Long one today. :) Featuring most of the Avengers - well, those from the movie, anyways.
Broken Wing
The Hawk had chosen a new vantage point – obviously, he needed both hands to get to his preferred perch outside, at the top of the tower. And he wasn't allowed to move his left arm. Not as long as his shoulder wasn't properly healed. So he had found a new nest: one of the large panorama windows near the living area. He sat there for hours to watch the city below.
Tony was watching him. For no special reason, just because he could. And had nothing better to do. Watching the Hawk was – entertaining. And revealing.
The first one to approach the Hawk was Rogers, bringing him a mug of coffee and a plate with cookies and an apple.
The Hawk raised his eyebrows and gave him that look.
"Isn't it supposed to be milk and cookies?"
Rogers grinned.
"You're too old for milk and cookies."
The Hawk grinned right back at him.
"You're never too old for milk and cookies. – What's with the apple?"
"My Mum always used to say 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away' and since it's getting colder and this isn't exactly the warmest spot in the house –"
"- you want me to chuck an apple at Banner whenever I see him?" the Hawk finished and shook his head. "Bad idea, oh capitano mio. And it's a green apple, too."
Rogers left laughing.
The Hawk half turned and tossed the apple at Tony who caught it.
"Nice catch, Tin Man."
Note to self: Don't let him watch 'The Wizard of Oz' again. And add extra insulation to those windows.
"You really have to be careful."
Banner gently moved the Hawk's left arm and stopped when the archer winced.
"You'll have to let it heal properly."
"I know", the Hawk said.
"And you mustn't put too much strain on the shoulder too soon, or else –"
"I know."
Mild glare.
"I've been doing this for a while, remember? It's not the first time I get injured like this and I know I'm out for a few weeks."
Banner nodded.
"Just wanted to make sure you know this isn't just another scratch."
"I know."
Still more emphasis on those two words.
"Can I have my arm back now?"
"Sure."
Banner let go of the Hawk's arm and turned to leave.
"No bows – and no playing darts, either", he called back over his shoulder. "Or throwing knives."
The Hawk rolled his eyes.
"Oy, Feathers!"
Tony grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl.
"An apple a day, remember?"
He tossed the apple at the archer who caught it with his right hand and made as if to throw it at Banner.
"I wouldn't if I were you", the doctor said without turning.
The Hawk grinned and bit a chunk out of the apple.
Tasha was creepy enough as it were. Well, not all the time. She could get creepy as hell, though. As for her and the Hawk, though – they had that way of talking without speaking that made the skin at the back of Tony's neck crawl. Looks. Gestures. Tiny, almost imperceptible changes in their expressions – a smirk, a frown, a shrug. And to them, all of that obviously spoke volumes.
Tony drummed his fingers on the counter-top. Of course, the Hawk noticed.
A slight nudge, a tiny nod in his direction and they were both looking at him, the corners of their mouths curled up in almost identical smirks.
Tony cleared his throat.
"Should I leave you two lovebirds alone?" he asked. And frowned. "Talking about birds – can spiders and hawks cross-breed?"
The two looked at each other and then, they were doing it again. Tony tried to ignore it but he knew they were talking-without-speaking about him. Again. He deliberately turned his back on them, although it made him feel horribly exposed and went over to the fridge to get – something. It didn't matter.
He jumped almost high enough to bang his head on the ceiling when, suddenly, Tasha spoke right behind him.
"Yes, but the result's not pretty. Too many eyes, too many legs and it can fly, too."
Tony closed his eyes and said through clenched teeth: "Lemme guess – you're trying to find out whether I can die of a heart attack."
By his window across the room, the Hawk burst out laughing.
He had run out of coffee. So Tony left his workshop at around half past two in the morning: to brew himself a fresh pot in the kitchen. Of course, he could have done so in the workshop, too. But he had got stuck and maybe, the short walk would help him clear his mind and find a solution.
He knew his way around this floor in the dark, so he didn't bother turning on the lights – and thus, almost missed the dark figure by the window.
When he spotted it, though, he moved closer.
"Bit late for a hawk to still be up and about", he said, putting his hands in his pockets. "Or are you turning into a night owl?"
The Hawk looked up at him.
"Yeah, y'know, I'm getting bored being an Avenger so I thought I'd start training to join the Watchmen."
It took Tony a moment to make the connection.
Right. Watchmen. Nite Owl.
"Does your shoulder hurt or why aren't you sleeping?" he asked.
The Hawk shook his head.
"I'm fine. Sometimes, I just like to stay up late and watch the Streetlight People and since I can sleep all day tomorrow –"
He gave a one-shouldered shrug.
"Streetlight People?"
Tony sat down across from him and peered out of the window. It did afford a great view of Manhattan nightlife, he had to give him that.
"Yeah." The Hawk frowned. "Don't know that song?"
"Sure. Just never occurred to me to call them that."
They sat in silence for a while. Tony watched the city lights down below. He could just barely make out people down there. Not as many as during the day but there still were plenty.
He snorted and shook his head.
The Hawk raised his eyebrows at him.
"Sinatra was right", Tony said. "With his 'city that never sleeps' stuff."
The Hawk pursed his lips.
"I dunno. Ever been to Tokyo? Pretty active at night, too. Especially Shinjuku."
"I wouldn't know. Spent my nights there in my hotel suite with a bunch of pretty ladies." Tony grinned. "Does it count that some of us got – quite active in my bedroom?"
The Hawk rolled his eyes.
"Why did I know you'd say something like that?"
Tony's grin widened but he didn't say anything. The Hawk returned his attention to the window. After a while, Tony started to wonder whether his presence had been forgotten and he shouldn't better get his coffee and return to his workshop.
He was halfway across the room when the Hawk spoke again.
"Those folks down there, the ones heading for those fancy clubs – that's not the real Streetlight People, you know?"
Something about his tone was different. More serious than before.
It made Tony turn round to him.
"The real Streetlight People, that's all those crooks and hookers. Hobos. Drifters. Those that fell by the wayside, somewhere along the line, and that no one bothered to pick up again. Some of those folks got quite some stories to tell."
What he didn't say, but what Tony still understood – heard in his tone – was that, sometimes, he wondered why he of all people had got lucky. Why he was here now instead of out on the streets and one of those Streetlight People. His own story wasn't so different from theirs, after all. Only that someone had picked him up instead of leaving him there, by the wayside. Tony actually wondered the same about himself, sometimes. Why he was here. Why he was still alive. Why he hadn't been killed, back then in Afghanistan.
He shrugged.
"Some just get lucky, I guess."
"Lucky?" The Hawk looked at him. "You're living here with two master assassins who know about 150 ways to kill you, each, a time-displaced supersoldier, a guy with severe anger management problems and occasionally a demi-god who's strong enough to accidentally snap your neck if he hugs you the wrong way. All of them with enough issues to feed and clothe a shrink for at least a decade, if not longer. And you consider yourself lucky?"
The seriousness was missing from his voice, this time.
Tony laughed.
"I've said it before and I'm saying it again: Anything to keep life interesting."
The Hawk shook his head.
"Man, you must be really suicidal if you call that interesting", he said with a broad grin.
"Absolutely and completely."
Tony kept his expression dead serious.
The Hawk laughed.
"Right, I'll just call you Marvin, then, instead of 3PO."