Thanks to my beta, irite, for continued beta excellence.

I do not own The Avengers.


The morning after Bruce's birthday party, Tony was busy.

He got up early. Pre-dawn, actually. He had things to do, so he couldn't waste his time by sleeping.

This whole early morning thing was actually getting easier, the more he did it. Or he was slowly losing touch with reality. Either way, he was actually pretty cheerful when he yanked himself out of bed at 6:00 AM.

At least, as cheerful as he could manage, given what he'd learned the previous night.

As it turned out, his new assistant was a SHIELD agent. And she'd been spying on him for days. Well, spying on Bruce, really, but that entailed spying on him, too. It sucked. But really, it wasn't the worst betrayal in his life. That award still went to Obie, so, yeah. Comparatively, this wasn't so bad. Romanoff hadn't tried to kill him, for example.

Tony wondered what had happened to his standards for 'not so bad.'

He also wondered what had happened to his own scruples. He felt strongly that everyone on the federal government's payroll could go fuck themselves. Had something of a vendetta going against them, actually, since they'd seen fit to rob him of his property. Had seen fit to try to take his identity, really, if it came down to it. Yet despite that, now he was more or less playing host to a group of secret agents. Had pretty much invited them to stick around, since that was the only way they were going to leave Bruce alone.

There had been a moment last night—fleeting, yes, but there—when he'd considered sending Bruce packing. Tony had been pissed off about this latest invasion of his privacy, pissed off about being played, furious with himself that he hadn't noticed what was going on. He wanted, in that moment, nothing more than to get rid of people who'd done this, and if that meant kicking Bruce out, too, well. Fine.

But that had only lasted a moment. That was how long it took for him to realize that yes, he'd been played. But so had Pepper. And Happy. And most of all, Bruce. Bruce had been manipulated into coming here. The very fact that SHIELD felt that they could make these kinds of decisions on Bruce's behalf was vaguely threatening in and of itself. So sure, Tony was pissed, but if anyone really had a right to be pissed, it was Bruce.

And he wasn't going to get angry about this. Since he didn't get angry about anything. Apparently couldn't get angry about anything.

So Tony decided he would get angry in Bruce's stead. And he decided, then, that Bruce was staying. Sure, it was what SHIELD wanted, but at least if Bruce was here, he wasn't anywhere else. If Bruce was here, then Tony could still control this situation, at least to some degree. That was important.

Along with deciding that Bruce was staying, Tony had also decided that he wanted to find out what else SHIELD was up to. If they could get an army general reassigned indefinitely to the middle of nowhere (as they claimed to have done with Ross), then what else were they capable of? What else were they hiding? If he was going to be the subject of SHIELD surveillance, Tony thought it was only logical to know what other kinds of stuff they had going on.

Which had been in large part the impetus for his early morning.

He'd gotten out of bed and showered before bounding downstairs a bit before 7:00 for his morning coffee.

It had already been brewing. And Agent Romanoff had been sitting in the kitchen, just like she had been the last few mornings, working on a tablet.

Huh. Sure, she was supposed to stick around and do his bidding until he could find a new assistant, but he hadn't actually thought she would. Or he'd figured that she'd at least make herself pretty inaccessible, not be waiting in the kitchen for him.

Of course, she no longer looked like 'Natalie Rushman.' Gone were the pencil skirts and high heels of the last few days. They'd been replaced with slacks and sensible shoes. Her hair was tied back and braided, instead of loose like it had been before. Interestingly, none of this in any way affected the whole 'smoking hot' thing, which Tony found interesting, but was smart enough not to comment on.

He was self-destructive, sure, but not downright suicidal. And he suspected she might be a little less indulgent when it came to his flirting, now that he knew she was a secret agent or whatever.

So instead of commenting on her new look, Tony greeted Romanoff with a terse, "Good morning, sunshine."

"Stark," she answered evenly. "Your breakfast in is the fridge. I called in a team to clear your living room for blood and radiation; they finished an hour ago." She paused, then added stiffly, "Is there anything else you need?"

There wasn't, really, but he couldn't pass up an opportunity like this. After all, she'd lied to him and spied on him, wasn't he entitled to a little bit of revenge? He thought so, and he intended to take it. "Yeah, actually. I'd like to get my car detailed. There's a place a few miles from here that does a good job; Pep should have the number if you don't."

Romanoff raised an eyebrow. "Really. Which car?"

Wasn't it obvious? "All of them, Agent Romanoff."

She frowned. "You're kidding."

