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Rolling his shoulders, Steve Rogers wandered into the large, warm kitchen of the Avengers Tower, following the inviting smells coming from it. He was fresh from his morning workout, which meant he was hungry, but Steve was also surprised at the lack of noise coming from the kitchen, because the scent of food was not something the rest of the Avengers usually ignored. With a sigh, Steve hoped the proximity to Bruce Banner’s amazing cooking would somehow lessen the coming catastrophe. Steve didn’t know what that catastrophe would be, but since this was the Avengers, there was always one chaotically imminent. If it hadn’t been for the unconditional loyalty and love that also came with being part of the Avengers, side by side with their insanity, Steve figured the world might be a different place than it was.
Choosing to ignore the comatose form of Clint Barton actually lying on the kitchen table for the sake of his own sanity, Steve walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. “Morning Steve,” Bruce called out from the stove, a smile on his face.
A moment later, a smirking Tony Stark walked into the kitchen, dressed in a pair of ratty sweatpants and a singlet, the glow of the arc reactor shining through the fabric. Thor trailed in after him. “See?” Tony said. “I told you Barton survived last night.”
Thor, who was wearing even less than Tony, just shrugged. His sweatpants were torn at the knees and his hair hung half over his eyes, covering the remaining bruises that had been a nasty black eye a week ago, a gift from an actual, living and fire-breathing dragon. Steve had been a little surprised the demigod could bruise, considering he healed even faster than Steve did, but apparently dragon magic could be an unpredictable force. Thor wore one of the dragon’s teeth proudly on a strip of leather around his throat as ‘protection against more of his kind’. Steve had decided to mostly ignore that for the sake of his own sanity. Agent Coulson had agreed with him.
“Hawkeye might have returned, but I am unsure if his current state implies he survived at all,” Thor said with a grin, heading straight for the fridge and taking a long drink of orange juice straight from the carton.
Tony blinked at the apparently comatose archer on the kitchen table. “Is he dead?”
“I don’t think so,” Bruce said helpfully. “He’s still breathing.”
“Tony,” Steve said warningly, as Tony eyed Clint speculatively; Steve was not going to be responsible for what Agent Coulson would do if Tony started using Agent Barton as a science experiment.
Steve still wasn’t sure exactly what kind of relationship there was between the two men, despite finding Clint on Coulson’s couch a week ago. He wasn’t as clueless as everyone believed. Clint and Coulson might have worked together for a long time before the Avengers, but Steve was beginning to believe there was something more between them.
“And Thor, would you mind using a glass?” he added, just because no one else seemed like they were going to.
“Oh, come on Cap,” Tony said. “Don’t be a Capsicle. Agent’s not here to yell at us.” He paused, still eyeing Clint’s prone form on the kitchen table. “Do you think he’s stunned from flying into a closed window?”
“Well, at least he’s not a Norwegian Blue,” Bruce grinned from the stove.
Tony groaned. “A reference to Monty Python’s dead parrot sketch?” he asked. “Really Bruce? That’s the best you could do?”
“The only one who’s going to be dead, Stark, is you,” Clint mumbled from his sprawl on the table. “I’m going to bury you in the backyard later. It’s self-defense. We have to kill you. It’s too early and somehow you caused me to be not-sleeping.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “The Tower doesn’t have a backyard, Barton.”
“Did someone kill Clint?” a new sleep-roughened and possibly still drunk voice asked and Steve turned to see the graceful figure of Natasha Romanoff enter the kitchen, like she’d been drawn to the place because where one Avenger went, the rest inevitably followed.
Steve forced himself not to focus on the fact that Natasha wore a very skimpy tank top and a pair of tiny shorts that left most of her pale skin bare. Or the equally under-dressed figure of Darcy Lewis when she stumbled into the kitchen behind Natasha. Steve might have gotten over a lot of his culture-shock at suddenly being seventy years into the future, but he was still working on being comfortable with the Avenger’s casual approach to clothing.
“Please tell me someone didn’t kill Clint because I love my new BFF deeply and it’s too early in the morning to avenge his death in a diabolical, yet bloody manner,” Darcy grunted, walking over to where Clint still lay, his eyes firmly shut.
Contrary to her words, Darcy stretched out a hand and poked her finger into Clint’s ribs. Steve couldn’t stop his smile as Clint automatically swatted Darcy’s head with a loud smack in reaction to the jab without even opening his eyes.
