Happy angled the limo as close to the front door of the theater as he could so the group had the best possible chance to duck the three paparazzi milling about. Tony walked briskly, leading his well-dressed group of twelve to the front door. They swept into the lobby, just early enough that the lobby wasn't packed yet. A pair of young twin girls looked around from drooling over souvenirs to gape at the glitterati. Bucky tipped his hat at them and they clutched at each other in fits of giggles. Steve elbowed him lightly.

"We have mezzanine seats," Pepper said herding the gaggle of spies and soldiers and scientists toward the stairs.

The group took up almost the entire center row of seats at the front of the balcony. Bucky leaned on the railing, sunglasses tucked into his breast pocket, studying the clockwork design detailing around the stage. Natasha tugged him back from the edge. "Don't make yourself noticeable."

He blinked at her. "Right."

"Oh, he's fine," Tony said easily. "I know me paparazzi when I see them; relax a little, Red."

Natasha scowled as Steve joined Bucky at the rail. Next to her, Clint started laughing. She glared at him. He waved her off. "Not you. I'm not laughing at you."

Getting confused looks from Natasha, Phil, Maria, and Fitzsimmons, Clint held up his left wrist, tapped on his smart watch, and lowered his voice. "I tapped into the crew's headsets. There's a shoe missing, and some woman named Shelly got herself locked in a closet. Apparently Shelly's into ladies. Narnia jokes are being made." He chuckled again. His colleagues all rolled their eyes.

Bucky watched the seats fill down below. The twin girls went running down the aisle to the front row, followed by their parents. The sergeant smiled, watching them. "Can't imagine what it's like to grow up nowadays."

"Me neither." Steve chuckled. "God knows we'd have turned out different."

"Mm." Bucky tapped his fingers on the rail, the metallic tinking muted by his glove. Steve clapped his shoulder. The houselights dimmed.

#

Having gone to the ladies' room, Pepper rejoined the others in the lobby during intermission. Tony absently handed her a glass of wine.

"Please, Bruce," he was saying. "Just once. For Halloween?"

"You are absolutely not painting me green."

"But the internet knows exactly what makeup they use!" Tony protested. "It's MAC! There's a MAC store in Times Square, we could buy it on the way home."

"I think they'd be closed by the time the show's over," Betty said pleasantly, her arms crossed defiantly.

Tony tapped at his phone for a second. "They're open 'til midnight."

Betty raised her eyebrows at him.

Tony took a step away from her. "Bruce, she's scary, you know that right? Did you know that before you started dating her or..."

"I know, I knew," Bruce said, "and you're one to talk."

"Why, thank you," Pepper said brightly.

"You know," Natasha mused, joining the conversation, "I've been painted green. Same kind of makeup. Washes off easier than you'd expect."

Tony looked hopeful. Bruce glared. "Still not happening."

"Fine," Tony sighed. "Why were you painted green?"

"Had to blend in at Comicon. The more naked you are, the less threatening you seem, so I went as an Orion slave girl."

"Did people die?" Pepper asked cautiously.

"Fewer than otherwise would have."

On the other side of the lobby, Clint and the supersoldiers were among the press of bodies around the souvenir counter. While Clint handed money over, Bucky looked balefully at a holiday ornament. "I'm not sure when the last time I celebrated Christmas was."

Steve frowned, got a clerk's attention, gestured at the ornament, and pulled out his wallet.

"Steve, don't—"

"I have back pay, it's not a problem."

When the lights blinked, signaling that intermission was nearly over, everyone headed back to their seats. Clint dropped a black cube cardboard box into Phil's lap.

"What's this?"

"Fucking expensive coffee cup."

Phil chuckled and signed thank you as the lights went down and the music started back up.

#

After several rounds of wild applause, the lights came up at the end of the play and there was a brief instant of rustling stillness before people in the audience began getting up in pairs and groups to leave. In the Avengers group, several faces were flushed with pleasure. Tony, as the de facto host of the outing, beamed at the obvious success of this social event. Pepper whispered to Tony, "I'll be right back," and slipped out of her seat. Bucky and Steve simply looked stunned.

"Musicals weren't like this when we were young," Bucky breathed.

"No, they weren't," Steve agreed. "Not that we went to many. I only went a couple of times on school field trips. You know, The Nutcracker."

Eyes focused in the distance, Bucky nodded. Mild concern evident in Steve's face, he clasped Bucky's arm. Voice level, he said, "I never realized the Wicked Witch of the West was such a sympathetic character."

Still distant, Bucky said, "I'm sort of like Elphaba."

"I can see it." Clint stood.

