Kids Stuff

Steve went too far sometimes. Waking her up at five o’clock in the morning, when she had gone to bed just a couple of hours before, had been too much. Being a spy meant that Natasha sometimes had to stay awake for days in a row during missions, so she would always go straight to bed after a finished job and sleep as long as her body needed. She dreaded being awoken during those times. If Steve had been anybody else, Natasha wouldn’t have hesitated to throw something sharp very close to the face just to make sure this situation wouldn’t happen again. That had been the way Clint had learned never to disturb her sleep.

But it had been Steve, their team leader, the only one who she respected among the sometimes annoying males she now lived with. It was true she could kick some of their asses very easily, but that didn’t make her a guy. Natasha was still a woman and, contrary to what they all thought, she did mind when some of them walked around the Tower in all kinds of nakedness, leave their dirty clothing scattered across the communal rooms, and made all sort of inappropriate jokes.

Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t dislike living there, on the contrary, it could be rather fun. It was just that, at times, there was just too much testosterone in the air. Steve was the only one who was careful with those details and tried to keep everyone else in line.

That had been the only reason why she had abstained herself from teaching Steve a lesson when he knocked at her door at such an early hour – OK, Captain America might not be one of the guys whose ass Natasha could kick, but at least she would have a small advantage, since Steve’s gentleness wouldn’t let him hit a woman. However, when Steve told her the reason of his visit, Natasha had had to refrain herself with all her might from shutting the door in his face.

“Tony’s been shut in his workshop for two days,” Steve had said, looking truly worried.

“And you’re telling me this shocking news because–?” Natasha questioned sarcastically, trying not to roll her eyes at him, but failing to do so.

“I’m going running, so, would you mind checking on him?” Steve asked nervously, sensing her annoyance.

“And you can do that yourself before leaving because–?” Natasha raised an eyebrow, one of her expressions which she knew spoke volumes.

“Well, he gets kind of angry whenever I go into his workshop now,” Steve explained, scratching the right side of his nose.

“Perhaps he wouldn’t get mad if you stopped treating him like a potato sack every time you go there,” Natasha observed, her eyebrow still raised.

“I would do that if he stopped staying there for days,” Steve remarked, frowning.

“You know he’s not a kid, right?” Natasha inquired, earning a confused look from Steve, “you keep telling him what to do and what not to do like you were some sort of parent. Yes, sometimes he can behave like a brat, but he’s an adult, and he can do whatever he wants,” she stated, folding her arms lazily against her abdomen.

“I know,” Steve acknowledged, “it’s just that–,” he trailed off, taking some seconds to put his thoughts in order, “I feel responsible for all of you, in or out the battlefield, so I can’t help feeling worried when I see him overworking or starving himself for no valid reason,” he explained, though Natasha doubted that was the only reason. “So, would you check on him, please? Just to make sure he’s OK. You don’t have to do it right now,” he urged as soon as he saw her expression.

Natasha couldn’t hide her annoyance anymore. That mother-hen trait of Steve was too much to bear that early in the morning with almost no sleep. So, she ended up closing the door with nothing more than a ‘sure, whatever’ for an answer.

Natasha went right back to bed. Although that didn’t mean she had fallen asleep right away. In fact, she tossed and turned in bed unable to sleep for more than an hour until she let herself admit that sleeping wouldn’t be an option until she carried through Steve’s request.

Placing a pillow over her head, she grunted loudly, not wanting to leave the bed but knowing there was no use staying there. Damn Steve and his absurd concern about Tony.

Natasha had meant what she told Steve: Tony was an adult and he didn’t need to be taken care of. He might be a bit too reckless, imprudent and stubborn for his own good, which only leaded him to get himself into trouble, danger and look like a member of the living dead, but besides that, there was really nothing worth worrying about.

All right, perhaps Tony did need to be looked after from time to time, but being looked after wasn’t the same as being treated like a kid. Because that was what Steve did. No matter how much he denied it, Steve sometimes treated Tony like a kid. Well, now that Natasha thought about it, not only Steve did that, the others did that too. As far as Natasha was concerned, there was no real need to carry Tony to bed, or rock him back and forth to help him fall asleep. Entertaining him, reading to him before bed and spoon-feeding him was out of place too. It was true that Tony had had to wear diapers not long ago, but that didn’t make him a kid. So, all that seemed a bit off to Natasha.

