Chapter Text
It started because JARVIS had locked him out of the workshop — which was not cool, Tony had been in the groove, on an upswing in productivity with Barton’s latest suggestions for his arrows, and a breakthrough in an improved wing design for Wilson. A break now would achieve nothing.
Then JARVIS had asked Tony to tell him what day it was.
The cheat.
The AI knew that if Tony answered wrongly, Pepper’s Rules would fall into place, all the workshop would be locked down, and Tony wouldn't be allowed back to work unless he had eaten something, showered, had a nap of longer than twenty minutes, or he got another adult to sign off on him continuing to work.
Tony swore it was still Saturday — a nice work weekend!
There was no way it was Monday, it had to be a conspiracy.
Thor wasn't in the Tower this week, and he couldn't find Steve either. Bruce refused to open his lab door to sign off on Tony working, which was just hurtful. Clint - the bastard - at least had the excuse of being suspended from the approved list after that last incident to say no and return to his target practise.
Romanov was back from a solo mission though, and depending on how the mission had gone - Tony should check up on that - she could be feeling indulgent. There was a possibility that if he presented his case and appeared put together and not been-up-since-Friday that Romanov might, just might, let him work a little longer.
So Tony had stomped off to his room to clean up.
Freshly scrubbed and in clothes that didn't smell of engine oil, Tony checked with JARVIS where Romanov was, and headed to the living room. Humming quietly, Tony paused suddenly on the threshold.
Natasha was curled up on the large sofa, entirely swaddled in a green blanket, only visible from the nose up. She had her eyes trained on the TV, but Tony bet she’d noticed his presence.
He’d never seen her use the TV before, or do anything other than training in the gym. Tony had assumed she just kept to her suite, notoriously private, which Tony could understand. It had him curious about what she was watching now though.
“Is that…” Tony held back the bizarre urge to laugh. “Is that From Russia with Love?”
Natasha turned her head like an owl, those eyes shooting daggers in the dark, daring Tony to say more.
So, of course, he had to, “Not too on the nose for you?”
A fuzzy orange sock sailed through the air and clocked him between the eyes. Tony caught it as it fell, and couldn’t help the twitch in his lips threatening a smile. On the nose. Who knew Romanov could be funny? He hadn't even seen her arm move out of her blanket burrito.
With sock in hand, Tony all but threw himself onto the sofa with his teammate, making Natasha bounce, still wrapped up in her blanket. “Can we watch Casino Royale after this?”
Natasha scoffed, eyes already back on the TV. Tony copied her, smiling at the screen. One minute he was watching Tatiana Romanova seduce the famous British secret agent, and the next he was waking up with his head on a folded green blanket.
He was too busy smiling down at the orange sock still in his hand to remember to ask about the workshop.
“Ohmygod,” Tony abruptly switched direction from the kitchen, clutching an empty mug.
“Shh,” Natasha hissed, eyes glued on the screen.
“That’s True Lies,” Tony flapped a hand.
“Be quiet.”
He didn't take his eyes from the screen as he scrambled over the back of the sofa, nearly braining Natasha with a flailing foot. She just grabbed his ankle with a sigh and shoved him away to the other end of the sofa.
Feeling brave - or stupidly tired - Tony tugged at the edge of her blanket. His feet always got cold. Natasha only pulled it tighter around herself, making him pout, but she didn't threaten to kill him or anything, so Tony thought he was growing on her. She’d even said something almost complimentary about his performance on their last Avengers mission.
“C’mon, Romanov! Sharing is caring.”
“Get your own.”
Too tired to dig out another blanket, and not wanting to go and risk coming back to find Natasha had disappeared on him, Tony curled around his empty coffee mug in the corner of the sofa and returned to watching the TV.
“Do you do that when you're talking to someone?” Tony asked. “Imagine how you’d kill them in that moment?”
“Only when they annoy me.”
“Have you done that with me?”
Natasha’s lips curled the smallest bit.
