Characters: Tony, Steve, Natasha
Warnings: None
When: Doesn't matter
For: Nobody
Tony walked into the infirmary room, sighing. Steve really needed to stop being the sacrificial lamb - it was sickening how quick Steve was to suggest himself for the suicide run. And Tony was sick of it.
They'd been fighting Doom. Doom was an asshole. Not one Avenger was without harm.
Clint was in a medical induced coma, Bruce sleeping off the effects of the Hulk, Thor having burns on his arms treated, and Natasha... Tony wasn't sure, not on that front, but the woman probably wasn't even hurt.
She probably hadn't even broke a nail.
And yet, here was Tony, concussion and several fractures, checking on that stubborn leader of theirs.
Down the winding hallways we go, to get to Gramma's house or whatever, Tony thought in a sing-song.
Upon finding Steve's room, Tony walked in without preamble.
There, in bed with Steve, was Natasha. She was curled up next to the larger blond guy and she - no, the both of them - was asleep.
It was cute. Dare he say, sweet.
Tony carefully pulled out his phone. He carefully pointed the camera to take a picture - so he could throw around rumors and have blackmail and okay, he likes to keep record of when these things happen.
Still, exactly one second after the shutter went off, Natasha and he were tearing through the medical ward in the mad chase for the ultimate blackmail.