Hi! Okay, so chapter three. I wrote the majority of this thing after a horrible bout of insomnia that overpowered my sleeping pills, so just give me a heads up if it gets a little...sporadic.

Anyway! I have three votes for Tony/Clint and one for Natasha/Tony/Clint. The latter might be hard, but if enough people want, I can probably pull it off.

Disclaimer: don't own the characters.

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Confusion

Midway through August, Tony experienced the first parental living room discussion of his life. And it was just as horrible as Clint and Natasha described.

"We know, Tony," his mom was saying. "It's just that it's…Well, it's a little soon."

"It'll be six weeks by the time I go!"

His dad pinched the bridge of his nose. "We aren't saying you can't go, Tony," he said. "What we're saying is that we can't release you out on your own when you can barely run more than ten feet without getting winded."

While this was true, he refused to let a little lung scarring get in his way of going off the college. "It's not like I'm going to be living in a dorm," he said. "One of the apartments we looked at is right down the street from MIT and another one's right next to the T on Beacon Hill. Just say which one and I'll tell Clint, I swear."

After his parents shared one of those frustratingly unreadable looks, his dad said, "Steve and Peggy moved to Beacon Hill if he needs adult help. And Bruce lives somewhere in that area—"

"I'll check in with Steve and Peggy once a week or something," he cut in quickly before they could think about it too much, "and I'm probably going to run into Bruce or whatever his girlfriend's name is in school. I won't have to put up with a creepy possible roommate either, 'cause I'll have Clint and Natasha. I'll be fine."

He could see his dad bending, but his mom still looked unsure. "I really don't know," she said. "You don't know Boston the way you do New York, and if that starts stressing you out, Dr. Mira is going to put you on something else, and I thought we were trying to avoid that."

"I'll be fine," he repeated. "And since I'm a minor and everything, you can check on whether or not I'm going to therapy, right?" That wasn't exactly something that he liked, but by this point he was fishing for any reason he could think of. "See, so it's not like I'm going to have any privacy anyway."

"The only way you're going is if we set up some sort of communication," his dad said. "If something goes wrong, you have to call us, understand?" He nodded. "Good. And pick up your phone when we call. If you can't, call us back as soon as you're able."

"Howard, you can't be serious."

Before his dad could answer, he said, "I'll do all of that, I promise. And if I can't get in contact with you or something, I'll call another one of your friends who live closer. I'll sleep, too, and avoid caffeine and—"

"You've made your point, Tony," his dad said. "I'm saying you can go, but it's not unconditional. Maria?"

Though she didn't look happy about it, she answered, "Fine. But we're getting another psychological evaluation before you go. Deal?"

"Deal," he agreed because conditional was better than nothing at the moment and fighting wasn't going to help him at the moment. "Now can I go? Because I was in the middle of applying JARVIS and the ARC reactor to my computer."

He stood and looked at the clock above the television. "I have to go to work anyway," he said. "Tony, do me your mom a favor and don't install anything when she needs the electricity."

"Okay," he said, relieved even though it wasn't definite. As long as he didn't have another panic attack (or at least not one they found about), he was going to MIT in two weeks.

"You should go call your friends to let them know," his mom said, still not looking particularly happy. "Remember, Beacon Hill, Tony."

"I know, I know," he said, standing up and backing out of the room as quickly as he could. "Talk to you later."

"Tony—"

He left, pretending he hadn't heard her because even after a month, he wasn't used to the worrying. Then again, despite the possibility of not going to college, he'd rather take the worrying than the constantly trying to get their attention. Though he would never admit it to anyone, and barely admitted it to himself, they somehow made dealing with it easier.

When he reached his room, he went straight into his lab and said, "JARVIS, call Clint."

"Cell phone or home, sir?"

"Assume cell unless I ever specify otherwise," he answered, and a moment later his cell phone started ringing. He turned on his computer as the line clicked open and said, "Hey, so my parents and I were talking and they said we should try for Beacon Hill."

"No hi, how are you? You make me feel unloved, Tony." In the background he could hear the carnival music from Left 4 Dead 2.

"Sorry about that," he said. "Should we get Natasha online?"

"Sure. Switch to video chat?"

