There was a rattle as the curtains were thrown open and sunlight streamed into the room, harsh and unforgiving. The brightness burned his eyes and made him hiss in annoyance; he buried his head into his pillow and closed them tightly. His head was filled with spikes of pain and his arm was throbbing for reasons he wasn't entirely clear on. There were far too loud footsteps coming towards him, the sound of heels clicking on the floor. The bedcovers were thrown off and a sharp voice snapped, "Anthony Edward Stark, get up."
He groaned and reached for the blankets, only to have his hand slapped away. Keeping his eyes tightly closed, he raised his head and asked, "What time is it?"
"Time for you to get out of bed. Natasha told me what happened last night. Anything to say for yourself, Tony?"
"I had a good time, up until the blood thing." Tony sat up, rubbing his eyes and ignoring the stab of pain from his arm. He glanced down at it, dismissing the bandage and the pain before looking around the rest of his room. Pepper was standing in front of him, arms folded, entirely unimpressed. He almost expected her to start yelling, but she just shook her head and walked away. With a quick look to the clock, he frowned and pulled himself out of bed, intending to go down to the kitchen and get something to eat. His head swam momentarily and he groaned again, clutching at his throbbing skull and quietly wondering why he still bothered getting up without anyone to force him. Well, he knew why, but that was beside the point. Grabbing yesterdays pants, which he seemed to have removed before he got into bed the night before, and a shirt that had been thrown over his dresser, he began the laborious task of getting dressed. Punctuated with muttered profanity and cries of pain.
Down in the kitchen everything was quiet, as Natasha was the only one awake already and preferred to spend her mornings in silence. He began to make the beginnings of something breakfast-ish, before remembering he'd had no coffee yet. Tony reached for the coffeepot and turned to grab his mug, only to find himself face-to-face with Banner. Jumping backwards with a yelp, he dropped the apple he'd been clutching in one hand and froze at the look on Bruce's face.
"Bruce, buddy. What's up?"
"Blood in my lab, Tony. Care to explain?" Bruce usually had an excellent poker face when it came to how he felt. It didn't seem like this was going to be such a time, because he was giving Tony a look that made use of the phrase if looks could kill. Tony secretly suspected he'd been having lessons off Maria Hill or even Fury himself to perfect that look.
"First off, it's not your lab, it's my lab. You just happen to use it most. Second, didn't Agent Tattletale over there tell you already?" He gestured to Natasha, who was sitting at the counter with a newspaper in one hand and coffee in the other. She didn't look up from what she was reading, merely tilting her head with the tiniest smirk.
"She's a spy, Tony, she tells secrets for a living. But I'd much rather hear your side of the story." Bruce's tone had shifted from annoyed to sarcastic. Tony didn't really understand what the problem was. Bruce was a pushover with everything until someone or something screwed with his lab, and it seemed what he'd done (he tried to claim that "it wasn't even that much blood, Banner, seriously") constituted 'screwing with the lab'. He got to sit through a twenty-minute lecture on how there were several delicate experiments currently inside that lab and possible contamination to any of them could have disastrous results, continuing on with how expensive some of the equipment was and no, Tony, just because you can afford to replace it does not mean you should actively seek out to destroy it. It didn't end until everyone, including Pepper, had joined them in the kitchen. Once he was done, Bruce looked reasonably satisfied with his rant, and somewhat pleased no one had even implied he might be close to hulking out.
"Anybody got plans for today?" Tony had stopped listening halfway through the rant, already distracted by an idea forming in his mind.
"We're confined to the tower, Stark, you know we don't have any plans." Steve was slicing a banana over his cereal, already feeling apprehensive by the look on Tony's face. Tony's expression turned positively gleeful at the reminder, and as he poured himself a coffee, he turned to grin at the rest of the room.
"Then I suggest, my fellow Avengers and associates...we have a water fight."