AN: I still live. This is random, super short(in my opinion), unbeta'd and the next update might be soon if I can manage to finish typing the other chapters soon... but I usually write near midnight since that's when ideas flow smoother for me but due to my schedule shifting from late morning (around 10 A.M.) to early morning (say six A.M. or later), I can't really stay up late... Well I could but I get little things done. So now not only do I type the chapters for my posted fics in a painstakingly slow pace (for me) but there are also some short original pieces, that I plan on expanding and are mostly private, that I think of as I walk to school in the mornings.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, no one but, perhaps, the circumstances that happens in this short chapter.
"Hurry guys!"
Bruce looked up from his spot on the couch. The sound of feet pounding through the corridor could be heard. Slowly the members of the Avengers that frequented Stark's tower grew used to the four teenagers that often ran from one end of the tower to the other, all thanks to Peter. Doing nothing more than quirk an eyebrow at their behavior, Bruce wondered what they were planning to do this time around.
Last time they ran off to Harry's apartment (probably, all evidence points to there last Tony checked) they were gone for a few hours [there was one time they decided to check up on the four teens after they didn't turn up in the tower for two days straight—it was summer and they'd hung out in the tower the first two weeks there—they found them spread out in the tiny living-dining room-kitchen combo in Harry's apartment surrounded by various boxes of take-out and bags of sweets, and was seemingly having a movie marathon judging by the stacks of DVDs and the current movie playing in the background (the teens seemed to had shoved most of the furniture out of the way so they could set up the projector and watched the movies on the wall, where they had tacked some white cloth). The two windows in the small apartment were even covered as well and the four teens were in their pj's (Harry, Peter and Gwen all wore sweat pants, Wade was in a pair of boxers—because he's shameless but the other three were used to him and would usually just smack him on the head when he did something like that—and comfy tee shirts/shirts)] and came back covered in paint from head to toe (one of them suggested—most likely Wade—they do something random and Harry having made an off-handed comment about thinking of whether or not he should repaint his apartment's living room the other day; they all decided to paint his living room out of sheer boredom but couldn't agree on what color to paint it ended up having some sort of paint war and now Harry was staying over with the Parkers for the weekend as his living room was now a colorful war-zone).
"Tony," Bruce sighed as he rubbed his temples not even looking at Stark, "don't even think of sending spy-bots after the kids."
"Bu—"NO." Another sigh. "I swear Tony, your more of a handful than the kids!"
AN: How I weep my lack of progress in my stories, however unavoidable.