Lucky Thirteen

"Hey, bestie," Clint chirped sardonically as he flopped down on the couch in the living room where Natasha was curled up with her French homework.

"Don't call me that," she replied evenly. "Besides, I think Sam might not appreciate it."

Clint snorted at that. "Yeah, I don't think Sam notices one way or the other right now."

"Aww, jealous?" Natasha teased him without even changing her inflection.

"Nah, not really," Clint answered with an honest shrug. "Sam deserves it. But it would be nice if he didn't live in the same house as his boyfriend. Seeing our dads make out when they think we're not around—"

She snorted this time, interrupting him. "Please. They don’t care one way or another if we're around when they really get like that."

"Either way that's exhausting enough. Those two kiss like every time is the last. It's too much." He shook his head.

"They'll get over it. Wait until they have their first argument."

Clint groaned. "Hopefully Sam's with his dad by then because who needs that kind of awkward. Bets on who starts it and who apologizes first," he then said impishly.

Natasha immediately sat up and looked at him with a slight quirk of her lips. "Steve overreacts to something and becomes indignant. Sam apologizes. Then Steve apologizes for not apologizing first."

Clint laughed. "Yeah, I could see it going that way. But I'm not so sure Sam would apologize first. Not if he really felt like Steve overreacted."

Natasha hummed. "Well, you might be right. I just know Steve can be a little self-righteous sometimes."

"So how's James?" Clint asked after a moment. "The long distance thing still working?"

"It's not easy," she answered. "I'd like to make it to prom, but sometimes it doesn't feel like enough just with the video chats and texting. It's not that I need the physicality most of the time, but the closeness was nice and…"

Clint tilted his head and studied her. "You think eventually he'll need the physicality?" She pursed her lips and gave a small nod. "Well, as a teenage guy I'd like to say you're wrong, but there's just as much a chance you're right. Sure contrary to popular opinion not every teenage boy out there is singularly minded and I've known plenty of teenage girls who are." He shrugged. "But, yeah, hormones are what they are."

They were silent for a few moments, but then she gave a long sigh. "I used to rib Steve for being jealous, but now that it's him and Sam always in my face I think I might have been a little too harsh. They can go on dates whenever they want to and I can't. I get it now."

"Not that they need to," Clint pointed out. "They're with each other practically 24/7. What's the point of going on a date?"

"You could say the same thing about our dads," she countered.

"Well, some of those things are just charity dates. Mom used to make him take her on real dates too so that's probably why my dad still wants to do that with your dad." Clint paused and tried to remember what it was his mom had called it. "Something about keeping love alive," he said with a shrug. "Besides, our dads seem to be trying to make this a permanent relationship and not just some passing fling. And they've got full time careers and a billion kids. I get why they'd want some time just for themselves. Sam and Steve on the other hand? Yeah, they're just doing it because it's what you officially have to do when you're dating," he ended with a derisive snort.

"And here I thought I was cynical."

"I'm actually not," Clint defended himself quickly. "I'm rooting for them. I'm rooting for our dads. I'm an all around sap underneath my bad boy exterior."

"Bad boy? I didn't peg you as that," Natasha teased.

"Fine, I'm just saying that Sam and Steve need to stop lip locking all the time in public places. Satisfied?"

"Yes," she said smugly. "So what about you? Still pining over your old principal?"

Clint's eyes widened and he turned his head sharply. "Who told you about that?"

She was clearly pleased to have the upper hand. "Now why would I stool on my informant, hmm?"

"Everybody has crushes on their teachers and adults at some point in their youth. It is a normal thing and I have nothing to be ashamed of," he said determinedly even as she laughed a little at him.

"Not everybody," she countered, clearly meaning herself. "So, now that my dad knows my secret what about yours?" Clint raised an eyebrow at her. "The college thing," she elaborated.

He frowned. "That's not really a big deal."

"It might be," Natasha pointed out. "Maybe your dad can help you figure it out. You know he's going to start asking anyways when spring comes around and you have to take your SATs."

"I guess I'll deal with it when the time comes," Clint replied stubbornly, feeling more than a little blindsided by the conversation. Then again, it wasn't entirely her fault. He'd already been thinking about his relationship with his dad a lot since Natasha had opened up more to her own father.

"Pizza bagels. Pizza, pizza bagels," Clint sing-songed shamelessly as he beat his drumsticks against the kitchen countertops and waited for his snack to be done. He grabbed a treat from the counter and turned to look at Lucky who was following him around. "Catch, boy," he said and tossed the treat. Lucky caught it and quickly devoured it. "Oh, pizza bagels can't be beat. Pizza bagels, my favorite treat," he continued to 'sing' as he moved from drumming to air guitar.

