"Agent Barton, if you are not otherwise engaged, Sir has requested your presence in his workshop."

Clint tensed, adrenaline flooding his veins as he stilled mid pull-up to reply, "Trouble, JARVIS?"

"No, at least none more so than usual. I believe Sir merely wishes for your opinion on several of his newest innovations"

Clint exploded into action, dropping the several meter gap to the floor matt with a soft thud as he exclaimed, "Alright, Toy time!", and rushed toward the elevator door.

"Doctor Banner, if you are not otherwise engaged, Sir has requested your presence in his workshop."

"…Hmm, - oh, Sorry JARVIS, what was that?" Bruce asked, looking a little abashed by his unawareness, borne of being deeply absorbed within his own scientific wonderland.

JARVIS sounded distinctly amused as he replied, "Not a problem, Doctor, I was just delivering a message for you to relocate your person to Sir's workshop- forthwith."

Saving the latest set of results, and setting aside the still viable samples, Bruce wiped his hands on a nearby cloth, and moved toward the door, answering, "Forthwith, huh? I imagine Tony put it a little less politely. "

"Agent Romanov, if you are not otherwise engaged, Sir has requested your presence in his workshop."

Natasha looked up from the novel, replied, "Certainly, JARVIS" and placed the book neatly on her bedside table. Sliding her feet into the ballet flats by her door, she left the room.

"Thor, if you are not otherwise engaged, Sir has requested your presence in his workshop."

Looking up from where the little silver toaster was nudging excitedly against his hand, the Thunder God replied, "Does time allow for my Pop-tarts to finish toasting?"

"That will be fine, there is no rush. At your earliest convenience is suitable." JARVIS replied.

Petting the industrial, ten slice toaster with his massive hands, Thor all but crooned, "Thankyou. I would after all, hate so very much to deprive little Toasty here, of her sacred duty. "

JARVIS's voice was dry with amusement as he answered, "Of Course."

"Captain Rogers, if you are not otherwise engaged, Sir has requested your presence in his workshop."

Looking upward, more out of habit than mistake, Steve answered, "Can I ask you again, to please call me Steve?"

"Certainly," JARVIS replied, before concluding with, "Captain."

Shaking his head in reluctant amusement, Steve let the recurring conversation rest, instead saying, "Let Tony know I'm on my way down, so he'd best scrabble for his protective gear. I caught him welding barefaced yesterday, and don't really feel up to rehashing that particular argument yet."

"You should consider yourself lucky, Captain…it wasn't all that long ago that I'd have to try to explain to a drunk Tony Stark on occasion, the safety ramifications of welding naked…"

Steve snorted with mixed exasperation and amusement, hurrying his pace as he neared the elevator.

Tony started slightly as the vent above the far workbench collapsed open, the metal door left hanging at an odd angle. He rolled his eyes as Clint dropped through, the archer landing cat-footed amidst coils of inner-wire, fragments of a red and gold chest plate and several tools and spanners of varying size and shapes.

"The vents are for…oh, I don't know- ventilation maybe?" Tony sniped as he flipped his goggles up to nest in his oil smeared tangles, eyeing Clint in much the same way one would a particularly ill-disciplined, but grudgingly adored pet.

Picking up the armoured plate to make room, Clint flopped into a seated position, feet dangling as he clutched the plate to his chest, answering with a shrug, "Meh, you say po-ta-to, I say pot-ato…"

"Nobody says Po-tah-to, Clint. Nobody. " The billionaire deadpanned back, wiping his hands on his already filthy jeans.

"It's To-ma-to, To-mah-to. You're thinking Lord of the rings – Po-Ta-to, boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew…" Bruce explained as he wandered through the door, catching the desk chair Clint sent spinning his way with an errant kick, and dropped down onto it with a nod of thanks to the archer.

Interpreting the look that Clint was shooting over his shoulder, Bruce cautioned smoothly, "Just a word of warning, Tony Stark…if anything pokes, zaps or shocks me while I'm in here, I'm going to turn Natasha loose on you."

