So sorry for the long silence between this chapter and the previous one! That's what happens when life - well, happens. First, I had a cold and found myself incapable of thinking properly (not ideal when you wanna write a story, so I took a break) and then - Fantasy Filmfest. 10 days, 2 cinemas, 71 movies of which I watched 45. When you're at the movies from 1pm to 1am straight, with barely half an hour between most of the movies, you don't have much time to write.

As for this chapter, obviously, it's pretty short. The next one will be much, much longer. I'm still working on it, it's kinda tricky to get done, so it might take a few days before I post it. Anyways, thanks for all the follows and favourites!

Fly Away Home

"You're moving."
Tony stared at the boxes. They occupied every free space on the floor and furniture except for two paths to the kitchenette and bedroom door. And a corner of the couch.

"Nah. I like living out of boxes."
The Hawk smirked at them and started putting the beer-bottles from the paper bag in the fridge.

Tony decided to remain where he was: by the door, blocking the way out. Not that the Hawk didn't have about half a dozen other ways out of here. There were windows, for example …

The Hawk shot him an amused look, almost as if he had read Tony's thoughts.

Tony shifted his weight to his other foot and put his hands in his pockets. On the way here, he had made up about a dozen speeches, found countless arguments he could use to convince the archer to return to Avengers Tower with him. Okay, so they all boiled down to "we miss you, please come back" – but that was a valid point, too, wasn't it?

It had seemed like such a simple plan: come here, talk to the Hawk, take him back home. But now, his clever arguments didn't sound so clever anymore and besides, the man obviously had already made up his mind not to stay here.

Having finished with the beer-bottles, the Hawk turned around to lean against the fridge and folded his arms across his chest. Not a hostile stance but not exactly inviting conversation, either.

When the silence started to grow awkward, Tony cleared his throat.
"So …"
He craned his neck so he could peer into one of the boxes that were still open. CDs. Lots of them.
"I didn't know you like music", he said.
He winced. Yes, a really lame remark like that was definitely worthy of a genius.
"I mean, of course, everyone likes or dislikes some kind of music. I just didn't know –"
He stopped before he could say something even more embarrassing.

"There's a lot you don't know about me."
The Hawk's steady gaze was hard to read.

"Obviously."

Tony let his gaze wander to finally take a closer look at the Hawk's nest. It was the kind of apartment that, in TV shows, usually was inhabited by a broke and alcoholic ex-cop with a grudge on life in general. He doubted that the distinct used look was the latest thing in interior design. Everything – the carpet, the couch, the paint on the wall – was just a little too faded and threadbare. The shelves that lined the walls looked newer, though. They must have held the CDs. Tony also noticed that the windows and frames had been replaced and the door was probably sturdier than it looked, too.

Of course, the Hawk was away pretty often and for quite extended periods. He wouldn't want anyone to break in and steal his stuff while he was away.

He was still leaning against the fridge, still with his arms across his chest and that same look in his eyes.

Tony took in a deep breath.
"Listen, it probably wasn't the best idea for me to come here but I'm here now, so – is there anything I can do?"

Anything that would make the Hawk come back to Avengers Tower – that was what he meant and he was pretty sure that also was what the archer understood.

"Hm? – Well, you could help me move all those boxes tomorrow."

Right. He didn't want to talk about it. Fine.

"Great."
Tony plastered his best "let's get going"-smile on his face and rubbed his hands.
"Since I don't think you're hiding a guest room somewhere in the non-existent depths of your nest, I'll take the couch."

The Hawk gave him an amused look.
"Or you could just sleep in your own bed and come back here tomorrow", he said.

"Yeah, right. To find that you and your boxes have suddenly disappeared and this time, really without a trace."
Tony shook his head.
"Sorry, mate, but I'm staying."

Not that they didn't both know that, if he wanted to do so, the Hawk could still sneak out in the middle of the night without waking Tony.

Tony woke up with a start. He didn't know where he was – which was such a cliché, really: to wake up in a strange, dark place with no recollection of where you were or how you had got there. Not really the first time it happened to him but usually, when it did, he felt more hung-over.

Tony pulled the blanket that covered him off his chest. His arc reactor gave off enough of a glow so that he could make out his immediate surroundings.

Boxes. He saw boxes.

Right. And I'm on the couch in the Hawk's nest.

Tony closed his eyes. And opened them again.

The Hawk. Was he still here?

Better check.

Tony got up and in the dim glow of his arc reactor, slowly made his way to the bedroom door. He bumped into boxes more than once.

The bedroom, too, was filled with boxes. The bed was empty but had been slept in. No sounds from the bathroom.

Tony sighed. Now he knew what had woken him. And where to find the archer.