One breezy October morning, two scientists were hard at work in their lab. One, Tony Stark, was bent over a dangerous-looking contraption, which somewhat resembled a paper snowflake, except for the fact that it was clearly made of metal. The other, Bruce Banner, appeared to be engaged in the blueprints for said snowflake, that, if one had the knowledge and inclination, would seem to indicate that the object would, eventually, become A.I. integrated and possibly make coffee.
There were, however few people who could figure this out, and the men who had just entered were not two of them.
"Master Stark," a voice announced from the ceiling, "You have two visitors waiting at the door."
"Who are they?" Tony asked, mild curiosity in his voice.
"They claim to be federal Agents Young and Scott. I am currently running facial scans."
The genius went back to his tinkering as he waited for his A.I. to finish the scan.
"Ah. No Agents Young or Scott on file at FBI headquarters. Facial scans match Sam and Dean Winchester, thought dead several times. Wanted by the FBI for multiple crimes including murder, kidnapping, assault, and grave desecration. However, there are inconsistencies in the incidents."
J.A.R.V.I.S. pulled up the files without being prompted. Tony had clearly expected no less.
"Huh. Vigilantes."
"What?" Bruce asked, turning from the plans for the first time.
"The Winchesters," Tony told him, seemingly expecting that to explain everything. Seeing his friend's confusion, he added, "I'll explain after you talk to them. J.A.R.V.I.S., let them in."
The loyal computer obeyed.
Two tall men came in, walking purposefully. And yeah, most people would have taken them for what they claimed to be, but neither Bruce nor Tony was most people. Even without J.A.R.V.I.S.'s warning, they would have noticed things, like the fact that they looked far too similar to not be related, that they wore slightly-too-cheap suits with the kind of discomfort that said they weren't used to this, that the shorter walked slightly in front of the other, walking with grace that spoke of long practice in mirroring his brother's movements.
"Hello," the elder began, "I'm Agent Scott and this Agent Young. We'd like to ask you a few questions about Ms. Potts' death?"
Bruce glanced at Tony, noting his slight inhale and the stiffening of his body. If he didn't know better, he would have said that his friend was unaffected by his girlfriend's demise, but he did. He'd held Tony as he cried after they found Pepper's body, brutally torn apart in the bedroom. Had woken the genius from nightmares every night since.
As always, Tony responded with his natural defence – wit. "Wow," he started breezily, "and psychiatrists find me fascinating."
Their two guest exchanged glances, and Bruce guessed that now was the time to intervene.
"Ignore him," he told them. "And don't take it personally – he offends everyone equally. I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, and this is Tony Stark. Perhaps we should take this up to the lounge?"
"Right," 'Young' responded. "Thank you."
"Tony, shut down anything explosive, would you? And where's Clint? Clint!"
"Right here," came a muffled voice from the ceiling. "I'm coming."
A moment later, the same voice said rather sheepishly, "Actually, I think I might be stuck."
Bruce inhaled deeply. Bruce counted to ten. Bruce waited until he was sure he wouldn't go green before saying, admirably calmly, he felt, "Right. Tony, get Clint out of the ceiling, finish up here and meet us in the lounge. I'll expect you in twenty minutes."
He turned, and, ushering the two supposed agents out, left the lab. He led the guests through the elevator and into the lounge upstairs, decorated in cool whites and greys with huge windows and lush houseplants scattered around. They sat, rather uncomfortably, on the white leather sofa, startling when J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice spoke from, it appeared, thin air.
"Dr. Banner," the cultured British tones stated, "it appears that Master Stark has gotten himself stuck in the air vents with Mr. Barton."
To his visitors, Bruce said matter-of-factly, "I wish I could tell you you came on a bad day, but this is really rather routine."
"So, Dr. Banner," The elder started, when a tall figure in green and gold amour appeared in the middle of the room. Loki ignored the two 'agents' completely, turning instead to the highly put-upon scientist.
"Look, mortal! Have you ever seen anything more adorable than these little fuzzballs in your pitiful little life?"
"Kittens?" Bruce sighed. At this point, he supposed, he really should have been expecting something like this. "Put them in the air vents with Tony and Clint," he said sarcastically, "at least then all my problems will be in one place."
"As you say," and Loki popped out.
"Wait, not literally," Bruce exclaimed, but it was too late. He sighed and turned to the two increasingly confused men. "What were you saying?"
Before either could answer, a slim teenage boy came in (the normal way this time, thankfully. Bruce's guests were looking rather twitchy).
"Hey, Dr. Banner. What's up?"
"Peter!" Bruce exclaimed in relief. "Thank heavens. Can you go down to the lab and get Clint, Tony and the kittens out of the air vents? Then make sure they're decent and bring them in here. Thank you."
Looking puzzled, the teen did as he asked.
"Now, gentlemen," Bruce started, before being interrupted yet again, this time by J.A.R.V.I.S.
"Dr. Banner, there has been a malfunction with the web fluid. It would appear that Mr. Parker has gotten himself stuck in the vents with Master Stark, Mr. Barton and several kittens."
This was finally the last straw. Bruce felt his control slipping away, away, and everything went fuzzy. He felt his clothes ripping, and the last thing he saw before his vision went dark was the two agents standing and drawing guns.