8. The dew that flies

"Doctor?"

Bruce let out a soft groan, swallowing around the cottony feeling in his mouth. He stretched, pinching the bridge of his nose, dislodging his skewed glasses.

"Doctor Banner?" Bruce blinked up at the figure hovering over him and a small smile curled his lips.

"Morning Thor," he mumbled, sitting up slowly.

"Forgive me for disturbing you, my friend," He offered contritely. "But my dear Jane insisted that you would be most aggrieved to miss the results of your latest experiment." Bruce blinked at him with a dazed expression.

"Damn," he murmured softly. "Is it eight already?"

"It is just after seven thirty," Thor replied, his voice much softer than was usual, he glanced to the sofa with a concerned look. "Is Hawkeye unwell?" Bruce looked down at the man still asleep beside him on the sofa.

"He's been having trouble sleeping," Bruce explained, his brow furrowing in consideration. "I was sitting up with him." Clint was curled up, one knee almost to his chest and his arms tangled around the throw pillow his face was pressed into. He looked much younger than Bruce could ever remember seeing him.

He should stay. It was the only thing that Bruce could think really. That he should stay with Clint. Jane could record the data without him, his presence or otherwise wouldn't affect the results. He should stay.

"I am pleased to see that sword brothers on Midgard still keep vigil over one another," Thor said with satisfaction, a kind smile on his face. Bruce glanced up at him curiously.

"Is that a… thing on Asgard?" he questioned.

"I have passed many nights in the great hall of the Allfather," Thor stated as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "The warriors of Asgard often take their rest in each other's company so that even their dreams may be defended from darkness."

"I guess it's kind of fallen out of fashion here," Bruce admitted. "It's a shame really, most of us would probably sleep better if we knew there was someone to watch our backs."

"It is a shame," Thor murmured with sad agreement. "It is well you stayed with Hawkeye, he has been much troubled these past few days."

"You picked up on that," Bruce observed with a sigh. "I honestly didn't notice. I found him here trying to force himself not to sleep. I told him I'd wake him if he dreamed."

"Do you wish for me to watch over him while you attend to your work, Doctor?" Thor offered.

"I… my work isn't going anywhere," Bruce admitted a little reluctantly.

"Nor am I," Thor observed. Bruce seemed to consider it a moment before giving him a hesitant smile, nodding as he clambered to his feet.

"What does he dream?" Thor asked as Bruce headed toward the elevator. He turned back to find the Asgardian gently tucking a blanket around Clint's shoulders.

"Loki," Bruce answered, his brow knitting in sympathy as Thor's face fell. The blond only nodded, settling on the floor, his shoulder against the sofa so that he could watch Clint's face.

Bruce turned down the hall. He had calculations to run.

"Hawkeye."

Clint bolted upright on the couch, his eyes wide. A hand came to rest on his arm and he jumped.

"Forgive me my friend," Thor apologized, withdrawing his hand with a chagrinned look. "I did not mean to startle. Doctor Banner asked me to wake you if your dreams threatened to disturb your sleep." Clint stared at him a long moment before drawing in a shaking breath.

"It's okay," he said finally, running his fingers through his hair. "I'm okay, you… The dream had barely started." He let out a sound that might have been amusement if he weren't breathless.

"You have this dream often?" Thor asked, his hand returning to Clint's arm. The archer hesitated a moment as if he'd meant to blow off the question and then changed his mind.

"Yeah," he said reluctantly, nodding.

"I am so sorry, my brother," Thor declared gently.

"Thor, it's not your fault," Clint protested.

"Nor is it yours," Thor stated. "and yet I see it weighs heavily on you even as my own part weighs on me. There are so many things I might have done differently, paths I would have taken if only I had known where they would lead."

"Too bad it doesn't work that way," Clint sighed. Thor nodded in agreement. Clint stared down at his hands, they were no longer shaking and he smiled in spite of himself.

"The things I dream," Clint admitted finally. "I didn't know there was that much darkness inside my head."

"The magic Loki employed is some of the most powerful I have ever encountered," Thor admitted. "It had the power to warp even my own mind and I was barely in contact with it. I can not imagine the horrors it might inflict on someone long exposed to it."

"It affected you?" Clint asked in wonder. Thor only nodded, the pair of them falling into silence.

"How do you… fight off magic like that?" Clint questioned finally.

"You do not," Thor shook his head. "It is truly malevolent in nature and has been against all of our laws for centuries before my own lifetime. There is no way to counteract it, and eventually it will consume the mind and destroy the body if it is not lifted."

"You've seen this kind of thing before," Clint stated, his eyes sad.

"I have seen warriors of Asgard crumple under such assaults," Thor admitted with a pained expression. "I have seen them powerless to resist as their very souls are torn from them. It is a sight I hope to never witness again." Clint's brow furrowed and Thor gave him a gentle smile, squeezing his arm.

