AN: it's been a while and this is short and silly. blah. Sorry guys!

It's Tasha's pov (yay) and Clint's characterisation is a little shakey so I hope he's not too OOC.

ROADTRIP TIMES!

Unbeta'd and enjoy. (Also if haven't seen Little Miss Sunshine I don't know what you've been doing with your life)

Tasha sits and watches her friends fall apart.

She wonders sometimes why no one else sees it. No one seems to see the way Clint's clothes hang off him in places or the way he wolfs down the hot school lunch like he's never seen food before (poverty will do that to you.) No one sees the bruises on Bruce. Or the way Tony subtly flinches every time he looks in a mirror.

She wonders what people see when they look at her.

They're all cracked, like old china plates, scarred, all it'll take is a sharp tap in the right place and they'll be in pieces, fragments, shattered. It's become something like a game to her; who'll break first? It's not that she doesn't care because she really, really does, it's just she doesn't quite know how to care.

Case in point: Tony is currently falling apart because Loki's missing and she has no idea how to deal with either of those situations. Another example: her brother, or as close as she's ever going to get to a brother, is in love with his best friend and slowly killing himself. Another: she's pretty sure her best friend is slowly falling in love with her and she has no idea what she's supposed to do about that.

She misses Loki. She misses Loki a lot.

But she's not stupid, she's not naive; she knows he's probably dead. Not that she'd say that out loud though. She's not cruel. She doesn't want to shatter her friend's tenuous hope.

"Do you think we'll find him, Tasha?" Clint asks from where he's trying to stuff what looks like a month's worth of crisps into his already bursting holdall.

She meets his gaze steadily. "Yes."

He sighs, "You're lying."

Tasha blinks and Clint smiles softly. "I can tell, you know."

"Liar," she smiles.

He grins back, "You're far too cynical, Nat."

Sometimes she marvels at Clint. He's had the same hard life they've all had (though she's by now convinced that no one's life is easy) but he can still smile brighter than the rest of them. "I haven't seen much to make me optimistic, Clint."

Clint manages to zip up the holdall and whoops triumphantly, "What about that?"

She smiles, "Aside from you being able to pack your food."

Tossing the holdall aside he scrambles up on to the bed, "Well, Loki's card being used has to mean something right?"

"I guess, but if Loki doesn't want to be found he won't be. He's smart Clint."

Clint ponders this for a moment, fiddling with a hole in his duvet. "Maybe. But he must know how much this is hurting us."

Tasha's about to reply wondering whether Loki would care that it was hurting them (which is silly in one respect but in another she knows enough of pain to know how blinding it can be) but they're interrupted by her phone vibrating loudly on Clint's bedside table.

"Steve? What's up?"

"I'm gonna keep Bucky at mine tonight, okay? He's a bit...drunk." Steve says, he sounds tired, worried.

"Is he okay?" she asks immediately.

"Yeah-yeah, just a bit wound up, you know. Listen, I gotta go, okay? I left him in my room and I don't...I just don't want to leave him alone too long."

She bites her lip, "You don't want me to come get him?"

"No, its okay, Natasha. I'll bring him with me tomorrow, alright?"

She's sure that it's not, in fact, alright but she sighs, "Okay. You'll call me if anything happens though, right?"

"Right. See you soon."

He hangs up and Tasha listens to the dial tone for a few seconds before letting the mobile drop onto the bed. Clint rubs her arm soothingly, "Everything okay?"

She sighs again, "Buck's drunk. Steve's got him over at his."

He makes a small sympathetic noise and pulls her closer to him gently. For once Natasha doesn't resist and leans against him. "He'll be okay, Nat."

She closes her eyes, "Everyone's falling apart." She says quietly.

"We were always falling apart, Nat. This has just sped it up a bit."

They jolt apart when there's a knock at the door and Clint's older brother Barney sticks his head in nervously, "Clint, one of your mates is here, Tony."

He steps back and Tony shuffles in to the room, eyes a little red and shuts the door behind him. Tony looks up at her, "Where's Bucky?" he asks almost inaudibly.

"At Steve's," she leans forwards, eyes wide. "Tony, what's wrong?"

"That fucker," Tony murmurs, tugging at his hair. "That bastard."

"Tony," Clint stands; ready to catch Tony if he did anything stupid.

Tasha stands too, "What's wrong?" she repeats.

Tony glares at her, brown eyes dark, "That fucking bastard lied to us, Tasha. He lied to everyone about Loki." He spits.

"Who? Bucky?"

"Yes. Bucky."

"No," Tasha says because Bucky wouldn't lie about something so serious. Would he? "When did he tell you? What did he say?"

"Earlier tonight!" Tony's voice shakes. "He said...He lied about the last day we saw Loki. He said he was the last one who spoke to him, that Loki asked him if he'd seen me and that bastard told Loki I didn't care about him."

No, she thinks. No, he wouldn't be so petty.

"What? When did he see Loki?" Clint asks.

"I don't know. He fucking ran off." Tony runs a hand through his hair and swears a few times. "I fucking hate him."