"Don't spoil your dinner!" Tony interrupted with a wail and air guitar of his own.

Clint rolled his eyes at his dad just as the timer went off on his snack.

Bruce followed behind Tony, chuckling and shaking his head. "Well, if he's anything like Steve and Thor, then I don't think anything could spoil his dinner."

Tony chuckled then. "Ah, youth. To be able to eat anything and everything with abandon again."

"Speaking of Thor," Bruce warned, "I wouldn't go anywhere near him with those if you're really hungry."

"No problem there, Doc," Clint said with a drumstick salute. "I've already learned that lesson."

"Sorry," Bruce said with a small smile and hitch of his shoulder.

"It's cool. I'm used to having my food swiped," Clint said with a shrug. "It's annoying, but I'm used to it."

He moved the pizza bagels from the toaster oven pan to a plate. His dad reached out and grabbed one.

"Ow, ow, hot. Very hot."

Bruce looked at him in exasperated amusement while Clint just looked at him in exasperation.

"See. Everybody thinks it's funny to swipe food from me."

"Technically I pay for all of the food in this house so you're swiping from me," Tony said, pointing at him. "Like, all the time."

"I'm your son. That doesn't count," Clint snarked back.

"And way to make your boyfriend feel like he's freeloading," Bruce said, frowning.

Tony also frowned. "We're not going to argue about this again are we? You're not freeloading."

"You two argue?" Clint looked back and forth between them in slight disbelief. "I mean I assumed at first you guys would since you seem so different, but then you've never really argued in front of us. Disagreed maybe."

"Sure, we argue," his dad said with a shrug. "And disagree."

"Should we be concerned about it?" Clint prompted with a slow, leading gesture of his hand.

"I think Bruce and I can handle some petty arguments from time to time and hold up," Tony replied. "No relationship is perfect. And Bruce hasn't threatened to leave so it must not be too bad," Tony finished with a small laugh.

"As long as you don't trigger my fight or flight response, we should be fine," Bruce assured Tony with a warm smile. He then looked at Clint. "You know what would be a fun meal idea? Making our own pizzas," he said, obviously changing the subject.

"Huh," Clint toned thoughtfully. "We could make our own sauce. Roll our own dough. Since you know that stuff in the stores is garbage."

Bruce laughed. "Yeah it is. Well, how about you find a couple of good recipes and we can do that tomorrow? I'll even pay for the ingredients myself," he added with a teasing glance at his dad.

"Cool," Clint replied genuinely.

"Aww, look at you two bonding over cooking," Tony said in an exaggerated tone of voice.

"Don't make it weird, dad," Clint said, shaking his head as he grabbed the plate of pizza bagels and left the kitchen.

Clint looked at the time and then shut his geometry book. Tossing it aside on his bed, he grabbed his phone and noise cancelling headphones and headed for the kitchen. Once there he pulled out the ingredients that had arrived from the grocer that had all of the things needed for two large homemade pizzas. Since the dough took about an hour to rise properly, Clint and Bruce had agreed that he could go ahead and prepare the dough before Bruce and Tony usually arrived home from work.

Clint turned on his music just loud enough to be enjoyable and not interfere with his hearing aid and then set about mixing the dough. When both batches were prepared and set into bowls to rise, he washed his hands and dried them. Turning to leave the kitchen he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Dude!" Clint shouted and pulled off his headphones. "Give a guy a heart attack, why don't you?"

Loki was leaning on the kitchen island eating an apple and reading over what looked like a play book. The other boy raised his eyebrow at Clint and slowly rose. "And here you're always boasting about your eyes being good. I've been here no less than ten minutes."

Clint looked at him dubiously, but shrugged it off. "I guess when I'm cooking and have the headphones on, I'm not as attentive."

He started to move to leave the kitchen although he could tell Loki was there for more than just an apple. Clint figured if Loki wanted it enough he would mention it. If not, Clint didn't really care.

"I hear you play the piano," Loki said before he was gone.

Clint paused and turned to look at him. That was a curious thing to say. He wasn't sure who would have told him that in the first place. It seemed like somebody in general had been sharing tidbits about him.

"I used to," he answered.

"Well, then let me elaborate. I hear you used to play very well," Loki said.

"Yeah, I was good. Had lots of lessons when I was a kid. Musical therapy," he explained in a clipped, matter-of-fact tone. "What about it?"