Natasha gripped Bucky's shoulder and coaxed him up. Still holding Bucky's arm, Steve helped.

Elegant and confident, Pepper smoothly made her way through the remaining crowd and made it look easy, even though she was swimming against the tide of people leaving. When she made it back to their row, Tony leaned toward her. "God, you're sensuous when you exude quiet power."

Pepper smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. "I scouted a bit. There's usually more paparazzi at the door at the end of an event than there is at the beginning. This is no exception."

He nodded. "A lot?"

"At least a dozen."

Tony gestured. "There's gonna be photos at the door, no way to totally escape that. Coulson, hat and shades and latch on to a woman. You need to be hard to identify. Barnes, we can't afford for there to be even fuzzily identifiable pictures of you. You're going to have to go home in a cab."

"I'll go with him," Steve said.

"No." Maria stepped forward. "I'll take him. The two of you together are too noticeable, and the opposition knows you have history." She repositioned Steve at the rail to provide better cover for her, and stepped into the group in the most visually protected spot. She hiked up her skirt, unstrapped the tranq gun from her thigh, and then unobtrusively passed it to Natasha. Natasha exchanged places with Maria, hiked her skirt up, and strapped the tranq gun on.

"She has a good point," Pepper said. "Maria, charge the cab ride to your SI expense card. You're on the clock as his body guard until you get back to the tower. I trust you have another gun?"

Maria nodded and took Bucky's arm. He was still staring vacantly.

"Red." Tony's voice made it clear he was giving orders. Natasha arched an eyebrow at him. "Put your hood up and distract the paps with your assets." She grinned. "Steve," Tony continued, "make out with Natasha on the way to the limo."

Bucky's head snapped around at that. Maria coaxed him forward. "Come on tall, dark, and shellshocked, let's slip out a side door."

"I should take a cab too," Betty said. "I'll go with them."

Maria looked over her shoulder. "Handsome, here, could totally have two women with him, wouldn't raise an eyebrow. Get in the cab with us."

Betty nodded. "Great to see you, Bruce." She kissed his cheek. "You're free to call any time," she said pointedly. She stepped over to Maria and Bucky, took his other arm, and then helped Maria maneuver him up the aisle. Bruce stood for a moment with his hand to his cheek.

Pepper nudged Tony. "We should hang back at the door, make out, give the paparazzi a target."

"Awesome," he said. "I should have a drink in my hand for that, make it an even more attractive photo op for the bloodsuckers."

"We'll be at the bar," Pepper said, "getting a glass of red wine. Wait on us. We'll need to be in place first to give you cover."

"Geez," Coulson said. "I feel like I need my earpiece for this op."

"That would actually be helpful," Natasha said.

The paparazzi ducking went off without a hitch. After all, they were professionals at covert ops. Pepper and Tony were the last to get in the limo. With a collective sigh, the group settled back in their seats.

When they were well underway, Clint leaned toward Natasha. "Did you know Elfie'd lost Boop's number?" Clint employed the twinspeak he shared only with Natasha.
She shrugged. "Elfie changed schools and got a new phone."
"That's what Facebook's for."
Natasha shot him a gentle glare. "You're just still pissed Fox unfriended you."
"We're cool but that shit stays in your timeline. I feel Boop."
"I know." She rolled her eyes.

Steve made a face. "What are you two talking about?"

"Our favorite reality show," Natasha deadpanned.

Clint broke out in a genuine, shining guilty-pleasure grin that confirmed Natasha's statement.

A few rounds of smalltalk later, they finally made it back to the tower.

#

"We ought to do something fun," Jemma said dropping onto the couch and pulling pins out of her hair.

Pepper grinned. "What? Is going to the theatre not fun?"

"No, it is." Jemma sat up, tucking her feet under her. "Which is exactly why we should keep the fun going."

"I like that logic," Tony said, popping a bottle of champagne that he'd retrieved from somewhere. "We could go all junior high slumber party and tell secrets."

"Considering who all we have here," Bruce said, "I'm less than sure that would be wise."

"I think it sounds fun." Bucky grinned wickedly. He had recovered from his show tune-induced battle fatigue.

"Uh," Steve held up a hand apprehensively, "if we do this, can we establish a rule that you can only tell secrets about yourself."

Natasha smirked. "You've done this with him before, haven't you?"

"Yes," both soldiers said at once, one of them long suffering, the other borderline gleeful.

Coulson fiddled with his new mug. "I don't think Stark has anything to tell us that we couldn't find in a tabloid."

Tony put a hand to his chest. "I am deeply wounded that you put so little faith in my trust in all of you."

