A/N: I feel truly awful for that delay. So bad. But I have a life, you know. However, I plan to finish up this story soon. Yes, I know it's been a long run with this story and I originally didn't know how to wrap it up, but I think it's time. The ending will probably be a little disappointing, but I believe it's time for this story to come to a close soon. However, there are still five or so more chapters to be had. Afterwards, I will give out all the sentiments and the thanks for a long run.
~PJA

Chapter 20

Curled up in a blanket, Tony was tucked away in a corner of his bed, trying to shake off the humiliation and discomfort of being trapped in the trunk of his own car and being forced to listen to wretched classical music the whole way home. Now that they were back, Tony didn't want to speak to any of them. Once Steve had opened the trunk, Tony had run like a bandit.

Currently, Tony was soaking in the soft comfort of his plush bed. He never wanted to leave.

But then he remembered something. The video camera from the tent! He had completely forgotten about that among all the chaos of the last 24 hours.

Suddenly, the attraction of the pillows dissipated. Tony emerged from the cocoon of blankets and threw it across the room, bolting out of his room and down the many levels of stairs until he had reached the garage. Luckily, it seemed that Steve and the others hadn't unpacked the car yet. He started rifling through the gear, looking for the tent that was in better shape. Once he got a hold of it, he unzipped the front and stuck his hand in until his fingers closed around the small object and pulled it out, lifting it up with triumph.

Before anyone could walk in on him, Tony slipped out and escaped into his study, where he popped the miniscule video camera into his computer and started to upload the video file. He realized that he had hours of footage to go through, but he didn't care. It would be worth it.

That being said, the hours-long file took forever to upload. Tony, tapping his fingers and doing whatever else to keep himself busy, was impatient.

Finally, there was a small beep emitted from the computer that signaled the uploading was complete. Eagerly, Tony put his greedy little fingers on the keyboard and opened the file, ready to watch the sweet treat it contained.

However, this led to be anticlimactic, as when the video started, there was no one in the tent. Great. Deflated, Tony clicked fast-forward until Clint and Natasha entered. He clicked play and found that the two of them were in a conversation.

"How long do you think until he screws up and does something stupid?" Clint was asking Natasha while he was looking through his bag.

"I give him forty minutes. Tops."

Clint chuckled. "You have faith in Stark. I give him fifteen."

"Stark is a genius, but he is a ball of chaos that will eventually get loose."

"That I have to agree with."

The next few minutes were spent in a comfortable silence, though not so much for Tony. He was eager for something to happen. He wanted them to cuddle, or make out, or perhaps something dirtier. Yes, something dirtier would be quite a treat. But he would just have to be patient. It would come.

In the video, Natasha suddenly stiffened. "Clint," she said in a low monotone, "we're being watched."

Obviously, Clint must've been familiar with that tone, because he didn't start cracking jokes. "Someone outside? Dangerous?"

"Video camera. In the tent."

Clint stopped what he was doing. "I got it."

Moving slowly and methodically, Clint seemed to find the small camera before he knew where it was. He reached up to the top corner of the tent, his large hand closing around the small metal device, the screen going dark with his palm against the camera.

"Look familiar, Nat?"

"Not particularly. It's not a model I know. It looks more modern, definitely not Russian."

"Hang on a minute." Clint turned the camera over; the screen now faced the top of the tent. "It's Stark's; says it right here on the bottom."

A tense silence fell over both the tent and Tony's study. Tony knew this would not end well.

"Stark. I shouldn't be surprised," Natasha said, her voice laced with poison. It honestly scared Tony more just hearing her and not seeing her face. "But let's send him a message, shall we?"

"I think that would be an excellent idea, Nat." Clint turned over the camera until it faced the two of them. "Why, hello there, Tony. I hope you're having a horrible time in your tent right now." Tony snorted. "I love how you thought you'd get away with this. It's so cute how your mind works."

"Stark," Natasha started, her eyes cutting right through his soul. "We're going to wait until you see this video. Just to taunt you with what's coming. And then we will find you. And we will make your life a living hell.

Natasha continued her ever-killing stare while Clint flashed a huge, cheeky grin before the video switched off.

Tony was left in his seat, shaking but unable to move. Dear God. They'd found him out and they were going to kill him. Or worse. This had backfired in the worst possible way. Oh, why did he have to be vain enough to put his name on the camera? Now he had no video, nothing to go on, and had to constantly watch his back. He needed to make a plan, but his paranoia of this woman and her partner was overtaking him. This was not going to be a fun few days.