Loki gave a long winded sigh as though not wanting to answer. "My friend Sig is putting on a show next month for a community theater. I've been helping her out, but she needs a pianist. She hasn't been able to find anyone willing and everyone willing can't play or won't be available."

Clint felt his neutral exterior drop for just a moment and he could tell immediately that Loki had seen by the strange look that came over his face. Clint looked down for a moment and then back up.

"I don't really play anymore." Loki opened his mouth to say something, but Clint spoke before he could push the subject. "Can I think about it at least?"

"Well, I suppose I don't have much of a choice do I?" Loki drawled the question smoothly. He then threw his apple away and moved past him.

"Are you trying to impress this Sig?" Clint asked without turning.

"By having another boy swoop in and save the day for her?" Loki deflected in an incredulous tone. "If I were my technique is—"

"Just answer the question straight," Clint said sharply, turning on his heel and staring the other teen down. Loki looked visibly taken back for a moment. "Look, man. There are reasons I don't really play anymore so if this is just to help your friend, I'm going to say no. I've only met Sig like a handful of times. She seems nice enough, but I'm sure she'll find someone or rework her little show." He paused. "But if it's to help you, then I just might consider it."

Loki blinked several times. "Why?" He asked dubiously.

Clint gave a silent scoff. "Why? Because in case you haven't noticed this whole crazy lot has turned into a weird little family the past few months. Maybe it's kind of like a circus, but for all you and I know we could wake up and find ourselves stepbrothers one day."

Loki gave a small laugh at that and looked down. "I could just see our fathers eloping without bothering to tell us."

Clint laughed as well. "Yeah and then my dad would probably try to troll us by not telling us for at least a few weeks."

"My father is not without his troll-like tendencies. He may go along with it."

"The point is, if you're asking and it's important to you then in the name of pseudo brotherhood, I'll consider it."

There was a pregnant pause.

"I am. That is, I'm trying to impress her. It's a good show and she's worked hard on it."

"Alright," Clint said a sniff of his nose.

"I'm sure I can guess why you don't play anymore," Loki offered.

Clint clenched his jaw and set his mouth into a hard line for a moment before saying, "You'd be on the right track. But it's a little more complicated than that." He then became tight lipped again.

Clint and Bruce both tasted the sauce and nodded their approval at the same time.

"That's good," Bruce said first. "These are going to be great."

"Let's hope my dough turned out," Clint said looking over at the two rolled out crusts.

"I'm sure you did fine. But I think we should add some garlic and butter to them," he suggested.

"Some olive oil too," Clint added and Bruce hummed satisfactorily.

While Bruce set about making a mixture to spread on the dough, Clint waited in silence. He was somewhere in his head, thinking about Natasha's words the day before about college and contemplating Loki's request. He didn't realize he was scowling deeply until Bruce interrupted his thoughts.

"You okay?" Bruce asked in concern as he went over to the dough with the mix and a baster. Clint followed over with the sauce for when Bruce was done. "Anything you want to talk about or just teen angst?" He asked it with a disarming crooked smile.

"Some of it's teen angst I guess," Clint answered with a shrug.

"Well, again, if you want to talk about it," Bruce offered, "I can assure you I'm pretty well versed in the area of teen angst. My teen years were angst on steroids."

Clint considered it for a long moment. "But did you have any college problems? I mean, you're a genius, right?"

"So your dad keeps telling me… and everyone else," he said fondly. "But there was a time, when I was your age actually, that college wasn't even on my radar."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I came from a pretty bad childhood and I didn't exactly advertise my intelligence because my father abused me for being smart."

"Wait, your dad abused you… for being smart?" Clint's eyebrows shot up to his forehead in surprise. "I thought it was always the other way around. Parents get angry if you don't get good grades or make something of your life."

Bruce flinched slightly, but nodded. "Yeah, my dad wasn't exactly sane. And you've seen how super nerds get picked on, right?"

"Well, yeah," Clint admitted.

"That was me. So I tried to hide that. Then I went the opposite extreme and tried to use my genius for—"

"Evil?" Clint raised an eyebrow.

Bruce chuckled. "Oh god, I shouldn't be laughing about it because it was awful, but yes. Like I said. Teen angst on steroids."

"That sucks," Clint said after a moment. "Sorry about that. But then it worked out?"

