AN:

Like I said - I cut it up kinda strange, sorry for that. Seemed like a good idea at 2 in the morning. Let me know what you think, and I hope you were at least mildly entertained!

"I hate ties…"

"So you've mentioned. Stop squirming."

"Hate the press, too."

"I'm well aware. Do you want this thing to actually choke you?"

Clint let out a breath, eyes scanning the area warily while trying to avoid any actual eye contact. Natasha was attempting to fix his tie for what was probably the fifth time since they'd left the Tower. He still wasn't sure how Tony had gotten his measurements – and wasn't really sure he wanted to know – but the light grey suit had appeared in his room the night before and, despite protests, Natasha had insisted he actually wear it. She stepped back after a moment, examining her work before nodding curtly.

"Now if you'll stop tugging at it –" a deft hand swatted his away from where it had gone to do just that – "you might actually pass for respectable." He managed a chuckle, glancing her over quickly. The dress she'd procured from who-knew-where was a lot more modest than what he'd seen her wear on jobs, but even then, it was Natasha. He'd heard Tony mutter once that sweatpants could border on immodest with her, and he didn't exactly disagree.

"Hard to manage if I'm being compared to you all the time. I'd almost forgotten how nicely you clean up."

The woman rolled her eyes, though she did seem to be smiling. Almost, at least, and he'd take almost. "Speak for yourself, Robin Hood. It's a novelty just seeing you with sleeves."

Clint had some kind of retort in mind – he was sure he did – but it was cut short when Tony's voice somehow carried over the rest of the low babble. "Hey, lovebirds!"

The archer had to pause a moment, praying to whoever would listen that there weren't any cameras near enough to pick that up. They were still technically backstage, so it was unlikely, but knowing his luck… He turned, not too surprised at how easy it was to find Tony amidst the crowd, and raised an eyebrow at the gesturing. "Quit preening, you look fine. We're on. And where the hell is Rogers – if he's late again, I swear…"

Dammit… This entire thing had seemed like a terrible idea from the start, and now every single doubt was rushing back from wherever he'd managed to store them on the ride over. Press conferences were not his thing. Tony did the press. Steve could handle them alright, which probably came from all those shows he'd done during the war. Thor was loud and ornate, so the reporters loved him no matter what he said. Bruce had learned how to keep a low profile even with cameras pointed at him, and no one was ever too abrasive around a guy who had the potential to grow some four feet in a matter of seconds. Natasha could handle whatever was thrown at her, be it press conferences or collapsing buildings. At this point, Clint felt he'd take the collapsing building.

That wouldn't make them go away, though. Fury had tried pulling the information back, redacting what they could, making deals with whoever would listen, but it hadn't worked. They had kept the really damaging stuff from getting out; any reports of Clint in Stuttgart were gone, and the rumors of his involvement with Loki had been squashed. That didn't keep the basic facts from spreading across the world in a matter of days. That archer who had fought alongside the super-powered against the alien invaders was just an ex-carnie who'd been sort of popular back in the day. No powers, no enhanced strength, no armored suit – just a bow and some trick arrows and a pretty damn good aim.

They knew. SHIELD had done all it could, but they knew, and they weren't going away, and he'd been given instructions to "handle it as it comes and leave our name out of it." No one had mentioned, however, that 'handling it' would involve a press conference.

It took Natasha nudging his arm to pull Clint back to the present and a small encouraging nod to get his legs to cooperate. The noise of the crowd seemed weirdly muffled when he was steered into the light and he barely noticed that Bruce was already sitting, surprisingly at ease with the situation, and that Thor was chatting animatedly with a reporter who'd gotten lucky enough to stand by the stage.

There was a slight change in the murmurs when people noticed him and a few cameras shifted to blink in his direction. Clint made himself look up and meet a few eyes, because hell if he was going to be intimidated by news casters or whoever the hell these were. It wasn't that he was bad with crowds – he'd grown up performing in front of crowds, he did demonstrations for the trainees back at base – but these people were expecting an entirely different performance. They wanted him to talk, to look presentable, to convince them that he belonged on a team with some of the most powerful people in the world. He vaguely noticed he was pulling at his tie again when a small hand closed around his wrist and pulled it back down.