Turning slowly, Bruce wasn't exactly surprised to see the engineer standing behind him, fingering the infamous 'zappy thing', quite obviously contemplating his options. Decision obviously made, Tony spoke in a measured tone, "Well, It's a good thing Tasha's no-"

"-not standing right behind you, just waiting for justification to try out that new move I was practising at last week's training session." Came the softly sweet tone of Natasha's interrupting voice.

Innocently dropping the zapper onto the nearest workbench, Tony scurried around to the far side of the chair, putting Bruce between himself and the threat.

"Really? Of all the people in this room, you're going to try and use me as your human shield?" Bruce grinned, scooted the chair back against the wall, and simultaneously opened a direct path between Natasha and Tony.

Tony backed away from Natasha, who hadn't moved, beyond adding a truly terrifying smile to her countenance.

"Who else I am I going to use, Brucey? Birdbrain's on Tasha's side- he's always on Tasha's side…even when Tasha doesn't have a side, Clint's on her side. We're Science Bros's! And I'm Hulk's favourite! I mean, it's mutual, after all- You're my favour- THOR!" Tony ducked around behind the newly entered Norse God, disappearing into shadow, behind broad shoulders.

"What is the meaning of this?! Eye of the Hawk, are your once again terrorising our Iron-hearted compatriot!?" Thor, by virtue of being Thor, thundered.

Jumping to his feet, Clint howled with mock offence, "Me! I'm not doing anything! I'm just sitting here- I'm innocent! No, for once, I really am!"

Ignoring the sniggers that met the less than angelic look Clint was sporting, Thor turned on the other two, one arm protectively corralling Tony behind him as he glared, only the sparkle in his eyes proving the fact that he understood the good-humour of the situation.

"Then it is the fair maiden or the good doctor who have harassed one so meek and gentle…for shame."

Thor spoke with such gravity, that for an instant, even Clint was speechless, before he erupted with a peal of choking laughter. Although whether this was caused more by Natasha being the 'fair maiden' or Tony's, 'meek and gentle', was anyone's guess.

Of course, that was when Steve entered the room, enhanced hearing having just picked up the tail end of Thor's statement, and asked with a tone of reproach, "Tony – are you picking on Bruce again?"

Coming down from the high, as much caused by Steve's unknowingly accurate question, as the Captains befuddled face as they'd tried to explain the past five minutes, they had finally turned to Tony expectantly.

Only to have him stare back expectantly.

"What?" Tony asked, sounding completely non-plussed about the situation.

Glancing at each other with mild concern, Bruce voiced what they were all thinking, "Uh, you called us all down here."

Physically startling, Tony looked back at them, eyebrow raising as he answered, "What, you mean this isn't another intervention? Damn, that would have made a record four this month."

Realising they'd been had, the others groaned, rolled their eyes or sniggered as was appropriate, while Tony grinned and darted around the workshop, gathering-things-into his arms, speaking in a flurry of words all the while, "No, I have – Stuff… Something for Tasha- actually, lots of things for Tasha. Something For Bruce. And for Hulk too, I guess. Clint, of course. Everyone."

Eyeing the array of things that Tony was dumping onto a hastily cleared workbench, Steve said, "No wonder you haven't been sleeping…when on earth did you get time to build all this?"

Tony just shrugged, answering, "Oh, you know- genius at work and all that Jazz- really, it's nothing. Here Tasha, these are yours.", and saying so, he thrust a small black box in the assassins direction, gratified when she simply reached for it, without her usual cautionary checks.

Seeing that Natasha was engrossed in looking over the exterior of the box, searching for the hidden catch she knew had to be there somewhere, Tony tried to hand the next item to Clint, "Here Hawk, adjusta-", only to be shushed by the archer as he leaned over Natasha's shoulder to get a good look at what she'd received.

"Oh no, we're not doing this 'one person at a time' rubbish – it's not Christmas…just-" Tony was silenced by Steve's hands intercepting the item he was thrusting at Clint. The Captain placed it gently back on the bench, and pulling the smaller man against his side, he pressed his lips to Tony's forehead as he whispered, "Shh – I want to see too."

Huffing with displeasure, Tony settled against Steve, waiting as Natasha found the tiny indent on the wooden box and opened it to reveal its dark velvet interior, and the two dozen delicate hairpins that lay within.