Bruce looked around them and Clint got the gist of what he was thinking. "Better than I think I deserve, honestly. But I got lucky." Bruce paused and looked considering. "And when I finally did go to college, it wasn't like it was a set path. I got a few masters before finally deciding on my doctorate several years later. And I took some time off to take care of Steve. Then Thor and Loki. And even with the doctorate, I floundered a little with keeping steady employment doing what I wanted. Before your dad swooped in with a job offer, I had no clue what I was going to do after my last job. You can imagine that was a little terrifying."

"Having always had everything, yeah, it is a little terrifying," Clint said honestly. "So are you glad you went to college?"

"Well, yes," Bruce said easily. "Because going to college brought me to Steve, Thor and Loki in ways I never would have expected. And had I not gotten a doctorate, I might never have gotten my last job. And I might never have gone to Germany five months ago."

"And we wouldn't even be having this conversation," Clint finished knowingly. "That's heavy, Doc."

"A little," Bruce agreed with a small snort of amusement. "The basic point is you make choices and sometimes things go the way you plan and other times they don't. College isn't the end-all. My going to college is only really starting to pay off career wise now that I work for your father. But it paid off in other ways that are a thousand times more important."

"Do you think someone has to go to college to end up having a good life? To make something of himself?" Clint finally asked.

"I think you should still have this conversation with your father," Bruce hedged. "I can't speak for his expectations. But, personally, no. I think in today's world you're just as well if you do as if you don't depending on what you're looking to do. There doesn't seem to be in any guarantee if all you're looking for is income and prestige. And I'd say you've already got both by a matter of privilege. If you're looking to do something you're passionate about and that involves college, then I'd say it's still something you should do."

"What if I'm confused and don't know what I want to do?"

"Then I'd say you're like most people your age. You can go to college and waste four or more years and still not end up doing what you want to do. Sometimes a job is just a job." Bruce shrugged. "The first place to start is to really figure out the different things you truly could see yourself doing, even if it takes some work. Then read up on those things, look into them. You'll narrow them down eventually. And," he paused and looked at him intently, "most importantly, talk to your dad. You're very lucky, Clint. I may not have known him long, but I'm certain you have a dad who doesn't care if you're the next Stark prodigy. You know that, right? He loves you and not every kid has that."

Clint saw the conviction in Bruce's eyes and nodded soberly before returning to working on the pizzas. He might not talk to his dad just yet. He thought maybe he should look into those things like Bruce suggested since he'd only casually considered other career and college paths. But Bruce was right and he shouldn't take his own dad for granted.

"I wish the other thing was as easy as that," Clint mumbled then. "Loki asked me to play the piano for this thing he's doing with Sig."

"I wasn't aware you play," Bruce said, interest obviously piqued. "Your dad hasn't mentioned it."

"I bet he hasn't mentioned that he can play too, has he?" Clint challenged.

Bruce furrowed his brow. "No, hasn't come up. I gathered he's musically inclined. His voice is…" Bruce's sentence trailed and his face looked slightly crimson.

"Man, it's weird seeing older people get all goofy for each other." Clint snickered. "But, yeah, dad's got a good voice. I kind of do too, but I obviously didn't get it from him."

"Is Loki asking you to play a problem?" Bruce asked in concern when he had regained his composure. "Because if it is, just say no."

"It's just one of those things I wasn't expecting," Clint said honestly. "I wouldn't mind helping him out. I just wish it wasn't that. I'm not even sure I can still play. I haven't since…"

"We haven't since a few years after Maya's death," Tony supplied and they both turned to see him standing at the edge of the kitchen.

The oven alerted them that it was preheated so Clint distracted himself by putting the finished pizzas in the oven.

"Want to make a salad to go with it?" Bruce asked gently.

Clint nodded, grateful for another distraction as he set about pulling out the lettuce and other vegetables.

"The thing is, we weren't the only two who played. Stane did as well," Tony pressed forward after a moment.

Bruce audibly gasped and Clint set his jaw in anger he wasn't sure would ever really heal.

"He always played our piano. I even remember him playing her favorite song a few nights before the asshole had her killed," Clint finished coldly as he pulled out the salad bowl.

"When it came out that he was behind the hit, it became a bit of a… I don't know if it's a trigger, but we've never really been able to play and enjoy it quite the same way," Tony explained.

"I wish I could," Clint added honestly. "Mom always… She loved it when I played. When dad..."

Suddenly Clint heard tears and he turned to see it was Bruce. His dad's arms were around him, tears in his own eyes, as he tried to soothe him. Clint was angry and sad both, but not to tears. He had a hard time understanding Bruce's reaction.

