AN: I sincerely apologize for how long this chapter took! My laptop died. :-(

My son asked if I'd write a sequel adding in a few other Avengers. What do you think? I hadn't considered it, but now it's in my head. Opinions appreciated, and I REALLY hope you enjoyed reading this!

CHAPTER 13: Wrap Up

The force of the explosion blew both men backwards, and Tony did the only thing he could. His left hand still holding Clint's wrist, he threw his right hand out and sent a blast behind and below them to slow their momentum as much as possible. He still struck the ground with a great deal of force, Clint smashing into him a split second later, their grip finally broken. Clint bounced off the Iron Man suit and rolled to a stop about 6 feet away. Both men ended up on their backs, and both lay there for a long moment.

"Bubble wrap," said Tony finally.

"Huh?"

"If you won't wear armor, I'm wrapping you in bubble wrap. Light-weight, inexpensive. It's the perfect solution."

Then Clint started to laugh. And once he started, he couldn't stop. It was a holy-shit-we're-still-alive laugh that came from his belly. It hurt, but he still couldn't stop. When he finally did, he heard Tony muttering about insane archers, but he ignored that too. "I passed the trucks they must have used on my way up," he turned back to practicalities. "If you're not hurt, why don't you dig that special sauce up and I'll hotwire one of the trucks?"

"No problem, Eval Knieval." Tony got up slowly and started limping away, visibly trying to cover up the limp. "But I'll give you a lift to the trucks." Clint's right arm was lying in a way that wasn't normal. However, when Tony had unearthed the oil drum, exactly where Maria said it would be, Clint had gotten up and gone to the trucks himself. He had not attempted to hotwire any, but was reclining in the passenger seat. Tony didn't bother to complain, but peeled open the drum and showed Clint the inside, where 3 innocent-looking small containers nestled in sawdust. "It's here."

Clint nodded. Stiffly. So Tony loaded it up and climbed into the driver's seat. It was awkward and crowded in the suit, but he could deal. "You know what's cool about being Tony Stark?" he asked as he navigated slowly and carefully down the slope.

"You never have to do your own taxes?" guessed Clint.

"Well, there are a lot of things, but here's my current favorite." Tony fell silent as they went through a rough patch, not commenting on Clint's pained expression when they bounced too much. When they found an actual road and things smoothed out, he continued. "It seems I own a luxury hotel a few miles away. Who knew?"

Three hours later

It was, Tony though, pretty good to be Tony Stark sometimes. He was on a private jet en-route to New York with a glass of high-quality bourbon in his hand, and it sounded like Pepper would beat him there by an hour or so. He could hardly wait just to be in the same room as she was. It wasn't even a sexual need – he craved the calm she exuded, he wanted the opportunity to tell her about his crazy adventures and then just hold her. Maybe forever. He wrapped those thoughts up and tucked them away. After all, Tony Stark didn't admit stuff like that.

Tony leaned back in the leather luxury recliner with a small groan. The concierge doctor at his hotel had given him a shot of a mild pain killer and he had ice on his abused shoulder, but he'd be sore for a while. The shoulder had gotten the worst of it – bruised when he busted Clint out of the old school, wrenched when they hit the ground after the explosion, and further stressed by holding onto Clint as they flew through the air. He also managed to break a bone in one foot, which was a fault in the suit he'd have to address, and of course half his face looked like he'd been attacked by a cheese grater. But the uranium dust was safely on board and headed far out of the reach of the European HYDRA cells. He'd count that as a win.

The doctor at the resort had been as good as advertised. He'd assessed them right in the penthouse with all portable equipment. When Clint had refused to take a sedative so his wrist could be re-set (I put my shoulder back in place, and I can do the same with my wrist, he'd said), the doctor hadn't balked, but instead had offered a pain killer that would not impair him or make him sleep. That Clint had accepted was telling about the pain he must be in. The doctor hadn't even blinked when Clint had added, "If you try to sedate me against my will or lie to me about it, I will break your nose." He had just, in his careful British accent, responded, "I'd expect nothing less." It made Tony wonder about the doctor's background.