“Could you kill me like that?”
There never seemed to be anyone else who watched a movie with Natasha.
Other than Tony. Unless he was missing other movies. He wouldn't put it past her to watch movies separately with the individuals on the team, gauge their reactions, read a little more into them. It was Natasha though, her secret agendas had secret agendas. JARVIS said otherwise though, and Tony was aware that he’d become increasingly paranoid over the past few years.
He was making efforts not to be like that with his teammates. It wouldn't be right not to assume the same of them. Anyway, Natasha hadn't stabbed him in the neck again or anything yet.
Tony clutched a bowl of popcorn as he sat. Natasha raised an eyebrow, but didn't shift out of her green blanket cocoon. Tony already had his cheeks stuffed, munching on the salty popcorn. “What? You want some?”
He didn't expect an answer.
They’d only been doing this movie thing a few times now since that first film. Always Tony joining Natasha. He’d set up an alert now with JARVIS, and Natasha had to know because JARVIS had to ask her permission to call Tony. And she seemed to keep letting him join her. There wasn't much talking between them, but the quiet company was a nice change sometimes for Tony, not bombarded by demands from the company, or equations and designs bubbling in his head, or bots pouring him toxic coffee. It was nice.
Natasha didn't answer, returning her focus to the TV. It wasn't like they couldn’t easily keep up with the plot. Natasha had put on Spy Kids, and Tony was determined to make it a marathon. But Tony still saw her eyeing his snack now and again.
The next time Tony made popcorn, he brought two bowls, and Natasha snaked an arm out of her blanket cocoon to pick at her portion.
“I'm not- I can leave, you know. If you want?” Tony said quietly in the dark.
Natasha didn't say anything. She rarely looked away from the TV on nights like this, but today was the first time Tony had hesitated on the threshold when JARVIS had informed him Natasha had started a movie up in the living room.
She’d had a fight with Steve, about how he was digging up info on his no-longer-dead best pal. Tony hadn't been around to hear most of it, but he got the gist when he stumbled across them at the tail end of the argument.
It seemed to have been started because Falcon had come back injured after stepping into the middle of a surprise fight between Hydra and the Winter Soldier. Alone. Natasha thought Steve needed to pull back, wait Barnes out, stop hunting him down. Steve thought they needed to go in, get Barnes out, he was in danger.
Tony had skittered off when Natasha’s jaw had done That Twitch and Steve had lifted his chin just so. They’d been buddy-buddy since DC, Tony hadn't really seen them clash over anything like this before. Even on mission plans. Natasha was clever enough to usually get things turned to her liking without raising her voice, and Steve was Cap, few people argued with him anyway.
Except Tony, really.
It had made him second-guess sitting on the sofa tonight with Natasha, but only because she was emitting such an aura of Do Not Touch that it was physically impossible for Tony to shuffle any closer. He’d sat unusually quiet on his end through most of the movie, only half paying attention.
For the last half hour it had occurred to Tony that maybe she hadn't wanted company. That he’d been imposing himself where Natasha wanted space to simmer and cool off. But leaving suddenly now didn't seem right, because what if Natasha did want company? Or maybe she didn't want his company? Barton was probably still awake somewhere, someone always was, he could message JARVIS to go get him—
“He reminds me of someone.”
Tony nearly jumped at her voice. “What?”
“Muir,” Natasha said, jerking her chin at the screen, still not looking away. “Reminds me of someone.”
Confused but not about to press a Black Widow, Tony tilted his head at the TV. “His face…”
“Mmm,” Natasha frowned.
Tony hadn't seen Spy Game for a while, the early 2000s was a busy time for him. But if Natasha wasn't encouraging him to leave… “I bet we could come up with a better code name than Dinner Out.”
“Us?” Natasha’s mouth pinched. “You think we know each other well enough to do that?”
Tony shrugged, slouching back, “We can always make a start.”
“Hmm.”
