Author's Note: So this has pretty much no plot to it. It's just a fluffy little one-shot slightly based around Clint, but includes the whole team, except Thor (sorry Thor fans, maybe next time). This is what happens when I just start typing something out while my eyes are trying to close on me and make me go to sleep.

I also went and saw Avengers a second time with a friend and we both decided that with the right push of a button, Hawkeye would be easy to get to blush. So I threw that in there too. As I said, there was no plot to this, it just sort of...happened. Lol.

And for those who reviewed, favorited, and alerted on my last Avengers story: Phobias, I just want to say thank you. You made me deliriously happy and made my entire week day after day while trying to blow up my phone and email inbox. I still have all those notification emails. Don't think I'll be deleting them for a while. ^_^ THANK YOU!

On that note, as a reminder, I love constructive criticism. I am new to the fandom, comics and all, and if there is something that doesn't seem quite right with the characters let me know. I like to try and keep them as in-character as possible unless otherwise noted. No flames please though; any and all flames I will give to Hawkeye for target practice.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers or any of it's subsequent characters. Marvel does. I only like to take them down off their shelf for a bit and play with them before putting them back.

Okay, on with the tale!

Breakfast Naps

Steve looked up from his morning paper as he heard one of the many footsteps that would soon echo in the Avengers tower. He watched as one of his teammates, Clint Barton a.k.a. Hawkeye, shuffled barefoot into the kitchen, yawning and his blonde hair in a ruffled state of bedhead. The blonde glanced up and wiggled his fingers in a small wave, which Steve returned with a smile. One of the many things quickly learned when the team moved into the Tower together was Clint was not, under any circumstances, a morning person. It was normal to only get one-worded answers and small grunts until the archer was fully awake whereas his partner, Natasha Romanov a.k.a. Black Widow, was alert and ready to go or the billionaire, Tony Stark a.k.a. Iron Man, was energetic and already had ten blueprints for new inventions planned out in his head. Really, the only other person that was as much of a non-morning person as Clint was Bruce Banner a.k.a. the Hulk. That is, if the scientist even went to bed in the first place.

Steve glanced back up to find Clint staring into the refrigerator, his head leaning against the open door frame and cold air making the archer shiver slightly. "What are you doing?" he asked his sleep-ridden friend.

"Contemplating," came the quiet reply.

"Contemplating what?"

"Breakfast." With a sigh, Clint closed the refrigerator and repeated the process with the large pantry, stocked with enough food to feed Thor for a week, which was saying something considering the demi-god's appetite. Steve chuckled as he watched Clint stand at the doorway, leaning against the frame, staring. After a minute or so, he began to wonder.

"Clint? Clint. Hawkeye!" Steve called out. Clint jolted a bit, surprised and turned to Steve.

"Hmm? Yeah?"

"Were you falling asleep?" Steve laughed softly. Clint leaned against the frame again and nodded.

"Nat 'n I didn' get in till late. Late, late, late," he slurred, his tongue not able to wrap around the words correctly. Steve put aside his paper and got up. Supporting his tired friend, he guided over the counter and had him sit on one of the stools.

"Here, sit before you fall over." Clint grunted and complied, immediately folding his arms and resting his head on them. "I'll make breakfast. How about pancakes and eggs?" Steve glanced over when he heard another grunt. He figured it was an agreeing sort of grunt, so he went ahead and started gathering the ingredients. As he silently went about making up a batch of pancakes, once in a while glancing over and checking on Clint, who had apparently fallen asleep again, he heard the shuffling and padding of the rest of the team filing in.

"Hey Capsicle," Tony greeted, heading straight for the refrigerator. "Making pancakes?"

"Yeah, keep it down guys, Clint is sleeping." The others looked over, surprised to find their archer fast asleep.

"Why is he sleeping on the counter and not in bed where he should be?" Tony asked as he poured himself a glass of juice and settled beside Clint.

"I don't know. Came out looking for breakfast earlier. I had to put him in the chair, otherwise, he was going to fall asleep standing up."

"I tried to get him to eat something before we came home, but he said it was too late to try and eat something," Natasha explained, walking over to her partner. "I guess his stomach woke him up. Clint? Clint, wake up hon." She gently shook the man's shoulder, trying to wake him up.

