Just a pointless little thing I got out in 30 minutes. Real Life has my muse by the neck and refuses to let go. I've been volunteering at a summer camp, helping my brother move, catching a cold and working double shifts at my job. So to all of you who have made requests-I am in the process of writing them and I wish I could get them out for you sooner. But I want you to know that I am doing my best to work on them whenever I have the chance.

"Sorry, Clint," Steve apologized, fingers pausing, permanent marker gripped comfortably between them. "I know it's not a hawk. But an eagle is pretty much the only bird I know how to draw."

"Of course it is," Tony commented, sliding into a seat at the table where the soldier and the archer were settled. "It makes sense. I mean, I should hope Captain America knows how to draw the national symbol. It'd be more than a little embarrassing if he didn't."

"It's cool, Cap," Clint assured, twisting his neck to get a glimpse of the figure Steve was sketching into the cast on his right arm. "Besides, if it's an eagle, it's probably going to turn out looking like a biker's tattoo."

"And that's a good thing because..?" Bruce queried over the top of his teacup.

Natasha glided into the kitchen. "Why not? If Clint wants to look like a biker wannabe, I say he should be allowed to look like a biker wannabe." She shrugged.

"Small problem with that," Tony challenged. "Literally." He grinned. At the blank looks he received from the others, he explained himself. "The thing is, all bikers are six foot four and weigh three hundred pounds. Dear little," he snickered at his own joke, "Clint is neither one."

"Every biker?" Steve countered, taking a moment to raise an eyebrow at Tony before returning his attention to his drawing.

"Yes," Tony asserted. "And they also have to have a beard with, like, five ponytail holders in it," he added.

"I'm a biker and I don't," Steve pointed out.

"Yeah, but you do fit the other qualifications," Tony argued. Steve opened his mouth to protest but Tony cut him off. "And besides, you don't count. A man your age shouldn't even be anywhere near a motorcycle because of the risk of a heart attack."

"Don't listen to him, Steve. He's just jealous," Natasha advised, using the remaining water in the tea kettle to pour herself a cup.

"Jealous?" Tony scoffed. "Why would I be jealous of an electric bicycle when I've got my highly sophisticated suits of armor?"

The others traded amused glances.

"Yep. He's definitely jealous," Clint stated.

As chuckles erupted around the room, Tony debated whether it was worth it to deny the accusations. He decided it wasn't.

"Okay, fine. You got me," he admitted. "So can you please let me ride your bike?" he scooted his chair closer to Steve's. "I've always wanted to try it."

Steve made no response, although the corner of his mouth did turn up.

"I promise I'll return it in one piece. Please? Please? Please?" Tony begged. "See, I even used my words. That's got to count for something."

"I don't know, Stark," Steve deliberately shrugged. "We should take into account the medical risks to a man your age."

Clint laughed and tried to hide it behind his one good hand. Bruce's eyes twinkled and Natasha didn't even disguise her snort.

"Haha, very funny." Tony crossed his arms. "But I'm not the one who's ninety-six."

"No. Really?" Steve feigned surprise. "You could have fooled me."

Uncontrollable laughter burst from Clint, forcing Steve to take a break for a moment, as the cast was being shaken by the archer's fit of mirth. Bruce choked on his most recent sip of tea.

Tony pouted. "I'll have you know that-"

"Incoming message, sir," Jarvis interrupted, bringing the screen in the kitchen to life.

Hill's face filled their view. "There's a press mob starting outside."

"So?" Tony grunted, irritated at the distraction that took away his chance to defend himself.

"So your last little mission didn't go unnoticed. Now there are rumors flying around unchecked that the Avengers are reassembling," Hill informed them. "Captain, we need you downstairs in ten."

Steve capped his marker. "I'll be there in five."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a second," Tony protested. "I know reporters can be annoying but is it really necessary to send Captain America to disperse them? That seems a bit extreme."

"He's not disbanding them. He's going to talk to them," Hill corrected.

Tony frowned. "Isn't that my job?"

"Have you looked in the mirror recently? Your face is more black and blue than my tenth grade prom dress," Hill countered.

"That's why I have a team of make-up artists at my disposal." Tony threw his hands up in the air. "I pay them to make me look good on T.V."

"Then you should fire them," Clint put in.

"Why?" Tony demanded.

"Because you always come out looking like a cupcake," Clint stated.

"What? I do not," Tony contended.

"Yes, you do. I mean, you've got layers and layers of make-up plastered on your face. It's the equivalent of three inches of frosting on a cupcake," Clint explained, unapologetic.

Tony shook his head. "That's ridiculous."

"It's true," Clint shrugged.

"Captain," Hill repeated.

"Coming," Steve reassured.

The screen went black and Steve picked his shield up from where it rested against the side of the island. "No fighting while I'm gone." He pointed a finger at each of them before heading for the elevator.

"But what about my biker's eagle?" Clint called after him.

"I'll finish it later," Steve promised. "After all, that cast isn't going anywhere for the next five weeks." The doors slipped closed behind him.

"Ugh, don't remind me," Clint groaned, dropping his forehead to the table.

Tony watched the elevator a minute longer. Once he was sure Steve wasn't coming back, he leaped up from his chair and snatched up the discarded marker. "You know, I'm not such a bad artist myself," he hinted, twirling the pen casually between his fingers.

"Uh uh. No." Clint shook his head adamantly.

"Come on, Steve can do one side and I can do the other," Tony bargained.

Clint's response was to draw his arm to his chest protectively.

"Hey, don't knock something until you've tried it," Tony cautioned, pointing the marker at the archer rebukingly.

"You're going to mess everything up," Clint accused.

Tony spread his arms wide. "I haven't even started yet. And," he leaned in conspiratorially, "I can draw a hawk. That's right, Hawkeye. A real hawk."

"I'd rather have my biker tat." Clint inched away from the encroaching scientist.

"Why?" Tony whined.

"Give it up, Stark," Natasha advised, adding a spoon of honey to her tea. "There are some things Steve will always be better than you at. Drawing is one of those things."

"So is running. And doing push-ups. And punching. And pep talking. And cooking. And motorcycle riding. And-" Clint ticked off the items on the list with his fingers.

"Okay, okay. I won't doodle on your stupid cast." Tony tossed the marker back on the table. "Are you happy now?"

"Since you clearly aren't, then yes. Yes, I am," Natasha teased, licking her spoon before dropping it in the sink.

Tony crossed his arms and headed for his lab, muttering under his breath about emotional abuse and how they could all expect eviction notices on their doors before tomorrow morning. As he left, Clint and Natasha gave each other a high five.

A quick A/N for a couple of reviewers who don't have an account so I can't PM them:

ChildofGod-I love to take requests! Unfortunately, it's usually a long time before I actually write, edit and upload them. But feel free to give me as many as you want. :)

ErinKenobi2893-Your ideas are awesome! You should create an account on this site and write all those fics you tell me about. I would enjoy reading them! And I love your requests. They are really good prompts and I'm working on them (you must hate that phrase by now :P But unfortunately, that's the best I can give you at the moment.) So just keep your eyes open for when I (finally) post them. :)