"God. Tony… these are- Are these- I can't possibly-" Natasha breathed, picking up one of the slender pins, admiring the subtle sparkle, visible even in the artificial light of the workshop.

"They're a titanium alloy, near indestructible. The same as my suit actually. I just- I don't like it when you go undercover, and your disguise only allows for a few knives or a gun- all of which should be confiscated at a search point or metal detector. I know; you hardly need conventional weapons to take someone down…just, peace of mind I guess."

Natasha looked up from admiring the gorgeous pins, her fingernails scraping lightly over the tiny gilded lily at the tip of each one, a crystal clear or opaque black gem, at the centre of each flower, and asked, "A weapon- These…are these weapons, Tony?"

"Wha- Of course they're a weapon. Everything I ever make you will somehow keep you safer. Crush the black gem and you've got a poisoned dart – paralytic, fast acting, but no permanent damage. Crush the clear for the antidote. There's a 5 second time lapse, to allow for accidentally poisoning yourself. Not that I think you'd ever do that- but…uh, also, if you know you'll be using them, dart yourself with the clear before you go under, you'll be impervious to the poison for 48 hours."

Natasha was staring at him.

Actually, they were all staring at him.

"What?" was the smartest thing he could come up with, and then, "Here, these go with them", and he dug through the small pile until he managed to locate the pair of strappy black stiletto heels.

"What do they do?" Clint asked, reaching out to take one of the heels, holding it aloft between his thumb and forefinger as he inspected it, no doubt looking for an acid shooting nozzle or the like.

"Let's just say that tapping your heels together three times isn't going to bring you home Tash…but it might give you the blades you need to get bring yourself home. Magnet activated, the heel detaches, and unsheathes into – wait for it…Stiletto daggers. And you're still left with a perfectly stylish pair of flats." Tony explained, demonstrating by tapping the heel still in his hand against the one in Clint's, grinning when upon the third tap, both heels came away from the rest of the shoe as advertised.

"You've made her a high society spy kit! God- this is so much better than S.H.I.E.L.D's crap." Clint praised, as he handed the heels off to a possessively reaching Natasha.

"Naturally" was Tony's dry response, made only funnier by Bruce's tandem deadpan of the same word.

"I'm not quite done – There's…well, there's a dress. It's still rendering. The material is- complex. Essentially, it looks like Vera Wang, and wears like Kevlar." Tony explained, his voice exited at the possibilities and applications of such a material, once he worked the bugs out.

"You've made her a bullet proof dress. A Bullet. Proof. Dress. You've- I can't even begin. No more Budapest." Clint breathed, his eyes wide as they met Natasha's.

Brushing off the admiration, Tony replied, "One day, someone is really going to have to tell me about Budapest", before neatly segueing, "But speaking of dresses and unique materials- here, Bruce. This one's for you."

Bruce looked up from where he been caressing one of Natasha's hair pins, and eyed the dark green bundle of material in Tony's hands with a wary look "What- Stretchy pants?" he breathed.

It wasn't true, despite his Zen like acceptance, that the regular bouts with near nudity didn't bother Bruce. He was, and always had been a rather modest man, but really, it seemed so inconsequential in the big picture, especially when that picture included turning into a vicious rage monster.

Also- no one had succeeded in formulating a material that could stretch with the needed elasticity, and still be able to regain its original form when Hulk became Bruce again.

"You probably should really thank Reed. He…loaned me a scrap of his spacesuit. I was able to recreate the bonds that allow the ridiculous stretch and rebound factor," Tony explained, handing the pants to Bruce, but holding on himself, displaying how the material stretched out between them as Bruce pulled away, and then snapped back into place as Tony let go.

Getting caught up in the science, as scientists were want to do, Tony continued, "The elasticity in these is just phenomenal. It's a mix of components- uh, elastin, rubber, silicon…You should get a look at the reverberation facto-"

Unable to contain himself, Clint burst in, "Um, Breathe Tony, you're turning blue, and that's really not your colour."

Tony glared at the interruption, but before he could come up with an appropriate response, that would no doubt involve Steve, Steve's uniform, or most probably both, Bruce looked up at his friend, and replied, "Forget Reed, I think I'd rather thank you."

