Author's Note: You know... I think I might know how this is gonna end now...

Disclaimer: Don't have anything to do with Marvel and their wonderful play-land of creations … sigh…

Knowledge

"…and then we have to look over those schematics in the laboratory and you have to come up and have a look at how the pool is coming along and…"

Bruce simply nodded away, not really listening to the details of Tony's whirlwind speech. It was too early in the morning – how was the other man so wide awake?

"Oh, sorry," both Bruce and Tony stopped as they tried to step into the elevator and just about walked into the body stepping out. Tony stood up straight and gave a rather mocking salute.

"Good morning captain, sir!"

"Morning Stark," Steve replied calmly, collecting himself quickly. He offered a nod in Bruce's direction although he did not actually look at the doctor. "Bruce."

"Good morning Steve," Bruce suppressed a sigh as the soldier walked away towards the kitchen to join with Natasha and Pepper. He had not seen much of Steve since their not-quite conversation the other night and what he had seen of him they had always been in company. The soldier was well and truly back in shut down. Next to Bruce, Tony arched an eyebrow.

"Did you declare your undying love for the super soldier?" he asked, pulling a face in Steve's direction. "He's been avoiding you like he avoids Barton since the night I caught you in his lab."

Bruce gave his friend an unimpressed look.

"Come on. You said something about schematics?" he replied instead, stepping into the elevator. Tony however stayed outside, hands on hips.

"Seriously? Why is he avoiding you?"

"He's not avoiding me."

"Oh, but he is," Tony argued, stepping into the elevator although Bruce was not sure if that was a good thing. Truth was he really had nothing to tell but Tony was never going to believe that.

x-x-x

Clint stifled a yawn as he paused outside director Fury's office. He had been tired following missions before of course but the archer swore that it was worse now he had the most comfortable nest to go home to now. Literally a big, fluffy, comfortable nest. Damn Tony.

Giving a swift knock the archer eased open the door and slipped into the room. Fury - already informed of the agents impending arrival - turned from the conversation he had been having with agent Hill with an arch of the eyebrow.

"Agent Barton, I was not expecting you back so soon."

The archer stepped forward and handed the director a file.

"I figured time would be of the essence sir, given the time lost already."

"Indeed," Fury nodded before raising his voice purposefully. "Perhaps we should have sent an assassin in the first place, don't you agree agent Hill?"

"Yes sir," the female replied calmly although her jaw clenched. Clint did not bother to look at the female - he already knew she would be glaring daggers at him. Fury flicked through the file quickly.

"Any problems?"

"No sir."

"Good," Fury looked up from the file, casting his eyes over the archer. His eyebrow arched as his gaze fell on a bandage wrapped haphazardly around the agents upper arm, just visible under his shirt. Clint took a deep breath.

"Just a scratch."

Fury looked at Clint's arm dubiously.

"It has never ceased to amaze me what you define as a small scratch agent," he looked up at Clint pointedly - suspiciously. "What happened?"

Clint suppressed a sigh. He had hoped Fury would not notice.

"Whoever used the jet before me did not secure the cargo bay properly. I went to open one of the overhead compartments to store my kit and was attacked by a parachute bag."

Clint was sure a smirk pulled at Fury's lips but he looked at his agent with a composed expression.

"Go and get it checked out by medical."

Clint could not help but frown.

"It does not need medical attention sir."

"That's what you always say. I have enough agents out of action Barton," Fury replied calmly. "I do not want to have another out of action because some little cut on his arm went sceptic," an eyebrow raised as Clint's mouth opened to object. "You do not leave this base until I have had a phone call from a doctor giving you the all clear. And I mean a full check up, do you understand agent Barton?"

Clint inhaled deeply but returned a compliant nod.

"Yes sir," he agreed, turning on his heel and leaving the office. The archer glanced longingly down the corridor toward the exit, half contemplating ignoring the directors instructions but he decided he knew better. Besides which, if he were to be perfectly honest with himself, the wound - which was a little bigger and deeper than just a cut - did sting like Hell. Maybe it did need a clean. And it did keep re-bleeding. His own makeshift first aid skills were not exactly the best, especially considering the left handed archer had bandaged his own upper arm with his right hand. And he had spent most of his time away camped out in a hot, humid jungle with very little clean water.

Making his way briskly down the corridors towards medical, the agent pondered as to which doctor he would prefer to see. He had of course over the years taken a dislike to all but the newest of the doctors but after his conversation with Natasha he was not entirely sure if he could look Cayden in the eye...

"Clint."

The archer mentally rolled his eyes. Of course.

"Cayden," he replied calmly, stopping in front of the doctor who had appeared in the corridor. Cayden smirked.

"Fury phoned ahead," he gestured to a nearby exam room. Clint gave a small nod and slipped into the room, automatically making his way to sit on the bed. Cayden shut the door behind them, crossing to the trolley at the side of the room and slipping on fresh medical gloves. "So you were attacked by a parachute bag?"

Clint chuckled as Cayden turned an amused arched eyebrow on him, instantly put at ease by the other man's demeanour.

"I was indeed," he confirmed, rolling up his sleeve and starting to unravel the bandage. Cayden stepped forward.

"Here, let me," he offered, realising the awkward angle the archer was trying to work at. Clint let go of the bandage, resting his hands either side of him. Glancing to his side at the other man who now stood very close the archer frowned slightly at the dark shadows under his eyes.

"Have you slept since I last saw you?" he asked. Cayden scoffed, letting out a short, wry laugh.

"Do I really look that bad?" he muttered, rubbing his hand over his face. "I've slept some."

Clint frowned slightly.

"Did the first mission really go that badly?" the archer asked quietly. He had heard a little about it of course but he was not exactly well in with many of the SHIELD agents anymore. Cayden just gave him a tired, weary look before returning his attention to the bandage. Clint regarded the doctor quickly, wanting to offer if he wanted anyone to talk to or to just have a drink with but Cayden spoke up first.

"Man, it must have been one evil parachute."

Clint chuckled.

"Yeah, it packed a punch," he looked down at his arm as Cayden gently pulled at the wound to get a better look, fingers resting on either side of his bicep.

"Well it doesn't look too bad. I'll be able to assure Fury your arm's not gonna fall off," the doctor pulled at the wound once more. "It's not deep enough for stitches but it doesn't look like it'll heal easily on its own so I'll give it a clean out and stick some steri-strips on just to keep it closed and redress it in…" the doctor eyed the old bandages suspiciously. "Well clean bandages. Then you can get on home – your other half will be glad to see you back I'm sure."

Clint arched an eyebrow as Cayden retreated back to the nearby trolley to gather up his supplies.

"I don't think Nat will be missing me quite yet," he commented.

"Oh, no I meant your other other half."

Clint frowned.

"Other other half?"

Cayden paused as he made his way back toward Clint.

"Crap, I'm sorry if it's not common knowledge," he continued toward the archer. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

Clint's frown did not fade as the doctor started cleaning his arm. Won't tell anyone what?