They didn't say anything else as they finished the movie, but as the credits began to roll, Tony felt a soft poke of a blanket-covered foot to his thigh.
“Name us,” Tony said. “Go on. I bet you already have names for us.”
“You’re only pushing because you want the codename Tinker.”
“Well it’s an apt description!”
“‘Idiot’, is more apt.”
“Cap would get Soldier, I suppose. Who’s the Tailor?”
“You do know that none of those codenames are good things in the film’s context.”
“Yeah, but this is just for fun!”
“There are more of us than there are codenames.”
“Then let’s make some up.”
“Stark.”
“What?”
“Shut up and watch the movie.”
“Think that could be us, when we’re older?” Tony asked, fighting Natasha for the end of her blanket again. He was determined this time. Just enough for his feet.
“What?” Natasha didn't even seem threatened by his attempts at blanket-thievery.
“Retired and Extremely Dangerous,” Tony huffed, releasing the blanket to fall back on his side of the sofa. He noticed the smug smirk on her face in the light from the TV.
“You think we’ll get to retire? Alive?”
“Well, that’s a horrible way of looking at life.”
“We live dangerous lives.”
“No, seriously, you think we could be like that?” Tony asked. “It’d be kinda cool. Retired and scattered, across the globe, pulled out of retirement and back into the fray of things for our friends, because we weren't ever really retired anyway, and we all kick ass still despite zimmer frames and false teeth. We’ll be an OAA, Old Age Avenger.”
Tony was grinning to himself a the mental image he was conjuring.
Cap throwing the shield, and having to stop because he’d thrown out his back. Clint with bi-focals, squinting with every shot but still not missing. Romanov, just as deadly and dangerous and beautiful as Helen Mirren was in RED. Thor- okay, Thor probably wouldn't age like that, but Tony had no problem imagining him still fighting and grinning and laughing beside all his aged teammates. Would Hulk turn grey, or would he maintain the dark hair, despite Bruce getting streaks of grey already? An old green man angrily yelling at the clouds.
And Tony, maybe he’d have to pilot the suit remotely by then, but he’d still fight the fight. He couldn't imagine himself doing otherwise.
“We’ll be friends?”
“Won’t we?” Tony’s smile slowly dropped at the blank mask Natasha had as she looked at him. “…Aren’t we?”
She didn't say anything else, eventually turning back to the TV.
Tony turned back too, folding his arms across his chest, tucking into his corner of the sofa. He told himself not to feel hurt, it shouldn't be surprising, he always seemed to get attached much quicker and deeper than the other side of all his relationships.
It was like school all over again, the hot embarrassment and bitter ache, as Tony realised that who he considered a friend, was not.
He shook it off. Romanov was a teammate still, he couldn't let things get awkward. Couldn't afford to. What if he compromised a mission or a fight just because things got awkward between them? Friend or not, Tony couldn't bring himself to accidentally endanger her, or himself, or the team, over something so stupid as his feelings—
Tony flinched as something soft landed on his feet.
Hesitantly, he looked across the sofa, but Natasha was still focused on the screen, absorbed it seemed in the movie. Looking down, Tony had to control the sudden urge to grin stupidly, he could feel his mouth wobbling as he tried to contain himself.
A corner of her green blanket had been untucked to cover Tony’s perpetually cold feet.
If he stretched his toes a little, he could even feel someone else’s fuzzy-socked foot.
Natasha glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and must have pulled a muscle with how big an eye roll she did.
“Shut up.”
Tony mimed zipping his mouth, his mouth stretched in a ridiculous grin, as they turned back to the movie.
“Are you ever gonna put Casino Royale on?”
“If you're good, maybe.”
“I’m always good.”
There are so many things Tony wants to say when they're watching Salt, but despite popular opinion, he doesn't actively have a death wish. Natasha’s smirking like she knows what he’s thinking, and Tony doesn't doubt it. Russian sleeper agent who turns because she gets emotionally compromised? So many things.
