First story, yay! Bear with me. :) -Psychopathus

"You might be used to doing missions on your own, but guess what, hotshot? You're on a team now! You follow orders and think of how your actions affect everyone else!"

Tony was still outfitted in his red-and-gold armor, his helmet tucked under one arm as he paced back and forth in front of Captain America, Black Panther, and Hawkeye.

Hawkeye, Cap noticed, had remained uncharacteristically quiet through the duration of Tony's rant. The purple-masked archer would clench his hands into fists sometimes, but soon his brief display of anger would disappear and he'd return to the passive listener. Panther, not unexpectedly, kept silent.

Now it was Cap's turn.

"I understand your anger, Tony. I realize we disobeyed direct orders-" even if they weren't so direct "and took a S.H.I.E.L.D. operative into enemy territory. But this mission brought Viper and Grim Reaper into custody-not to mention we destroyed HYDRA Island."

"Yeah. Sure. Okay. If you're looking for a pat on the back, you're in the wong place." Tony smiled deprecatingly. "My point isn't that you three disregarding orders actually captured two villains and destroyed a HYDRA base, my point is that when you're on a team, you follow orders."

Panther folded his arms in front of his chest. "Perhaps, but an ancient Wakandan legend teaches the young of the tribe that not all orders are to be trusted."

Tony gave the African king an incredulous look. "Are you saying you can't trust me to be smart about my orders?"

"He's saying you're not a good leader." Hawkeye stood up from his chair and glared at Tony. "And I agree."

"You're throwing a fit because you know you were wrong." Tony stated matter-of-factly.

Hawkeye's hands balled into fists at his side. "Say that again and I'll punch you."

Tony narrowed his eyes. He knew better than to play Hawkeye's game and brew more resentment, but...he couldn't resist a challenge. A smug look crossed the billionaire inventor's face, then, "You're throwing a fit because you know you were wrong."

Hawkeye landed a hard right hook to Tony's jaw, but before he could do anything else, Cap had leapt to his feet and restrained him.

"You're way out of line, soldier!" Cap scolded, tossing the Avengers' resident sharpshooter back into his chair.

"Don't pretend he didn't have it coming!" Hawkeye snapped.

"Honestly, Clint? Not impressed. I'd have thought you could hit harder." Tony smirked, rubbing his jaw ruefully.

"Not helping." Cap growled.

"Fine. You guys can go. Including myself. I think I need some ice." Tony left the room, followed by a cat-eared shadow.

Hawkeye slumped in his chair and scuffed the floor frustratedly.

Cap pulled down his winged mask and allowed himself to fall back into his chair. "Don't you get tired of seeing everyone as an enemy?"

"Nope." Hawkeye answered curtly, also pulling back his mask and running a gloved hand through his messy dark blond hair.

Steve could see this wasn't going anywhere. "Okay, let's make a deal. If you can go the rest of the day without a mean word to anyone...I'll..." What could he bribe Clint with? "I'll ask Nick if I can arrange a meeting."

Clint lifted an eyebrow skeptically. "With...?"

"Mockingbird."

Clint shifted in his chair and his eyes regarded Steve shrewdly. "I'm listening."

"You can't say something to anybody that insults them or something they like."

"Deal! I'll just stay in my room the whole day."

"Oh no. You're not allowed to be in any room by yourself for more than ten minutes."

"What? You're so-" Steve smiled at his teammate's efforts. "Um. Blond. You're so blond."

"I know," Steve replied amusedly. "Remember. The whole day. And tomorrow, I'll take you to see Mockingbird."

"Clint! Great timing." Jan bustled in the front doors festooned with shopping bags. "I got a couple new outfits-"
"And by couple, she means twenty..." Hank added, stumbling after Jan, also laden with shopping bags.

"-and I need someone who isn't my friend to tell me how they look. So stay right there!"

Within five minutes, Jan was back in a new outfit, a short (and revealing) black dress.

