Oh, hey. So, this is my first and probably only Avengers fiction, written purely because my muse would not allow anything else to appear on my document page. Basically, it has three of my favorite things. One, Clint whumpage (which I have recently learned is in fact a word), two, Tony and Clint getting into shit together, and three, humor. A lot of this fic is just jokes I can't use in any other fandom masked minimally by an actual plot line, mostly in this first chapter. Things get a little heavier after this. This is tad shorter than my other writings, but I'm new at writing grown mens' immaturity versus teenagers' immaturity. That being said, I'd love if I could get some feedback! Reviews are lovely.

Disclaimer thingy: I do not own anything, specifically in this case any of Marvel's Avengers, or any modern media references that come up.

I am not responsible for any overwhelming immaturity that may come from Tony Stark. Actually, I am, but forget that.


"Come on, move along, Stark." Natasha Romanoff shoved the multi-billionaire down a dark and damp hallway. Tony had been peeking curiously into a room where scientists were apparently trying to grow free-thinking watermelons or something of the sort (Tony decided the next thing on his list was to hack into SHIELD's databases again and find out just what kind of experiments they were running). SHIELD's bases were full of dark and damp hallways. Tony would have much rather been lounging in Stark Tower with Pepper, some grapes, and his best bottled friend Sam Adams, but Fury had called him to one of the bases for some mission, or whatever. He could have cared less. Unless there were baby animals involved. He was feeling a bit gushy.

Natasha led him to a hangar/garage that fit enough vehicles to take up more space than Tony's ego. Agents of all shape and form were hustling about, starting up planes and cars and something that looked suspiciously like a dune buggy.

Damn, he wanted a dune buggy.

"Hey, Jarvis." Tony spoke into his ever-present earpiece that linked him to his supercomputer. "Get me a dune buggy."

"Right away, sir."

Tony smiled, and then noticed Natasha staring at him with a look of combined disgust and amusement.

"So, sweetheart, I don't suppose you're going to tell me what the hell I'm doing here, huh?"

"You are to be briefed when we get there." A familiar gruff voice met Tony's ears from his other side, and he smiled widely.

"Barton's coming too? Now it's a party."

"Don't get too excited, Anthony." Clint deadpanned, moving forward and throwing a duffle into the back of an armored truck.

"Of course, of course." Tony scoffed. Natasha swung around and walked toward another car, piling bags and checking weapons.

"I mean it." Clint told him seriously. "Fury says this is a Level 7 mission. We'll be meeting Steve at the site, apparently he was already located close enough."

"Is Banner coming?" Tony asked, leaning against the car. "I've acquired a new collection of pointy objects that I want to poke him with."

When Clint didn't answer, Tony continued on his tirade of words. "Why am I here, anyway? Can't I just fly in my suit to wherever?"

"Not if you don't want to get shot out of the sky, you don't." Natasha scolded him. He was about to point out to her that his suit was ICBM-proof, thank you very much, when she silenced him with a glare. "We've got your suit loaded in one of the cars. Fury doesn't want anyone flying. We're going on the ground."

"Well." Tony crossed his arms and pretended to be mad for a minute, and then stopped once he realized that the two agents were about as fun as rocks. At least you could throw rocks at people, and that was fun. Clint gestured to the car.

"Get in."

"You'll ride with Clint, because I really can't stand the sight of you." Natasha told him. "Try not to kill each other...or give Clint a reason to kill you. The amount paperwork would be horrifying."

"Love you too, Natasha." Tony grumbled.

"Once you reach the other base you'll meet up with the Captain and get briefed on your mission." Fury boomed, coming out of freaking nowhere and scaring Tony out of his freaking underwear. "Be careful on the way there. They'll be watching, and I wouldn't be surprised if you have to take a few out of the skies."

"Who did we piss off this time?" Tony asked. Natasha huffed as if she couldn't believe he was so stupid, Fury rolled his eyes (well...eye) and Clint erupted into a fit of muffled chortles that made Tony want to knee him in the goods. Hard. "No one tells me anything anymore."

"Get in the car, Stark." Clint smirked and swung around to the driver's side, opening the door and motioning for Tony to get his ass in gear. Tony sighed, swinging open the door and piling inside. Natasha poked her head in through Clint's window.

"I'll be communicating with you over the car comm. Don't be stupid." Then she turned to Clint, just barely touching his arm and speaking in a softer tone. "Be careful."

"Always am." Clint replied, and Tony came to a few sudden realizations at once. The most important, however, erupted from his mouth.