He’s literally biting his tongue though, holding it back.
It’s probably because he’s trying that Natasha does what she does.
Tony wouldn't be that insensitive a dick as to talk about those images of little girls being trained, innocence stripped as they're given new identities, new missions, new weapons. He doesn't know a lot about Natasha’s past, but there are enough things commonly whispered about her and others like her, as well as what you can read between the lines in her sparse file, for Tony to know that his childhood was a walk in the park compared to Natasha’s.
But, c’mon, the Russian lady used spider venom, Tony was dying to say something about that.
He chewed on his lip, trying to ignore Natasha’s smirk and focus on the film.
He wouldn't give in.
He was gonna be the bigger person here.
Natasha shifted on the sofa, stealing some of his popcorn. “I think I had an alias called Salt once.”
Tony squashed the squeak that came out of his mouth, but Natasha heard, and he was treated to that smile of hers that pursed her mouth to fullness and pulled up on one side. He petulantly kicked at her foot, and she kicked him off the sofa.
It was fine, he’d taken the blanket with him, and Natasha was still smiling.
“Hey, guess what. Guess what guess what guesswhatguesswhat—”
“What?”
“Spangles said I did a good job last mission.”
“I know, Tony, I was there. Breathe.”
“Yeah, but do you think he said it like ‘yay! Good job!’ or ‘good job, not!’? Cos honestly, Romanov, that dinosaur is really hard to read sometimes. And I don't know if I should have JARVIS mark this date down in the calendar as significant or not, his deadpan is literally so deadpan it’s basically dead, how do you—”
“Have you been experimenting with caffeine supplements again.”
“What? Why would you say that?”
“Because you were speaking so fast I literally didn't get a word of what you said.”
“It’s a profitable market, Romanov! All those scientists out there, needing this precious fuel in a more convenient vessel. It’s a gift to humanity! To the world! To science! Jane and Darcy already volunteered to try some of the stuff out!”
“You’ve reached human testing?”
“I tried it.”
“You’re not human.”
“Right! I’m a scientist!”
“Okay, I think it’s time for scientists to sleep. Bed. C’mon.”
“The movie isn't finished!”
“We can finish Bourne when you're not vibrating in your seat.”
“Stark.”
Tony jumped at the sudden voice, jolting him out of his work binge. He blinked at the ‘shop door, and saw Natasha glaring at him through the glass, wrapped up in her green blanket, bright orange sock on the foot tapping impatiently on the floor. “Huh?”
The door hissed open before Tony could tell JARVIS not to, and Natasha stomped inside like she owned the place, blanket trailing the floor behind her. She looked younger like this, Tony thought, and he glanced at her one bare foot. Natasha still hadn't asked for her sock back since that first night.
She paused to scan the bit parts strewn across his desk, the disassembled pieces of Clint’s last grappling hook arrow.
Natasha clicked her tongue, “He’s fine.”
“He’s gone.”
“On leave.”
“Medical leave.”
“Personal leave,” Natasha insisted. “And it wasn't a fault in the equipment. Barton was just an idiot.”
“It’s that simple?”
“Yes.”
“He still broke his arm.”
“It was a hairline fracture,” Natasha huffed. “He’s just using it as an excuse for a little longer time off.”
Tony frowned, “Why? I thought he hated Medical.”
“He does, but I wasn't lying when I said he was taking some personal leave.”
“A little R & R.”
“Something like that.”
Tony nodded, fiddling with the wrench in his hands as he glanced at the parts again. “I could still add some more length to the rope, I've got an idea for a more compact polymer. Barton’d like that.”
A hand tugged the wrench from him, and Natasha set it on the workbench, careful not to disturb the bits and pieces spread out. “Tomorrow. Tonight we’re watching more Bond.”