Clint snorted. "Tony, you trust Pepper and Bruce. You're friendly enough with the rest of us, and we work together, live together, but you have issues with people and with the Man and like half of us are the Man."

"I will grant you that I have issues with people, but," Tony shrugged, "I do trust you guys. And ladies," he amended after a sharp look from Natasha. "And to prove it I'll go first." He plopped on the couch next to Jemma, poured himself a glass of champagne, and cleared his throat, ignoring the curious and doubtful looks the others were giving him. "When I was very young, for a while I thought that when you put a car in reverse," he paused and took a breath, slightly flushed with embarrassment, "I thought the battery turned around. Thought it was on a turntable under the hood."

No one said anything for a moment. Then Bruce asked, "How old were you?"

"About two, maybe three." Tony shrugged and sipped his wine. "I had figured out that if I got the batteries out of my toys and put them in the other way around the toy would run backward, so it made sense to me."

Fitz shrugged and sat on the arm of the sofa. "That actually does make a certain amount of sense."

Jemma nodded and laughed a little. "Yeah it does."

"Oh, I'll play." Natasha took the bottle from Tony, poured herself a glass, and sat on the coffee table.

"I'm asserting a new rule," Clint interjected as he and everyone else found places to sit or lounge, "no not actually secret secrets." He pointed at Natasha. "I know you."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, fine. I have plenty none of you know, though. I just have to pick." She tapped her nails against her glass. "My natural hair color is super mousy ash brown."

Tony nearly choked on his drink. "I don't believe you."

"Huh." Clint scritched a hand through his hair. "With your other coloring, that sort of figures."

Coulson looked at him. "How did you not know that?"

"Why would I know that?"

Maria shook her head. "Hate to break it to you, Barton, but I think everyone knows you and Natasha have slept together."

"I did not know that," Fitz said. Jemma held out one hand to him, palm up. He pulled out his wallet.

Natasha laughed. "You bet on that?"

Jemma happily took a bank note from Fitz and tucked it down the front of her dress. "We bet on that."

"Fitz," Natasha snickered, "that was a horrible bet to take. But yes, I've slept with Clint, and no, that doesn't mean he'd necessarily have any idea what my natural hair color is. Make of that statement what you will." She raised her eyebrows challengingly and downed her champagne.

"So I guess I can't use 'I've done Nat' as my secret. Gimme the booze." Clint made grabby hands. Once he had a glass of sparkling wine, he swirled it, watching the bubbles. "When I was a kid I had a massive crush on Fred from Scooby Doo but I told my brother it was Daphne I had a thing for. As far as I know, he, to this day, believes I liked Daphne. And redheads in general."

"I liked Fred too." Pepper put a hand over her face, laughing.

"Vaguely related," Fitz said, raising a hand as if in class. He took a breath, started to say something, stopped, and rubbed his face. "Fuck, give me wine." A glass was poured and handed to him. He drained it, took another deep breath, and said quickly, "I like blokes." He blushed.

"Aww, Fitz!" Jemma hugged him, halfway pulling him into her lap.

Clint blinked. "Did you just come out?"

"Um, yes." Fitz carefully removed himself from Jemma's lap.

Tony let out a celebratory whoop and leaned across Jemma to refill Fitz's glass.

"I don't mean, I'm not gay," Fitz started trying clumsily to clarify, "not that there's anything wrong with being gay, that's also not what I mean, I—"

"Hey," Clint interrupted. "Is what you're trying to say is that you're bisexual?"

"Yes, that." Fitz let out a long sigh.

Clint raised his glass. "You and me, man." He twisted to look around at Steve. "What have you got to share, Cap? Anything sexy?"

Steve looked at him levelly. "Once, during my blessedly short stint in show business, I went to a party and wound up making out with a conjoined twin."

Bucky looked at him. "You never mentioned that to me."

"I never mentioned that to anyone."

"Why'd you only make out with one?" Tony sounded dumbfounded.

Steve shrugged. "The other sister wasn't interested."

"Can't imagine why." Jemma clapped a hand over her mouth. "I didn't mean to say that out loud."

Most of the room laughed.

"Hey, hey," Maria said, "look, Project Rebirth was an exercise in optimization, right? So Steve—and Bucky—as successful products of that process, are essentially physically ideal. Therefore, any human in their right mind, regardless of orientation, has to agree that our soldier boys here are super hot."

Bucky laughed, Steve cringed with embarrassment but chuckled too.

"What I'd like to know," Bruce said darkly, "is why the hell the Project Rebirth process turns people colors when it goes wrong."

