A/N: Two updates in one day! Yay me! (possibly three, we'll see. I've got a few ideas flowing through my mind I'm anxious to get out there.)

Thanks for reading everybody!

(RFK22: Wish I could give you presents. You're so good to me. Thank you so much for your support. :)

Enjoy!

Natasha shuts her eyes dropping the menu onto the table. She rolls her eyes addressing her friend, "Clint, why can't we just get pizza someplace?"

He keeps the glass on his mouth chewing his ice block, "Because I need to talk to you."

She reaches frantically for her glass shoving ice in her own mouth. She talks through the chill in her mouth, "How many Clint?"

He chuckles spitting his block back into the cup, "Are you serious?"

She smiles feeling the chill on her teeth. She knew she needed to do something to keep the conversation light and almost none existant, "12!,' her tongue twirls them back into the cup, 'I got 12."

Clint covers his mouth, his lips turned bright pink from the ice, "14."

She raises an eyebrow, "At once? I'm impressed."

He talks with his mouth full, "16!"

"Go for your record."

"18!"

His head tilts back, making room for more. She chuckles, "You're so wierd."

He gags, spitting them back up into the glass, "26!"

She claps sarcastically, eyelids low, "I'm very impressed. I dare you to balance those dishes on your head."

He thinks about taking her dare, eyes taking in his surroundings, "I think we're annoying that old couple."

"Ha! Clint we're living with Steve right now. It's fine, try it."

Slowly he stacks them, one by one on, flattening the back of his short blondish brown hair. He talks through his little circus trick, "Nat, I dare you to have a serious conversation with me for the first time in, oh I don't know, months."

She snickers nervously, trying to think of other things to distract him from 'talking', "Um, Clint. I know you can do more than 8."

He shifts his jaw, reaching behind him for more plates to balance. He gives up on the plates situating the fork on its edge, before spinning it on the center plate.

Natasha smiles, "All those years in the circus paid off huh?"

He bites his tongue with a smile on his face, "This is nothing. Seriously, I want to talk to you."

"But you didn't twirl the dishes with the one on top. Like you always do, did."

He pauses removing them from his head. Now she's bluffing. "Nat, what are you trying to hide?"

She lifts her menu to cover her face, her cheeks flush red, "I'm not hiding anything."

He leans on the table, "Then why won't you talk to me."

"About what hon."

Hon? He shifts his glance from left to right. She's been talking to Pepper too much. "You and your sudden interest in Nuclear Physics. It's been in the works Nat. Now, it's just plain obvious."

She drops her menu, shifting nervously in her seat. He sighs, leaning back in his chair. His voice is calm and soothing, "Nat, talk to me. You're my best friend. I'd rather you just tell me what's going on between you two than hiding it and making me find out the hard way."

Natasha twirls her finger over the menu, mind already on the perfect physician probably broken out into tears again, isolated in his room. "Clint, it's- stupid."

He widens his eyes, "I know you don't like talking about stuff, but you've got to. You've got to just let it go. Come on Natasha. Please? I care about you, I want the best for you."

She snorts nervously rubbing her hands over one another as she crosses her legs. Bouncing the one she lightly taps his leg on accident, "I'm sorry Clint."

He leans forward taking her hand, "Nat, look at me,' she looks up, tears in her green eyes, 'do you love him?"

"I don't believe in love."

He smirks, "I already know you have feelings for him. You guys were out until midnight the other day. Just talking? Lost track of time?"

She lowers her head, "I should've apologized to you sooner. I'm sorry Clint."

"Why? If you're happy with him, why are you apologizing?"

"It's just. I know how you feel about me, and we have our times of desperation when we do things, but I don't think that it goes beyond that Clint. Please don't get the wrong idea, I like you, you know I do, but not-"

He chuckles, "Nat, we always have been just, really close friends with benefits."

She nods, "Yes, basically. I don't want you to think that means I don't care about you. Because ever since we've been partners, I just connected with you. You know what I mean?"

"I know, that's why we get along so well. I can do my stupid circus tricks without feeling like an idiot."

She laughs, "You're not an idiot."

"So, I guess that means no more, midnight bashes?"

"What are you talking about? Clint, you'll always be my friend. I need someone to fight and I certainly can not fight with Bruce. I can't pin him to the ground and beat him the way I rough around with you."

He chuckles, "Oh I feel so privileged."

