Rule #2

Agents Barton and Romanoff are only permitted to be alone in an enclosed room together if the curtains are closed (blinds, shuttered), all doors are locked, and the security cameras are disabled.

Tony sat in his lab, completely bored out of his mind.

He couldn't sleep, and Pepper had banned him from taking any aids. She insisted that they only made him grouchier in the morning. So he sat in his swivel chair in his pajamas, idly watching the security footage. JARVIS was very good at keeping intruders out (minus the Coulson security breach), so the purpose was mostly to bore him into losing consciousness.

There were six screens, and five cross-sections on each screen. Tony flipped to the footage from earlier that day on the communal floor. He snickered blearily at Cap getting startled by something unseen by the camera; probably Dum-E wandering around. Hawkeye was cooking breakfast, mixing an enormous bowl of blueberry waffle batter. Tony's stomach growled at little, remembering the deliciousness of those waffles that morning

Yawning, he was vaguely aware that Natasha walked into view, and slid her arms around her partner. Tony's eyes fluttered shut, with a definite feeling of mentally sinking into black velvet.

Sometime later, a loud moan suddenly jolted him out of his (finally acquired) sleep, Tony's initial reaction was extreme annoyance. Then he looked back at the screen and promptly fell out of his chair.

"JARVIS! Shut off the computers!" The display went black. Tony hauled himself to his feet and rubbed his eyes forcefully, swearing under his breath. "And Jarvis…schedule that mixer for incineration."

Upon finding him slightly traumatized at his workbench, Pepper had brought Tony back to bed and allowed him to take a spoonful of melatonin. She'd sleepily rolled her eyes when he explained what he saw and wrapped his arms around her middle. The contact lulled them both to sleep quickly.

So Tony was understandably annoyed when he awoke to someone knocking vehemently at his bedroom door at nine AM. Grumbling, he dragged himself out of his comfortably warm (but unfortunately empty) bed to deal with whoever interrupted his much-needed sleep.

He opened the door to reveal Steve scowling at him.

"Captain, what could I possibly have done to aggravate you before even waking up this morning?" Tony blearily asked in a sleep-rough voice.

"The kitchen is quarantined, Tony," Steve replied. "You may be asleep, but some of us are awake and hungry, so please tell me why there's a crew disinfecting the kitchen like there's a biohazard? And when will they be finished?"

Tony rubbed his eyes, both out of sleepiness and the unwelcome memories Steve just triggered from the previous night. "Okay, Cap, first, you're exaggerating. They're doing a thorough and necessary cleaning. Don't interrupt me. Second, that kitchen was contaminated. Go to the Starbucks down the street and get some pastries and sandwiches."

"What?"

"Or yogurt, if sandwiches aren't your thing."

Steve gave a frustrated sigh. "How was the kitchen contaminated, Tony?"

"Our in-house assassins should really keep it in the bedroom and away from where everyone eats."

Steve gave him a wary look, realization dawning. "You mean they were – "

" – they were having a lot of wild, violent sex in the kitchen that I've never dreamed of." Tony finished. "Scratch that, never had nightmares about."

The Captain looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Do you want any coffee while I'm out?"

Tony didn't even try to keep his eyes open. "S'alright, won't do me any good. You'll have the kitchen back by lunchtime."

"Go back to bed, Tony."

"Hey, Barton."

"Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes, Tony." Clint's eyes didn't move from the chicken he was chopping. Tony eyed the knife in his hand apprehensively, reconsidering. Then he looked back at the pristine state of the common kitchen.

"Those were some damn good blueberry waffles the other day. Just magnificent."

"Thanks. But tonight is stir fry, there are vegetables, and Pepper's going to make sure you eat them." Clint still focused on his task at hand. He scraped his meat into the wok on the stove.

"Hey, I'm just giving you a compliment," Tony said, sipping his ever-present coffee. "Because that breakfast was very good, orgasmic even."

Stirring the sauce, Clint side-eyed Tony with a smirk. "If you're trying to tell me why this kitchen is suddenly spotless, I figured it out quite quickly when the Captain got red-faced asking how I took my coffee this morning."

Tony felt like gagging. "While I commend you on your – choice of partner, there are cameras. Everywhere. Not that any of us superheroes could actually force you two to stop romping in public places, but I highly doubt Natasha would appreciate being filmed."

Clint looked at Tony steadily. "Well played, Stark. But – she doesn't care about the cameras. We just never dreamed that you actually bothered with your security tapes."

Tony swallowed, feeling very torn inside. "I'm…going to try to not think about that. Just please…I don't care if it's in the bedroom or the bathroom or the goddamn elevator, just please keep it private. And away from anyone's eyes."

Clint rolled his eyes but mock-saluted with his spatula.

"And by eyes, I mean human or intelligent organic life or my AI system. As in cameras."

The last few…years have been hectic to say the least. And while this story is now WAY outdated, I still am going to keep writing it under the presumed reality back in 2013. (Wherein they all may be living in the tower and Hawkeye isn't married, even though his family is so adorable .)

Either way, hope you like.

-Reyna S.