"I'm so sorry he ruined something you both loved," Bruce started after a moment, pulling slightly away from Tony. "I'm sorry he took so much from you. It's a good thing he's not here because I would…" He seemed to remember himself. "I'm sorry, that's not an appropriate thing to say."

"Like hell it's not. I'd kill him too. I know I would. And I'd kill your dad too if I could," Tony said angrily.

"Yeah, your dad sounds like he was awful," Clint offered in small agreement just to return the favor, although he was still genuinely confused as to how someone could treat a kid that way just for being smart.

"You told him?" Tony asked, looking at Bruce.

"Not everything," Bruce answered with a shake of his head.

Clint furrowed his brow in confusion. He knew he shouldn't pry, but he wanted to. Before he could, however, Bruce turned to him with what looked like steely determination.

"You don't have to," Tony told him, with a hand on his shoulder. Bruce just squeezed that hand gratefully.

"My mother was killed by an asshole too," Bruce said, voice tight.

Clint felt his stomach drop and his face fall. "Your father?" He asked with a small voice.

Bruce nodded. "He stole everything from me that night. Right in front of me," he choked out. Clint's eyes widened and prickled with tears as well. "He stole the only person who loved me at the time. He stole the only person who encouraged me to be me. He stole my intelligence, my dignity, my trust, my humanity. He stole things that I never thought I would get back. And it's maybe a miracle that I did."

Clint suddenly understood why he was sharing the raw story. "You got everything back."

"I never got her back," he said sadly and Clint saw the way he wrung his hands like a nervous tick. "But… I got her love back. I love my children with the same love that she had for me," he said. Clint thought it sounded slightly poetic. "I used to only see glimpses of my dad when I looked in the mirror. Now I see glimpses of her. Sometimes I think I see glimpses of her in Jane and Jemma. I got more love than I could ever imagine in seven wonderful children and because I guess the universe decided I could stand a little more, I've got all of you and I hope it lasts because I don't mind it at all."

He paused again. "And I'm not afraid to be me anymore. In fact, being me has also gotten me more than I could have hoped for. I got my intelligence back, my dignity, my humanity, my love for science… I'll always miss her and I wish she could have lived. She deserved to live just like your mother."

Clint was silent for several moments. He watched as his dad turned Bruce back around to face him and then, cupping his face gently, kissed him; it looked equally tender and broken.

"I think we're starting to get stuff back too," Clint finally said and he wasn't even surprised to find that he meant it.

Tony found Bruce in the lab. He stared into a microscope for so long that Tony wondered if his mind was a million miles away. Likewise, he wondered if Bruce had come here to this particular spot in part because of his knowledge that it had once been Maya's refuge. In light of everything that had happened over the course of the night, including Clint's choosing to start gradually by downloading a piano app on his tablet, Tony wondered if Bruce was feeling the weight of what Clint had implied. Tony knew he certainly felt the weight of being something good the universe had brought back to Bruce.

"Working on anything groundbreaking?" Tony finally asked in a low voice.

Bruce startled slightly. "Just a little of my at home tests synced up with what we're working on," he answered, turning on his stool to look at him. "The project is so close to a breakthrough, but we haven't hit on the right simulation yet," he said with a weary sigh.

"You know the deadline is tentative," Tony assured him. He knew that Bruce had been working tirelessly to make up for the time he'd been away from work to take care of the kids and then when he got sick himself. "Don't work yourself t—" He bit his tongue, unable to even finish the statement. Right now it felt too raw of an expression.

Bruce seemed to understand. "Tentative or not, it's important," he said. Then he moved to put the sample away. "But tonight's clearly not the night I'm going to make a breakthrough so it can wait."

"Good," Tony said in genuine relief. "Because I was going to take a shower if you want to join me."

Bruce didn't say anything rather just came over to him and nodded. Tony could still see the shadows of his earlier emotion all over his face. He looked as vulnerable as Tony felt, and probably also looked.

"And, honestly, after that I just want to hold you if that's okay?" Tony added when Bruce didn't say anything.

Tony could stand to be held as well, and they would end up holding each other in all reality – a mess of tightly tangled limbs and the comfort of hearts beating against one another, but he needed to feel Bruce in his arms. He needed to know he was safe and still there. He perhaps needed the tangible evidence of the promise in his head that he wasn't going to let Bruce go, not now that he had been given something good back again. He perhaps just needed to hold him because there had been too many years in Bruce's life that he had nobody to want to just hold him and keep him safe.

