony was ten paces away from the pole, when Harry finally clicked back to reality.

"Tony," he barked; the warning clear in his tone. "Don't."

Turning back around, Tony eyed his husband. "What's got your knickers in a twist? It's just a flag."

How was it his genius of a husband could be such an idiot?

"It's a bit more than that." Glancing around, emerald eyes widened slightly, when he realized that the others had no clue what was going on. "None of you have played this game?"

Shaking their heads, Natasha and Clint kept their focus on the unassuming walls, whilst Bruce and Steve stared at the shorter man.

"It's a strategy game," he grimaced, the memories of a chubby kid chasing after him resurfacing. "There are two teams, each have a flag that the other has to capture and return to their base. First to do wins. Coulson has simplified it, so that there is one flag and we only have to retrieve it, not return to base."

"So what's so difficult about that?"

Sending a withering look over at the blonde archer, Harry turned back to his husband that was slowly inching towards the pole. "What's difficult about it, is that the opposing team is now focusing their entire energy, on protecting their flag; and since it's SHIELD we're playing with, you can imagine how much force it is."

Tony was only three feet away from the pole now, and the need to grab the white cloth was incredibly tempting. The thought of more slurppies and possibly sleep was just too appealing. Scoffing at his husband's warning, the genius lifted his foot to take one last step...

...when the entire room seemed to wake.


"Why don't you ever listen to me?"

"I said I was sorry! What else do you want?"

They weren't sure how long they were going at it, but Natasha was getting sick of being fired at. Rolling her eyes at the bickering couple flying around the top half of the warehouse, the red head ducked just in time to see a red and silver blur whizz past her nose.

"That was a bit too close for comfort Cap."

Knowing that the soldier was blushing without looking at him, the assassin took a running leap towards the block of debris created by the Hulk, and found herself beside a firing archer.

"We're not doing jack!" Clint shouted, machine guns and mini explosions going off all around them. "The lovebirds are just bickering, Mighty Green is swinging around like this is a monkey gym, and the rest of us are getting capped in the arse."

Nodding in agreement, Natasha fired at the machine gun focused on her, and grinned when the shot hit its wiring. "Harry said something about this being a strategy game didn't he?"

"I don't know," he confessed, a smug grin stretching across his face. "I was too busy checking out your rack."

It was only because of the Hulk landing next to him at that very moment that the blonde didn't end up on the ground holding his nose. They may have patched things up, but that didn't mean that she was going to let the archer jeopardize the mission because he was too busy ogling her. Glancing up at the big guy for a split second to make sure that he wasn't about to hit them with anything, Natasha was slightly surprised when instead, she found the green rage monster just sitting there, holding onto a machine barrel that he had ripped out of the wall.

"You ok man?"

Nodding, Hulk turned the gun over in his hands a couple of times, before looking up at the pair. "Bruce say need flag. Stop guns."

Having never heard the mountain of muscle speak before, Natasha stopped firing for a second and eyed the green wall. "That's what we're trying to do," she yelled, the explosions getting to the point of deafening.

Shaking his head, Hulk awkwardly stood once more; his hand lifting to cover his face from the attack one gun was aiming at them. "Bruce say Star Man make plan."

Feeling stupid for not coming to the conclusion quicker, Natasha turned to Clint and raised an eyebrow. "Cover me?"

The capture of the flag went much more smoothly after that.

Steve came up with a plan that involved Harry dropping a weapon free Natasha into the electromagnetic field surrounding the flag, while Steve and Clint covered them, and Tony and Hulk took out the bigger guns. It wasn't the best of plans, but it worked, and at the moment that was all they cared about.

Handing the slightly dirty cloth over to the amused looking Coulson, Harry glared up at the man and growled. The rest of the sweat and grime covered team standing behind him.

"Tell Fury next time we play this game, I'll take it to his place and shove that flag where the sun don't shine."


Fury was not impressed.

Glaring down at the monitor, the Director eyed each member of his supposedly 'elite' team, and growled. "That was the worst test run I have ever seen, and that's saying something."

The words had little effect on the stubborn team. Not even Banner looked away.

"What happened to the teamwork I saw not even a month ago?"

If it wasn't for Coulson shifting every few seconds, Fury would have almost sworn that he was talking to an image. Closing his eyes for a second, the Director hoped that what he was about to do would work, if not, then he was sure that he would have a group of highly skilled people tearing down his ship.

"The Tower is in the last bits of reconstruction," he announced, his face showing no emotion what so ever. "When it is complete, you are to return to New York, and continue your training there. There will be no life outside that building. You will eat as a team, you will train as a team, you will live as a team. I will have further orders once you return."

Watching as the screen turned blank, Bruce glanced over at the rest of the group, and raised an eyebrow.

"What does he think we've been doing?"