"Ready, and action!"

Now that he thought about it, Tony had never actually sat through an entire episode of Sesame Street. He vaguely remembered a jet-lagged afternoon spent several years ago in a hotel room without cable and a couldn'tbefuckedfindingtheremote mentality. Still, he could not recall ever bearing witness to the sight of a eight foot canary stuck up a tree. A bird. Stuck up a tree.

"How can a bird get stuck up a fucking tree?" Tony hissed at Clint. Clint's lips quirked as Big Bird continued to cry helplessly from the biggest bough of the faux tree he was hanging from.

"Shh, Steve's bit is coming up," Clint replied. Sure enough, Captain America came barreling through the gathered crowd of extras calling out to Big Bird to 'remain calm'. However, his heroic cries were rendered superfluous when the branch Big Bird was fastened to splintered with a crack and 175 pounds of feathered delight plummeted toward the ground. Disregarding the fact that they were currently filming a children's show, Tony maintained the belief that it would have been far more entertaining to see the bird hit the ground. But once again, the star-spangled-man-with-a-plan came to the rescue, lunging forward and catching Big Bird in his arms moments before he hit the ground.

Tony made a promise to himself to record this very moment of the program when it aired, because the image of Steve carrying an anthropomorphised canary bridal style was one he wanted to forever remember. Just as he was contemplating how much it would cost him to slap said image on every billboard in New York, he became aware of an explosive sneezing sound emanating from behind him. Casting a look over his shoulder, Tony was rewarded with the vision of Clint who had all but shoved his fist into his mouth in attempt to silence his hysterics. Soon the both of them were clutching at each other in a desperate bid to remain standing as they howled in laughter.

"Cut, cut!" The director stormed forward, making a beeline for the two men. "If you two are going to act this way the entire time you're here, I'd suggest finding a better waiting place."

"No, we'll be good, we swear," Clint gasped, and held up his hand. "Scout's honour."

The director glared, but seemed satisfied enough to continue. "Seeing as Mr. Stark's and Mr. Barton's ill-timed mirth ruined the end of the shot, we'll go from there. If you would just return to your mark, thank you Mr. Rogers." Steve shot Tony a glare as he shuffled back, his expression shifting back to his 'superhero smile' as soon as the director called action.

"Why thank you Captain America. You're a hero!" Big Bird, or rather the poor bastard inside Big Bird, exclaimed. The captain clapped Big Bird on the wing, and gave the camera a sly wink.

"It was nothing my friend. That's just what heroes do."

"What else do heroes do?"

"Lower and belittle ourselves for the entertainment of toddlers?" Tony muttered under his breath, Clint nudging him in warning as the director glanced warily in his direction.

"Heroes always do what is right. But remember Big Bird, you don't need to have a suit or a shield to be a hero. We can all be heroes in our own way."

It took great amounts of self control on Tony's part not to outwardly groan at the sheer platitude of what the producers were making poor Steve do. Thus why for the remainder of Steve's scene, Tony stayed true to his promise and kept silent; if only to prevent the prolonging of this agony. Even Steve looked relieved once his part was over.

"Well done Cap," Clint remarked, then added somewhat mockingly, "Truly a praiseworthy performance."

Tony was tempted to punch Clint, but something told him that the folks at Sesame Street probably wouldn't like him knocking Hawkeye through a wall, despite how deserving he was of it. Regardless of whatever retort Tony, or Steve, might have eventually thought of, the director interrupted their train of thought.

"Mr. Barton? You're up. Follow me please."

"Now that's a little bit unfair, right? Why doesn't Clint have to say as much dialogue as me?" Steve commented diffidently to Tony.

"Mayhap you were chosen over Hawkeye because your past performances demonstrated a prowess in theatrics," Thor offered helpfully as he approached. "Your preceding exploits certainly signalled to me an aptitude for this sort of thing."

Steve turned on Tony. "You swore never to show that to anyone," he growled. "Ever."

"He asked nicely."

"Tony." A warning.

"He asked very nicely."