“Ow!” Darcy sulked, rubbing her head. “Fine, avenge yourself, bastard.”
“I’m fine with that,” Clint muttered.
Silence reigned for a moment after that, before Bruce turned away from the stove and broke it. “Breakfast’s ready,” he said.
Somehow Steve found himself sitting at the kitchen table less than a minute later shoved into a seat by a clearly hungry Tony Stark after Clint did a neat backflip off the table, watching Bruce pile his plate high with bacon, eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms and toast. Tony thumped down to Steve’s left, with Thor on Tony’s other side, both of them already shoving food into their mouths, while Natasha and Clint sat down opposite Steve with Darcy in between them. Steve had learnt fairly quickly that most of the Avengers ate like their lives somehow depended on it.
“Where’s the salt?” Tony said around a mouthful of eggs. “Barton, did you steal the damn salt?”
“What would I want to steal the salt?” Clint asked.
Steve had resigned himself to a choice when he realized what living with the rest of the Avengers was actually going to be like: he could try and make them play by the rules and probably end up going insane, or he could give in to the madness and enjoy it. Steve had chosen the latter without much consideration, so when he saw Clint and Natasha share a glance, he merely watched in amusement as Clint reached out and tugged on a lock of Darcy’s hair. When Darcy spun to glare at the other agent, Natasha repeated the movement on Darcy’s other side.
“Quit it!” Darcy snapped.
Clint just grinned unrepentantly and stole a piece of bacon off Tony’s plate. As if sensing someone was tampering with his food, Tony glanced up at Clint and glared as he grunted in protest, his mouth too full to actually use words. Reaching across the table, Tony thumped Clint on the arm as Clint crammed the piece of bacon into his mouth and laughed. Using the distraction, Thor reached over and stole a piece of Tony’s toast. Clint laughed harder and ended up choking on a mouthful of eggs and toast, to which Darcy gleefully pounded on his back with more force than was necessary, earning her a dark glare.
From the end of the table, Bruce raised his morning cup of tea in a toast towards Steve. “Breakfast, there’s just no other meal quite like it,” he said with a grin, before he bit into the piece of toast he’d stolen from Clint’s plate while the archer was choking.
Steve laughed, before slapping Tony’s hand away when the billionaire reached for his bacon. “Mmm, something smells good,” a new voice said Steve turned with a smile as Pepper Potts entered the kitchen.
“I believe Bruce just cooked breakfast Miss Potts,” JARVIS announced, proving he’d been listening and no doubt recording the scene the whole time.
“Would you like a plate?” Bruce asked.
Pepper smiled. “No, thank you,” she said. “I already had breakfast.”
Steve watched as Pepper’s eyes swept the kitchen, wondering absently what she made of the scene. “Where’s Phil?” she said a second later.
Tony blinked. “Uh… what?” he asked. “Why would Agent be in my kitchen?”
Pepper frowned at him. “Because he slept here last night, Tony,” she said. “And since he was taking the morning off, I thought I’d drop off some paperwork.”
“What do you mean Agent slept here last night?” Tony demanded. “I would know if Agent was sleeping in one of my guest rooms. Did someone not tell me Agent was sleeping in one of my guest rooms? JARVIS?”
“I can assure you, sir, that absolutely no one slept in the guest rooms last night,” JARVIS replied, his tone dry.
Clint, now finished with breakfast, stood up to put his plate in the sink while Tony was still yelling at JARVIS. Steve watched with growing suspicion as Clint then poured two mugs of coffee. “I’ll take the paperwork to him,” he offered to Pepper when he could get a word in edgeways.
“Ah ha!” Tony said, pointing a finger at Clint. “Agent is here. JARVIS, you told me no one slept in the guest rooms!”
“That is because Agent Coulson did not sleep in the guest rooms last night, sir,” JARVIS replied.
Tony frowned and Steve suddenly began to understand his suspicions had been right after all. “Well, then where the hell did Agent sleep?” Tony said.
Steve heard the familiar footsteps of the agent in question echoing down the corridor that led to the kitchen from the direction of the suite Clint had claimed for his own at the highest point of the Tower. Clint, obviously hearing the same thing, turned just as the normally impeccable Agent Coulson appeared in the doorway looking decidedly more rumpled than usual. He was wearing his usual suit pants and a very pale blue shirt, but he was tieless, his shirt wasn’t tucked in and the buttons weren’t quite done up properly. And his feet were bare. Steve bit back a laugh. Clearly, Coulson wasn’t really a morning person.