Mentally kicking herself, Natasha sat up and rubbed her temples, a vain attempt to get rid of the headache which began to pulsed at them. A sign that her body required more sleep. After waiting for some minutes so she could become used to the change of position, Natasha got out of bed. She might as well go and check on Tony, otherwise, that reproaching voice inside her head – which sounded awfully like Steve – wouldn’t let her rest peacefully.

On the way to the elevator, Natasha wondered what Steve expected to happen to Tony while he was locked in his workshop. JARVIS would certainly let them know if anything bad happened, Tony might order the A.I. not to inform anything regarding him, but JARVIS had proved a few times that those orders could be easily overlooked when the wellbeing of its creator was in jeopardy.

By the time the elevator reached its destination, Natasha’s eyes had closed without her realizing it. She must be more tired than she had thought. Her drowsy state didn’t last long, though. While the doors of the elevator were opening, the noise of a mild explosion resounded. The walls of the elevator reverberated slightly, vanishing all her stupor. When the doors finally opened, Natasha was put on guard due to a shadow that flew past her as she set one foot outside.

“Tony?!” Natasha half cried, half called as soon as he heard that something or someone crashed into what was undoubtedly a glass.

Stepping outside, she walked quickly to where she had heard the sound of the clash, and stopped dead at the sight of the scene in front of her. Tony had crashed into a display window, which was now broken into little pieces and scattered around the floor, along with several parts of an armor. Tony was sitting in the middle of all that mess, looking at everywhere, disoriented.

“What the hell was that?!” Natasha asked, her eyes scanning Tony’s body searching for injures, but besides some scratches and cuts which didn’t look very deep, she couldn’t find anything that seemed serious.

“Power,” Tony said, blinking several times.

“Care to elaborate?” Natasha demanded as she got close to Tony.

“Too much of it,” Tony explained, taking the palm of the suit off. Natasha didn’t remember it being that big.

“Are you OK?” Natasha questioned, still looking for any sign that showed the opposite.

“I guess I’ll have to recalibrate it,” he said more to himself than to Natasha, ignoring her question. Instead, he grabbed the huge hand of his armor with both hands and observed the repulsor beam closely.

“The only thing you’re doing right now is going upstairs and rest,” Natasha informed, glaring at him. Did Tony really want to keep on working after what had happened? What was wrong with him? Suddenly, Steve’s obsessive concern didn’t seem that irrational at all. “Can you stand up?”

“Of course I won’t and of course I can.” Tony glared back. Natasha knew an argument was going to be inevitable, but she definitely wouldn’t let Tony stay there. Steve’s scolding would be endless if something serious happened to Tony, which was the most likely scenario considering how tired and disoriented he looked.

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” Natasha informed while she folded her arms and raised an eyebrow, “you’ll go upstairs with me, you almost blew yourself up. I think that’s enough of a reason for you to realize you need to take a break.”

“I’m perfectly fine, I’ll take a break whenever I want,” Tony exclaimed coldly, trying to stand up.

That statement would have been plausible if Tony hadn’t lost his balance as soon as he was on his feet. Natasha hurried over him, placing a hand against his chest and the other on his arm, a vain attempt to help him remain standing, but the only thing Natasha achieved was making their fall slower, and, hence, less painful. Natasha was stronger than an average woman, but Tony wasn’t that light and he had taken her by surprised.

“You were saying?” Natasha couldn’t refrain herself from speaking sarcastically. If Tony only stopped being so insufferably stubborn, he would avoid all these kinds of situations.

“Shut it,” Tony ordered, pushing her away and taking his head in his hands.

Natasha sighed heavily, “Are you sure you’re OK?” she asked, trying to keep her annoyance at bay.

“Of course I am,” Tony assured once more. The slight wince when he talked didn’t go unnoticed by Natasha. On the outside he looked fine, but now she wasn’t sure he really was.

“JARVIS? Can you tell me if there’s something wrong with Mr. Liar here?” Natasha questioned the A.I., knowing perfectly well that, if she really wanted to find out if there was something seriously wrong with Tony, that would be the only way.

“It seems Sir has a mild concussion due to hitting his head against the glass when he crashed into it,” JARVIS informed.

“Should I call a doctor?” Natasha suggested.