"Let's hope Stark keeps his shirt on for this one, huh?" Natasha murmured, keeping a carefully polite smile in place as she waved vaguely at the crowd. The man found himself grinning and felt some of the tension melt away, letting her lead him to the chairs that were so carefully lined up. Bruce glanced up quickly, nodding as they sat down before he returned his attention to the far wall.

"They're not gonna make me talk, are they?" Clint asked after a moment, voice low and his arms folding to keep himself from fidgeting too much. His partner shrugged one shoulder.

"First time they've seen us all together since Manhattan. I'll be surprised if they don't ask a question or two. It's not like you have to answer, but…" She shot him a look that might have been sympathetic or challenging or some odd mixture of the two. "They'll like you more if you do."

"Hell if I care if they like me…"

"Yes you do." The words were so matter-of-fact that he glanced down at her in surprise. She was scanning the crowd critically, but there were the hints of a real smile on her face this time. "You always do. And they will." Anything further was cut off when Tony strode on, followed by Steve who looked slightly harried as if he had indeed been running late. When he turned toward the lights, though, somehow all traces of that vanished and it was as if he had meant to look exactly as he did.

It was easy to tell who the crowd knew best; ever since it had been revealed that Steve was indeed the same Captain America from the war, he'd been getting as much publicity as Tony, and it was no different here. With the combination of both men at once, the noise level swelled considerably for a few moments before the billionaire waved it back down to a low mutter as Steve took his seat and Thor excused himself to re-join the others.

"Alright, alright, calm down. I know we're all stunning, but..." There was scattered laughter and the people fell quiet, settling behind their various cameras and notepads and microphones as each and every one zeroed in on Tony. "We all appreciate the turn out - or most of us do, anyway." He shot a pointed look toward Bruce and Clint. The crowd laughed again. How the hell does he do that? Maybe it just came with practice, but Tony looked just as much at ease in the spotlight as he did telling a story at dinner. "I know there's been a lot of rumors flying around since Manhattan. Who we are, who we work for, what hair products Mr. God-of-Thunder uses...so we're gonna clear some things up."

They ended up moving down the line, which made Clint extremely glad he was next-to-last. Tony seemed to be acting as a moderator of sorts. He picked the reporters to ask their questions, kept things moving at a decent pace, and made sure the audience laughed on occasion. From the limited amount that he was processing, Clint noted that everyone seemed to be sticking with a very short introduction and then just left the people to their questions. He knew the official story to stick with, but he had no idea how the hell he was supposed to introduce himself.

Clint Barton - ex-carnie, no idea how I got here...

I know a bow is outdated, but it works, really...

Clint Barton, used to be a contract assassin, working for the guys who kept me out of prison...

Hell, he was bad at this. He wasn't even sure who he was supposed to be at this point, let alone who he actually was. Blue eyes glanced over the rest of the team briefly as he considered it. At Tony, who'd opened up his place to house them all and had yet to really complain about it, who somehow knew Clint didn't own a suit, and had gone to the trouble of getting him one. Steve, who didn't sleep much, was always willing to go a few rounds in the middle of the night, and who wasn't nearly as good at laser tag as most would think. Thor, who had been raised a prince and, apart from his word choice, never really acted like it, and who would get into loud one-sided arguments with the characters in horror movies. Bruce, who never resented the people who still feared him, and who could put away as much pizza as Steve. Natasha, who had been his partner for years, who had stuck with him at his lowest points, and who had been the only family he had since Coulson's death.

Maybe that had changed, though. Clint blinked a few times at the realization, barely noticing that he had stood once Bruce sat down. It hadn't been a long time, relatively, that he'd lived with this group, but he trusted them more than a lot of the agents he'd worked with for years. If Fury had his way, they were sort of stuck with each other for a while. It was a weird thing to realize that, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing.

"Seems all that building-jumping's gotten his head stuck in the clouds." Tony's voice cut into his thoughts and the archer blinked again, glancing over curiously. "You with us, buddy?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm...sorry about that." Focus, Barton. Clint pulled in a breath and squared his shoulders a little as he faced the crowd. Introductions. Who are you? Hell, it felt weird actually knowing. "My name's Clint Barton and, despite their better judgment..." He found himself grinning as he glanced over the team again, found himself actually liking the word 'team'. "I'm an Avenger."