"Somebody tell me how the hell this even happens!" Tony's voice floated through the open door, breathtakingly angry even by the billionaire's standards. "And why are there five empty cases of Blue Label in his suite that none of us know about?"
Clint blinked the fuzz out of his vision, staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom. Based on the light filtering in through his window it was very early morning. His arm ached a little and he flexed his fingers, staring at the ugly bruise on his wrist. That could have been a lot worse. He could hear shuffling out in his sitting room and he could just catch a glimpse of Steve and Bruce through the open double doors. They both looked tired as if they'd been up all night.
"Apparently he snuck into your wine cellar a couple of days ago and cleaned you out," Natasha sighed in exasperation. "The security log shows your code on the lock."
"Jes..." Tony let out a string of expletives that made Steve blush slightly. "JARVIS! inform administration that from now on there needs to be two codes to get into the wine cellar. No one gets in there by themselves, not even me... And issue a code to Cap. He's the only one I can rely on around here not to go on a bender."
"Right away, sir," JARVIS intoned.
"I'll try not to take that personally," Bruce stated softly, folding his arms protectively over his chest.
"No offense, Big Guy," Tony's manic tirade eased and he reached out to knead the back of Bruce's neck. "Are you ok?"
"You look a little... green," Steve gave him an apologetic look but Bruce only chuckled.
"I'm just rattled," Bruce shook his head. "Everything's ok now."
"You did good," Steve praised with a heartfelt smile.
"So what kind of lie are we going to make up to cover this?" Natasha asked. Steve winced and Clint could pick up the worry in her tone.
"Could you put a bruise like that on him?" Tony asked Steve. Captain America shook his head.
"Thor's probably the only other one who could," Natasha admitted.
"We're not asking him," Steve protested. "He took it last time, and he was out with Jane in SoHo all last night."
"Yeah they haven't even surfaced yet," Bruce shook his head. "I'm sure not going to be the one to wake them."
"You don't have to," It was Thor's voice coming from the doorway sounding concerned. "JARVIS informed me of your unfortunate evening."
"That's a word for it," Tony sighed. "We could say lab accident."
"It looks like finger marks," Bruce pointed out resignedly. "Big, mutant, monster fingers. It's going to have to be me."
"It can't be you and you know why," Steve insisted. "We're just going to have to think of something."
"Think fast," Natasha advised. "Coulson's going to be here soon so we need to hide the bourbon and get our story straight."
"Perhaps we can cover it up until he heals," Thor suggested. "or at least until we can plan something more convincing."
"Tell him the truth," Clint said, gulping slightly. The others fell silent and he drew in an unsteady breath. Damn, he sure had a knack for causing disaster.
"How's the hangover?" Steve asked softly as the others followed him into the bedroom.
"Kind of like my head's exploding," Clint admitted.
"Serves you right," Natasha declared, her tone without venom. Clint smiled at her, none of the others could probably see it but he knew. She wasn't angry any more, she was too busy trying not to appear upset.
"I thought I told you to ask if you needed anything," Steve chided, settling on the edge of the bed as Clint forced himself to sit up.
"Yeah, I know," Clint answered thickly. "god, Bruce, I'm so sorry."
"It's ok," Banner still looked shaken but he smiled shyly. "Next time I'm letting them taze you though." Clint let out a half laugh as Thor winced painfully.
"I really screwed everything up," Clint observed, rubbing his face with his hands.
"We're going to sort this out and fix it," Steve promised.
"I would rather take responsibility for this myself than see you come to harm over it," Thor added.
"I can't let you guys cover for me again," Clint shook his head. "You need to tell Coulson the truth when he comes in."
"Fury'll take you off the team, Clint," Steve reminded.
"I've been off the team for a while now," Clint admitted miserably. "I just didn't want to admit it to myself and you guys were too good to me to say it. You're... better than family. That's why I can't keep doing this to you. Tell Coulson what happened. Let him make the call." They all looked at each other with uneasy expressions and Clint felt a lump in his throat as he realized they didn't want to lose him any more than he wanted to be lost. He blinked rapidly, drawing in a shaky breath. This was for the best, he was going to protect them the way they'd been protecting him from the moment he'd hit the pavement.