No, he was just testing his limits. "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"No. You don't."

"That's 'cause I'm not. Now, the way I figure, that's going to take a really, really long time. So you'd better get on that, huh?"

She narrowed her eyes, and Tony momentarily thought of how she'd taken Happy down her first day here. He swallowed.

But all she did was nod. "Fine." Then, "You should know that we removed all of the bugs as per your request, but your residence is still under surveillance. Our agents don't miss much. Barton in particular..."

Tony shrugged. "Whatever. I'll be in my workshop. See you in ten to twelve hours."

He'd left before she could reply. Tony loved to get the last word.

After that, Tony had made his way down to his workshop and had promptly enlisted JARVIS's assistance with hacking into SHIELD. Well, after he'd locked Romanoff out of the workshop. If she wanted in, she could knock. Or call. Or just...not come in at all.

Anyway, they had invaded his privacy, so he was going to invade theirs. An eye for an eye, right?

That had taken more time than Tony would have liked. Still, it was doable, and he'd just gotten in and started looking around Coulson's files (which were...really weird) when Bruce finally made his way down into Tony's lair. Tony was eager to share his discoveries, but Bruce didn't seem overly impressed with what Tony was doing. In fact, he seemed quite ill at ease.

So Tony reassured him. "Look, I figured they want you here, so they're not going to risk anything by sending in someone to stop me, if they even notice I'm in. You're safe. Way I see it, they're asking for it, anyway. Their security sucks." Then, because what he'd seen so far had already piqued his interest, "You will not believe the shit they're doing."

Bruce actually looked a little green. And not in a I'm-going-to-smash-everything-you-love kind of way. In a I-might-barf-on-you kind of way.

Tony thought he might prefer the smashing. "Chill out, Bob. This is 100% not a threat to you. I promise. I think SHIELD proved last night that they're not out to get you. I mean, yeah, they sent a guy with a gun—"

Bruce looked a little worse.

"—but he didn't use it, did he? No. We're fine. Peachy, even."

"Do you have to antagonize them?" Bruce asked, voice tight with either nausea or worry. Tony couldn't tell which.

"Well, yeah. I do," Tony answered honestly. "They started it."

At that, Bruce cracked a smile. "I guess you're right." He took a breath and let it out slowly. "So. I'm not going to believe what they're doing?"

Tony nodded enthusiastically. "They're doing everything. They have people everywhere. Doing a lot of weird shit. I mean, I wouldn't have even believed some of this stuff last week. I was checking up on Coulson, you know, seeing what he's been up to. Check this out. Apparently he was in New Mexico last spring with Agent Delivery Boy, wrangling a guy who is apparently a Norse god." He paused, then divulged the best part. "Barton's codename is 'Hawkeye.' I am going to have so much fun with that."

Bruce's eyebrows crept up towards his hairline. "A Norse god? Which one?"

"Thor," Tony answered. Honestly, that was irrelevant compared to the hilarity of Barton's codename. Still, Tony went on, "Apparently, he leveled a small town before beaming off to god knows where. Pun intended. So now SHIELD is working with a pair of physicists to figure out how he did the beam-y thing."

At 'physicists,' Bruce perked up. "Does it say who?"

Tony turned back to his screen and clicked through a few things. "Oh, hey, you might actually know them, they're from Culver. Erik Selvig and Jane Foster."

Bruce looked surprised. "Yeah, I do know them. Well, Selvig, at least. But I haven't really, uh, kept in contact with my old colleagues."

Tony wasn't really listening, though, instead opting to read the file more closely. "So it looks like Thor was having a tiff with his brother."

"Baldur? Hodur?" Bruce asked, eyebrow raised.

"Fuck if I know, Banner," Tony said, eyes scanning the document. "It says the brother in question didn't actually show up, just sent some killer robot to do his bidding. Damn, sounds like something a crazy supervillain would do, who has killer robots?"

"I don't think you and I really get to question the believability of this kind of thing," Bruce observed, gesturing between the two of them. "I mean, you kind of have killer robots. Well, had, at least. And I, uh, have a 'condition.'"

Tony had to admit he had a point. And he didn't necessarily appreciate the reminder. "Fair enough." He pointed to a nearby chair. "Wanna settle in? I could make popcorn."

Bruce shrugged uneasily. "Um, sure." He pulled the chair over and sat down. "About last night—"

Tony did not want to talk about last night. It kind of rankled. "What?"

"Are you okay with all of this?"

