Plan D

A Word: Ibid.

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Plan D comes about because Tony forgets that he's supposed to be avoiding the alphabet entirely.

"Let's go to Aruba," Tony announces, and he announces it at dinner when everyone is there because he's reconciled himself with the fact that something this big isn't going to be just a him and Clint thing. No matter how much Tony might want to see the man in a set of whatever he wears to swim in -seriously, whatever, thongs, speedos, trunks, head to toe body suit, he's not going to object to much at this point- he knows that's not going to happen without Natasha there in a distractingly tight and/or skimpy suit. And if she's going to be there then Steve and Bruce might as well tag along.

Clint actually looks intrigued at the proposal which is a point for Tony. Steve and Natasha look indifferent, and Bruce looks horrified.

"Huh, been a while since I've been there," Clint eventually says.

"Three years isn't long," Natasha objects as she pulls a pan of something vaguely meatlike out of the oven. Tony's not sure what she's making but it smells alright so he's willing to give it a shot. "I'm sure that if we went you'd still be remembered."

"Well, yeah, I used a cocktail umbrella to kill out target, and a swizzle stick for the bodyguards," Clint says with a grin and shows no sign that he notices the way Steve chokes on his drink over the casual words. "I'd be disappointed if people didn't remember me for that."

A cocktail umbrella. Tony grimaces and retracts his offer. "Yeah, how about we avoid Aruba then?"

Clint shrugs, his attention now focused on the food Natasha's laying out for them to grab and Aruba is quickly forgotten.

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A vacation is a thing people do to get away and relax. To put on fewer clothes and drink enough to loosen up. A vacation is exactly the kind of thing they all need. The problem is in finding a vacation spot for them that doesn't come with some rather frankly disturbing memories.

"Cancun!" Tony offers the next day at breakfast. "I've got a villa there and a nice chunk of private beach. Just need to call ahead and make sure the cooks are forewarned."

"We know," Natasha says as she stealth fills in boxes of the crossword puzzle Bruce is doing. As much as he can while getting distracted by a series of email exchanges that's been going on since before Tony woke up.

"We used it as an alternate safehouse last month," Clint blinks and looks up from his coffee with the air of a man who's just remembering something. "Oh, you're going to want to restock the medical kit there. We kinda used most of it up."

"You're going to need to update your medical kit," Natasha disagrees as she breaks off mid-word. The pen hiding neatly in her palm as she pretends not to be even looking at the newspaper as Bruce frowns down at it in confusion. "It almost wasn't enough to keep Clint from bleeding out."

"Might need to buy some new sheets too," Clint has the good grace to look sheepish as he scratches the back of his head. "White's a really bad color to have, why do you keep doing that Tony?"

"Because most people don't have to worry about bloodstains," Tony groans and tries very, very hard not to think about Clint getting stitched up in his rather swanky villa that he'd paid -and still is paying- a lot of money for.

"Did we throw the sheets out?" Natasha asks and there's a curious look on her face that Tony is startled to recognize. The woman is honestly asking because she doesn't remember.

"Uh," and neither does Clint going by the blank look on his face.

"Dammit," Tony hates it when he has to keep bribing the cleaning crew. It's harder to do when he's not physically there to charm them into accepting an obscene amount of money to not ask questions.

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"I don't have a place in Aspen," Tony says because he's never really been all that fond of skiing on snow. Water? Sure! Snow? Fuck no. That shit was cold even before he got a hunk of metal implanted in his chest that absorbed the cold. "But I know some people who'll lend us their condos for a week."

"You ski?" Clint grins. Wide and Tony can sense the asshole gathering in him to be ejected out in some witty line.

"Snow?" Steve cut in and the utter lack of any kind on enthusiasm brings all attention down on him.

"Bad idea?" Tony asks even though he already knows the answer. Steve's still having trouble sleeping through the night, and Tony's come across the man more than once at odd hours. Drinking something hot or asking Jarvis to show him how to turn the heat up, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out what the man's dreaming of. "Ok, yeah, bad idea. Never mind. Forget I mentioned Aspen."

"Sorry," Steve says but Tony waves him off.

Cap can work and function in cold weather and snow. He has no doubt about that, but there's a big difference between doing what needs to be done and trying to relax in a cold environment for a vacation.

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"Vegas?" Tony asks as Jarvis pulls up a list of movies that Steve has yet to see. He was right, Steve's learned to appreciate the fine entertainment system on the communal floor. He's now the person who uses it the most.

Clint cackles, and Natasha grins.

"I'd rather not know," Bruce says firmly and selects a movie to play. Tony's forced to agree because he can only imagine all the dark and frankly creepy shit the two assassins can get up to there.

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"Ibiza!" Tony shouts because the comms have gone down -again and he's going to blame SHIELD for that- and this brainwave can't wait until after the unnamed -but definitely Doom related- robots are destroyed.

Clint cackles and the noise is eerie coming down from on high. He's too far for any of his words to be clearly heard, but Tony's sure he hears something about teaching Orlando Bloom to land a punch.

"Where's Ibiza?" Steve asks, he's long past trying to curb any of their mid-battle banter now and just rolls along with it in between throwing his shield around.