"Listen, can you guys give Bruce and I a minute here?" Tony asked finally. Steve turned to look at him in surprise. Whatever question his eyes were asking, Tony only nodded. Steve seemed taken aback but Natasha and Thor only looked confused.
"Sure, Tony," Steve nodded. "We'll clean up the living room and then try to get Phil enough breakfast to put him in a good mood." Thor nodded in agreement and the three of them slipped out the doors, Steve closing them securely behind them.
"Tony, I..." Clint began but Stark cut him off.
"I've got a little pet project going that I want you to take a look at," Tony stated, pulling a chair up to the bed and settling in it as he handed a tablet to Clint. A human outline came to life on the screen and Clint recognized the Iron Man development interface.
"This isn't the Mark XLIII," Clint stated, unsure of what he was actually seeing. "It's... tiny. I mean really." He stared at it in confusion. It was much too small to be a weapon of any kind, it didn't even seem viable as a shielding device.
"No, it's not Iron Man," Tony shook his head, a soft smile curling his lips. "It exists because of Iron Man."
"It's a highly experimental microscopic sub-dermal neural interface," Bruce supplied to his unvoiced question. "It's built on the Iron Man control architecture."
"Sub-dermal... Oh my god," tears burned his eyes as he stared at the now blurring screen. "Tony do you actually think you can make this work?" It was a stupid question to ask, he knew, because if Tony wasn't sure, one hundred percent sure, the project would be so far buried in the lab no one would even know it existed.
"It works fine," Tony assured. "I mean I knew it was going to, but just to be safe I let a vet friend of Pepper's try it on her paraplegic dog. Little mongrel jumped all over me when I went to see the results."
"Oh my god," Clint's chest tightened and his vision tunneled. He slumped forward, his head resting on his knees as he hyperventilated. Tony let out a laugh, rubbing his back.
"Spinal surgery has risks, Clint," Bruce reminded gently. "very high risks, if this goes horribly wrong..."
"I'll be dead," Clint nodded, sitting up slowly despite his ragged breathing. "but if it goes right I'll be... me again?"
"Maybe a little bit better than you," Tony said, holding his fingers a hairs breadth apart. "That dog could outstrip all the other mutts in the clinic for speed. You should have seen how giddy the vet was."
"This is what the two of you have been doing in the lab for the last eight months," Clint stated, rubbing the tears from his eyes.
"More Tony than me," Bruce admitted. "I helped with some of the biological components but most of it is him. I'm just here because his ego is out of hand and I wanted you to know he isn't off his rails on this."
"Thanks a lot, Shrek!" Tony shot back.
"When can we do this?" Clint demanded.
"Clint, you need to be completely sure," Bruce prompted.
"When?" Clint repeated desperately.
"I'll go arrange everything," Tony promised. "Right after I go down and tell Coulson... and beg him not to evaluate your fitness until you're back on your feet."
"You begging," Bruce smirked. "This I've got to see." Tony shot him a glare.
"You are not off this team, Clint," Tony assured, turning back to him. "Not now, not ever."
"Sleep it off and we'll sit down tonight and go over everything," Bruce declared. Clint nodded, easing down into the pillows as Tony stood, the pair of them slipping out the door. He could hear a moment's rattling around in his living room and then silence. Once he was absolutely sure he was alone he let the tears fall, hugging the tablet to his chest.
It wasn't easy, and it wasn't necessarily pretty and like most things it didn't go exactly perfectly either. But Coulson failed to file an incident report for the second time in his life and Tony constructed the worlds smallest neural interface. And in less than two months Barton was in recuperative therapy at SHIELD medical and life in the tower was as normal as could be expected for grown adults who spend most of their time blowing themselves up and falling out of the sky. It wasn't all good, but it wasn't all bad either.
"Pizza's here!" Steve shouted up the stairs, delivery boxes balanced in his arms. Thor stepped off the elevator, clad in sweats and a too tight t-shirt.
"Let me help you," he offered taking half the boxes as they made their way to the rec room, spreading the food out on the table.
"We're running low on root beer, JARVIS," Natasha stated as she emerged from the kitchen with an armload of beer and soda.
"I shall address the situation immediately, Ms. Romanov," the AI answered.
"Steve that's a lot of food," Bruce observed in amusement as he trudged down the landing, ruffling his hair tiredly. "I think you got carried away."
"Phil called and said he'd be here," Steve shrugged. the room stilled rather abruptly.