"Me? I'm fine." He wasn't, exactly. He was pissed off still, but hacking SHIELD had made him feel a lot better. If he didn't really think too much about the fact that his new roomie necessitated super secret government security, he felt almost normal about the whole thing.

Almost.

Bruce nodded slowly. "If you're sure."

Tony didn't respond to that, just went back to reading the files in front of him.

With a minute sigh, Bruce joined him.


For the next two weeks, life settled into something approximating a rhythm.

Living with Bruce was...weird. Just over two weeks in, and Tony felt he could say that definitively. It wasn't that Bruce was weird. Except, actually, he was. He didn't really care for ear-splittingly loud music, or food that three out of four doctors agreed could lead to a coronary. He actually read the directions when he'd been setting up his lab, and he'd followed all the safety procedures. Tony hadn't even been aware that there were safety procedures. Bruce was, Tony suspected, what a normal, mature 'adult' was supposed to be like. Except for the whole rage monster thing. So yeah. Mature adult. He even had a disapproving look that he aimed at Tony no fewer than ten or fifteen times a day, usually after Tony had decided to have liquor for breakfast or to prank call the Air Force or something along those lines.

It was a look with which Tony had become quite familiar.

Christmas and New Year's had passed with little fanfare. Tony had invited Pepper and Rhodey around, and along with Bruce, the four of them had a nice time, snacking on hors d'oeuvres and chatting. Things were pretty normal, actually, considering that all of them were cognizant that they were being surveilled by government agents.

And, well, there was a government agent serving the hors d'oeuvres, too.

Pepper was looking for a new assistant for him, Tony knew, but it wasn't easy to find one. Not with his specific requirements, and not one with enough competency to handle the job. So the awkward situation with Natalie-or-Natasha remained.

She was efficient, sure. She picked up the dry cleaning, scheduled appointments, took care of the shopping, and wasn't (as far as Tony knew, anyway—and he did run tests) poisoning their food or anything. Still, she was with SHIELD, and given Tony's new hobby of 'hacking SHIELD,' he did everything he could to keep her out of the house, sending her on missions to all corners of the city. Sometimes even out of state, if he was feeling particularly vindictive or if he wanted to have a little more time to wade through classified government documents.

Romanoff took Tony's 'missions' with surprising good grace. There was a bit of eye rolling and some sighing, sure, but not any more than Pepper had employed during her tenure as Tony's assistant. More ominous was the recurring gleam in Romanoff's eye (that Tony really didn't like), but she never actually complained. At least to him. He had seen her sending furious text messages on more than one occasion—the contents of which he was pretty sure he could guess—but to his face, at least, she was a model of professionalism.

Tony (and sometimes Bruce, though not often—he said it made him nervous and doing things that made him nervous were apparently not a good idea) used the time while she was gone to peruse SHIELD's records. They learned all kinds of information—most of it almost unbelievably weird—and the records on Agent Romanoff in particular had inspired Tony to do his best to keep her out of the picture while they did their 'work.' There wasn't a lot of information on her, which was strange considering that SHIELD seemed almost obsessed with record-keeping, but what was there was enough to convince Tony that she wasn't someone he wanted to mess with. The word 'assassin' didn't come up specifically, but it didn't take a genius to get the idea.

On January 3rd, Tony decided that he wanted to have most of the day Romanoff-free, and so he sent her on a mission to find a particular brand of peach flavored ice cream that he knew had been discontinued two years ago. He knew that because it had been his favorite, and he had been deeply insulted when the company had ceased production. He'd even tried to buy the company, but Pepper had put the kibosh on that, so he'd had to resign himself to a life without it.

Pepper ruined all his fun.

So Romanoff had left a couple of hours ago, leaving Bruce and Tony in what had become 'their' workshop. All of Bruce's new lab equipment had been delivered a week ago, and after a couple of days of setting it up and calibrating, he had settled down to doing whatever research it was he was doing. Tony didn't pay too close attention, in general—he had other things on his mind—but given the way Bruce had more or less set up a clean room over on his side of things (and forbidden anyone from coming within ten feet without appropriate protective gear), Tony would guess it had something to do with blood. Bruce's blood, to be clear.

Just a hunch.

Anyway, Tony had decided to delve into SHIELD's records on Blonsky. He'd spent the last couple of days going through a lot of SHIELD's earlier stuff—stuff his dad had been involved in—and as much fun as reading about the lengthy search for the fucking wonderful 'Captain America' was, Tony was in the mood for something else. In fact, yesterday, he'd decided it was time to dig into what he could find on Romanoff. So he'd started at the present day and gone back through her missions, and had discovered that Romanoff had been involved in the whole Bruce/Blonsky thing to some degree. Mostly in the background, but she'd been there.