"Tony!" A stronger warning. Still, Tony could not resist one last dig at his companion.

"You know, you're kinda sexy when you're angry."

Steve spluttered as he grasped at a retort; and being unable to find one, huffed in exasperation. "I'm going to go talk to the kids."

Tony shrugged. "Sure, if you don't mind the lack of intelligent conversation."

"More intelligent than the one I'm having now..." Steve muttered, hurriedly stalking away. Despite the insult, Tony had to smile at Steve's remark; if only for the fact that it meant that the stick Steve had rammed up his ass was finally becoming unstuck.

"Man of Iron! Might I have a word with you?"

"I suppose you might, Son of Odin," Tony replied, turning his attention upon the Asgardian to find his features frozen in the same dewy-eyed expression of wonderment as when he had stumbled across Banner making popcorn one night. He'd spent the next week convinced that Bruce was a sorcerer.

"Why is there a man beneath the bespectacled violet elf?"

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, "He's not an elf, Thor, he's a vampire."

"That was not my question. Why is there a man beneath the bespectacled violet vampire, as you say?" Thor repeated as he watched the puppeteer steer the Count's conversation with Hawkeye.

"He is a muppet and that man is his 'muppeteer'."

"But you said he was a vampire not five seconds ago," Thor all but whined as he tried to understand. Tony bit back a groan and suddenly wished that Steve was still here. As if by divine intervention, Natasha materialised at his elbow to rescue him.

"What Tony means, Thor, is that the vampire is a puppet being controlled by that man there. The man can make him talk and move just like a normal person," she explained, and Tony was relieved to see a comprehending look spread across Thor's face. Surreptitiously he mouthed the words 'thank you' to Natasha, who shrugged dismissively in a gesture that said 'no problem'.

"...now remember kids, I am a professional. So make sure to check with your parents before getting your own bow and arrows."

The director yelled cut, and several studio members rushed about making small adjustments to the set and Clint's make-up.

"Alright, we need everyone to clear the floor. Mr. Barton, if you'd like to stand at your mark."

Clint turned towards a line of targets set up by the studio.

"Only targets? Don't I get to shoot an apple on someone's head?" he asked, somewhat hopefully. The director shook his head vigorously.

"The OSHA would have our heads if we even thought about putting an actor up there. And before you ask; yes, the muppets do count as actors," the director answered, much to Clint's disappointment.

"I could do it off Thor's head," Clint persisted, "I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

"Verily!"

"Mr. Barton, it is not that we doubt your capabilities; but we'd rather not risk a court case because a child attempted to recreate a stunt and instead took out the neighbour's dog. So please, could we just stick to the script?"

"Fine," Clint sighed somewhat dejectedly. Shuffled sidewards onto his mark, he took an arrow from his quiver and nocked it. The director returned to his chair and yelled action. The Count stalked over to Clint's side and laughed animatedly.

"Vell Mr. Hawkeye, you say zat you are ze best archer that you know. Shall I count how many bullseyes you can hit?"

Clint faced the camera, "Would you kids like to help the Count? Let's see how many bullseyes we can count."

And with that, Clint pulled the arrow back and released, hitting the first bullseye dead on. Needless to say, he hit every bullseye after the first; the Count numbering each of his successes.

"...twenty! Twenty bullseyes!" the Count exclaimed, throwing his head back and laughing. "Let's sing a song about the number twenty!"

"I'm ready when you are Count!" Clint replied as the music started up behind them.

"Twenty, twenty, that is plenty..."

The remark Tony was about to make died on his lips when Natasha gave him a sidewards glare and hissed, "Behave."

He didn't even manage to protest indignantly before the director sped over to Natasha and steered her towards another part of the set; leaving him with Thor, who watched on in amazement as the puppeteer detached himself from his puppet and went to get a drink.

"A, B, C..."

Tony was sure the day was getting worse. Steve's part had been cringeworthy, but entertaining nonetheless. He'd made it through Clint's part, although he was sure he'd need to have his eardrums checked for bleeding after listening to Clint's singing. But he was uncertain as to whether he'd be able to endure several takes of a bright red, fuzzy, tone deaf...thing shakily making its way through the alphabet.

