Hold on, I'm coming for you. No matter what it takes, I'll always be there for you.

The sky was blue. And there were three rather fluffy clouds directly over him.

Those were the first things Stark thought of when he opened his eyes after falling about fifty feet after one of the weirdo alien things he was fighting managed to snag a lucky shot and took out one of his rocket boots. He had plummeted from the sky and skidded across the pavement before blacking out for a couple seconds.

The few seconds he was out, the rest of his precious team had finished the battle.

Gingerly, he moved his body and when nothing seemed to be broken, he sat up, muscles screaming and sore. He coughed as a voice reached him and then Rogers was in view, relief on his face as his lips curled up into a smile.

"Thank God. You all right?"

Stark just smirked as he took the hand that was being offered and hauled himself up onto his feet. "Of course I am. You guys would be lost without me!"

A half smothered snort erupted from the Captain and next second, he'd already composed himself and was tugging Stark somewhere. "Come on. Everyone's waiting for us."

They made their way across the broken landscape. Cluttered food stands and cars that were crushed were sprawled haphazardly across the streets and at one point, they even saw a truck that seemed to have gone through three buildings before coming to a crashing stop when it hit a halal cart.

Glass from jagged windows littered the ground and Stark was just wondering who the hell was going to pay for this whole mess- it's not coming out of his paycheck this time, of that he's sure- when they rounded the corner and a cacophony of noise met their ears.

Bruce had already de-hulked, wearing clothes that were at least two sizes too big for him and he was sitting rather forlornly on the side of the road as Coulson loomed over him, most likely giving a lecture of how he should reign in the 'other guy' so they wouldn't have to do so much reconstruction yet again. The Captain sidled away to call out towards the cleanup crew, grabbing a broom to start sweeping some of the rubble underneath a collapsed building, always the Good Samaritan.

Then, medics were in Stark's face, asking him if he was injured, why don't he take a seat, let them have a look at him, and he resisted the urge to smack the waving caring hands away. Normally, he'd enjoy the attention, soaking it all up, but not today, not when his feet felt like the lead his armour was partially made up of. Still, he followed one to the back of an ambulance where Natasha was, a sour look on her face as a nurse popped her dislocated shoulder in place without even a flinch.

A quirk of her eyebrow was all Stark got as a greeting and then, he was inside the ambulance and told to get some rest by some fawning nurse. Edging towards one of the stretchers to sit down, he noticed Barton lying on one of the beds, one arm over his eyes, the other dangling over the side, his chest heaving up and down in a steady rhythm, indicating he was fast asleep.

"He's exhausted."

Tony whirled around but it was only Natasha, done with her medical overview, her lips drawn down into what could have passed as a painful grimace.

He grinned cheekily even as his hand came up to rub his forehead, a headache beginning to blossom. "Aren't we all?"

A huff came out of the spy's lips as she settled herself next to the master marksman. "You weren't in Chicago hunkering down in the rain to take out a target." Her lips thinned and her face was blank even as her hands seemed to curl towards Barton's that were hanging off the side of his bed. "You didn't stay awake for 72 hours and then was called out again to fight aliens."

Tony held up his hands in an 'I surrender' gesture. "Okay okay. I get the point. Don't wake up loverboy over there because if not, we face your wrath and you kick our asses with nothing but a plastic fork. Yea. Got it."

The wink he sent her way failed to make Natasha smile though her eyes did turn somewhat warmer before her communicator rang again and her face slid back into a wary look before she grabbed it, sighed, and exited from the vehicle.

Stark also gave a sigh of his own as he started taking off his armour, his movement jerky as he ignored JARVIS who rattled on about how much damage the suit had taken and how long it was going to take to fix it.

They were all exhausted. Ever since that fiasco in New York and Thor had taken his wayward brother back to Asgard, monsters, aliens, big time crooks, part time crooks, and all kinds of evil had cropped up all over the place. You name it, the Avengers minus Thor had fought it.

Tony had just sat down on the bed to get some shut eyes when the door to the ambulance flew open to smack the walls with a resounding crash, making his ears ring. Clint had bolted up, knife in hand, as he blinked wearily, his eyes focusing on to Natasha whose red hair seemed to blind them all momentarily.

Tucking his knife away- Tony was gaping at him, wondering where exactly the knife was procured from- Clint scrubbed his face with his hands.

His voice was low as he muttered, "Natasha, what's going on?"

Tony unhelpfully chimed in, "Yea! What the heck was that? It's okay for you to wake him up but not me? That's not fa-"

He was cut off. "Thor's back."

"Great! Now that the great oaf's back, does that mean I can go on vacation?"

Natasha cut a dark look towards him and he immediately clamped down his next statement just as the other S.H.I.E.L.D agent said, "There's more, isn't there?"

A barely discernible nod from the sole woman on the team.

"He's back. And he's not alone."

A pause as her eyes seems to darken. "He bought Loki back with him."

Well then, things can only get worse from here.

- Going to curse myself for starting so many fics and leaving them half finished cause of ~feels~ and so much ideas. Shoot me.

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- Reviews are much appreciated.