She smiles, "You should. Besides, we're not even, together? We're just getting to know each other."

He waves his forefinger, "You listen to me young lady. While you're out with him there are some rules; You've got to call me, you've got to tell me where you're going, and you need to be home at a reasonable hour. Midnight the latest. Got it Sister?"

She nods, "Yes Barton."

"Don't let him boss you around, that's my job. You need to tell me if he even thinks about touching you the wrong way and you don't like it. Even if you do like it-"

She laughs, "Clinton Barton!"

"You need my permission! He needs my permission to look you in the eye for crying out loud. Nobody's gonna mess with my sister. Understood?"

Natasha nods, "Thanks Clint."

He leans back crossing his arms. He tries to look stern, "What's his track record?"

She leans forward, "You be good to him! He's had one hell of a life!"

"I didn't say I wouldn't be."

"Well, actually I was going to ask if you could keep an eye on him tonight."

He snorts, "Why?"

"Because of today's little episode in the lab."

"Oh. Wait, isn't he suicidal? This is comforting Nat. Very comforting."

"Clint! He needs me. He's hurting pretty badly right now because, of, something that happened to him, probably recently."

"What?"

"I'm not telling! He hasn't even told Tony."

He leans in, "What happened?"

"Barton, I'm not going to betray his trust. Sufficient to say he's got a lot on his mind right now and it's an ache that's not going to disappear over night. I think that's why he was a wreck earlier, but I'm not one hundred percent sure."

"So, you want me to just watch him? Make sure he doesn't try anything stupid?"

"Exactly."

"Easy enough. After putting up with you and your attempts I could be a certified therapist by now."

"Clint!"

"It's true."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Tony pounded the door with his fist, "Don't really care if you're still throwing up cause I'm coming in."

No answer. Stark rolled his eyes as he pushed the door in. The bathroom light was on, the door creaked open enough to spread light through the rest of his small room. He's on his bed, one knee pulled up slightly as he lies on his stomach. His shirt was out, the ends of his baggy pants covering the heels of his bare feet. Truthfully, he looked like a complete mess. Stark walked slowly to his bedside, seeing his eyes open slightly before they close again. He looked exhausted and the red on his cheeks and nose reaffirmed he'd been crying again.

Tony chuckled, "Out of energy big guy?"

He mumbled, the side of his face pressed into the pillow his one hand slipping from under the pillow onto his forehead. His throat felt raw, his body ached, "I'm so tired."

His friend swings his arms moving the chair from the desk to his bedside. He parks himself crossing his arms, "You realize you've slept for about 8 hours. Well, in between jumping up to puke your guts out. According to JARVIS you've got the equivalent of two stomachs to unload? Must be hell."

Bruce cracks his brown eyes open, his eyelids quickly shutting. His body barely flinched refusing to move. He mumbles, "8 hours."

"And I'm willing to bet you haven't eaten anything since yesterday morning."

Banner makes a sound wrinkling his nose, "Don't even talk about food. I might throw up on you."

He snickers, "I might enjoy that. So what exactly have you been vomiting?"

His friend makes a face, cheek still pressed into his pillow. He drops his elbow in front of his face, hand still wrapped around his head, "Do I bother you when your throwing up?"

"No. You help. So I want to help."

He growls, throwing his face into the pillow, "Can you please leave me alone? I really don't feel good Tony."

"Maybe I should drop you in a field, let the other guy have his run."

"You're not funny Stark."

"I'm not trying to be. It might be good for you. Think about it. After he has his run, you'll vomit at least one more time, cause that's what happens and you'll be better."

Banner just breathes heavy, closing his eyes. All he wanted to do was shut down for another 8 hours. He knew Stark had a large obsession with the large green guy, but he just was not in the mood to even think about the devil.

Tony sighs, slightly disappointed he's awake. After all, the only time he got anything out of Banner was when he was half-asleep and groggy. Natasha would be home soon, at least he hoped. He was beyond curious about those videos she had managed to steal. There was so much about Bruce he wanted to know, but didn't. Things he knew he would never share.

He stands up heading towards the bathroom to shut the light, "You want anything Bruce?"

He mumbles from his bed, "No thanks."

Tony takes a step forward debating on running a hand through his thick messy curls, "If I touch you will you get mad?"

"I'll be upset, yes."

He nods, deciding it's best to just leave him alone. He pulls out his phone parking himself back in the chair with no intent of leaving him unattended, just as a precaution.