Bruce maybe understood that too because without a word he gently grabbed Tony's arms and wrapped them around him before slipping his own arms around Tony. Tony decided the shower could wait a little longer and they stood there holding each other, Bruce relaxing in his arms the way Tony relaxed in his.

Darcy looked back and forth between her two frames as she compared them with her outfit. Today she had to give a persuasive speech in English class and she was already so nervous that picking the wrong glasses might just be an end of the world crisis.

As soon as Jane emerged from the small en suite, Darcy turned to her. "Jane, which frames do you think I should wear with this outfit?" she asked pleadingly.

Jane tilted her head as Darcy modeled both options. Then after what felt like forever Jane pointed to the pair that Darcy had been leaning toward.

"Those. Definitely those," Jane affirmed with a nod. "Are you still nervous?" she asked as she walked across the room to her bed to start getting her things together.

"Yeah," Darcy answered with a crinkle of her nose as she followed Jane's lead in putting things into her backpack. "Clint says I should just imagine everyone in their underwear, but that would just make me laugh or feel really uncomfortable."

"Yeah, don't do that," Jane said as they left the room to go to breakfast.

Sitting down at the table, Darcy looked around curiously. "Where's your dad?" She asked any of the Banner kids that would answer as she grabbed for one of the boxes of cereal on the table.

"In the lab apparently," Peter answered.

"It's an occupational hazard," Tony added. "He's been working on a project and needed to check some simulations."

"I don't know what any of that means, but okay," she said with a cheerful shrug. "It's just weird not seeing him. Other than when we were sick, he's always at the table."

"And serving us more nutritional food than cereal," Skye pointed out and Darcy snickered as did Harley.

"It's healthy cereal and there's fruit," Tony countered. "Give a guy a break. And if you want something else, you know where the kitchen is. Bruce and I are your dads, not your servants."

"Clint, go make your favorite sister an egg?" Skye then asked and looked at him with a pout.

"My favorite sister didn't ask," Clint retorted and Skye scrunched her face in disgust at his insult.

"Who's your favorite?" Darcy asked hopefully.

"My secret," Clint answered unhelpfully.

"You know," Pietro interrupted, talking with his mouth full, "when you say you and Bruce are our dads it sounds like you're saying you're both all of our dads."

Darcy took a bite of her own cereal and looked at her dad, curious for his response. Tony set aside his phone and cleared his throat.

"Yes, well, we're both fathers so we're both in a position to be, uh, father figures if you need us so I think the phrasing works. Besides, I was addressing all of you and you both have a dad. There are two dads in this house."

Darcy looked back over to see Pietro roll his eyes. "Obviously. I know that. I'm just saying what it sounds like." He shrugged.

Tony looked at them all in concern. "Please tell me this isn't suddenly an issue. Is this an issue? Raise your hand if what Pietro thinks it sounds like makes you uncomfortable."

Sam raised his hand and Tony shot him a look. "What? Neither of you are my dads," Sam said jokingly.

"Thank goodness," Steve mumbled. Darcy giggled because she thought Steve and Sam made a cute couple.

"Okay, now that we've established that neither Dr. Banner nor I are Sam's father—"

"Sam, they are not your father," Harley said, imitating Darth Vader.

There were more laughs around the table, especially from Peter beside him. Tony sighed.

"Wow, sounds like there's a lot of energy for a Monday morning," Bruce said, joining them then with a friendly smile. He didn't smile as often or as widely as her dad, but Darcy thought he had a nice smile that made her want to smile too.

"I'm not uncomfortable," Darcy volunteered regarding her dad's previous question.

"Thank you," Tony said with an appreciative look. "Anyone else in agreement with Darcy?"

Darcy watched as everyone looked around at one another and every hand went up. Beside her, Jemma seemed slightly confused before raising her hand too.

"What did I miss?" Bruce asked with a small laugh. "Was somebody just voted off the island?"

"We need to go camping over spring break and do, like, an actual survivor," Skye suggested. "We can film it and have challenges and split up into teams. It would be cool."

Their dad gave an exaggerated laugh. "Yeah, no. More like dangerous." He then looked at Bruce. "The kids have decided they're not uncomfortable with our co-parenting so far."

"Except me," Sam chimed in cheekily.

"Well, you're not our kid so your opinion doesn't matter," Bruce deadpanned and Tony as well as some of the kids snorted in amusement.

"What do you mean I'm not your kid?" Sam asked with a sad expression and then looked down at his arms. "I always knew I was different."

Bruce laughed openly and Darcy followed suit, enjoying the mood.