Looking distinctly uncomfortable, Tony mumbled a reply, "It was nothing- I mean, it wasn't nothing…the science is breathtaking. But, I – It was just. Benefit of having a genius for a friend."

"Family", corrected Bruce, "Benefit of having a genius in the family."

Clint, not used to being ignored for so long, broke in with, "And Bruce would know all about that, after all, it takes one to know one. Now, genius…my turn?"

It should have sounded rude, inconsiderate or greedy, but coming from Clint's mouth it was just complimentary and cheerful, and Tony conceded, pulling the largest item from the dwindling pile, and handed it off to the archer.

Clint stared at it for several minutes, his keen eyes taking in every inch of smooth hard plastic, each precise angle and edge, before asking, "Okay, I give – what is it?"

With a grin, Tony took the item back, and with a few deft movements, he snapped the plastic out into a full sized recurve bow, strung and ready for use.

"A travel bow!" Clint crowed, reaching for the weapon, which Tony handed back to the ecstatic archer.

With an assessing eye, Tony took in the measurements of the lethal folding weapon, and answered, "Well, yes, I suppose so. I mean, it's perfectly accurate, and possibly more flexible than your regular bow, although not as strong, and it'd certainly store well."

Steve, who had also immediately assumed the bow was a compact travelling version asked, "You guess so? What was it actually intended to be?"

Grabbing several arrows from the bench, almost eradicating the pile of gifts, Tony gestured for Clint to nock one of the arrows, explaining, "If it was just you and I, I'd get you to shoot me…but with Captain Tight–pants here, I guess I'd better play it safe."

Kissing the slight scowl from Steve's lips with a playful nip, Tony grinned as the Captain softened, indicating that Clint should shoot one of the holographic targets lined up against the far wall.

The arrow flew straight, as everyone had known it would, after all, with Stark written all over the manufacturing and Barton behind the mechanics, how could it not? It hit the wall, but instead of the solid thud indicating a hit, a spray of purple powder spewed out in a small circle around the 'kill zone'.

Whooping, Clint turned to Tony, exclaiming, "What the hell was that?!" surrendering the bow up to Natasha's exploring hands as he waited for an explanation.

"That, my dear Katniss, with our intrepid leader's approval of course…is your new training bow. Full range of moves, completely accurate to your regular bow, with the exception of the folding mechanism…and the arrows. No bruising, blood or maiming required. You'll simply be 'powdering our noses', I've tested it right up to the break point, meaning you literally couldn't shoot it any harder- and the most your victims, i.e. us, feel, even at point blank range, is a slight tingling."

Clint had been unable to immerse himself fully in their training with his preferred weapon, having arrows flying about was deemed too much risk to the other members of the team. He'd been relegated to about half his usual ability's in the training room, and although Clint got in a lot of hours, a lot of hours, on the range…it wasn't quit the same. This would revolutionize their whole training regime.

If Steve approved it.

When Steve approved it.

Clint had faith in Tony.

Moving on before it occurred to Steve to question why Tony was so confident that the bow was harmless, and how he'd come to that conclusion, Tony handed the last item on the bench to Thor.

The Thunder God seemed honestly shocked to be receiving something. This wasn't the first time Tony had done the gift-rounds, but it was the first time Thor had been included in the bestowal. After all- what does one build an indestructible, old as the eons, literal royal, literal god?

Apparently, Tony had found something.

Thor looked at the small white item, dwarfed by his hand, taking in the rubbery plastic casing over hard plastic. Noting the familiar rectangular shape, and familiar placement of buttons on its surface and about the body.

"Not that it isn't a fine gift, that I shall cherish always, but why have you given me a Controller for the most mighty Wii, My Iron-hearted brother?" Thor asked as he inspected the controller.

"Squeeze it." was Tony's peculiar reply.

Thor did, and was immediately devastated as the plastic crumpled beneath his hand, the controller crushed into an unrecognisable mess by godly strength.

Tony blanched, reaching urgently for the destroyed plastic and exposed wiring, exclaiming, "Fuck! Just- that was. Godda-"

Thor, upon realising that this wasn't the intended outcome was immediately and profusely apologetic, most upset that he'd destroyed Tony's hard work, "…Please accept my most humble of apologises, I did not intend such slight. I have destroyed yet ano-"

And then Tony laughed.