“So, Phil…” Clint drawled with a smirk. “Do you want to tell him or shall I?”
This time, when Steve’s gaze drifted to Clint’s left hand, he saw the gold ring he’d been looking for when he’d interrupted Clint and Coulson in Coulson’s apartment. Turning his gaze to the rest of the people gathered in the kitchen, he realized from their expressions that the only people who hadn’t worked out there was a relationship between Clint and Coulson were Tony and Thor. Steve settled back to watch the coming fireworks.
With a sigh, Coulson walked over to where Clint was standing and accepted the cup of coffee Clint held out. “Tell who what?” he grumbled, taking a long drink of coffee. Clint rolled his eyes, before he pulled an unresisting Coulson towards him and gave him a long, lingering kiss.
Thor grinned and Steve was surprised by the soft, sweet expression that graced his features for a second. “Oh,” he said. “I offer you many congratulations, Son of Coul. Hawkeye is a fine warrior.”
Tony, meanwhile, inexplicably began choking on the air in his lungs. “Oh my God,” he said when he could finally breathe again.
Coulson pulled back from the kiss and then arched an eyebrow in silent conversation with Clint. Clint shrugged, smirking as he reached for his coffee. “Morning,” Clint said.
Tony watched them, before he pointed an accusing finger at Clint as he got to his feet in a rush. “Oh my God, you are sleeping with Coulson!” he said.
“It is one of the perks of being married,” Coulson told Tony dryly.
Tony’s mouth dropped open and he gaped wordlessly. Silence reigned for a moment as Tony opened and closed his mouth a few times, his eyes moving first to Coulson and then to Clint and back. “Cat got your tongue, Stark?” Natasha teased.
“I say we leave him like this,” Pepper said with a smile.
“It would definitely be quieter,” Steve agreed and had to hide a smile behind his coffee mug when Tony turned a dark glare in his direction.
As everyone watched with varying degrees of interest and amusement, Tony flailed for a moment with his whole body. “But… that’s…” he finally managed. “Since when are you and Coulson married?”
Clint rolled his eyes, but Steve didn’t miss the way Coulson moved closer to the archer. “We’ve been married for three months, four days and two hours,” Clint informed Stark.
Coulson turned to look at Clint. “You’re counting?”
“I’ve always wanted to ask,” Darcy said with a wicked grin from where she was still lounging at the table. “Was it his ninja skills with office supplies that made you say yes?”
“Well, it was that and his ass,” Clint agreed.
Coulson rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t quite stop the smile tugging at his mouth. “What?” Clint defended. “Shouldn’t you be glad I like your ass?”
“Is no one surprised that Coulson and Barton are married?!” Tony snapped loudly.
“I feel I speak for everyone gathered here, Tony, when I say: nope, not in the slightest,” Pepper said.
“We all worked it out already, Stark,” Darcy added.
Tony blinked. “You worked it out already,” he echoed.
“I did tell you that you didn’t have to interfere,” Bruce told him.
“Yes, thank you,” Tony muttered darkly, glaring at everyone. “No one tells me anything anymore.”
Coulson grinned with amusement, before he schooled his features back into their characteristic deadpan expression. “Maybe this will encourage you to be more considerate when sharing information with SHIELD,” he said.
Before Tony could say whatever sarcastic comment was on the tip of his tongue, Steve jumped in. He raised his cup of coffee in Clint and Coulson’s direction. “Now that we’ve officially been told,” he said in toast. “Congratulations to Agents Coulson and Barton.”
The rest of the Avengers aside from Tony, as well as Pepper and Darcy, all raised their cups and glasses. With a sigh, Tony raised his too, just as Bruce casually elbowed him in the ribs. “And to gossip,” Darcy added. “Not only does it make the world run, but life would be far less interesting without it.”
Tony rolled his eyes at the words. “No, science is what makes the world run,” he corrected, before narrowing his eyes at Coulson. “And you’d better take good care of our archer, Coulson.”
Coulson slid an arm around Clint and pulled him close as he looked levelly at Tony. “I will,” he said.
“Good,” Tony replied. “Also, you’re not getting out of me throwing a party for you. You’re just going to have to grin and like it.”
“You know the best part about parties?” Natasha asked. “There’s cake.”
Steve just laughed.