Five times Clint curled up in his blanket and one time ... You know what, that needs a shorter name. The blanket story will be referenced directly in this one. You don't really need to have read it to understand the chapter as a whole, but you may be like 'wait, what? who is this person they're talking about'.
See end for warnings.
Clint and Phil just held each other for a long moment. Eventually, Phil pulled away gently and went over to examine the cookware. He needed a moment to gather himself together.
"This looks like a good set up," he said as he opened and closed the cupboards and checked the connection to the gas tank. The door to the room opened behind him and Natasha walked in. She looked from Phil, examining the kitchen with a startling intensity, to Clint, curled up and looking worried, and sighed.
"Miranda's Stew," she said and put two heavy carrier bags on the end of Clint's bag.
"You got the stuff for Miranda's Stew?" Clint asked, brightening. It was Clint's comfort food, named by him for the woman who first made it for him
"Yep." She ruffled his hair. "You're welcome."
"Thanks, Tasha. I take it you were behind this as well?" He pointed to the little kitchen area.
"It was my idea. Stark was the one who ordered it though and got it here so quick."
"It's a good idea," Phil allowed. He moved back to stand over by the bed. But Clint isn't going to be the one doing the cooking. He's not allowed to use his hands so much." Natasha frowned at both of them.
"I have to let them heal or some shit," Clint rolled his eyes and Natasha pinched his upper arm.
"You'll do what the Doctor tells you."
"Don't worry," Phil smiled. "He likes this new doctor, and I'll make sure he does as he's told."
"Good," she glared but they could see it was only in jest. They were probably the only ones who would. She picked the bags back up and went over to the kitchen units. She emptied out her groceries onto the side. "Did I get everything?"
Clint surveyed the goods from the comfort of his bed.
"Looks like it... is that store bought stock?" he gestured to a small polystyrene pot and wrinkled his nose.
"Yes. We don't have time today to make it from scratch. The others all want to visit this afternoon. Besides, I got it from the butcher's. It was made fresh this morning."
"It'll do. It's better than those cubes anyway." He had strong opinions on the subject. Phil snorted.
"'Thank you, Natasha, for coming up with such a good idea and bringing me ingredients so I don't kill myself in starvation or out of boredom'," he said, smirking at Clint.
"Thank you, Nat," Clint parroted. "For coming up with such an awesome idea and for whatever you did to Stark to get him to go along with it."
"You're welcome," she replied, the corner of her mouth twitching. There was a silent moment, where they all just looked at each other, and then Natasha shook her head slightly. "So," she said, voice a little too loud, smile a little too bright "what first?"
Meanwhile, the other Avengers were eating burgers. Their table was piled high with food and they were all eating greedily. None of them had been eating regularly as they should have since Clint had been injured.
"Seriously," Tony said around a mouthful of fries. "This is the food of the gods."
"Aye!" Thor grinned. Tony spluttered but before he could try and respond, there was a loud noise from his phone. He pulled it from his pocket and frowned at the screen.
"Shit."
"What is it?" Steve asked, dropping his burger and frowning.
"Shit, shit, shit. Jarvis."
"Yes, sir. The tower is under attack."
"We're on our way, okay? Take care of the boys for me." He stood up and threw some money on the table, heading to the door. The others followed suit.
"Yes, sir."
"And be careful."
"Always, sir."
"Do you know who's attacking us?" He pressed the button on his wrist to call the suit to him, and he was aware of Steve pulling his Shield from a back. Thor, of course, had Mjolnir tucked into his belt.
"From what they are saying, sir, and from their equipment, I believe that they are of the same faction as the man who kidnapped Agent Barton."
"Shit." Tony said again and swiped a hand across his forehead.
"Tony, calm down. Bruce and I will take the car, you and Thor go on ahead," Steve put his hand on Tony's shoulder, grounding him. Then he quickly backed off a step as the suit showed up and encased him.
"Are you sure?" Tony asked, his voice coming out mechanical and strained.
"We're sure," Bruce put in. "Go. I'll call Natasha and SHIELD." That was all the assurance Tony needed. He fired up his repulsors and Thor swirled his hammer over his head and joined him on the way to the Tower.
"Is friend Jarvis injured?" Thor asked as they took off.
"No, he's holding his own. They're trying to hack in to his systems, but there's no way... he's got the best firewalls I can give him and he's sentient. If they breach a wall, he has the sense to stick up a new one and change all passwords."
Steve and Bruce didn't wait and watch as they flew out of sight. They pushed through the crowds of shoppers to the SUV and got in, Steve in the driver's seat. He turned the key and put pedal to the metal. Bruce rummaged in the glove box and pulled out communicators for them both. He slipped one into his ear, and passed the other to Steve. Thor would have to make do with the spare Tony kept in his suit.
"This car is Tony's," Steve said, as he leaned on the horn. "Why doesn't it fly or something?"
"Good question." Bruce frowned and looked at the knobs and levers on the dashboard. A lot of them were completely unnecessary, he knew, because Tony had made most of the climate and radio controls automatic or voice activated. On a hunch he tapped the 'Hazard lights' button, and there was a whirring noise. A siren began blaring and blue and red lights began flashing from the front and roof of the car.
The traffic parted before them and Bruce grabbed the 'Oh shit' handle as Steve floored it and they swerved through the streets.
"You know," Bruce said conversationally, trying not to think about the fact that their home was being attacked. "I didn't think you'd drive like this."