"Spain," Natasha calls out from her crouch on a ledge as she shoots out holes in the robots to allow Clint's arrows to slide in and short out the power packs in them. "It's an island. Nice enough in the day."

"And at night!" Tony protests as he sends two robots flying with a single blast. They get back up but it takes them forty-five seconds to reorient and get back on track. It's fascinating to watch so he does it again. "No one goes to Ibiza for anything but the night life."

"You do if you're looking for human traffickers," Natasha lands on the road behind him and flips up to start opening holes in the bots on the other side of the street. "Morning is the best time to see where the unwilling bed-warmers get carted off to."

"Do you have any non-disturbing stories about places I like?" Tony asks after Steve's face turns dark at the implications.

"No," Nat says and she's too far to be sure, but Tony thinks she sounds smug as fuck.

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"How about Bumfuck Nowhere," Tony declares as he tacks up a map of the world on the wall in the conference room. He uncaps a red marker and points it at his teammates. "Alright, any places off limits?"

"Russia," Clint says at the same moment Natasha says, "Hungary."

Tony scribbles them out and then strikes out Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, and Syria because he doubts any of them should be near there.

"England," Steve puts in and doesn't offer an explanation. Tony marks it off anyway and then takes off the Southern and Northernmost areas of the map too. No need to revisit the cold talk.

"The US," Bruce puts in which is fair enough. It's hard enough for the man to relax in New York where the majority of people see the Hulk as a hero. The rest of the country isn't as forgiving because they're full of assholes.

"Croatia," Clint tilts his head back and squints at the ceiling for a moment. "Egypt, Bolivia."

"Mozambique, Tanzania, Somalia," Natasha tilts her head and studies the map critically. "Cambodia and Laos."

"Anything else?" Tony asks and gets no answer. "Fantastic!"

Large chunks of the map are marked out, but there's still plenty of land left to choose from. Tony flips open a case and waves grandly over a set of darts. "Alright, pick your dart and lets settle where we're going the old fashioned way."

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"There's some strange people in Australia," Clint says after Bruce's second throw lands somewhere that's not banned. He lost his privilege along with Natasha after their first throws unerringly landed over the portion of the US that is New York.

"India is nice," Bruce keeps saying, but he doesn't get to make that choice because Tony knows the man. "Even if I'm not there to work it's still nice."

"I think there's a snake cult there that still wants to make Nat their bride goddess or something," Clint says and from the way she frowns at the reminder Tony's willing to believe him.

"You mean the one that wanted to turn your skull into an offering bowl?" Natasha asks and Tony is never, ever stepping foot in India again.

"No, the who wanted to skin me to make you a dress," Clint says as he juggles a few darts with one hand.

"And you say the people in Australia are strange?" Steve asks dubiously.

"Kinda," Clint shrugs and doesn't elaborate.

"It's less the people and more the government," Natasha finishes. "We had a mission once-"

"No!" Tony cuts in fast. "No more mission stories!"

"Aw, that's no fun," Clint protests just as Hill sweeps into the conference room and ends their talks with a rather impressive image of mutant monkeys.

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Tony's comparing Melbourne to Adelaide in between bouts of ignoring increasingly frantic emails from some of the new meat in the labs he's supposed to be mentoring. Ignoring them builds character, and anything that gets burned down in the process can be easily replaced. Tony doesn't know why he's considering Adelaide beyond the fact he likes the way it sounds. "Adelaide."

"Are you serious about this vacation?" Steve asks and Tony doesn't jump even though he was pretty sure the man had fallen asleep on the spare cot an hour ago.

"No, there's nothing serious about vacations," Tony flicks back and forth between the lists for the two cities. Melbourne has more to interest them all, but he's still clinging to Adelaide. He wonders how many people he'd annoy if just starts calling Melbourne Adelaide. "Vacations are the absolute opposite of serious."

"You know we're not going to all be able to go, Tony," Steve shifts and cot creaks worryingly. It's sturdy but it wasn't exactly made for supersoldiers. "Why don't you just try for a date first? It's got to be easier than figuring out a place we can all go to."

"Whoa," Tony looses all interest in his lists and spins to face Steve who is looking at him with an innocent face. "Date? Date what, date who? Who said anything about dating?"

"No one," Steve's lips curl up in a tiny little smile that is the most evil expression Tony's seen on the ice-cube's face, and he nearly keels over from the shock of it. "No one has said anything about a date, and that's the whole problem, isn't it? If you just-"

"No! In fact, hell no," Tony refuses, completely and utterly refuses. "I'm not taking any advice from the guy who just got Agent Carter's first name after how long of really bad cow-eyes?"

"Five months," Steve responds serenely but the tips of his ears are turning red and Tony knows he has him there. "Which is six months less than your failure to get Clint to move in with you."

"That was your fault!" Tony protests and then snaps his mouth shut, because he doesn't like the victorious smirk he's getting now at the admission. "Anyway, I don't hear you complaining about your new digs."

"It's better than SHIELD barracks," Steve says with no hint of shame for his admission that he was being a deliberate cockblock for the sole purpose of getting a better bed. Tony approves.

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Plan D fizzles like some of his other plans and Tony tells Jarvis to remind him not to use the alphabet ever again for one of his plans.

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