That had been interesting, so today Tony wanted to dig deeper. Bruce had filled him in on some parts of the situation and had expressed a sincere disinterest in learning the rest, so he had retreated to his lab, back behind the plastic sheets he'd hung to ensconce himself and his toxic blood, and was going through his own genome, base pair by base pair. Or something.

Tony was going through something far more interesting. The science behind what had happened with Blonsky was...weird. For lack of a better word. Stuff that Tony never would have thought of. Sure, he was an engineer first and foremost, and not a biophysicist, but still. This stuff was intense.

He was just really getting into the meat of it, though, when he was interrupted.

"Sir," JARVIS announced, muting Tony's music, "Agent Barton would like permission to enter the house."

Oh. Him.

For the last two weeks, Tony had been content to pretend that asshole was just gone. He hadn't actually seen Barton since Bruce's birthday party. From what he understood (of course he'd checked what SHIELD had on his situation), Barton was in charge of a team of agents who worked 12-hour shifts surveilling the property, watching out for either internal or external threats. But he didn't ever see any of those agents. It was creepy, really.

This was only exacerbated by the fact that Barton was, according to what Tony had read, one hell of a marksman. As in, he could take out a target in the dark from some ridiculous distance in one shot. Using, of all things, a bow—apparently, 'Hawkeye's' weapon of choice was from nine thousand years ago.

Where did SHIELD even find these people?

At the interruption, Tony rolled his eyes, though he knew his AI couldn't really see him, and said, "Yeah? Did Agent Delivery Boy consider ringing the doorbell?"

There was a moment of silence, and then the doorbell rang. Somehow, it sounded sarcastic.

Tony wondered if SHIELD had done something to it.

Bruce popped his head out of his little plastic den and asked, "What's up?"

"Barton," Tony answered shortly by way of explanation. At Bruce's frown, he added, "Don't worry." He stood up and stretched. "I'll be right back."

Tony took his time getting to the front door. He stopped in the kitchen to grab a drink of water and a granola bar, and noted that it was, improbably for Malibu, pouring rain.

Ha. Nice day to be 'surveilling.'

When Tony opened the front door, Barton looked less than impressed. He was dripping, for one, which wasn't a good look for anyone. He had his gun slung across his back, his arms crossed over his chest, and he was using the inch or two of height he had over Tony to his full advantage, glaring down with narrowed eyes.

"Stark," he said, voice flat. "We have a situation. Agent Romanoff is on her way back from whatever bullshit errand you sent her on, but until she gets here and Coulson gets on site, I've been authorized to contact you."

"What's the 'situation?'" Tony asked coolly, refusing to be intimidated by what he was well aware was very intimidating behavior. The gun, for example, was intimidating.

Barton looked for a moment like he would very much like to punch Tony, but restrained himself. Instead, he growled, "Can I come in?"

Tony wanted to say 'no.' Wanted that very much. But a more logical voice (that sounded rather unnervingly like Bruce, truth be told) prevailed, pointing out that Barton had been, among other things, charged with their protection. If he said there was a 'situation,' then it was probably worth listening to him.

So Tony stepped aside. "Sure. Let me grab you a towel. Try not to, uh, drip too much."

Barton moved inside and shut the door behind him, leaning his gun against the wall next to the door. Tony ran to the nearest bathroom to grab a towel. When he came back, Barton was exactly where he had been a moment before, lingering in the entryway.

Well, that was good. Tony didn't want him wandering around on his own. He thrust the towel at him, and Barton started drying off. When he was no longer drizzling rain water onto the carpet, Tony took the towel back and indifferently tossed it onto a chair. Romanoff could get it later. "Now what's the situation?"

Barton looked around. "Where's Banner?"

Tony gave an irritated huff. Honestly, was he going to have to start pulling nails to get this guy to talk? "Does this have something to do with Bruce?"

"It could," Barton answered shortly.

Tony heaved a huge beleaguered sigh. "JARVIS, tell Bruce to get his ass up here. But be more polite than that."

"Of course, sir."

After a few awkward seconds of silence, Tony offered, "We should sit." He made his way to the living room and tried to look casual as he sat down on his favorite couch.

Barton, though, did not sit, opting to stand stiffly by the doorway.