He let himself be towed out of the workshop by the strong hand on his wrist, careful not to tread on the blanket, while JARVIS turning the lights off behind him. Tony thought some dramatic explosions and snarking rants about shitty gadget might cheer him up a little. “Casino Royale?”
“How about Dr No.”
Tony snorted, and Natasha’s hand gently squeezed his wrist.
The TV was on as usual with them now, but Tony hadn't even glanced at the screen since he’d joined. He hadn't touched his popcorn, or stolen some of Natasha’s blanket.
Natasha was aggressively working her way through her own snack, eyes glued as always to the screen, apparently set on ignoring Tony’s grinning face. Like that was gonna work.
“So…”
She grunted, mouth full, chewing loudly and unapologetically.
“A lullaby, huh?”
The chewing stopped, and those green eyes shot at Tony with deadly warning. Good thing he liked to live on the edge.
“Maybe instead of this we should watch Beauty and the—”
He got a face full of popcorn and a bruise on the forehead from the bowl, but it was completely worth it.
Natasha snorts halfway through the movie, eyes lighting up, and Tony is immediately intrigued. He nudged her knee with his, “What?”
She smirked, “Budapest.”
“What?!” Tony’s eyes darted between her and the screen. “This is like whatever the hell happened in Budapest?”
“No.”
“Then…”
“It just reminded me of something.”
Tony growled, slumping back into the sofa with a huff. “Cruel, Romanov. Tease a man like that. I will find out what happened in Budapest.”
Natasha snorted again, at him this time, Tony knew it. She turned to drop her feet in his lap, and Tony scowled but didn't deny her a foot-rub. Her heels were dangerously close to his groin, and she was still dealing with a strain to her shoulder from an awkward catch from Iron Man last mission. He owed her. Natasha hummed, and Tony kneaded one foot as he glared at the screen.
“I need a date.”
Tony froze, pulling the stylus from his mouth as he turned to gape at Natasha.
He’d been a little behind on the SI front the last month, since they’d cracked another Hydra code and there’d been an upsurge of missions taking down their bases. Natasha hadn't minded the work as long as he kept quiet.
“I- I can make some recommendations? Glasses, tea, occasionally green - ring any bells?”
Natasha rolled her eyes, and the gesture was so familiar from her that Tony relaxed a little. “I need you.”
Tony pressed a hand to his heart, falling backwards in a pretend swoon, “This is all so sudden, Romanov—”
“You dance, don't you?”
“Er, yes…?”
“I need a dance partner for a mission.”
“You know I’m one of the most recognisable faces on the planet. My being there is in no way gonna help you with your stealthiness.”
Natasha looked at him like Tony was stupid.
“You… want me to be recognised?”
“I need your name to get into the place I want,” Natasha admitted with a shrug. “And I need you to use that pretty face to draw all the attention. I’ll have a disguise, but you never know.”
“Ah, I knew you only wanted me for my body!” Tony crowed, a delighted grin on his face. “Do a little dance? Make a little love? Get down tonight—”
He could see Natasha’s mouth twitching as she held back a smile. “Please. And I know it’s not me, you want to ‘get down’ with tonight. You in?”
Tony could only gape, spluttering out his denials, hoping his face wasn't as hot as it felt.
“See?” Natasha tapped one of his burning cheeks, a small pleased smile on her lips. “Pretty.”
“Where does he even go?”
“I'm never gonna put Casino Royale on for you if you interrupt every movie like this.”
“Seriously, Nat,” Tony whined. “Where does he go? It can’t be a solo mission every time.”
Natasha huffs, rolling her eyes and turning to face Tony, JARVIS automatically pausing the film. “What are you talking about?”
“Barton! He goes away every few weeks even without injuries,” Tony whined. “What’s up with that?”
“Missing your fellow man-child?”
Tony shot her a deadpan look, chewing his popcorn obnoxiously loud in the quiet room. He could out-wait Natasha. He could. Natasha would answer him, and not because he missed Clint or anything. It was… it was worry. Plain worry. Tony was just worried over their bird-brain and his safety. It couldn't be safe for him out alone like that all the time, especially with how they were hunting down Hydra right now. A single Avenger out alone, it was risky.