Clint glances at her, "Maybe we should phone Steve? See if Bucky's up?"

Tasha shakes her head, "If Steve was too worried to leave him alone I doubt he'd be up to talking. Probably wouldn't even remember what he said."

"This is serious, Nat," Clint says quietly.

She glares at him, "I know Clint. I'm not an idiot. Ебать."

"Should we call Coulson?" he asks.

Tony looks up and shakes his head, "He'd haul us all in for questioning. We need to get to New York as soon as possible."

"Guys this could be serious," Clint says again.

"We know!" Tony snaps then he sighs. "Maybe we can call Coulson once we've already left."

"No, he'd come after us, bring us in anyway." Tasha says.

"Fine, we'll just give him Bucky to question."

Natasha glares at him, "Then I'm staying."

Tony bristles and Clint shakes his head, "Nat-"

"He's my brother. You'd stay if it was Barney."

"Maybe it doesn't matter so much," Clint mutters. "I mean either way Loki's gone, does it matter when Bucky spoke to him?"

"It might make a difference," Tony says, sitting down on the floor and drawing his knees up to his chest. "I mean if he spoke to Bucky after the argument at home then it proves Odin didn't kill him. Then at least."

"Shit," Tasha whispers. "Shit."

Clint sits back down on the bed and scrubs at his eyes. "What do we do?"

"It's your call, Tone."

"I don't know," Tony mutters, cradling his head in his hands. "I don't fucking know."

In the end he decides they'll go to New York and call the police afterwards.

They get up early (he stays at Clint's mostly because he didn't trust himself not to go home and break something expensive because fucking Bucky) and pile their things in to Barney's beat up old camper van. It's a rusty red colour but it's the only vehicle they can find that'll fit them all in. Bruce meets them early and they end up waiting around almost thirty minutes for Steve and Bucky (thankfully Peggy isn't with them.)

"Where's Thor?" Clint asks as Steve climbs out of his car (and Bucky stumbles, blinking in the bright light) Tony would have already launched himself at the fucker were it not for Tasha's tight grip on his arm.

"He and his dad aren't allowed to leave the State." Steve says. "And guys, this is a two day drive if we do it nonstop. Are we sure we won't to be doing this?"

"No," Bucky mutters. Tasha elbows him and says something in harsh Russian that makes him pale. Asshole.

"We need to find Loki," Bruce says and Tony nods.

"Come on, Cap. All aboard the hippy wagon. Maybe we can get a little crazy. It'll be fun, a road trip, like Little Miss Sunshine."

Clint stares at him.

"So what? It's a kickass film."

"It's about a beauty pageant," Clint says with a small half smile.

"Let's hope it's a little more successful than that and one of us doesn't drop dead mid-trip." Tasha says darkly, steering her brother into the van.

"Alright then," Steve says. "Let's get going."

They all clamber in and even though Tony tries to seat himself beside Bucky he ends up between Clint and Tasha (with Bucky sprawled in the back seat) and Bruce riding shotgun. Peter comes down, hair sleep tousled and t-shirt back to front to wave them off and promises to keep in touch, Clint picks out one of his brother's mixed tapes to play and then they're off. They chatter and Clint even gets him and Steve to sing along to a few songs. They even play I-Spy once or twice.

They're driving for almost four hours before Tony can't hold himself back anymore.

"So, Bucky," he says conversationally, there's an answering grunt from the hung over boy in the back and Tasha grips his arm.

"Tony, don't." She says quietly.

Bruce turns around in his seat, "Don't what?" he says curiously.

He yanks his arm away. "I just wanted to continue a conversation we were having last night."

Bucky makes a sound of mute horror. In the front seat Steve stiffens and his ears redden a little.

"You know the one where you were telling me all about your little talk with Loki."

"Tony," Tasha warns.

"'cos we were just wondering whether you thought about telling the police. You do realise that if you had Odin and Thor might not have been arrested."

"Tony," Bucky mumbles, scrambling to sit up. "Tone, don't- I didn't...I was drunk."

"Oh, I know. But you've always been more truthful when you're drunk. Like when you were telling me about Steve."

Steve frowns in the rear-view mirror and Bucky's eyes are wide with horror. "Tony, what are you doing?" Steve asks quietly.

Tony smirks at him and leans closer to Bucky, gripping his shirt front. He can feel Bucky shaking. "Because of you Loki's gone," he hisses. "If you'd told him to come to me he might still be here."

Bruce is straining to hear what they're saying and Steve's paying them more attention than the road. Tasha is tense beside him, glaring and radiating hostility, Clint is mute and Tony's sure Tasha will make both of them pay later but right now he doesn't care. He just needs to make Bucky hurt.

"He's in love with you, Steve." Tony says calmly. "He has been for years."

The whole van is silent.

Bucky goes pale.

"I'm gonna be sick..." he mumbles.

Tony turns back to the front of the van. Steve's gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white.

"Pull over, Steve," Bruce says quietly.

Bucky scrambles out of the van as soon as it sputters to a halt on the side of the road; he makes it a little way off before he falls to his knees and wretches. Tony can't help but feel a sick sense of satisfaction.