"You should try to sleep," Thor coaxed. "It is barely nine in the morning and you have had little rest."

"I feel pretty good actually," Clint admitted, stretching his shoulders. His stomach rumbled and his face broke into a proper smile. "And hungry, apparently."

"Come, the Captain left waffles in the kitchen for you," Thor declared, hauling him to his feet and steering him toward the stairs.

"Thor?" Clint looked up at the other man. "thanks."

"Always, my friend," Thor answered, draping an arm around Clint's shoulders.

Bruce rolled his shoulders tiredly, staring at the k-cup machine as hot tea ran in rose colored rivulets into his mug. It wasn't his preferred method of making tea, but he'd emptied out the box in his lab today and the one in his suite the night before. He needed to stop forgetting to tell JARVIS about his shopping. The machine gave out a hiss and he scooped up the mug, pressing stiff fingers to its sides.

It had been a productive day. Phase one of "Project Soul Forge" as Jane and Tony had dubbed it, had performed adequately. The explosion had been small and no one had been injured which was far better than expected. If the design modifications worked as planned they'd be one up on combating future alien infections, and maybe a few really crazy domestic ones.

In the long term, the quantum field generator would hopefully mean more effective treatment for cancer and neuromuscular disease. With any luck it would be fully functional before Clint's current prosthetic would need to be replaced in a few years. It would feel good to be able to offer him a permanent cure.

Bruce paused at the top of the first flight of stairs. Tony and Betty had left the lab hours ago. Jane had collapsed on the couch in her lab twenty minutes prior, her body finally giving out under the punishing hours. Most of the others were probably asleep at this time of night as well. He hadn't really seen most of them today. Still.

"JARVIS, did Clint turn in yet?" Bruce asked, his voice seeming to cary in the silence.

"He is in the living room, doctor," the AI replied.

"Right where I left him," Bruce muttered, his expression turning sour. His mind made up, he turned, heading down the short hall. As he approached the bar his frown deepened. The room was very nearly dark, and almost completely silent. He could here a soft rustling, sounds of breathing, but there was no familiar flicker of a television of sounds of voices.

He rounded the corner, pausing in surprise and he slowly circled the long sofa so that he had a better view, a smile tugging at his lips.

Thor was wedged against one arm of the sofa, Clint's head pillowed on his chest. Clint's long legs were draped over Steve, who was splayed in the middle of the couch, his feet on the coffee table, his hand resting on Tony's head where the billionaire was sprawled along the other end of the sofa, his feet propped up on the opposite arm. On the second sofa Natasha was curled up under the tatty afghan that always seemed to appear as if by magic. She looked up from the book she was reading with a sly smile, pressing a finger to her lips. Bruce fought down a chuckle.

Natasha's expression softened and she glanced at the empty end of her sofa before offering him an expectant look. Bruce's eye swept over the scene once more and a gentle smile curled his own lips.

For a moment he wondered how it had happened, if it had been by design or default but it really didn't matter. The Avengers were puppy-piled in the living room, mostly fast asleep and would likely stay there until morning.

Natasha shook her head as if in amusement before returning her attention to her novel. Bruce allowed himself a small smile before settling against the opposite arm, tucking his tablet against his side and leaning back, just enjoying the peacefulness.

His cup was nearly empty when Natasha stretched. Her motions were fluid as she dogeared the page of the ratty paperback and shoved it in between the cushions before rolling over, her auburn head pressed into the corner as she neatly tucked her feet beneath his calves. Bruce smiled. reaching down to straighten the quilt as he set his cup aside. It was less than a minute later and she was asleep.

For a long time he simply watched his team, his family for all intents and purposes, and if his eyes watered a little, well, he was probably tired. It had been a long day. Thor stirred, his arm slipping off the back of the sofa to settle around Clint's chest. A few minutes later, Tony shifted, digging his head into Steve's thigh.

Bruce retrieved his tablet, fishing his headphones from his pocket as he turned it on.

"JARVIS, could you do me a favor?" he whispered into the stillness.

"Of course, Doctor," the AI's muted voice murmured back over his headphones.

"I need you to pull up the surveillance footage of Ross's attack on our gym," he stated, biting his lip. His heart rate jumped a little and he drew in a calming breath, willing himself to relax.

"The secure footage, Doctor?" JARVIS asked skeptically. There was a pause that would have been nervous in a human. "Are you quite sure?"

Bruce looked up, his eyes landing on Clint. The archer had twisted around in his sleep until he was very nearly hugging Thor, his, for once, peaceful face scrunched against the broad chest.

"It's now or never," Bruce declared softly to himself. "I'm sure, JARVIS, queue it up."