A moment later, Bruce slouched into the room, doing his best to avoid Barton. In fact, after glancing at him as he walked by, Bruce went to stand clear on the other side of the room. He then asked, "So, uh, what's going on?"

Tony was annoyed that he was the only one sitting (because he wanted to sit, damn it, but not if it was going to skew the whole balance of power in the room), so he stood up and paced across the room. "Agent Delivery Boy says that there's a 'situation.' But he hasn't gotten around to elaborating yet." He looked at Barton, doing his best 'innocent' face. "So, spill, buttercup."

At 'situation,' Bruce had frowned but had given no other outward signs of distress. That was good.

Barton had narrowed his eyes at 'Agent Delivery Boy,' but now he sighed. "We got the news as soon as it happened. Ivan Vanko managed to break out of the prison where he was being held."

Oh.

That was...bad.

Because he'd tried to kill Tony. He hadn't succeeded. But back then, Tony had the suits. He'd been able to protect himself. Now, Tony didn't have the suits. Now, he was just sitting here, more or less helpless, and if Vanko tried again, which he almost certainly would

"—more security," Barton finished, looking at Tony expectantly.

Ugh, he'd missed all of that. "What?"

"I said," Barton repeated with a frown, "Coulson says he can get some more agents out here, but he's not sure the solution is more security."

Tony snorted. "Oh, yeah, I don't know why I'd want to get more security over here, since the guy who tried to kill me just busted out of a maximum security prison. Nah, more security won't help. I mean, how did he even do that? I thought the point of having a maximum security prison was to keep people there."

"He had help," Barton admitted, clearly reluctant. "We don't know who, or why, but he couldn't have gotten out on his own. Coulson might have more information."

"Right," Tony acknowledged. "Fine. About Coulson. You said he doesn't think the answer is more security? What does he propose?"

"He has to clear it with the director; I'm not authorized to say," Barton deflected.

And that was it.

For the next ten minutes, the three of them lingered in thick, awkward silence. Tony sipped nervously from his bottle of water, eventually sitting down again (power balance of the room be damned, he wanted to sit) and bouncing one leg nervously. After a moment, Bruce also sat, albeit stiffly.

Barton, unsurprisingly, remained standing.

Tony had just taken out his phone and was considering the pros and cons of informing Pepper of Vanko's jailbreak via text message (the cons greatly outweighed the pros) when the doorbell rang.

"I wish," Tony mused, "That you people would at least pretend that you can't get through the outside gates whenever you want. Just for my peace of mind. You know, so I can sleep at night."

Barton raised an eyebrow. "Where's the fun in that?" He went to get the door.

"That guy's a dick," Tony muttered, casting a sideways glance at Bruce, who nodded vehemently in agreement.

A moment later, Barton reappeared with both Coulson and Romanoff. Romanoff was carrying a plastic bag, which she practically threw at Tony. "Here."

Tony opened the bag—it was his ice cream. Ice cream that should, by all means, not exist. "What the hell? How did you—you know what, never mind. I don't want to know."

Romanoff smirked, but Coulson cut off any further banter. "Mr. Stark, Dr. Banner. Agent Barton informed you of the current situation?"

"Yup," Tony affirmed. "He was kinda vague, though. I mean, I got the point though. Bad guy manages improbable escape from prison, probably coming for me." He paused, then asked, "How'd he do it?"

"We're still investigating that," Coulson answered efficiently. "You'll know when we do."

Tony doubted that. He figured he'd know rather later than they did, and probably only after twisting some arms (or hacking SHIELD...again). But that was fine. There were more pressing issues at hand. "So, what's the plan?" He didn't especially want their help, but given the fact he'd been rendered more or less helpless, he wasn't going to turn his nose up at it. Besides, by some weird twist of fate, he was now endangering Bruce more than Bruce was endangering him.

This whole 'having to think of someone other than himself' thing was damn inconvenient.

"You have two options," Coulson began, as if he'd been rehearsing this. Maybe he had been. "We can, of course, provide more security or assist with relocation, if that's something you're interested in. Or, you could protect yourself and lend us a hand."

"What?" Tony asked, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"I've cleared it with Director Fury. He's agreed that, in the interest of national security, it's prudent for you to begin production of a new Iron Man suit." Coulson adjusted his sunglasses (that he shouldn't have needed; it was raining. What was with this guy?). "We're fairly sure that you're one of Vanko's objectives. He comes here, and we're all waiting for him. That includes you. So, Mr. Stark, if that is more to your liking, we could take that route instead."

