Clint was sitting on a countertop in the lab, waiting for Tony to finish his explosive arrowheads. Normally, the room would've been filled with sarcastic, cheerful banter, perhaps an explosion or two, but a sullen silence hung over them.

Natasha, Steve, and Bruce had been pressuring Clint to talk to the genius about his sulking – Tony had been avoiding Bruce and Alex as much as possible, so they figured the sharp-shooting agent was the best option.

But if there was anything this all-knowing spy couldn't handle, it was family problems.

"Hey Stark, did I ever tell you about my parents?" Barton asked lightly, putting his eyes on the back of Tony's Black Sabbath shirt. The other man was digging through a box of dynamite, mumbling to himself.

"What? I mean, no, I don't think so," Tony responded halfheartedly, staring deep into the container.

"They died in a car accident when I was little." Clint saw Tony's head perk up – exactly what he wanted. "My older brother Barney and I ran away from our orphanage to the circus. This guy – the Swordsman – took me on as his lackey. He got help from this other guy called Trick Shot, and together they turned me into a master archer.

"Unfortunately, I figured out some bad stuff about the Swordsman – he was jacking money from the carnival. I was about to turn him in when he beat me. I was left for dead. I didn't know what to do. So I became a circus star. I was Hawkeye: The World's Greatest Archer. Unfortunately, there were a, ah, few run-ins with the law, and after that, I swore I was a straight shooter."

At that point, Tony was perched on a stool, looking at him with confusion.

"I'm sorry, Agent, but what caused this nice little history lesson?"

"I heard your parents went the same way. I just wanted to share."

He was about to walk out of the lab when Tony called him back.

"I've – never had somebody to talk to about this before."

"Well, if you keep it up, your daughter would be pretty good conversation for you."

The hopeful look on the genius's face grew dark at the mention of Alex.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Barton."

"Oh but I do," the agent started toward Stark, keeping him in his line of sight the entire time. "Alex is so upset about you dropping the ball on her, that's she's telling anyone who will listen that her daddy's not paying attention to her anymore. She's heartbroken, Tony, and you're the only one who can fix it."

"Look, Barton," Tony hissed, "I don't know who died and made you king, but read my lips: don't start telling me how to be a dad. I'm determined not to be the father that Howard was to me."

"You're off to a pretty rotten start, then."

Clint left, and Tony stayed on the stool, toying with some copper wires.

Oh, Pepper, he thought, feeling his face growing hot, you could've fixed this. You could've fixed everything.


"Look, I – I don't know why you're not talking to me. I'm assuming it's because I look so much like Mom. Believe me, if I could change genetics, I would. But just because I look like her, doesn't mean I act like her.

Granted, I've fished you out of so many situations, I can't even recall them. I make you perform like a normal human (along with sleeping, eating, and an annual dentist appointment), I take you out of your lab from time to time, and I try and give you interaction. I keep some scandals under wraps – running through the 50th floor of the Empire State Building on a test flight? Nobody's heard anything about Iron Man being involved.

And I've tried so hard to be the genius you were expecting. Granted, I graduated from Harvard, not M.I.T., but I think the history books will overlook that when they reflect on the greatest father-daughter scientist pair in history. Not even just scientists, Dad, we're superheroes! Two geniuses that wear metal suits with blasters and missiles and we fight actual villains, not just petty crime! We actually mean something to S.H.I.E.L.D. We might be mean, sarcastic, and annoying, but they need us.

But we need each other. It seems like you've forgot about that. This is without a doubt the hardest time of my life, and you've disappeared. Forget Iron Man; forget Tony Stark, super genius; where's my dad? I need a comforting dad hug, somebody to hug me and tell me it's alright! So far, the only person that's done that is Bruce. And, as much as I'd like to, I can't turn him into a father figure because I still have a dad that I know loves me. I love you so much, Dad."

Alex blinked the tears away and examined her red-rimmed eyes in the large mirror across from her. "I suppose that's good enough for now," she whispered, turning away. She had been rehearsing how she was going to confront her father for days, but she couldn't find the right words to say. "No matter what I say," she thought aloud, "I sound like I'm whining, a needy little girl crying for her father's attention." The pillows and blankets greeted her like an old friend as she collapsed back onto them, her hands over her face.

"You didn't sound like you were whining just then." A familiar voice said, and Alex groaned internally.

"You heard all of that?"

"What's 'all'?"

"Starting with 'I don't know why you're not talking to me.'"

"Then yes, I heard it all."

The bed sunk, and Tony's arms enveloped Alex as much as they could.

"Listen to me," he said, "I love you more than anything, more than you could ever guess. You're the only thing in my life that's consistent, and the thought of you seeing your mother again – well, what if you guys bonded, and she convinced you that joining the Avengers was bad and that you should go live with her and Hammer? Or even tried getting visitation rights? I can't share you, Alex, I don't play well with others, remember?" She moved as close to her father as possible, so that she could feel the outline of his face pressed against her hair and the arc reactor against her upper arm.

"I wouldn't leave you. I've already given her up; any fear of me leaving you should be gone, Dad. I was just worried that I'd have to do this mission by myself." Tony laughed softly and kissed her temple.

"You're fine, baby girl. I'd never let you face the assholes from Ten Rings alone. Even then," he turned Alex around so that they were facing each other, "you'd probably give them an ass-whooping they would never forget."

And so father and daughter lay on the large bed, laughing and forgetting the fact that they hadn't spoken in a week and they were to go to Russia in a few days' time. It was nice to be normal for once.