Pulling up the comm screen and discretely sliding the ice pack off his shoulder, Tony put in a call to the penthouse of the hotel. Nobody answered, so he overrode the security protocols and put his call through anyway. The image popped up of a very relaxed-looking Clint Barton sprawled on his back on a pristine white couch. He was bare-foot and bare-chested, besides some tape in his ribs, so Tony barked, "The hell, Barton? Put on some clothes, man! Now I have that in my head forever."

Clint jumped a little and said quite a few very nasty things. Tony grinned. He'd never dare surprise the man in person, so this was a bonus. "...and you're lucky I wasn't bare-ass naked when you just suddenly show up on my wall!" he finished.

"Technically, it's my wall." Tony grinned. He was enjoying this way to much. "So...you look pretty chill. Enjoying the penthouse?"

"It has its appeal," admitted Clint. Despite his tirade, the only thing he'd moved was his head. Now he leveraged himself to a seated position and hooked an Iowa State sweatshirt with his left hand, the one that wasn't in a sling. He maneuvered it over his head and slid his left arm through it. As the doctor had noted, Clint's right size was "one giant bruise," and it was amazing nothing was broken.

Tony remembered the criss-cross of scars he'd seen across Clint's chest and felt a little guilty for surprising the man. A little. "So you headed back stateside?" he asked. "Your suite in the tower is open and ready. I think you've earned some down time."

"I wish," admitted Clint, lying back on the couch again. "There's a lot of clean-up over here yet. If there's this much coordination going on, there's a headquarters somewhere. Our mutual friend is coming out tomorrow to get things going."

"No rest for the wicked, eh? I would've thought you'd get a little time to rest since you're --" he waved his hand vaguely, "kind of broken."

"Not broken. Never broken. And this job doesn't work that way. I am going to order everything on the menu from room service before he gets here, though." Clint's face turned serious. "Thanks for the assist, man."

Tony waved his arm again – gently. "Whatever. I was bored in New York with Pepper gone."

Clint rolled his eyes, which Tony was starting to think of as his default expression. "I mean it. You could have just stayed put and kept out of sight. That's what most people would do."

"I'm not most people. And you're welcome. For the record, you're really crabby when you've been drugged and stabbed. I think you should consider taking up yoga." He ducked instinctively when Clint threw a roll of gauze at the screen. "That's exactly what I'm talking about!" He rubbed his face. "Who is taking care of the Boumas?"

Clint automatically winced at the use of their name, even though he knew it was a secure call. It was too ingrained that you didn't ever reveal specifics on a call. But then he grinned. "You won't believe it. Banner is coming to give them an escort."

Tony snorted out a laugh. "I wish I could see that! Those girls are going to run him ragged."

Clint grinned right back. That pain medicine was some good shit. "See ya, Tony."

"Yeah, see ya." Tony shut it down with a smile. It was time to call Pepper. He needed to arrange a donation to a certain medical clinic in Belgrade.

Clint laid back and picked up his phone. He had to make a couple of calls himself. When Nat answered, he swallowed down his relief. He'd heard that she was alright, but it wasn't the same as actually hearing her voice.

"You get hurt?" she asked immediately.

"No. You?"

"No. And Tony told me something different."

"He's a dirty liar," Clint smiled. The banter was a familiar relief. "And I saw footage of what went down. I mean, like literally went down. I also heard that someone was in the hospital. Are you trying to tell me that you are completely untouched after all of that?"

"I'm not the one who ended up in the hospital." She sounded smug. "And I'm just that good. I hear you fell off a roof. Again."

"Fell is such a strong word." He sighed happily. "And I'm in a penthouse on a billionaire's dime. Life's pretty good. I understand you need a place to crash. I might know somewhere."

"I was hoping that offer was open. I miss them, and I picked up a couple of souvenirs." He could tell she was smiling too.

"Ah, you spoil them. Give 'em a hug for me."

"Will do. Take it easy."

Clint disconnected with an air of a job finished. Oh, he knew there was more to do, but the uranium dust was out of reach, his friends and Fury were alive, and the Boumas would be okay. He yawned. He would call Laura again, and everything else could wait for another day.