"Wait, does this mean we don't have a radio?" He exclaimed, incredulous. Natasha rolled her eyes and stalked away while Barton gave him the death glare. "What? I need my tunes."

"Just...sit there and don't do anything, Stark." Clint instructed, pulling out of the parking space and following the procession of armored cars out onto a barren road. Truly, Tony had never seen a road so boring.

"Aye aye, Legolas," Tony murmured, and, immediately restless, turned to inspect what they were carrying in the back of the truck. "Oh, hey! My suit's in this car! Your bow and arrows, too!"

"Great observation, Mr. Wizard." Clint muttered in response. "Fury said that if need be, we should have your suit close, and that you'd be able to make sense of all the weird tech stuff."

"Well, duh, I invented it." Tony tried to lean back to grab the case (he needed something to fiddle with), but it was too far away. He went to unbuckle his seat belt, but Barton immediately chastised him.

"Don't." He said sternly, which caused Tony to look at him with a face identical to that of a rebellious, annoying teenager.

"Who are you, my mom?" He asked. "Since when are you Mr. Stay Out of the No-Zone?"

"Just don't, Stark."

"What, you gonna give me a ticket?"

"Maybe."

"I don't ever get to do anything in this car." Tony whined, swinging around and stuffing his hands on his lap, trying to focus on being still. This worked for an all of three minutes before he spasmed, flicking his hands up to his head and down again. He pulled a pen out of his suit and searched around for a napkin, but Mr. Drive Safe was apparently Mr. Neat and Tidy as well, and he didn't find a single scrap of paper. Not even a Starbucks box. Frustrated, he turned to Barton.

"Don't talk to me."

"Oh, come on!" Tony growled. "Even commuter planes are more exciting than this! At least they have movies!"

"Let me tell you a tale, Stark." Barton replied, snark finding its way slightly into his even tone.

"Oh, goody, story time." Tony grumbled sarcastically.

"Once there was a man who talked so much, he annoyed the shit out of everyone. So another man with a pistol strapped to his leg shot him in the face. The end."

"...That wasn't a very good story."

"Surprise."

Tony sighed. "How far away is this base?"

"About three hours, twelve minutes." Barton told him with a smart-ass tone. Or at least it seemed so to Tony.

"And how long have we been driving?"

"Eighteen minutes."

"Damn." Tony muttered.

"You're telling me." Clint never took his eyes off of the road. "You're not the one stuck in a car for three hours with you. Have you ever been in a room by yourself...with yourself?"

"Why yes, Barton, I am very familiar with myself." Tony said. Barton snickered, and Tony sent him an evil glare. "You immature little bastard."

This only caused Barton to laugh a little harder, and Tony gave him the finger turning away. A moment of revenge sneaking up and slapping him, Tony turned around once more. "So, Barton. You and Romanoff?"

Clint's laughter immediately ceased, followed by a slow moving, barely noticeable, but still present blush creeping up his neck, much to Tony's satisfaction. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on, you can tell me." Tony kicked up his feet on the dash, bringing his hands behind his head. "Bros to bros."

"You are not my... bro." Clint responded with a hint of disgust. "I don't have to relinquish any emotions to you. You don't have any valid emotions."

"I do too have emotions!" Tony protested. "I've loved and lost, trusted, been kicked in the ass, given charity, been greedy, thrown a party, gotten a bender. If anyone doesn't have feelings, it's you, Mr. Agent."

"I have feelings. I just don't show them."

"Why not?"

Clint sent the barest of glances at Tony before snapping his gaze back to the road. "Feelings get you killed in my line of work."

"Ah." Tony nodded, bringing his hands together. "Astute conclusion, Mr. Westin."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"That would be preferable."

"You know, I thought you couldn't die." Tony smirked, raising one eyebrow. "You always seem to weasel out of everything."

"For a genius, you're really stupid, Stark." Clint's resorted back to his deadpan again, not looking at Tony.

"Thanks, gorgeous." Tony moved to sling his arm around Clint, but Barton pushed him off angrily.

Suddenly the radio began to spurt and sputter to life, a female voice leaking out of the speakers. "Clint, turn left onto the dirt road three miles ahead. Hill just reported an ambush on the main road."

Clint reached forward and pressed the audio button on the radio. "Got it, Tasha."

"Stark still being an ass?" Natasha asked.

"I dropped him five miles back."

"Did his ego block your view?"

"What do you guys say about me when I'm not around?" Tony barked.

"Hang in there, Clint."

"I'll try." Clint feigned an exasperated voice, sending a smirk in Tony's direction. Tony glared and peered out the window, marveling at the plainness of the fields and occasional steep, rocky cliffs leading down to more plain fields and dying trees.

