IMPORTANT NOTE:

The events of Iron Man 3 take place in December; however, to better fit my plotline, I've decided to postpone those events until May, 2013. I know, it's annoying but it'll be better this way. Trust me.

My dear, faithful readers, I need your help. I really want to try to get this story to 100 reviews before chapter fourteen. So, please, if you like the story, tell your friends! And tell them to review if they like it – or if they don't, review and say why! It would mean a great deal to me and I will love you all forever, even more so than I already do. 'Cause you guys are awesome.

As usual, major thanks to everyone supporting this story, including but not limited to: Dasiygirl95, MME, GirlWithAWritersSoul, Gina-B-ookworm, Miss RaeFox, Not. So. Typical. Girl., and Ilovestoriesandfanfic. I love that you love this story. I love it, too. And, I think Georgia and Clint would love us back. So it's a win-win.

This one is a bit shorter but, after the intensity of the last chapter, I figured you guys could use some laughs. The next chapter will pick up with the Natasha/Georgia/Clint show-down. Hope you enjoy!

Enjoy.

June 9th, 2013

"Stark, can I talk to you for a second?"

Something was amiss with the Capt'n. First off, he never, never went to Tony for advice. Bruce – absolutely. Clint – sure. Natasha – maybe, if he were desperate. But Tony? Steve Rogers would rather carve out his own eyes with toothpicks than seek help from Tony Stark.

And yet.

This had been Tony's opportunity to delve deep inside the man with the invincible ticker, to see the inner workings of the man his father raved about his entire childhood. But, as usual, Tony screwed it up.

"Sure thing, Captain."

Steve cleared his throat, swallowing thickly. "I um-"

"Time's up."

The Captain coughed, "I'm sorry, what?"

"You said you wanted to talk for a second. Time's up."

"Well, I meant-"

"Do you want to talk for more than a second?"

Now, lock-jawed and steely eyed, Rogers was beyond pissed at Tony's antics – but, really, what else did he expect? – and was storming out of Tony's office, ducking through the lab and headed for the elevator. Tony rushed out of his office, hot on the heels of America's super soldier. "Cap, wait up! Oh, come on, Rogers! I can help! Whatever you need, buddy! I'm here for you!"

And, much to Stark's surprise, Steve did wait. He paused just outside the elevator doors, finger poised over the button. Jarvis spoke to the Captain. "Sir, shall I call the lift for you?"

Tony shot a glare into the air. His nose wrinkled. "Not now, Jarvis."

Rogers turned to him and Tony blinked, startled at the ridiculously vulnerable expression on the Captain's face. "Steve is that…is that guilt I see?"

Steve frowned. He thrust his hands into the pocket of his khakis and sighed. "I need help…breaking up with Melissa."

Tony clutched his hand to his chest, right over his heart. He gave a half-smile. "And you thought of me. Steve, I have to say, I'm touched."

"Well, I've heard you have a lot of practice with this kind of thing."

"Truer words were never spoken, Cap. But, um, quick question, who's Melissa, again?"

Captain America's gaze narrowed. Unbelievable. Tony had met Melissa three times now and Steve had often talked about her and- but, again, what else did he expect? He was talking to Tony Stark. Tony Stark. Grinding his teeth, Steve managed to choke out, his dignity shattering a little more with each word, "The girl from the bet."

If Tony's smile had been any brighter, he would've blinded the state of New York.

May 1st, 2013

It was the first time the Avengers had been invited to Tony's home in Malibu. Well, the Avengers save for Clint. Good ole Hawkeye had refused to come on account of things between him and Romanoff were still on the rocks. The assassins refused to discuss their quarrel, leaving the others to guess. Tony assumed they were having a lovers spat and, to escape Natasha, Barton was holed up somewhere beating terrorists to a pulp with bare fists and shooting nukes out of the sky with arrows. Ironically, Tony couldn't have timed the weekend better because, unbeknownst to him, a little terrorist called the Mandarin was going to blow up said Malibu home within a week. But that's another story for another time.