"Coulson's coming all the way here from SHIELD?" Tony asked from where he stood in the doorway, unease rolling off of him in waves. "Why?"
"He said he had something to tell us," Steve admitted hesitantly. Tony's face paled, with stilted steps he crossed the rec room, collapsing on the sofa.
"Tony he didn't say it was bad news," Steve declared gently.
"He's bringing Barton's evaluation," Tony stated as if it were a matter of fact.
"We can't be sure of that," Natasha pointed out.
"We all knew the physical therapy was going to be rough," Bruce insisted. "That's why Clint asked us not to be there. He knew we'd take every setback personally, especially you Tony."
"Did you look at his charts?" Natasha asked with a furrowed brow.
"No I didn't," Bruce answered. "He asked me not to before he went under. The surgery went as expected, there's no reason to believe he won't eventually make a full recovery."
"It would be unfair of SHIELD to evaluate him while he is recovering," Thor stated as if the matter were settled. Tony gave a derisive snort. Fairness wasn't one of his expectations in life.
"It doesn't matter if it is his evaluation," Steve reminded emphatically. "He has another month of physical therapy. When that's over we'll all insist that he be reviewed again. Fury is not taking him off the team." The others nodded in agreement but Tony only blew out the breath he'd been holding.
"You guys save me some?" Coulson asked cheerfully as he appeared on the landing.
"Sure, grab a plate, Phil," Steve offered, grinning. "You up for movie night tonight?"
"I could go along with that," Phil nodded, grabbing a slice of pizza.
"So what brings you to our domicile of chaos?" Natasha asked with a smile.
"Actually I brought you something," Phil admitted. Tony let out a choking noise and Phil frowned in concern.
"Oh yeah?" Bruce asked conversationally. "Wa..." his voice trailed off and the others followed his gaze to the door.
"Hey guys," Clint Barton stood, leaning on the door frame, his arms folded over his chest, the faintest smile curling his lips.
Natasha rambled out something unintelligible in Russian and possibly six other languages as she bolted across the room, flinging both arms around his neck.
"Yeah I missed you too," Clint laughed, squeezing her tightly. He felt Thor's meaty hand grasp his shoulder and he let out a grunt as the speechless thunder god wrapped him in an over zealous bear hug.
"It's good to have you home, Hawkeye," Steve declared, prying him free from Thor's grasp and giving him a one armed hug.
"It's good to be home," Clint nodded.
"You look good," Bruce beamed at him. Clint took his offered hand.
"I feel great," Clint confessed, clapping his arm affectionately as Banner gave his arm a squeeze.
"So," Tony observed, completely straight faced as he leaned against the back of the sofa, his arms crossed over the arc reactor in his chest. "Good as new?"
"Little bit better, maybe," Clint nodded, holding his fingers a hairs breadth apart. They stared at each other in silence a moment before Clint shook his head, crossing the room in three long strides to wrap both arms around Tony's shoulders.
"Thanks man," Clint's voice wavered against Tony's ear and Stark screwed his eyes shut, raising his arms to hesitantly hug back.
"Any time," Tony nodded. Clint pulled away with a laugh and Tony met his gaze with a half smile, ruffling Barton's hair teasingly.
"I'm starving," Tony insisted, turning toward the pile of delivery boxes. "So movie night tonight." Clint nodded in agreement.
"Your turn to pick," Tony declared, handing Clint a plate.
"Yeah," Clint nodded, grinning at each of them in turn. "that'd be fantastic."
NOTES
[Roll Credit, Queue; U2 - Stuck in a Moment]
Much of this fic was inspired by some reading I've been doing on advances in medical prosthetics. There is some really amazing work going on that is changing the way we look at the brain and the way we repair the human body. If any of you are planning for college and trying to decide on a major in Applied Sciences, I'd like to encourage you to think hard about Neural Engineering. It's not nearly as glamorous as Computer Design or a host of other really popular fields and it's not necessarily going to make you more attractive at parties but it's a field in which you can make a real difference in peoples lives instead of just helping them waste time on facebook. Of course, you could end up building the Borg too... but I'm going to trust you not to do that. Technology like this really isn't far off, but we're never going to get there if the young Tony Starks don't step up. So get out there and fix the Hawkeys of the world, my friends, because I'm too old to get into MIT.