“No! I’m telling you I’m fine. Nobody is calling anybody!” Tony complained. It was no new news that he completely dreaded doctors. Natasha just rolled her eyes and ignored him.

“There’s no need to call a doctor, Ms. Romanov,” JARVIS assured.

“Are you sure? He just lost his balance and fell down,” Natasha reminded the A.I., though she was sure JARVIS was aware of that.

“That was caused by a change in his blood pressure for standing up too quickly,” JARVIS clarified, “All my sensors indicate me there’s no need of further action, my only recommendation would be to keep an eye on him and don’t let him fall asleep at least for a couple of hours,” the A.I. finished saying.

Natasha was going to punch Steve for real now the next time he knocked at her door. Her plan of going back to bed as soon as she made sure that Tony was fine was a fading memory now. It had been more than half an hour since she came down to the workshop, and she was still there.

The fact that JARVIS had assured the hit hadn’t been that serious made it impossible for Natasha to reason with Tony and convince him to go upstairs. When she managed to get JARVIS to shut the power down – in an attempt to make Tony’s stay vane as he wouldn’t be able to work that way – the only thing she achieved was causing Tony to sit down cross-legged on the floor and scowl (that expression on his face was definitely not a pout, adults didn’t pout). Then, already losing her patience, Natasha grabbed Tony by the ankles and pulled him, literally dragging him for a couple of meters until Tony let himself lie limp on the floor. Natasha had to stop then, afraid she might hurt him somehow if she continued.

Thereafter, a glaring contest had started. Natasha might as well have left Tony there, but it turned out she was worry about him too. Perhaps if she hadn’t seen him smashing a glass with his body, she wouldn’t have cared if he wanted to stay in the workshop. But she had, and now there it was, the little voice in her head that was telling her it would be a bad judgment call if she left just like that.

“Don’t fall asleep!” Natasha ordered loudly when she saw Tony dozing off. He never wanted to sleep and now that he shouldn’t, that was exactly what he was doing. He had to be kidding her!

“I’m not!” Tony alleged, rubbing his eyes.

Taking a few deep breaths, to try to remain calm, Natasha asked as politely as she could, “would you please stop this nonsense and just go upstairs with me?” though a hint of annoyance could be perceived.

“I already told you I won’t. You leave if you want to, I’m staying right here,” Tony alleged. He was getting on her nerves more than Natasha would like to admit. Steve’s habit of just throwing Tony over his shoulder began to make sense now.

“If I leave you’ll fall asleep.”

“I won’t, because I’m gonna be working,” Tony assured. The frequency in which he was blinking told otherwise.

“How are you going to work without power?” Natasha questioned deadpan. The changing expression on Tony’s face when he came to the realization that JARVIS wouldn’t run the power even if he stayed there could have been considered funny, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Natasha was already too frustrated and annoyed.

“I don’t care, I’m staying here,” Tony voiced after some minutes. Natasha couldn’t help throwing her hands into the air with a frustrated huff.

Without being able to come up with ideas of how to take Tony upstairs – ideas that didn’t involve any kind of torture, of course – Natasha flopped down on the closest stool, looking slightly defeated. This was not happening. Why couldn’t her mission last one more day? Why had she had to deal with paperwork quickly? If she took more time than Clint to write her reports, the latter would have been the one who have gotten the knock on the door and not her.

After other ten eternal minutes, Natasha was considering very seriously to just leave, remorse be damn. And she was sure she would have done so, if Tony’s stomach hadn’t growled.

Natasha was a better cook than Steve and Bruce, by far. She didn’t cook that often and not anyone was fortunate enough to try something she had made, but when they did, they always wanted more – that was why she avoid cooking. Tony had been one of the few lucky ones – by accident, Natasha wouldn’t have step foot in the kitchen if she had known Tony would get back from his business trip that day – and since then, Tony had been all over her, even offering thousands of dollars to just cook the simplest things. Undoubtedly, Natasha had to put a stop to it.

“You know, it’s a shame you don’t want to go upstairs with me,” Natasha commented as casually as she could, looking at her nails as if she had found something very interesting in them.

Tony looked at her skeptically, “Why?”

“I’m having breakfast,” Natasha announced, standing up.

“So what?”