"Hey Elmo, what are you doing?"

It came as a surprise to Tony that Natasha seemed to adapt to the film environment with relative ease; although in retrospect, he figured that he shouldn't have been all that surprised – Natasha had managed to infiltrate his company without a single person suspecting her, least of all him. So it shouldn't have been that big of a stretch for her to pretend to care what an off-pitch ball of red fur was doing.

"Oh, hi Miss Black Widow. Elmo's trying to remember the alphabet, but Elmo is having a little trouble."

Tony only just managed to bite back a scathing remark, noting how Clint seemed to smirk as if he knew what he was thinking. A glance to their right almost had the two of them sniggering at the enraptured silence Thor had fallen into.

"Well that's okay Elmo. I think I know of a way to help you remember the alphabet. When you say a letter, just think of a word that starts with that letter. Understand?"

"I think so. A comes first. What starts with A?"

Natasha turned to the camera, "A is for the Avengers, the people who protect you."

Tony made an exasperated sound at the back of his throat and pushed his palm against his face. At this exact point in time Tony literally felt like he would rather have his arc reactor torn from his chest than listen to any further dialogue between the two red-heads.

"B is for Black Widow; that's you!" Elmo chimed in.

"C is for Captain America," Natasha added.

"D is for dissolving intelligence…" Tony muttered. Clint snorted. A couple seconds later, Thor uttered a grumble of reprimand and gave Tony a nudge that just about bowled him over.

"G is for green, the colour of the Hulk."

"H is for Hawkeye…"

Just as Tony was genuinely considering following Steve into the pit of Hellspawn, a rap on one of his back plates roused him from his mental torture.

"Mr. Stark? Your scene is -"

"Thank Christ, take me away from here."

The director blinked confusedly.

"If you'd…uhhh…like to follow me…"

Tony followed the director eagerly away, the heavy footsteps behind him alerting him that he too was being followed by the cumbersome golden retriever that was Thor.

"No."

"Mr. Stark please..."

Tony crossed his arms in a gesture that appeared far more childish than he would ever admit to it being.

"I said no; I don't care what evidence there is to the contrary, but as it turns out I actually do have an ounce of self-respect left. I will pay you to let me sit this one out, just name your price and I'll pay up."

"Mr. Stark!" the director interrupted, looking properly irate. "Sir, it does not matter what you are willing to pay; your superiors signed an agreement saying that you would do a segment on our show. Superhero or not, you are still legally obligated to complete your part. So, with all due respect, stop acting like a prima donna and harden up."

Tony scowled at the director once his back was turned; ignoring Clint's exclamation of 'ooh burn!' and Thor's rumbling chuckles. A glare in their general direction brought pointed silence, though Clint still grinned like an idiot.

"Fine, let's get this the hell over with," he muttered venomously, wishing ardently for a very alcoholic drink. The puppeteer he was working with gave him a look that said that he was just as excited about working with Tony as Tony was with him. So, like the mature adult he was, Tony poked his tongue at him and closed his visor.

"Ready and action!"

In a blur of movement and blue fur Grover jumped into his dialogue, to which Tony listened to distantly, his mind at present more focused on how ridiculous the puppet looked in his red cape and helm. Just as he was beginning to realise the significance of such, JARVIS's voice chimed in.

"Sir, I believe that was your cue," the A.I remarked drily mere moments before the director yelled cut.

"Mr. Stark."

"I know, I missed my cue. Sorry about that, was having a small epiphany."

"I don't care if you were having a grand prophetic vision; every take costs this studio money. So, if you please," the director pointed at Tony's mark. "And raise the visor before speaking, if you don't mind."

Tony just nodded, not trusting himself enough to speak without insulting anyone. The director called action, and though every fibre of his being screamed at him to rebel - or at the very least give the director the finger and fling a few choice profanities - Tony did as he was told.

"What is that I hear; citizens in trouble? Never fear, for Super Grover is here!"