Hell yes that was more to his liking. But it wasn't quite that simple, was it? "Wait, you're telling me that you managed to overturn the cease and desist order?"

Coulson shook his head. "Not quite. But if it becomes an issue, we'll handle it."

Yeah, Tony bet they would. They had 'handling' down to an art form. Still, plans were already whizzing around in his head. He'd started that new suit a couple of weeks ago, it was almost half-finished, he could have it operational in a couple of days...with the new arc reactor, he could do so much more than he could before, and—

"—can't stay on the premises," Coulson stated with finality.

Goddamnit, he'd missed something else. Tony frowned. "Sorry, what was that?"

"I said, given the circumstances, Dr. Banner can't stay on the premises."

Romanoff was looking cautiously between Tony and Bruce, like she expected one of them to make a scene, and Barton was doing his super-agent-death-glare again, but Coulson was unflappable as always.

"Why the hell not?" Tony demanded. Sure, there might be a crazy Russian coming for him, but that wasn't going to be an issue. He'd handle it. With repulsors. Oh, god, he'd missed his repulsors.

"We're more or less planning on luring Vanko here," Coulson said. He paused. "But if Dr. Banner is here as well...that could get ugly."

From his corner, Bruce added, "If they're going to lure him here, it'd probably be for the best if I go. I mean, if someone tried to kill you—"

"Then I'd damn well want you here to get my back, Banner!" Tony snapped. Honestly. From what he'd read about Bruce's 'condition,' he'd be one hell of a bodyguard. Damn right he'd want him around, if it came down to that.

"The...I...the Other Guy's not predictable, though, Tony! He could protect you, or he could throw you through a wall, there's no way to control him."

"Exactly, Mr. Stark," Coulson agreed.

Tony wasn't done, though. "Okay, so, learn to control him. And besides, I'm going to be wearing a badass suit of armor, so, it's not like going through a wall would hurt me. It'll be fine!"

"If he goes through head first," Romanoff muttered to Barton, "It wouldn't matter if he was wearing the armor or not. He'd do more damage to the wall than it'd do to his rock-hard head."

Tony ignored them in favor of making his case to Coulson. "Look. I want him here. You said it was for national security, right?" That was what Coulson had said. Tony didn't know why it had anything to do with national security, but there it was. And as far as Tony was concerned, here was better than not here, as he'd already established. Besides that, he'd made a commitment, god damn it. He liked having a roomie. "Anyway, if a city gets broken or something, I'll buy it. How's that?"

"Jesus, Stark," Barton snarked. "People could get killed, is your money going to fix that, too?"

Geez, someone was touchy. "Maybe." Then, whinier, "I'm tired of going on about this all the time, can't we all just play nice? I like having my own physicist!"

Bruce looked perturbed, but did not speak up either for or against Tony's latest proposition.

Coulson looked between Romanoff and Barton. "He's right." The agents looked incredulous, so Coulson clarified, "About keeping Banner here. It's something that we want." He paused. "If we keep surveillance up, we should know about any potential threat before it actuates. We could extract Banner then, if we have to, with minimal disruption to any...collaboration."

"We could," Barton replied evenly. "But is that really the safest course of action?"

Bruce finally decided to interject, "Really, if it's going to be an issue—"

"Shut it," Tony interrupted. "You need to keep doing whatever it is you're doing in your half of the workshop. Right? A cure or whatever? You're staying. End of story." He glared at the SHIELD agents. "He's staying. So. Deal with it."

Coulson, Romanoff, and Barton gave near-identical frowns before Coulson sighed. "I'll have to clear it with Fury."

"Do that," Tony advised, feeling very self-satisfied. Everything had gone exactly his way, as it so often did.

"Fine," Coulson agreed. He adjusted his suit jacket. "I'll be in contact. In the meantime, we're increasing the number of agents on the property. Barton and Romanoff are henceforth assigned to the house."

Tony attempted to object, but the agents were dispersing. As Coulson turned to head back towards the front door, he threw over his shoulder, "By the way, Mr. Stark, could you please stop hacking SHIELD's servers? If you require any information, feel free to contact our offices; Agent Romanoff should be able to help you get anything you need."

With that, he was gone.

Tony deflated.

Okay, so maybe everything hadn't gone exactly his way.

But it mostly had.

Well, he still had a crazy Russian out for his blood, and he had to build a new suit, and he needed to tell Pepper that his life was at risk again, and he might have to start being a lot nicer to the government agents who were creeping around his house, but overall...things weren't so bad.

Right.


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