“Relax,” Natasha said, turning back to the screen. The movie picked up where it left off. “Barton’s careful. He needs the time away.”
“What? Does he go to his nest or something?”
The edges of Natasha’s mouth twitched, but she didn't give anything else away with her expression. “Or something.”
It wasn't the first time Tony had been waiting in the living room before Natasha.
“Hey,” Tony offered a shaky grin, waving weakly from where he was huddled in one corner of the sofa. Tony’s face was pale, eyes open wide over the dark bags under them, and his hands were trembling. The TV screen was still blank.
Natasha only barely paused in the doorway at the sight. She had been heading for a late night snack, before returning to her books in her suite. It took only a second for her to readjust her plans, and quickly dart back out of the living room.
She returned in under a minute, green blanket draped over one arm. Tony waved at her again. “Hi, again.”
Natasha huffed, dropping onto the sofa and nearly squashing Tony in his corner, pushing and shuffling him to her satisfaction, ignoring his confused squawks that faded out as she tucked them both under her green blanket. Tony blinked at his covered knees, and Natasha made herself comfortable.
As the quiet continued, Tony’s shallow breaths began to slow to match Natasha’s, and she could feel his body stop trembling as much. She said nothing still, did nothing but sit there with him and breathe, until she at last felt Tony lean back into her.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“Mmm,” Tony grunted, not quite resting his head against hers, but not quite resting his head against the back of the sofa either.
“Movie?”
“Sure.”
“Casino Royale?”
Tony shook his head, sweaty hair flopping on his forehead. “Something funny?”
Natasha nodded, and JARVIS wordlessly started up Johnny English on screen. Tony hardly paid attention. He watched the sun crawl into the sky to begin a new day, the yellow brightness lighting up the dark dark starry sky from his dreams, the warmth of the Russian assassin at his side banishing his shivers from the cold tight grip of space.
By the time Steve arrived in the kitchen to start making his pre-run breakfast shake, Tony had shaken the terror from his eyes, even if he hadn't managed to leave the sofa. More like he hadn't been let off the sofa, the only time he’d tried to escape and hide away after the first movie had ended, Natasha had pressed a strong hand on his knee, and he hadn't felt the urge to try and leave again.
She soundlessly rose to her feet, ignoring Steve’s questioning looks as she tucked Tony properly under the blanket, before she left for the kitchen. Tony was learning that Natasha always came back though, and didn't panic at the loss of her presence.
When she came back, she set a mug of coffee on the table in front of him, and sat back with her own tea on the other side of the sofa. Tony smiled and picked up his mug.
“I could make one of those.”
Natasha threw a popcorn kernel at his head without looking, but it did little to shut him up. Tony had practise of that by now, he managed to catch about half the popcorn she threw in his mouth these days. This was a near miss though, and Tony frowned at the kernel as it rolled down his chest.
“I bet I could!” Tony insisted. “And none of that ‘blue is glue, red is dead’ shit. I could make the best battery in the world, no way is there a red is dead moment if I—”
“Stark, this is Mission Impossible,” Natasha groaned. “I have no doubts you could make a better—”
“But really, there are better ways he could’ve gone up the side of the Burj Khalifa. If you gave me five minutes, I’d—”
“Stark.”
“He’d slip from the gloves! I mean, and no back ups?”
“Stark.”
“Could’ve used some sort of harness at least so you don’t lose the freaking- like that! So you don't lose the gloves like that! A goddamn string even! Or better yet, proper cording. Or maybe magnetics? Hey, that’s an idea—”
“Идиот.”
“Sir.”
“Mmm?” Tony looked up from the screen, the latest rendering of a more fitted undersuit, better response and interface with the armour. “Assemble?”