Grover made a move, as if trying to take off, but stayed planted firmly on the ground.

"Oh no, an evil villain has stolen my superpowers! Whatever shall I do?"

Tony clenched his teeth, forced his face into a smile and strutted into the shot, "I'll help you Super Grover!"

The puppet gasped in what Tony liked to think was reverence. Damn straight, Tony thought smugly.

"Oh my goodness, it's Iron Man! Will you help me find my powers?"

"Super Grover, you don't need super powers to be super," Tony gritted out through the utterly painful smile he had to retain. Grover gave a dramatic sigh and sagged.

"But without my powers, I'm not Super Grover any more. I'm just Normal Grover."

You'd be a pile of scorched blue fur if I had my way, Tony thought maliciously.

"The powers don't make the hero, Grover, and I can prove it. Come on, hop on my back and hold on tight, we're going for a ride!"

Grover waddled over and placed his fluffy mitts on Tony's shoulder plates; and as he did, Tony was sure he could hear what was left of his self-respect being cast to the wind.

When it was over, Tony stalked across to where Thor and Clint waited for him. He noticed that Natasha had made her way over whilst he'd been filmed.

"We will never speak of this again," he growled. Thor clapped him on the shoulder with a hearty laugh.

"Well done Stark. I daresay you have it in you to challenge the good Captain's efforts."

Tony gritted his teeth and thought of his workshop; his workshop and solitude.

"Come on Tony, it wasn't that bad," Natasha remarked with a smirk. "You got through it okay."

"Yeah," Tony scoffed. "But only because I forced myself to imagine it was Thor I was talking to…no offence." He patted Thor's arm.

"Mr…uhh…Thor?"

The demigod turned and very literally looked down upon the director.

"They're ready for you on the main street set."

"Lead on," Thor replied, and followed the director as he scurried away.

If Tony had any misgivings about the director's competence, or Thor's ability to understand Midgardian technology, they were disproved on both counts within five minutes of filming. The director quickly briefed Thor on his scene – where his mark was, when to speak and what to look at – and much to Tony's surprise, the Asgardian nodded and moved to his mark in preparation for the start of the shot.

All seemed to be shaping out fine: until Thor laid eyes on Snuffleupagus. Only one word came to Tony's mind to describe the expression that overcame Thor's face; and that was rapture.

"Sir Director! Tell me, what do you call that creature yonder?"

Tony gave Clint a look out of the corner of his eye, and they broke into sniggers. Meanwhile, Steve rejoined the group.

"How's Thor going?" he asked.

"Don't know. Hasn't started yet, he's too enraptured with Snuffie," Clint replied, gesturing.

"How were the trolls?"

Steve was momentarily confused before his mind made the connection between Tony's derisive title and the children. "The children were fine Tony. Not that you really care."

Tony scoffed, "I'm hurt, Steven. Of course I care about the sweet little monsters you seem so enamored with."

"Well, that's a relief to hear," Natasha interrupted, slipping her phone back into her pocket. "Because Pepper just donated a million dollars to PBS."

"That's fine, I trust her judg– she what?"

Whatever conflict was about to transpire was immediately forgotten, however, when Thor's voice was heard booming through the set, "A creature so magnificent would make a worthy steed!"

"No! Thor, it's not a real–"

Tony winced, and eyed Natasha, "Is he mounting Snufflupagus?"

Natasha, meanwhile, was smiling widely – partly because of the spectacle Thor was making of himself and partly because Clint had collapsed with laughter.

"Yes, I believe he is."

Tony pressed his hands to his face, "All I can say is that I sincerely hope that Loki does not watch PBS."

As it turned out, Loki did watch the PBS channel amongst others as a form of surveillance. Thus why the next time the Avengers confronted him, they found themselves fighting Big Bird and other assorted puppets. In the end, the damage was minimal due to Loki's inability to stop laughing at Thor wrestling with a demonic Snuffleupagus. He just managed to gasp out a taunting, "Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street?" before disappearing.

No one ever spoke of it again.