"Seriously, there sure is a lot of energy for a Monday morning. What did you do to them while I was in the lab?" Bruce asked with a smile and raised eyebrow.

"Would you say it's manic energy?" Tony asked.

Darcy looked in confusion as Bruce's smile fell and his eyes widened. She looked back to her dad to see he had that look Harley got when he was being an annoying boy.

"Oh no," Bruce said. "Don't even—"

"Hey, J, I'm feeling The Bangles this morning," Tony said. "I think you can guess the song."

Yes, sir.

Suddenly a song Darcy had never heard before came on over the speakers in the house and Bruce groaned loudly.

"You are evil!" He shouted.

Somewhere in the second verse the song cut off and JARVIS told them, The vehicles are ready.

"Thank you, JARVIS," Bruce said in clear relief.

"Saved by the AI," Tony said. "Alright, everybody. Time for school. We're ready to learn…"

"And get some knowledge!" Darcy finished the quote. She was good at quoting things.

"Exactly! Hey, remember, you're going to do great on your speech," Tony said to her. "You're an excellent talker so you go in there and talk until they listen. Trust me, it works."

She smiled and nodded her head determinedly. Everyone said she had her dad's mouth and her dad was very persuasive so maybe she could do this.

Darcy took a deep breath and prepared for her closing statement. She held her head up high again and continued with what she hoped had been a good speech. It felt like a good speech, but some people were always telling her to stop talking.

"In conclusion, the ending of The Giver is a happy one. It doesn't matter if a reader thinks what Jonas saw is real. The life they left behind would have never been happy. Gabriel would have been released and Jonas would have been forced to know about it. If the story was never continued, the ending still would have been happy. Jonas and Gabriel still would have been freed from their op-" she choked on the word, nerves taking over again, "-oppressive society and that is why it is a happy ending. If the characters froze to death as some suggest or if they truly found a place Elsewhere, they were freed from the hive mindset that would have killed Gabriel and made Jonas miserable."

Darcy exhaled and her eyes refocused on the classroom. As was expected after every speech, the rest of her classmates applauded – some more enthusiastically than others. She nodded in thanks and then looked at the teacher who stood off to the side of the classroom recording the speeches for the class webpage.

"That was wonderful, Darcy," the teacher said encouragingly as she lowered the camera. "Good use of vocabulary words and presentation of both sides of the argument. You may take a seat."

Darcy was practically on cloud nine as she sat back down at her desk. She had been nervous, but now that the nerves had worn off she felt like she had done well. She liked when she got to feel smart or good at something. Clint was good at stuff, Skye was really smart, Wanda was really smart, Harley was smart even if he didn't always try, and Pietro at least was good at running and surfing. And all of Dr. Banner's kids seemed to be great at things.

Darcy was good at talking and quoting movies and shows and she was always discovering new songs to add to her music collection that was only second to her dad's infinite knowledge of music; although he was always sharing old music and his favorites with her to make her knowledge even greater. It wasn't that Darcy didn't like being good at those things, but she knew it was just silly stuff compared to everyone else. She sometimes even envied Jane who was absolutely the smartest kid she'd ever known.

Lost in her thoughts, the rest of the class flew by and the final bell rang, English being her last class of the day. The teacher dismissed them and Darcy gathered her things.

"Darcy," the teacher stopped her before she could leave, "I have a note for your father." Darcy waited for the teacher to pin it on her backpack – such an annoying rule, Darcy thought, since anyone could just take it off – and then left.

"How did it go?" Jane asked her when she met her at her locker.

"I think it went well," Darcy answered with a smile. "It was nice feeling good at something."

Jane gave her a strange look as she shut her locker and they left the school to meet the others and wait for the car if it wasn't there yet – since it usually picked up their older siblings first. "You're good at things," Jane said. "You always have super cute outfits. And you're never afraid of saying what you think. And you know like a million songs."

"Yeah, but those things aren't smart," Darcy pointed out.

Jane crinkled her nose and tilted her head. "Well, maybe not book smart, but my dad is always saying that it's okay if I want to try things that aren't science even if I won't be as good at them. And then one time I really wanted to try ballet like Natasha and I wasn't very good and I didn’t really like it. He told me what matters is I enjoy what I'm doing or else being good at it is pointless. That's when he told me it's also okay that I focus so much on science as long as I really enjoy it and am being true to myself. I love science and it makes me work harder to be good at it."

Darcy thought about it for a moment. "I do like talking and listening to music."