Under the watchful eyes of his five curious friends, Tony whirled about his workshop, searching over and under, between and beneath… until finally he emerged successful, handing Thor, something that appeared to be exactly as he's given him a moment ago, a white Wii controller, and the accompanying order to, "Squeeze it."

Thor looked dubiously at the small controller, but his eyes did pick up subtle differences. The controller itself as slightly larger, and fit more naturally into his hand, and the buttons were larger to compensate for his finger size.

He squeezed.

The controller stayed in one piece.

Thor squeezed harder.

The controller stayed firmly undestroyed.

Thor squeezed some more.

The controller finally groaned beneath his hand.

Thor looked at Tony, Tony nodded with a grin, and Thor SQUEEZED.

The controller admitted defeat, and cracked roughly down the middle.

The five looked to Tony, waiting for his reaction to the rudely ravaged tech, which had cost god knows what and wasted who knew how many of Tony's hours.

"That actually held up much better than I thought it would", at the completely disbelieving looks he was reviving, Tony added, "Hello, God of Thunder. That'll get us up to a rate of probably one controller per week, rather than one per level. I'll add it to the manufacturing list, big guy."

Thor looked immensely pleased, despite the broken plastic dangling from his hand, as he replied, "It is with great honour that I call you battle-kin, for your generosity and compassion will surely become legendary in the ages to come."

Tony looked completely gobsmacked at the high praise, and although he wasn't the only one, his was the only mind lingering on the words of the statement, rather than the phrasing.

"Um. It was just a Wii controller", was his intelligent reply.

Thor was quick to refute his dismissal, "No, it is the meaning of the gift- the 'thought that counts'. Countless times has the game of Wii frustrated me due to its mortal trappings, and here you have made attempt to help me evade this frustration, despite your free time being extremely limited, and so very precious. "

Tony opened his mouth, for whatever reason, but Thor spoke over him, and no one denied the thunder god the right to speak. "More than that, you have provided me a home. A place to build the family that we have chosen. No matter what you say, I will forever count you as a god among men, Tony Stark…more so than I, for being just a man at your soul-level."

Tony fish-lipped, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly, because what did one say to that? What did one say to such a complete load of troll dun-

"Just say 'you're welcome', Tony", a voice very much like Steve's, whispered in his ear.

Probably because it actually was Steve's voice, and Tony had to wonder how long he'd been standing there, wordlessly staring at Thor with horror in his eyes, for Steve to feel the need to prompt him.

Like hell he was going to accept such ridiculous praise though, and so instead, he offered his own gratitude, muttering, "Um, thanks?" Thanks for living here, thanks for putting up with me, thanks for caring. Thanks for not seeing the worst.

And one by one, they slowly departed, taking gifts and leaving final words of praise and gratitude that were brushed off with equal fervour.

Until finally, only Tony and Steve remained.

"So- what about me, where's my gift?" Steve asked, as the vent was pulled shut above their heads by one booted foot, Clint no doubt disappearing into the deep shadows of the systems inner workings.

Tony turned from where he was examining the split remains of Thor's Wii controller, replying, "Uh, I didn't- I mean, it's not quite re-"

Moving to lean against the bench-top beside his lover, Steve dropped a kiss to willing lips as he answered, "I'm joking, Tony."

Smiling at his own foolishness, Tony pressed more deeply into the kiss before pulling back to explain, "I knew that. But I am sorry if you felt left out when everyone else was getting something…I just haven't quite-"

Sighing inwardly, Steve cut his lover off to reassure him, "I can hardly feel left out, not when you give me considerably more of your time and brainpower than any one of them- It's your company I enjoy Tony. The fact that you are a legitimate genius who builds things that save the world is just icing on the cake"

Sniggering, Tony said, "I built a Wii controller Steve. It's hardly going to be world saving."

"Hello- you arm the Avengers. And we save the world on a weekly basis. I can't help you with the Wii… although with Thor holding the controller…" Steve reasoned, releasing Tony to his science, moving to sit on the threadbare old couch in the corner, reaching blindly underneath for his sketch book and pencils.

