Pound of Flesh

“Clearly they weren’t sent with intent to kill,” Natasha reasoned from her spot by the kitchen counter. “Even if there were half as many as she’s saying there were it would’ve been an easy mark. No offense.”

“None taken.” Judging by the look on Pepper’s face that wasn’t entirely true. “But if that was just a scare tactic why would they go after me?”

Tony raised his arms at his side and spun in a dramatic fashion. “To get my attention. Not that you’re not great, Pep- seriously, don’t undervalue yourself- but robots are sort of my thing, and since I’m currently in a tower with my suit and a merry band of do-gooders the most obvious method of bending me to their will would be to go after my girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Clint corrected with a subtle hint of smugness. “And maybe, like usual, it’s not all about you. Maybe it was a message to all of us. Think about it. Tasha and I know better than to make outside emotional attachments, Bruce has been estranged from humanity, and everyone Steve loves is dead.”

DJ makes a pained gasp (in a totally undignified sense of misplaced jealousy over said dead loved ones of Steve) and grabs a green apple out of a bowl to toss at Clint’s head. He not only dodges it, but it manages to hit poor, innocent bystander Bruce. “Do you have to try to be that much of an insensitive asshole, or does it just come naturally?”

“I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone,” Pepper sighed rubbing her temples. “Tony’s usually the one being reprimanded for his loose mouth.”

“Is it his loose mouth or loose morals?” Bruce countered with a private smile.

Steve put his hands on his hips and put his authoritative voice to use. DJ really liked that voice way too much. “Maybe we should stay on topic. How’d you manage to beat them, Ms. Potts?”

“Beat them? No, no, no. I didn’t beat them at all. They blew up my apartment and I ran away.”

“Did they pursue you?” Natasha asked, always on task.

Pepper heaved an exasperated breath and slid down off her stool to stalk over to the fridge and pull out a bottle of red wine. “I don’t think you guys fully understand what I’m saying. They blew up my apartment. There weren’t any robots left to pursue me.”

“They waited until you were gone?” Bruce frowned and scratched his fingers through his mop of hair. “If they were after something- after destroying something- I don’t think they’d have any qualms about hurting you in the process. It’s not like whoever created these has a strong moral compass. There were other people in the building that probably got hurt. So… So they were specifically trying to scare you. Or us.”

“So it’s basically a taunt,” Tony agrees unimpressed. “A ‘ha, ha I know how to get to the things you love’ dance. And do you how someone would know what weaknesses to exploit?”

Steve’s eyes flicked nervously over at DJ. “By hacking into the system.”

“I’m going to end up in handcuffs again, aren’t I?” DJ knows that the scales of karma aren’t exactly tipping in her favor, but this is really starting to get ridiculous.

“As hot as it would be to watch you and Agent Hill throw down, I’m not a big fan of wasting my valuable time.” Tony pried the wine glass out of Pepper’s hand before she could start on her second glass. “I don’t need you getting sloppy right now. My attention needs to focus on this new villain business, so-“

“So you need me to make up a million and one excuses as to why you can’t attend the million and one things you have coming up.” Pepper gives a longing glance to the bottle that Tony tucks away. “Wonderful.”

Tony blows her a placating kiss- which melts Pepper in ways that it shouldn’t- and turns his attention back to DJ. “Even if we’re still running on that crack theory that you hacked into the system, those smooth baby hands of yours haven’t built a thing in your life. Those bots weren’t yours. I’d rather find out who’s they are than satisfy Fury’s power trip.”

“And how do you intend to find that out?” Natasha’s usually stoic face had the smallest pinch of annoyance, which was entirely terrifying to all involved. “Any leads are incinerated. If this guy wanted to be found he wouldn’t be so thorough in covering his tracks. He’s playing with us.”

“Exactly.” The grin that Tony sports is slightly manic. “So we join the game. We wait.”
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Waiting doesn’t turn out to be as glamorous as he made it sound. There’s about a half hour of silent camaraderie in the kitchen before everyone starts to get bored and branch out. Tony, predictably, disappears off to his workshop, undoubtedly to make upgrades to his suit so that when he finally finds the person that’s been screwing with them he can properly and efficiently kick his or her ass.

Pepper’s already gone off with a cellphone to sweet talk Tony out of some serious upcoming obligations. Steve ends up back in the living room to pick up where he left off with his book while Bruce and Natasha scuffle (on Bruce’s part, DJ is pretty sure Natasha just floats everywhere) around the kitchen starting on dinner. Who knows where Clint slinked off to. Probably one of the lofts tucked throughout the tower.

DJ hasn’t moved from where she’s leaning against the counter, watching as everyone putters from place to place interacting and working in synch. The way every once and a while a rubber dart will hit something from a different places in the ceiling. How no one even flinches when a less than promising clatter comes from the direction Tony exited. The shaky, hesitant smiles that Bruce and Natasha toss at each other like the gesture is something they’d forgotten for a while.

It doesn’t take DJ long to realize that she was wrong. They do trust each other. More than anything. They just don’t always like each other. And that sounds and looks and feels more like a family than anything else DJ can remember. She’s surprised she can remember. It’s been so long since she’s really been a part of anything like that.

“I’m sorry I hit you,” she mumbles so softly that she’s actually surprised when Bruce and Natasha stop what they’re doing to give her matching looks of confusion.

“What?” Bruce’s face slowly and kindly displays that he think DJ’s had a mental breakdown and invented an alternate reality in her head.

DJ just rolls her eyes, because yeah, she’s gotten used to that look over the years. “With an apple.” The explanation does nothing to change Bruce’s theory. “I’m sorry I hit you with an apple.”