Steve frowned. "I've never considered it, but you're right, that is a weird pattern it seems to have."

"You can all throw science at it later." Pepper crossed her legs. "I had a fight with my mother once because she wanted me to not take honors classes in high school and do work study as a receptionist at a local vet's office instead. Her argument was that I'd make a fantastic secretary. I yelled at her that I didn't want to be a secretary, I wanted to have a secretary, and I didn't speak to her for a week. Then of course my first job with Stark Industries was as a secretary."

"But you do have a secretary now," Tony pointed out.

"Now I have three." She straightened up proudly.

"I can taste caffeine in soda and it really bothers me but I don't mind it in coffee." Jemma shrugged.

"I can taste caffeine, too," Bucky mentioned.

"Me too." Bruce made a face.

"So can I." Steve took the glass of champagne held out to him by Tony.

"I'm declaring the ability to taste caffeine a sign of superpowers and deciding I'm Gifted," Jemma announced.

Coulson chuckled. "I suppose we'll have to start screening prospective agents for that in future."

"You absolutely should." Jemma grinned.

"Technically, I own a pub," Maria offered. "My uncle left it to me, I think because I was pretty much the only one in the family not vying for it."

"Where is it?" Tony asked.

"Greenwich Village."

Clint's face suddenly fell. "Which one is it?"

"Not the one you got thrown out of." Maria grinned knowingly.

Steve contemplated Clint a moment. "It's strange to picture you in the Village."

Clint laughed. "I should take you clubbing." He paused. "Did the Village have the same reputation back then as it's got now?"

It was Bucky, not Steve, who answered. "It's had that reputation since before me and Steve were born."

"Oh. Well then." The archer snorted.

Steve glanced at him. "Is there still a bar in the Village called Magnolias?"

"I think so." Clint lifted one shoulder. "Why?"

"Well—"

"Hang on," Barnes interrupted, grinning with a kind of bemused, mocking horror, "is that the place I had to drag your drunk ass home from, Valentine's of thirty-nine?"

"Why, with all your memory issues, must you remember that?" Steve dropped his head into one hand.

"I told you you'd never live it down." Barnes laughed.

Steve shoved him. "See, this is why I wanted a 'your own secrets only' rule."

Bruce shook his head and, taking pity on the Captain, let the spotlight shift onto him. "I sometimes watch Bridezillas because it makes me feel better about the state of my own stress and anger management."

"Okay, I don't care who you are," Natasha said, "watching Bridezillas is a great way to reaffirm your own humanity to yourself."

"It really is." Maria laughed.

"See, knowing there are people more fucked up than you is a wonderful thing sometimes," Tony said. "It's why I like Jerry Springer reruns."

"Maybe we should have a trash reality TV marathon," Natasha said. "Watch people punch each other out for no damn good reason."

Everyone chuckled.

"I think I have a reputation for punching out Hydra scientists," Bucky said.

Jemma raised her eyebrows. "Is that your secret?"

He shrugged. "Yeah."

"That is brilliant." She grinned brightly.

Clint held his hands up. "How did you get a reputation for punching out Hydra scientists?"

Bucky shrugged again and tapped his nails against the metal of his left wrist. "They, uh, they'd be working on my arm after I'd been out on a mission, even if it hadn't been damaged they'd do something every time." He looked down. "The longer I'd been, well, thawed, the—" he searched for a word "—less well behaved I'd be. If they ticked me off..." He punched his left hand into his right palm. He shook his head with a slightly dark, but still amused laugh. "I never got punished for it, either."

"Probably because it's so much easier to replace lab rats than a trained, skilled asset, no matter how temperamental." Natasha glanced at Fitz and Jemma. "No offense."

Jemma shook her head. "None taken."

"She has a point." Coulson drank his champagne. "And she knows from

temperamental."

"Yes, I do," Natasha agreed coolly.

Tony jostled Coulson's shoulder. "Your turn."

Coulson shook his head. "Everyone here already knows my big secret—me and Clint—" He downed the rest of his champagne.

Tony refilled his glass. "Yeah, I guess Clint kinda made that one obvious the day you arrived."

"I think that's on me." Coulson exhaled. "By calling and then rushing here. He just closed the loop sooner than expected." He took a long swallow of champagne. Tony topped his glass off.

"Come on, Phil," Natasha chided. "You need to tell an actual secret. The rest of us have. There must be something from high school or college, at least."

Coulson went still. Watching him, Clint tensed. Coulson took another swallow of champagne. Clint leaned forward to take Coulson's glass and Natasha stopped him.