“Not quite, Sir,” JARVIS said, an amused note to his voice. And that never got old for Tony. Never failed to amaze him.
“What then?”
“Agent Romanov has invited you to a viewing of Casino Royale,” JARVIS said. “She says to tell you this is for your recent good behaviour.”
“I'm always good!” Tony cried, but he was already grinning and shutting down his workspace.
“In the context in which she conveyed her sentiments, I believe she meant it regarding Sir’s miraculous lack of injuries attained in the last Avengers mission.”
Tony blew a raspberry at the nearest camera, waving to the bots as he left the shop. He skipped up the stairs, grinning in excitement. At last! Natasha had finally deemed today the day to give in and watch that Bond movie Tony had been pestering her about.
He froze as he reached the living room door though, skidding to a stop just out of sight.
“-haven’t seen this one.”
“It’s the first one with Craig.”
“Ah. A continuation…?”
“No, a new timeline. Complete reboot.”
“You enjoy Bond?”
“It’s practically a comedy.”
“For you, I can see that.”
Tony peered around the doorframe to see Natasha already curled up in her blanket, but she was turned around to face to Bruce over the back of the sofa. The physicist was looking just to the side of her as they spoke, fingers twisting the hem of his shirt into terrible wrinkles.
“You’re… you can join us, if you like.”
“Us?”
“Me and Stark,” Natasha said, eyes soft on the physicist.
Bruce was hesitating, looking around the empty room instead of her, but when his eyes were finally caught on her, he was stuck. Bruce gulped. “I wouldn't want to intrude…”
“You can ask Stark when he gets here,” Natasha said. “I don't think he’s ever turned down your company though.”
Bruce gave a bashful chuckle, a fond look on his face that made Tony’s chest hum like it still had the reactor. “Hasn’t got bored with me yet, no.”
“Oh, I wouldn't think you at all boring.”
Tony bit his lip to hold back any sound he was dying to let out as he watched Bruce study Natasha, and Natasha study Bruce, a tension faint but palpable in the quiet air.
The silence broke as Bruce cleared his throat.
“I was going to make some tea. Would you like a cup while we wait for Tony?”
“Thank you. Lemon, and two—”
“Two sugars, I remember.” Bruce offered a small smile before disappearing into the kitchen.
Tony practically pounced on Natasha from the doorway, leaning over the back of the sofa and grinning shamelessly in her face. “Remember, no sudden spikes in his blood pressure or you’ll have a green guy to match the blanket. So I'd save the first base stuff for the next date—”
She grabbed Tony by the shoulder, hissing, “It’s not a date!”
“It’s not not a date either.”
“You’ll be here.”
“No, I won’t.”
Natasha’s eyes widened. “Yes, you will.”
“Are you still afraid of him?”
“No, but—”
“Then this is for you two.”
“You’re the one who wanted to watch this movie!” Natasha insisted, but her eyes kept darting to the kitchen.
Tony covered her hand in his, smile softening. “And we can watch it another time. I can go finish up my work. Another time.”
Natasha held his gaze as they listened to the quiet sounds of water boiling and Bruce moving about in the kitchen. Slowly, her grip on Tony’s shoulder lightened, and Tony set her hand down in her lap. Her pale cheeks turned slightly rosy as Natasha glanced again to the kitchen.
“Don’t worry. JARVIS is still around to chaperone.”
She growled and snapped a hand out to smack him, but Tony ducked away, suppressing his laughter into whistling chuckles as he darted to the doorway.
“You’ll be great!”
“I’ll remember this, Stark!”
Natasha might have meant it as a threat, possibly, but Tony heard the fondness in her voice, saw the twitch in her cheek that meant she wanted to laugh or smile but was holding it in, saw the brightness in her green eyes. He waved as he slipped out of the door, Natasha still frantically waving a fist at him.
Tony headed back down to the workshop, feeling no regrets on missing out on the movie. There was always next time. He was sure he could convince Nat that this counted as good behaviour again.