Natasha smirked, “I’m in a mood of cooking. It’s been a while since the last time I made syrniki,” she noted, and it was almost cartoonish the way Tony stood up and run towards the elevator.

OK, she admitted it, maybe the others weren’t the only ones who dealt with Tony like if they were dealing with a kid.

“Would you please stay still?” Natasha ordered for a third time, trying to get access to the cuts Tony had in his arms, but the latter kept moving away as far as the back of the couch let him.

“You’re hurting me!” Tony complained, sounding unnecessarily dramatic.

“I’m not! I’m just trying to clean your wounds!” Natasha said, grabbing Tony’s wrist to keep him still, which only made him move more attempting to get free. “Tony!”

“You’re a liar!” Tony accused, taking Natasha aback.

“What?”

“You said you were gonna make breakfast,” Tony explained, taking advantage of Natasha’s confusion to move away from her.

“I am!” Natasha assured

“You’re not! You’re here torturing me!” Tony literally whined.

Natasha huffed annoyingly, “well, someone had to make sure your cuts don’t get infected,” and she couldn’t explain why that someone had to be her.

“They won’t! Stop that, it stings!” Tony demanded when Natasha leaned on him again to press the piece of cotton dampened with hydrogen peroxide on his skin. “I’m hungry!” he informed, pushing Natasha again with one of his feet.

“Then let me finish so we can head to the kitchen!” Natasha ordered while she dodged Tony’s kicks.

“No!”

“Jesus! You’re worse than a child!” Natasha stated, flopping down onto the couch next to Tony.

“I’m not a baby!” Tony said, offended, hitting Natasha on the face with a cushion. Again, could someone explain her what she was still doing there?

“I said child, not baby,” Natasha corrected, throwing the cushion back at him, regretting it as soon as she saw Tony wince. “I’ve never seen any adult making such a fuss over these insignificant wounds!” she finished saying before getting hit with a cushion once more. She shouldn’t have given it back to Tony, “Stop that!” she demanded, throwing the cushion to the other side of the room.

“Stop calling me a child!” Tony alleged, and this time there was no doubt he was pouting.

Natasha glared at him, “stop behaving like one then!”

“I’m not!” Tony insisted, kicking her in the leg.

“Yes, you are! You’re being insufferably stubborn just like a kid, the only thing that’s missing is that you finally let me clean your cuts if I promise to use the Avengers band-aids when I’m done,” Natasha said ironically, expecting another hit with a cushion, but when she turned to look at Tony, her jaw dropped. His eyes were practically twinkling.

“Do they make band-aids with our pictures on them?” Tony exclaimed, clearly delighted by the idea. Natasha had never been able to understand why Tony found all the Avengers merchandising so thrilling. “I’ve never seen one. I thought I’ve gotten all there was of us, how could I miss those? Can I get one? I’m suing the company if Clint’s pose is better than mine!” Tony said more to himself than to Natasha, which was good since Natasha's mouth continued open in amazement.

No sooner said than done, Tony promised to stay still if Natasha got him one of the band-aids she had mentioned. She didn’t even know why she still had them, she rarely kept what fans gave her – Natasha couldn’t understand why people tended to give them things with the Avengers printed on them, like if she wanted to sleep with a plushy of hers or worse, Clint’s – but she was glad she did. Because even if she wanted so badly to make a sardonic comment about how childish Tony was being, she ended up biting her tongue.

The moment Natasha saw Tony smiling for having a useless (in her opinion) band-aid of Captain America covering one small cut on his cheek, all the anger that had accumulated since Steve knocked at her door vanished. Even his little outburst about how wrong it was to have included Wolverine made Natasha smile slightly. She might not truly agree with way the others tended treat Tony sometimes, but Natasha was now beginning to understand why they did it. There was something in the way Tony reacted that made it acceptable and not awkward at all. That made it somehow fit. It didn’t mean Natasha was going to get all mother-hen on Tony like Steve, but she would try to not to give Steve a hard time when he did it.

Natasha even tried to persuade Steve to not take Tony to a doctor when he arrived. But after hearing about the incident in the workshop, Steve had dragged Tony out of the Tower to get him checked by a SHIELD doctor. Without really admitting it, Natasha felt sorry for Tony – something unusual on her. They hadn’t even had the chance to go to the kitchen, and Tony made sure of voicing his displeasure of a broken promise loudly and pitifully at the same time.