"What's going on?" asked Pepper, as she watched Tony slap his wallet down on the table, Bruce and Colonel Rhodes fighting to contain their laughter on either side of the billionaire. The boys were lounging in the living room and Pepper was bringing them refills on their refreshments. Natasha was seated across from the cackling trio, Steve on the chase beside her, the Captain's face crimson. The Black Widow rolled her eyes at her teammates, "Steve has been seeing a young woman for roughly a month now and the boys are taking bets on how long he'll wait to sleep with her."

"Tony!" Pepper chided. Her lover/co-worker/child grinned. Tony shrugged innocently, "There's no shame in waiting. You know, I once waited a month for a girl."

"Was it a bet? Did you wait a month to win a bet?" snickered Bruce.

"Clever, doctor," sneered Tony. "But, no, she was…uh, never mind."

"What, Tony?" Bruce insisted. Natasha, eyeing the money splayed across the table top, asked, "Was she seventeen and eleven-months-old?"

Tony's eyes widened in alarm. "How did you know?" he admitted before realizing that Pepper was still in the room. "Um, sweetie, I can explain."

Pepper merely rolled her eyes. "Oh, whatever. You forget, Tony, I used to take out the trash around here. I've met all your dirty little secrets and had them escorted home."

June 9th, 2013

Yes, indeed, Tony remembered the girl from the bet. He grinned at his friend. "So what seems to be the problem, Cap? Last I heard, Melissa was a sweet girl and you two were like two straight-laced peas in a pod all but destined for the altar."

Steve blanched. "She is sweet, she's just…she's just driving me insane! She's too sweet, Tony. Always happy and laughing and she has the most annoyingly high-pitched laugh I've ever heard and…I mean, she has under garments with my face on them! It's…I just, I can't. Tony, this isn't funny! I can't stand being alone with her for more than half an hour, and after the first five minutes it's like torture. But I don't want to hurt her. She's a good woman and she's going to make a good wife one day, just not for me."

"I'm not sure what's better. A – the fact that you called them under garments. B- the fact that you've seen her under garments." Captain America flushed crimson. "Or, C – the fact that her 'under garments' have your pretty little mug on 'em."

"Tony, please take this seriously," Steve pleaded. "I don't…I don't know what to do."

And maybe it was the sad expression on the Capt'n's face, or the slightly begging tone to his usually self-assured voice, but either way, Tony's heart grew three sizes that day. He slung his arm around Steve's shoulders and gave him a confident clap on the arm. "Alright, buddy, here's what we've got to do."

April 1st, 2017

Georgia had already gone to work when he woke that morning. The scent of his wife still lingering on the sheets and pillows that surrounded him, Clint was content to waste away in bed for the remainder of the day. He'd had an exhausting week battling yet another strand of defective, back-alley, super human wannabes up near Detroit and, fuck, if Clint wasn't really starting to hate the doctor that create Steve's serum. No offense to the Captain, of course; he was just sick and tired of hunting down copy cats and fighting super-charged but super-defective bad guys.

"Stop thinking about work, Barton," he told himself. Rolling over, his rubbed his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. "You're home. Enjoy it."

That's when he noticed the present sitting at the foot of the bed on Georgia's side. Well, it wasn't much of a present. It was actually his Nikon with a blue bow on top. Sitting up, he lazily reached for his camcorder. "Wow, the camera that I already had. Really, G, you shouldn't have."

There was a sticky note attached to the lens. Play me. Georgia's sloppy, half-script, half-cursive words were written with a blue gel pen and Clint smirked. "What are you up to, G?"

Clint was a good soldier; he did what he was told and, after snatching off the obnoxious bow, pressed play. The black screen came to life. It was a video of Georgia. She was sitting on her knees in their bed, her gloriously long legs folded beneath her. She was wearing a baby-doll nightie that rode up her thighs. Her beautiful, dark locks spilled over her shoulders and framed her excited face. Someone must have been filming her. The camera angle was too high for the Nikon to have been on either of their dressers and she had already been in the shot which meant that she hadn't had to turn the camcorder on record.