"Oh." Clint swallowed. "Um."

Hank stared in wonder as Clint stammered.

"I..uh, I like it."

Jan beamed. "Great! Next outfit!" She rushed to her room and reappeared almost immediately in a lacy white ensemble.

"So how's this one?"

"Ho, archer!" Thor greeted Clint with a hearty slap on the back that nearly knocked him down.

"Hey Thor." Clint straightened up and feigned a smile of joy at seeing the potentially insane powerhouse.

"Watch you the enchanted picture box recently?"

"You're delusional!" jumped to mind, but Clint bit his tongue. "Uh, not sure what you just said."

"The enchanted picture box? Upon which the images of daily Midgardian life art projected in motion?"

Clint processed Thor's speech carefully. "...You mean the television?"

Thor waved his hand dismissively. "Television...'enchanted picture box' art a more suitable term for yon machinery. Watch you this...television...recently?"

"Have I watched the TV recently? No. Why?"
"There hath been a story humans hath composed upon the Avengers recently shown in the television. I was wondering what the mortals spoke of us."

"Well, I know as much as you do." Clint shrugged.

"Very well. Worketh you on the sleek portable boxes for tapping and scutinizing photos of felines?"

"...What?"

That night, Clint sat quietly in the living room, watching the television.

"Cartoons? Nah. Soap opera? Meh. News? God, no. Science documentary..eh..."

Though his thumb hovered over the "channel up" button, Clint didn't change the channel from the documentary. Building multi-million dollar battlesuits or helmets that let you talk to bugs wasn't his forte, but he did find science interesting. Psychology, in particular. It was almost his secret interest.

The documentary was about alcohol and the effects it had on the brain.

"Many alcoholics are prone to abusive behavior..."

"No kidding." Clint muttered.

"Watching something about science? There is hope for you after all." Steve threw himself on the couch next to Clint. "Effects of alcohol on the mind, huh? ...That's...interesting."

"Dr. Terrson is a leading expert on the subject. 'The effects of an alcoholic parent on a child are emotionally damaging, as well as affecting their quality of living. An abusive parent can warp a child's mind...the child may become passive-agressive, they could have anger issues, depression, they could be suicidal...' "

At that, Clint tossed Steve the remote. "I'm...I'm gonna go to bed." he said softly, getting to his feet and shuffling out of the room.

"Hold it." Steve walked to his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder.

" '...trust issues, as well.' New tests provide evidence that alcohol can be more hurtful to the brain and the user's family than other substances such as marijuana, heroin..."

Clint studied the floor. "Are you okay?" Steve wanted to slap himself. The answer to that question was obvious, the real question was what, exactly, was wrong?
" 'M fine. Just tired." Clint mumbled, pulling away.

"Don't lie." Steve planted himself in front of the Avenger. "What's got you so worked up?"

Clint winced, and, seeing no escape route, turned around and reclaimed his seat on the couch. Steve sat down next to him again and clasped his hands together earnestly.
"Well..?"

"I grew up in a circus, right? That was after. After my parents died, I mean. My dad was an alcoholic. He abused me and my brother. And...he went out drunk with my mom and drove them into a tree." Clint blinked rapidly and took a deep breath. "My brother and I got shipped off to the orphanage. And sometimes he beat me up, but I thought if I was nice to him, he'd stop. That never worked. Then he wanted to leave...so I followed him. To the circus. And-uh, I can't remember." he finished quickly.

Steve cleared his throat and glanced around, suddenly regretting making Clint to tell him everything.

"I'm sorry." the former soldier said at last. "Sorry that had to happen to you...sorry I made you tell me."

Clint grimaced. "Yeah, well. Happens. I'm gonna go to bed, now."

And with that, Clint was absorbed into the darkness of the hallways.

Yipes. So, it appears my word processor has destroyed a lot of the stuff I put in. I'll be working to fix that. Please tell me what you thought, what you'd like to see, and thanks for reading! :D