"When I was twenty, a new college graduate, and had just become a junior officer with the Rangers"—Coulson began, speaking slowly. Natasha grinned. Coulson drank more champagne before continuing—"I was married for five months and it went badly."

Moving smoothly and quickly, Clint took Coulson's glass. "You've had more than enough."

"No, he hasn't," Tony scoffed. "I'll bet he can walk a straight line and everything."

"He probably can." Clint's words were clipped and then soft. "He doesn't show it, until he's really, really gone, but I can tell."

Coulson looked at Clint. "Celeste was a wonderful girl. She...helped me to see that I was hiding from myself, that I was closeted. We remained friends. Six months after the annulment she married my best friend in the Rangers. He'd been in love with her the whole time. I should have seen it but I didn't. They belonged together. Everyone was surprised that I was best man at their wedding."

Natasha stared. Clint sucked in a breath. "He never told you this, did he?" she murmured. Clint shook his head.

He took a gulp of Coulson's champagne, then said, "Lyall? Celeste married Lyall?"

Coulson nodded.

"You were married to Lydia's mother."

"Yes," Coulson said. "I spent my whole life letting her down."

"This explains so much," Natasha muttered.

"Come on, Phil." Clint got up and clasped Coulson's arm. "Time to go."

Movements smooth and steady, Coulson got up, gingerly holding his new coffee mug.

"Huh," Tony said. "He doesn't show it, but I guess he is drunk."

Clint grimaced and led Coulson out of the room.

#

When they were safely behind the locked door of Clint's room, the archer folded his arms and dug a toe into the carpet. "Was Lydia yours?"

"No." Phil spoke softly.

"But she could have been."

"Not directly, no. The timing...no."

"That's not what I mean." Clint took a breath. "It's one of those might have beens in life. If you'd somehow been able to work things out with Celeste, you could have had a daughter, a family."

Phil turned around. "It would have been the wrong thing, and just pretty much impossible."

"But it's one of your regrets."

"That's not where the regret lies."

Clint took two steps forward and turned Phil around. "Maybe not most of it."

Phil nodded. "Not most of it." He took a step forward, leaned heavily against Clint, and put an arm around him. For Phil, this counted as a stagger.

"Oh boy," Clint muttered. "Let's get you undressed."

He removed Phil's already loosened tie and then helped him out of his jacket. This sort of thing didn't happen often but Clint was practiced anyway in unbuttoning Phil's shirt and removing his clothes. The circumstances made it feel strange.

Clint managed to get a Tshirt on Phil and had no trouble coaxing him to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. Meanwhile, Clint removed his own suit and put pajamas on. He was arranging a line of pillows down the center of the bed when Phil came out of the bathroom.

"I figure we need some way to manage sleep together," Clint said. "I sure as hell am not leaving you alone tonight. Even if it does make me feel like I'm in a fifties sitcom."

"If this were a fifties sitcom," Phil said, "we'd have twin beds."

"Married couples in fifties sitcoms had twin beds. You do not want to go in that direction tonight."

"Okay." Phil sat on the edge of the bed.

Clint got a cup of water for each of them. "Drink that. If you aren't dehydrated, your head might hurt less in the morning."

He drank his water as he watched Phil drink his. After taking Phil's paper cup, he discarded both of them.

He leaned down and kissed Phil's forehead. "I'm going to get ready for bed. I'll be right back."

Phil pulled him to his knees and kissed him deeply. Almost any other time, this would have been fine, but not now. Clint ended the insistent kiss as quickly as he could. "Not tonight, Phil."

Phil's brow furrowed. "Are you mad?"

"I'm not mad." Clint caressed Phil's cheek. "That was all long before me. It's just, Mockta's rule."

"Oh. Oh, yeah."

"Lie down, babe. I'll be right back."

As Clint made ready for bed and brushed his teeth, he thought it might turn into a very long night. But when he went back into the bedroom, Phil was in bed and already asleep. Maybe that was a tiny silver lining in the big black cloud of Phil drinking too much.

Clint climbed over Phil, and the row of pillows, and settled into the back of the bed near the wall. He stared toward the ceiling for a while, even though he couldn't really see it in the dark. This was probably why Phil was such a mess when it came to relationships, the insistence that he wasn't the marrying kind, the commitment phobia, the general skittishness. Clint wondered if it would have made any difference if he'd known this sooner.

A/N: A note on Clint and Natasha's twinspeak; Elfie is Bruce-he has had that alias since before they went to see Wicked but it is a reference to the whole green thing. Boop is Betty, a reference to Betty Boop-pretty sure Clint made that up on the spot. Fox is Coulson, a reference to Fox Mulder from The X Files.