His throat tightened possessively. Who the fuck had filmed this? She was in her fucking lingerie for Christ's sake.

"Hey, baby," she cooed into the camera. "I have some news! Now, don't be mad that Tasha found out before you, okay? You are still in Detroit right now but I'm just so excited I had to tell someone. Besides,

I needed her help to make this video."

The camera swiveled around and got a too close close-up of Tasha. "Hi."

The focus returned to Georgia and the tightness in his chest lessened. It was only Natasha. The camcorder zoomed in a degree and Georgia grinned happily at the camera. Her cheeks were flushed from her excitement as she withdrew a small, rectangular box from behind her. Based on its size and shape, Clint assumed it was an old necklace box and, when Georgia popped open the lid, she beamed, "Congratulations! You're going to be a father!"

Natasha zoomed in as far as she could to the little white, plastic object in his wife's hand. It was a used pregnancy test – little blue plus sign and all. Three times Clint's heart has stopped beating. This…this was the fourth time. "Holy fuck."

The camera pulled back and Georgia was practically hysterical she was smiling and beaming so hard, laughter beginning to bubble up her throat. "Just think about it! If we have a little boy, you and him can wear matching outfits and we can get him a little baby bow! And every Halloween he can dress up as you! Oh my goodness, won't that be so cute! And if it's a little girl, you can play the overprotective dad and threaten all the boys away and we can take her to ballet and gymnastics and get tee shirts that say, 'World's Best Dad' and 'Mom'!" she rambled joyfully. Then, she laughed and asked, "Aren't you super excited?! I know I am! And do you know why, Clint? Not because we're going to be parents, but because it's April 1st and you just got pranked!"

The camera jostled as Natasha set it on his dresser before joining Georgia in the frame. She dropped onto the bed beside his wife, the girls giggling and grinning at each other like fools. They smirked at the Nikon and then shouted, "Happy April Fools' Day!"

July 27th, 2013

Tony stared at his best friend inquisitively. His brow was drawn, his gaze suspicious. The billionaire's brain was in over-drive mode. Stark's pulse began to race. Beads of sweat materialized on his forehead and chest. Bruce rolled his eyes, "Cut it out, Tony. You're never going to guess so just start with the questions already."

The Iron Man released a giant breath he'd been holding. His face flushed red and he conceded. "Fine. Am I a person?"

Bruce smiled, pleased that Tony wasn't going to give him more grief. "Yes."

"Am I a man?"

"No."

"So I'm a woman?"

"Also, no."

Tony paused. "Am I Elton John?"

His best friend snickered. "Nope."

"Who's Elton John?" asked Steve as he passed through the den, making a bee-line for the kitchen; the Captain was sweaty from an early morning work-out session and he was starving. Tony glanced his way, "If only you'd asked that question at another time, Cap. You'd be getting a full rendition of 'Tiny Dancer' followed by 'Betty and the Jets'. Right now, unfortunately, I'm kind've in the middle of something here, and by something I mean destroying our dear Dr. Banner at twenty questions."

"Actually, you're down to sixteen now," Bruce pointed out. Tony fingered the rim of his Scotch glass, "And yet, I'll only need five."

Steve debated whether or not to stay and watch their little game. The scene looked promising, hilarity undoubtedly about to ensue. However, the hunger in his stomach was not to be ignored. If there was one thing he could do as a super human, it was eat. In the kitchen, Natasha sat at the bar with her back to him. She was munching on green apple slices and skimming through a pale folder – a S.H.I.E.L.D. file. A thin paring knife twirled in her grasp. It weaved elegantly in and out between her fingers so quickly that even he with all of his super senses would have missed it had he blinked.

"Good morning, Natasha," he said cheerfully. Approaching the cabinet, he withdrew the Bisquick and syrup before grabbing the milks, eggs, and butter from the refrigerator. Eggs – that was Steve's secret to perfect, fluffy pancakes. The Captain was efficient in his work. Within minutes he was pooling pancake batter into a skillet full of bacon grease, the kitchen basking in a delicious pan-bacony aroma. Once he'd cooked enough for himself, he called to the Black Widow over his shoulder and asked if she wanted him to fry her up a stack. When she didn't answer, Steve glanced her way. The knife was still dancing around her fingers.