"Are you going to be long? – I don't mind, but I've been meaning to start a new sketch, just as soon as I get a few uninterrupted hours. " Steve asked, flipping through the book, hovering over mostly completed images, and the next blank page as he waited for an answer.

None was forthcoming, and Steve smiled, flipped to the blank page and set pencil to paper.

The image in his mind had translated itself into charcoal with perfection. All solid lines, shadowed fill and dark, sparkling eyes. A broad sweep here, and carefully smudged there, Tony stared out from the page beneath the artist's hands, armour-less, in both the literal and figurative way. It wasn't finished, but then, perhaps it never would be, for its inspiration wasn't finished either, and also may never be.

But it was all that was Tony, to the best of Steve's ability.

Looking up, Steve noted that almost four hours had passed since he'd looked down, and he wondered at the ability time had to simply fly. It was nearing 9pm, and Steve knew for a fact that Tony hadn't slept the night before.

Getting to his feet silently, Steve carefully pushed his sketchbook back under the couch, sure that Tony knew its hiding place, but uncaring.

Padding across the room, he approached his lover's turned back, noting the faint smell of grease and oil drips on the floor about Tony's feet, and was thankful for the shoes gracing said feet.

Tony was tinkering with something, although tinkering possibly wasn't the right word to apply to a billionaire genius who armed the world's foremost monster, alien and villain fighting team.

No, Tony definitely tinkered.

Tonight, it was one of the armour gauntlets, this one not yet red and gold, indicating that it was a prototype. Steve wondered briefly, about the purpose of the test, how its results would affect Ironman, and subsequently the rest of the team, but gave it up after only seconds, as there were too many possibilities to even contemplate.

Humming quietly under his breath, mostly to alert Tony to his presence, Steve settled his hands on tense shoulders, kneading gently until he felt the smaller form relax against him, and he brought his arms down to wrap around Tony's waist.

Tony, still mostly absorbed by whatever engineering feat he was performing, was none the less, both accommodating, and appreciative of the warm lips that tracked a moist path down his throat, tilting his head slightly to give Steve's superior height more reach.

The teeth that set about worrying at the sliver of revealed muscle at the apex of his t-shirt, rent a low, involuntary moan from Tony's throat, and Steve smiled as he soothed the stinging area, knowing full well, and equally pleased by the knowledge, of the dark mark that would blossom there.

Bringing his left hand up, he buried nimble fingers in filthy tangles, firm pressure relieving stress that hadn't even had time to be realised yet, and Tony's eyes fluttered closed, as he leaned into the half massage/ half caress.

Steve's other hand, resting low at Tony's stomach, managed to roam its way beneath his ACDC shirt, and finding flat warm skin, it began to meander upwards over the hard plain of muscle.

Large fingers glanced the side of the reactor housing, sliding over smooth glass that almost hummed beneath his fingers, and in the space between one heartbeat and the next, Tony went from pliable and relaxed, to absolutely rigid beneath his hands.

And before Steve could even open his mouth, before he could ask, reassure or apologise, Tony came to life in his arms, a wildcat that struck out with anything and everything possible, fists, feet…and most terrifyingly- the active repulsor gracing his left hand.

The first blast barely bit into his left flank, Steve managing to turn out of its path at the last possible second.

The second he took to the side of the head.

- Sorry for the cliff. Author accepts bribes to write faster. Also threats...but be warned, time is also wasted laughing at these before she gets back to the writing.

-I'm back. Sorry all, I just can't keep from inflicting myself on you.

-Welcome to my 'As Easy As' breathing series- Yeah, all those familiar with my sleeping series (Insomniac Dreaming) know how this works. 10 stories, all having something to do with breathing.

-This is the first part of a 5&1, which will (hopefully) be posted nightly over this week.

-As usual, no beta used. If you are so inclined, I encourage and truly appreciated people pointing out where I've goofed ;)

Feel Free to ask if you have questions- about anything. I'm game.

Point of interest - for anyone hoping this was the kitten Story, Sorry, it's not. But rest assured, it's coming.

And most of all?
- Happy Reading :)