With a small smile, he said, "Works for me," because doing any changes was an excuse to use the AI and he wanted to make sure he'd rigged up everything correctly. "JARVIS, activate video chat on Comp. Two, and get Natasha online."

His computer beeped, and the call transferred, the real-time image of Clint with an Xbox controller in one hand popping up to one side with Natasha's blank square on the other. When her video clicked on, her hair was a wreck and clothes rumbled. "Assholes," she said, covering her mouth with her elbow as she yawned. "You guys woke me up. This better be important."

"It's about the apartment," Tony answered. "We decided on that one on Beacon Hill. JARVIS, is anything at risk from the ARC?"

"Everything is operational and shows no signs of changing."

Though she still looked exhausted, Natasha's face lit up at the sound of his AI's voice. "You didn't tell me he had a British accent," she said.

"There's no such thing a 'British' accent, Miss Romanoff. My inflections match that of Bristol, England."

The end level music played from Clint's square and he focused his attention back. "JARVIS can hear us?" he asked. "How?"

"You're essentially on speaker phone," he pointed out. "Anyway, about that apartment. Is Beacon Hill still good?"

Natasha worried her bottom lip. "I don't know," she answered. "I mean, it's pretty far from MIT, right? Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, the T's right there. Why?"

"It's underground."

"So?"

Bluntly, Clint said, "Tony, you had a panic attack because a ceiling was too low."

"The meds are supposed to fully kick in by next week. I'll be fine." He was starting to get sick of repeating himself so much, but it wasn't his fault that no one understood that, yeah, he was all right, getting back to normal, not about to break down any second. "Besides, I just spent the past forty-five minutes in a circular conversation trying to convince my parents that I was safe to go, and their condition is keeping it near adult supervision."

Clint's focus went back his game. "I'm going to need you when I call, Tony," he said. "Think you can get together today?"

"JARVIS, do I have anything I need to do?"

"Not that you put down, sir. Weather updates report an eight percent chance of thunderstorms, so whoever leaves should bring an umbrella."

Apparently his dad was right about the personality, which was both surprising and not surprising at all. "Can I come?" Natasha asked, rubbed her eyes.

"No, Natasha, you can't," Clint said. "You absolutely are not allowed to join in on the plans you created."

She scowled. "Shut up, I'm still like half-asleep," she said. "Where should we meet?"

"One of our houses," Tony answered. "And can it not be here? I need to get out."

"Do you feel up to leaving?" Clint asked. "I mean, physically. I get that your stir crazy right now, but—"

Before his friends could start getting into a worry cycle, he cut in, "Yeah, Mom, I'm positive. I'll just catch a cab."

Following another yawn, Natasha said, "Then you guys are coming here. There's no way I'm leaving my apartment today if I don't have to."

Even if it meant risking Mrs. Romanoff proclaiming that he needed to eat more and he was too skinny in her impossible to understand Russian accent, Tony was glad he was getting out. He hit End Call and told JARVIS to shut down his equipment before heading off to find his mom, forming a counter argument in his head.

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"What's got you suddenly interested in the energy field?"

Tony shrugged, exhausted from his first day on the full Buspar dose and not really in the mood to talk. Waking up to find himself complete covered in his comforter and causing another flashback that JARVIS had to snap him out of a few hours earlier wasn't helping. If it was either of his parents, he'd tell them he was tired and they'd leave him alone but he'd seen Obadiah once since he got back, and it was for five minutes of the most uncomfortably unnecessary apologies he'd ever gotten. Not to say many people apologized to him because half of the fuck ups in his life were all his fault, but that wasn't the point.

Or maybe it was entirely the point, but he didn't have the mental power to concentrate on that at the moment.

And since he hadn't seen the guy who for a while he saw more than his parents in a really long time, he forced himself to properly answer, "I got bored when I came back and came up with this."

This was far from the truth, but it was bad enough that his dad already knew, and he didn't want to spread the information to anyone else. It was just that after getting electrocuted a couple dozen times, he wasn't a big fan of wires; the ARC reactor eliminated the need for any and considering that he managed to create an entire miniature, functional building area and difficultly concealed escape method in a cave, he was pretty much positive that it should be considered a good coping mechanism.