The super soldier paused. She hadn't replied when he'd greeted her earlier, either. Was she ignoring him? Steve rethought his actions that week. Nothing stood out. Still, that knife was pretty intimidating, the woman holding it even more so. Hesitantly, he cleared his throat. "Um…Natasha?"

Nothing.

"She can't hear you."

Steve nearly jumped at the sound of Clint's voice. The assassin strutted into the kitchen, fetching a bottle of water from the freezer. He nudged Nat as he walked passed; well, if you could call that a nudge. More like he violent assaulted her shoulder. Romanoff's head lifted, red curls falling into her eyes. Her gaze immediately went to Steve, assuming that Clint was still pretending like she didn't exist since that whole kidnapping his girlfriend thing. Which really wasn't that big of a deal. Clint was just overreacting. Though, the Black Widow supposed, now he seemed willing to be in the same room as her. That, at least, was an improvement. "Did you say something?"

Steve frowned. "Why is she shouting?"

"Percussion grenade. She's partially deaf in both ears," explained Clint with an air of boredom.

"Oh, God," Steve murmured causing Hawkeye to roll his eyes. This little move didn't go unnoticed by the Captain and Steve's shoulders bowed up in defense. "Look, Barton, I don't know what has you and Natasha so out of sorts but she's still our team member and our friend. This is serious. She cou-"

"Don't be so dramatic," scoffed Clint, his tone clearly saying back-the-fuck-off. "It's temporary."

"Are you guys talking about me?" shouted Natasha.

"No," the men chorused. The Black Widow narrowed her gaze to deadly slits. The knife ceased to move, trapped between her thumb and forefinger. "I can read lips."

"Then why'd you ask?" snapped Clint, completely unfazed by his female counterpart's withering stare.

Both Steve and Natasha were instantly overwhelmed with surprise. That was the first time in months that Clint had spoken directly to Nat. Before either she or the Captain could speak, Hawkeye turned on his heels and slipped from the kitchen.

Steve nodded encouragingly. "Progress."

Natasha humpfed. "He's just-"

"Jarvis is a man!"

Eyebrows disappearing to his hair line, Steve faced the opening to the living room where Bruce was currently fending off a Tony Attack. "He's Artificial Intelligence, Tony!" defended Banner, arms coming up to protect himself as Tony launched an assault with a throw pillow from the sofa.

"Exactly!" the Iron Man roared. "He's Artificial Intelligence. He! Honestly, I had more faith in you, Bruce, but that's it. I want my friendship bracelet back."

Bruce froze. "You were serious about that? Tony, I…I threw that away like six month-"

"You threw it away?!"

"Maybe we should retreat from the blast zone in case this goes south," suggested Steve. Natasha looked at him, "Huh?"

Steve shook his head with a soft laugh, tucking his pancakes and syrup under his arm. He double checked that the stove was turned off and grabbed Natasha's hand. "C'mon."

They made like mad for the elevator just seconds before Tony climbed into the suit and Bruce started goin' green.

Hopefully, you guys saw the IMPORTANT NOTE at the beginning of the chapter. If not, go back and read that because its key to understanding the plotline.

Also, on chapter eleven, I asked if any of the readers wanted requests and I replied to most of them via PM but I couldn't do that for guest reviewers. So here it is…

To MME: You asked to see the wedding scene…that's a good one! I do have that but I'm not ready to post it yet. There's something big – huge – that's going to happen between G and Clint before the wedding and I want to explore that first. Now, as for how Georgia meets the rest of the group, I'm not so sure about that. She already sort of knows Tony (she works for him) and we just saw her meet Tasha. As for the rest, I'm toying around with the idea of Clint just bringing her to Stark Tower one day and being like, "Here she is. This is my girlfriend. This isn't weird or random at all. Deal with it." But…we'll see. Thanks for your review!