“Oh, that.” It finally clicks in Bruce’s brain and Natasha has gone back to cutting vegetables, clearly deeming this conversation unworthy of her attention. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve been hit with worse. Apples sort of pale in comparison to bullets.”

“It is a big deal.” Something in her tone must have rubbed Natasha the wrong way, because she turned to face DJ again without putting her kitchen knife down. “To me anyway. So I’m sorry.”

Bruce very calmly slips the knife from Natasha’s fingers and tosses it off to the side on the counter. “Steve told me about your last relationship. I understand if you’re sensitive about a few things, but this isn’t going to be a violence free environment. We’re the Avengers, violence is in our job description. And we’re annoying- you’ll want to hit a lot of people with apples here, and that’s okay.”

“Listen, I’m apologizing. It’s for my benefit.” She tangles her hands in her hair and tugs until there’s a light sting. It’s the only thing that’s keeping her from grabbing Bruce by the shoulders and giving him an aggravated shake. And that would only end with her getting flattened by a Hulk. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do right now, really, but you have no idea what you’re talking about. I have issues and my usual methods of running away from them with a bottle of vodka and a couple of Xanax aren’t really available to me right now. We’re doing this old school with measured breathing and therapeutic apologies. So accept my fucking apology, Bruce.”
Before Bruce actually gets the chance to accept, Natasha is thrusting a small flask of vodka at DJ, who takes it a little dumbfound and curious as to where the sneaky Russian pulled it from. DJ quickly realizes she doesn’t really care where it came from and gives Natasha a near blinding grin, which the assassin returns on a much smaller scale.
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“So do you intend to make a move, or just keep silently suffering?”

Steve doesn’t have to lift his head to know that Clint is perched on a loft that he specifically requested Tony add during repairs to the tower. “You’ll have to elaborate.” He doesn’t have to elaborate. Steve knows exactly what he’s talking about because there’s only one thing that’s severely threatening his sanity at the moment.

“Sure. Okay. Am I supposed to pretend I didn’t notice you paid more attention to DJ napping than the book in your hands? Or that you ran into the doorjamb when she bent over to pick something up in the kitchen? Or that you turn as green as Bruce whenever Tony talks to her? Because even if I pretended all that escaped my watchful eye there’s plenty more evidence to suggest you want to get into her pants.”

“I do not want to… Do that.” Steve finally puts an end to the ruse that he’s actually reading, gently placing his book of to the side.

Clint gives a solid laugh at Steve’s expense. “Yeah, I heard you tell her that, too. S.H.I.E.L.D. should’ve offered a refresher course in hooking up.”

“Exactly how long were you watching?” Steve’s gritting his teeth, but the faint tinge on his cheeks gives away that it’s more from embarrassment than annoyance.

“Long enough to know that if you asked her out on a date or whatever she’d say yes.”

Interest piqued, Steve finally tilts his head back to look at him. “Did she say that, or are you speculating?”

“Of course she didn’t say that. She’s not a twelve year old girl. Women don’t actually come out and say things, Steve.”

Steve wouldn’t actually say no to that hypothetical refresher course at the moment. This shouldn’t be so complicated for somebody who has staged multiple missions. “But how am I supposed to know what they expect if they never say it?”

“It’s a science that even Bruce and Tony haven’t aced.” Clint hops down with practiced grace. “But if she uses words like grope or ravish, then she’s probably into you.”

A stumbling, blonde whirlwind bursts into the room and nearly face plants when she trips over Clint. “Steeeeve!

“Someone made a friend,” Clint laughed grabbing her shoulders to steady her. “Tasha bust out the vodka?”

DJ’s hands framed his face and she spoke to him very seriously. “Yes. Her friendship is more dangerous than her hatred. Where’s Steve?”

“Couch.”

“Steve!” She crawls across Tony’s ridiculously expensive coffee table until she’s practically half-sprawled in Steve’s lap. “When’s the last time you gave someone a piggy back ride?”

Torn between worry and confusion, Steve slides his hands under her arms and hauls her up so she’s not nuzzling his thigh anymore. “Never. I’ve carried injured people before, I just haven’t…”
“You just haven’t had fun! I see.” DJ twists impressively out of his grasp until she’s standing and tugging on his wrists. “Well get up, because I’m going to ride you! I mean, um… Yeah, just get up!”

It takes a few seconds for Steve to get the brain power to respond as DJ starts pawing at him in what only barely passes as attempts to climb him. “I think- ow- I mean, you probably shouldn’t. I actually- hey stop that- I wanted to ask you something.”

DJ blinked owlishly. “What?”

“Would you like to…” Steve took a fortifying breath, trying desperately to ignore the eagles doing somersaults in the pit of his stomach. “Go… Out with… Me?”

“Is this real?” The way her nose crinkles doesn’t do anything to calm the flutter in Steve’s gut. “Or has Natasha’s devil vodka put me in a coma where I have amazing dreams?”

“That’s a yes!” Clint informs him from some hidden alcove far off. Neither had noticed him leave.

DJ looks like she’s trying really hard to process her surroundings. “Wow… My subconscious sounds like Clint.”

“That is Clint.” Steve doesn’t bother to conceal his amusement. DJ doesn’t have enough wits about her to be offended.

“Oh my God, did he turn invisible?!” She lets her weight rest against Steve as she wraps her arms around his neck. “I met someone who could do that once.”

Steve effortlessly scoops DJ up in his arms. “No, he just- Never mind. I think it’s time for another nap.”

DJ drifts in and out of consciousness as Steve carries her up the stairs and into the room that Tony set up for her. She looks so small when he lightly places her in the center of her gigantic bed, but when he turns to leave her fingers catch the hem of his shirt. “Stay.”