"What can it do?" he asked, though Tony had a feeling he wasn't really curious and instead trying to make up for leaving him alone for five minutes. Not that he really remembered any of that. There was a pretty wide gap between standing in the JFK international terminal and waking up in a cave with a camera in front of him and bleeding from just about everywhere. "Besides replace a battery."

The Buspar was really starting to get to him and it was a struggle to keep his eyes open. "Never needs to be recharged," he said, and it came out more as a mumble than anything else. "Doesn't overheat or anything either, and it can replace pretty much anything electrical without using up any resources or cause any pollution. Wasn't really intended, but whatever, I guess that's a plus."

Obadiah forehead creased with worry and he just really, really wanted to be by himself at the moment, so he couldn't quite bring himself to care. "Are you feeling all right, Tony?"

"I'm fine," he answered, repeating himself for probably the thousandth time. "I—"

"Miss Romanoff is calling you, sir," JARVIS said suddenly, causing Obadiah to startle. "Should I let it go to voicemail?"

"Is that your AI?" He nodded and the other man stood. He added, "I'll talk to you later, you look dead where you sit," and ruffled Tony's hair the way he did as a kid. "Try to get some sleep."

Again, he nodded and wished that the fluoxetine insomnia side effect was combating the Buspar drowsiness one. When Obadiah was out of the room, he said, "JARVIS, get Natasha on the line please."

A moment later, the line clicked open. "Hey," Natasha said as he flopped backwards, lying down, and shut his eyes. The sound of a movie played faintly from her end of the call. "Do you still want a get a ride with us or are your parents taking you up?"

"Parents are taking me up the day before," he answered, suddenly remembering. "Sorry, we were talking about it earlier, they talked to Steve and Peggy and apparently they know a psychiatrist up there, which means so much for getting out of my meds and—whoa."

"Tony? Sorry to ask, but are you high?"

"No," he said and groaned, pressing his palms against his eyes. "I just went from dead tired to wide awake. Fucking typical."

There was a click, and the sound of the movie abruptly stopped. Then she said, "Typical what?"

Explaining in entirety was going to take too long, so instead he shortened it with, "Obadiah came over and I was practically asleep. I haven't actually talked to him since…well, in about four months."

"Isn't that the guy that got you kidnapped?"

"What?"

"You know, left you alone or something. Clint and I ended up listening to your dad have an emotion breakdown on Mrs. Rogers. Do you have any idea what I'm talking about?"

"Sort of," he answered, too antsy now to stay lying down, so he stood up and shuffled into his lab, grabbing a pair of pajama pants that sat atop his dresser so he could change out of his jeans. "Look, we'll figure out meeting times and everything when it gets closer. I'm still on thin ice as is—JARVIS, activate N. -Twelve."

As his lab ceiling changed into the night sky, Natasha said, "Oh yeah, how's that coming along anyway? And are you doing anything right now besides ordering your disemboweled voice around?"

Tony took a seat in front of his main computer again, deciding that the two side effects were fighting against each other too much now for him to be able work complex theories and that he was out of ideas anyway, and clicked on the Tetris icon. This was something he could do mindlessly. "It's going great," he answered, starting on level ten because everything else was too boring. "Also, no one's home if you want to come over and chill. I think that's why Obadiah was here. I'm starting to wonder if the parental separation anxiety's kicked in."

From the other end of the line, he heard the rustling of clothes being moved around in the drawer. "Goddammit, I can't find shorts," she said. "Tony, please tell me your air conditioning is blasting."

"It's around seventy in here," he answered without looking at the thermostat. "I'm not really a big fan of the heat."

There was a noticeable pause before Natasha said, "Well, I grew up in Saint Petersburg, so heat and I aren't exactly on the best terms either. See you in a few."

"Yeah." The line clicked closed without a goodbye. "JARVIS, let Natasha when she comes by."

"Should I identify myself when she finds no one standing there?"

"Sounds good."

JARVIS didn't answer and Tony didn't say anything and with the ARC reactor running his lab silently, he realized exactly how much he hated the quiet.

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Um, I wanted to put an end note here, but I can't think of anything. So, hope you enjoyed!