"Man, I wish I had that Zap Rod right now," Tony chuckled mischievously, referring to the sharp object he poked Bruce with the first time they met on the helicarrier. Bruce chuckled from over beside the coffee pot.

"Yeah, he'd kick your ass onto the ground before he even opened his eyes," the other half of the "Science Bros," as it was fondly referred too, pointed out.

"True," Tony admitted as Clint finally stirred and lifted his head to find the rest of team (with the exception of Thor; he was currently in Asgard visiting his brother) hanging around the kitchen.

"Wha-?" Clint moaned; try to get his sleep-muddled mind to grasp what was going on. At this point, he could hardly remember his name, he was so exhausted. He decided to skip training in replacement of a several hour nap. Only three hours of sleep was not an adequate amount to start the day off with.

"It's almost breakfast, hon," Natasha explained gently. Bruce set a cup of black coffee and milk in front of him.

"Here, bro. This will wake you up enough so you can swallow without choking or falling asleep face-first into your syrup." Clint blushed lightly, remembering the time he was so tired he actually did fall asleep in his breakfast. Tony didn't let him live it down for two weeks, prodding and poking him with any sharp object the genius billionaire could find on account of "not willing to let a friend smother himself in his own food because that would not look cool on a gravestone."

"Thank you," Clint whispered, pouring the amount of milk he wanted and sipping it as Tony massaged circles on his back to wake him up more. "That only happened once after the invasion. You were about to fall asleep too, Banner." Bruce's grin was hidden since he had turned his back to Clint. It was hard to find something that embarrassed Hawkeye, but once something was found, any amount of teasing could get Clint Barton blushing like a schoolgirl. Natasha, naturally, had the best talent of this but the others were catching on quickly.

"Pancakes and eggs are done!" Steve interrupted, setting two separate platters filled with eggs and pancakes on the island counter everyone was gathered around. With Tony's help, Clint got up and made himself a plate before sitting back down. He slowly picked his way through the food, letting his stomach fill up slowly while the others talked amongst themselves. After a while, he pushed his plate aside and laid his head back on his arms. He knew he needed to go back to bed, but he didn't have the energy to get up. The one-hundred yards from the kitchen to the elevator or the living room couch felt like one-hundred miles. Or it at least was deemed that way to him.

Tony glanced over and found his teammate about to fall asleep again. Setting down his juice, he nudged him, chuckling when Clint's head shot up slight, startled awake again. Clint groaned; why couldn't people simply leave him alone and let him sleep?

"Come on, Legolas. Let's go to the couch where we can tuck you in and you can sleep. Sound good?" Tony only received a grunt that he assumed was an agreement. If it wasn't, too bad; Clint wasn't going to fall asleep on the table when he had a perfectly good couch to sleep on. "Bruce?"

Bruce nodded and got up, helping Tony get Clint to his feet. Natasha ran his room to get his pillow while Steve grabbed an extra blanket. As a team, they got Clint settled on the couch. Clint looked up at his team tiredly.

"What would I do you without you all?"

"Smother yourself in your pankcakes and make Natasha engrave that you died by trying to inhale syrup and pancakes through your nose and mouth instead of eating it like normal people do," Tony rambled. Bruce laughed softly. Clint rolled his eyes.

"Whatever," he mumbled, snuggling deeper into the blankets. As he closed his eyes and breathing started to steadily slow, he felt three hands either squeeze his shoulder or smooth the bedhead back and felt someone kiss his forehead. Judging from the smell, it was Natasha.

"Night," he slurred softly, the others barely hearing what he said.

"It's morning genius," Tony scoffed, protesting softly when Steve nudged him.

"We'll see you when you wake up." Clint nodded slowly and heard his teammates walk back to the kitchen to wash up. Letting the conversations and voice drift from the kitchen to his ears, he was lulled to sleep faster than he did when he did earlier.

Meanwhile, Tony peeked out from the kitchen, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I still say we grab his bow and spray paint it with bright pink paint and glitter," he said to no one in particular.

"You really do have a death wish, don't you?"

"I'm a genius, billionaire, philanthropist with a suit of armor. No one sprays my Iron Man suit green and silver just because Facebook I should be sorted into Slytherin and gets away with it."