"Really?" Steve grinned as they cornered hard. "I learned to drive on a motorcycle, and I rode it all over Europe in the War. In fact, I only knew how to drive my bike and tanks until after I woke up here." Bruce snorted, then pulled out his phone. Natasha was first on his speed dial.
Natasha was peeling carrots. She'd already diced the onions, small chunks for those, large ones for everything else, because neither Phil or Clint liked the feel of onion. They both liked the taste though. The beef was browning at the bottom of the pan and Phil was busy measuring out precise portions of everything. It felt right, to be cooking with them. Clint was shouting orders from the bed; not that he needed to shout, he just liked pretending he was Gordon Ramsey, and Phil was answering him with a quick 'Yes, Chef!'. She liked this.
Her phone rang.
She stepped away from the counter, letting Phil take her place chopping, to answer it.
"Hello?"
"It's Bruce. Where are you?"
"What's wrong?"
"Someone's attacking the Tower. We think it's the same people who took Clint."
"Oh." She glanced at the bed and Clint pulled a face. "I'm there right now."
"You're at the Tower?" He glanced at Steve who didn't look happy. "In with Clint?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Stay safe?"
"Of course."
"And put in your comm."
"I will." She hung up, and took a deep breath. She could feel Clint and Phil's eyes on her. She needed to tell them. But Jarvis had kept it back for a reason. Part of her felt betrayed by life, that the attack would come now, when Clint was smiling and getting ready to eat something.
"What is it?" Phil asked, his voice low and level. He kept his eyes on the rhythmic chopping of the knife. Before Natasha could answer, Jarvis spoke.
"The Tower is under attack. The upper levels are in complete lockdown."
The knife came down again, slicing carrot with a little more force than was necessary.
"Who is attacking?"
Jarvis hesitated.
"We have reason to believe they're the same people who hurt Clint," Natasha filled in.
"Oh." Clint's voice was small and he swallowed hard.
"This floor is triple reinforced," Jarvis hurriedly reassured them. "Sir designed it with the intent of protecting the injured. I cannot conceive of a scenario in which the attackers would be able to get in."
"You need to go," Clint said, and his hands were shaking. "Phil, you need to go. You too, Tasha."
"Natasha does, yes. But I'm staying with you."
Natasha didn't wait to hear the rest of the argument. She just walked out of the room. Her hand came up to tap her comm.
"Captain, where do you want me?"
They were crawling over his Tower like ants. A swarm of them, every single one from the distractions on the day of Clint's disappearance and more besides. They had some pretty impressive looking guns, including the missile launcher Rhodey had on his suit, but Tony knew there was only a fifty/fifty chance any of it worked. Hammer tech.
"What's the plan?" he asked, hovering.
"I don't know, Tony," Steve replied, clearly exasperated. "We're thirty seconds out. I'll have a clearer idea of what to do when I get there and assess the situation."
"'Kay." Tony acted like a grown up for once and didn't just start blasting.
"They have an army," Thor said grimly as they watched the men in black assaulting every point that could be considered weak on the Tower.
"Yeah," Tony grinned viciously behind his mask. "Let's see how that works out for them."
"Phil, you're the Avengers' handler. You need to be there."
"I took a leave of absence."
"What?"
"The love of my life is in hospital," Phil said dryly, a little embarrassed. "I wanted to be here if he needed me. If you needed me."
"They're attacking the Tower." They're attacking our home.
"I know. I'm going to call Fury, make sure he has people moving. But I'm staying with you. They won't get in here. I promise."
"Nothing I say is going to change your mind, is it?" Clint asked, half exasperated, half endeared.
"Nope," Phil smiled mildly and pulled a big fucking gun from a shoulder holster. Clint didn't remember that being there.
"Check the room," he said. "Tony designed it. There's bound to be something we can use to defend ourselves."
"If I may," Jarvis said, and his voice sounded strained. "The cabinet to your left. there is a panel in the back. Remove it, and you will find a screen. Press your hand to it." Phil began following the instructions.
"Jarvis? Are you okay?"
"I am... stretched," the AI replied. "Like butter scraped over too much bread. I am in charge of the Tower defence systems, and I am aiding Sir with the suit. They are trying to get into my systems."
"Then stop looking after us!" Clint exclaimed. "Focus on yourself and the Tower."
"I shall do so, now that I know you will have something to protect yourselves." He fell silent. Clint had been looking at the ceiling as he talked to Jarvis. It was the convention. Now, he turned to look at Phil, to see what Tony had stored away.
"Ooooh," he said as he took in what Phil had revealed. "Shiny!"
Steve and Bruce pulled up to the Tower in a screech of rubber. They leaped out of the car and stared in horror. There were so many of them; a boiling mass of black clad mercenaries. The staff of the lower levels of the Tower were merging with them as some of them tried to escape. It was protocol. Lower levels got evacuated, upper levels got locked down. They were supposed to leave via the tunnels, however.
"There are so many of them," Bruce said, his voice a horrified whisper.
"We've fought worse," Steve said and only half meant it. This was worse because the Tower was their home now. It wasn't just an eyesore with Tony's name on it. "Suit up," he said. "We've got this."
Bruce stretched and expanded out, his shirt ripping around him. His trousers, a new formula fabric from Stark, stretched but didn't give. He got his game face on.
Steve didn't have his uniform on. It was in his bag, and he considered taking the time to change into it, but he had his Shield. And he didn't want to wait. He wanted to hit something. And heaven help the first person who got in his way.
"Avengers," he said, tapping his comm. "Assemble!"
Warnings: violence, slight reference to PTSD and other mental health issues. Also, Tony says 'shit' a lot.