"Soo... Tasha."

"Shut up."

"Hey, Cupid, you got any snacks?" Tony inquired.

"No, and don't call me Cupid."

"Why not? I've heard Romanoff call you Cupid before, Cupid."

"Stop that. It's different."

"'Cause you're in luuurrrvvve." Tony taunted, tilting his head up childishly. Barton sighed. Any longer with this and Stark was going to be singing the playground kissing in a tree song.

"Love is trivial, and I do not partake in it."

"Come on, Barton, denial isn't just a river in Egypt!"

"When you're done being eleven, we've got a mission to get to."

"...You don't even have any Nilla wafers or something?"

"No, I do not have any snacks. I'm not hungry."

Tony pondered this, and then shelved it aside. "How does one choose not to love, anyhow?"

"I don't love anymore." Clint cursed himself. In four words he'd already let more slip than he'd want the egocentric man to know.

"Who are you, Voldemort?"

"I have self-control, Stark. Something it seems that you're lacking."

"I think you are Voldemort. Is that why you never die?" Tony teased.

"I can't remember a time when you weren't talking."

"So which one of your seven souls doesn't love Romanoff?" asked Tony.

"I don't have to answer to you, Stark." Clint groaned, now really exasperated. Talking with Tony was exhausting. How did Bruce stand hours with this man in a laboratory?

"Come on. She's hot. You can't tell me that you don't want to have sex with her."

"Shut up, Tony."

"...Have you even ever had sex?"

"Yes."

"...With women?"

"Yes, Tony!"

Tony made a tsk noise, leaning forward. "How often? You seem stressed."

"Goddamnit, Stark!" Clint roared, slamming his palm on the steering wheel. Somehow, he never took his eyes off of the road.

"Me, I like to keep myself perfectly healthy." Tony added, nodding in satisfaction at his own innuendoes. He felt like he was a 15-year old college freshman again. "Although sometimes a trip to the doctor is in order-"

"Shut up." Clint growled, dragging a hand down his face. "You...just...shut up, Stark."

"No, really, I can prove it! Here, let me call Banner, I'm sure he's had enough of me and Pepper-"

An eruption from the radio cut Tony short, and Clint leaned forward ever so slightly to catch the tirade of shouts coming from the other end. The car about twenty feet in front of them swerved, and then righted itself. "Damn it! They set up an ambush on this road, too! We'll have to take them; Clint, do you have your bow?"

"Stark, get my bow." Clint echoed the command, eyes locked on what was unfolding, seen only to his seemingly superhuman eyes.

"Can I unbuckle my seat belt now, Mommy?"

"Just do it!"

Tony reached across himself and unbuckled the tether restraining him to his seat. He stuck his arm out behind him and turned to try to grasp the bow in his hands, but it was lodged between his suitcase the the back seat. "That is just inconvenient..."

"Hawkeye, get up to the hill and attack enemy forces." A stern voice, yet not Natasha's because it was male, boomed through the comm system.

"Going now."

Tony lurched forward as Clint veered sharply off of the road and up a steep climb. He tumbled into the back head first, and bounced around until Barton finished climbing and zoomed ahead on more or less level ground. Tony grabbed hold of the bow, yanking it harshly from its spot, and grasped the quiver as Clint shouted something.

"Who are we fighting?" Tony yelled, furious that he didn't know something. There was no file to read, no computer to hack. Only an uncooperative Clint Barton who was currently trying to avoid smashing into a rock. Gunfire sounded off, startling Tony just a little bit. He was used to gunfire.

"Get down!" Clint roared, swerving again and sending Tony to the floor. He immediately raised himself up again and launched over the separator, sprawling into the passenger seat. Clint turned to him, a mixture of anger, frustration, and determination etched across his face. "I told you to get down!"

"Didn't tell me to stay down!" Tony shouted back, having trouble hearing over the sheer amount of gunfire. Clint was driving them along a narrow path, if one could call it that, with drops on either side. One led to the line of armored trucks that had stopped, a machine gun propped up on each and firing toward another set of cars, which were blocking the street and firing their own arms at SHIELD. The other dropped into something of a forest, or dried up swampland, or something. "I got your arrows, Cupid. Time to make some love!"

Clint kept driving, set on a little ridge at the end of the path where he could take out some of the forces. He ducked a bit as the driver side window was shot out. "Tony, you might want to get your suit." He shouted. "I have a feeling that-"

The rest of his sentence was cut off as Tony's face was sprayed with blood.


Even review buttons need to eat too.