"So that's what's important. Did you like giving the speech or did you just like feeling smart?" Jane asked.

"I think I really liked it," Darcy said quickly. "It was kind of terrifying being in front of the classroom, but also kind of fun. Sometimes it feels like nobody ever listens to me. I'm just the annoying tag along Stark," she said truthfully. "So having people listen to me and trying to convince them of things was kind of nice."

"Then maybe you were good at it because you like it," Jane suggested as they made it outside.

To their surprise their dads were standing there waiting along with Wanda, Pietro, Harley, Peter and Jemma. They were usually still at work.

"What are you doing here?" Darcy asked as soon as they reached them. She then turned around to show the note to her dad.

"Monday got a little too manic," her dad said with a laugh and she felt him pull the note off. She turned around and gave him a curious glance. "There was a lab accident in R&D. Had to evacuate the whole building just to be on the safe side," he explained.

"Are you okay!?" Jane suddenly asked in slight panic, looking at her own dad.

Bruce smiled and nodded. "I'm fine. It wasn't the lab I'm in. Nobody was seriously injured, thankfully. Which is why it's important to follow safety guidelines," he tacked on.

"Very true. So we thought we'd round up the gang and go get an early dinner out," Tony said as he read over the letter. After a moment he smiled broadly. "Hey, my daughter the superstar," he said and Darcy's eyes widened. "Your teacher said you did so well on the speech that she'd like to recommend you…" He looked back down and read it very deliberately. "'…as a representative of the school for a regional middle school debate association.'"

"Really?" Darcy couldn't believe it and he passed her the note to look over. "That's so cool!"

"Are you interested?" Tony asked her.

She looked up at him and nodded furiously. "I really liked talking until people listened," she said, echoing his words from that morning.

He smiled at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they moved toward the car. "I bet you did," he said and squeezed her shoulders in a strong side hug.

"Daddy..."

Bruce looked up from his work, the work he would have gotten done if not for the evacuation at work, to see Jemma staring at him hopefully. He smiled softly.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Can you read to me before bed? You only read to me once last week," she pointed out with a frown.

Bruce looked at his work and then Jemma again. "I…" He couldn’t say no. "Alright. Let's go."

He didn't regret his decision as her face lit up and she clung to his arm. They walked to her room and he waited for her to get settled into bed before settling down beside her with the current Anne book they were on.

Three pages in, Bruce somewhat began to regret his decision. Yawn after yawn he felt his eyes droop, words running together, and he wanted nothing more than to lie back and just fall asleep.

"Daddy?" Jemma tugged at him.

Bruce startled. He had apparently nodded off. "I'm sorry, Jemma," he apologized and rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses. "Daddy's just having a hard time focusing on the story tonight."

"Are you okay?" Jemma looked at him worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm just a little tired," he answered her with a sigh. "Would you be upset with me if I said I'm too tired to keep reading to you tonight?"

Jemma looked thoughtful, lips pouting in obvious dislike of the prospect. "Can I read to you?"

Bruce decided it was a compromise worth trying and nodded. He enjoyed listening to his smart little girl read over the text easily enough. He enjoyed explaining to her the words and concepts she couldn't quite yet understand but wanted to learn. He also enjoyed sleep.

"Bruce." The calling of his name was accompanied by a hand on his shoulder.

Bruce opened his eyes to see Tony standing over him. He blinked owlishly and looked around to see he was still in Jemma's room. According to the clock it was a little over an hour later and his daughter was passed out against him. He hadn't even recalled falling asleep and wondered if Jemma had been upset with him.

"Maybe I should have let you sleep," Tony said after a moment, clearly studying him.

"No, it's… It's fine," he said, waking up. He slowly moved from the bed and situated Jemma so that she was properly laid down and tucked in.

"You okay, Bruce?" Tony asked him in the hallway. Bruce turned to see the engineer's face lined with worry. "Not to make it an issue, but maybe you've been burning the midnight oil a little too much the past few days. Not that I'm anyone to judge on the matter, but even super geniuses need sleep."

Even as Tony made the accusation Bruce's body betrayed him with a yawn. "I guess I have," he admitted. "I… Yeah, I'm going to bed," he decided, eyes beginning to grow heavy again.

Tony leaned in and gave him a kiss. Bruce returned it lazily.

"I'll join you in a few minutes."

Bruce nodded and left toward their bedroom, fairly certain he would be out cold again before Tony even got there. He sighed deeply. He would be glad when this current project was complete. He felt a little like he was going through the motions and he didn't like it.