Circus Boy

Tony noticed it by mere accident. He was walking along the corridor past his fellow Avengers' rooms. He needed to talk to Banner about some whacky theory that had come to him this morning when he still had been half asleep. It was past noon now and after a few hours of pondering and prodding it, it didn't seem so whacky anymore. He still wanted a second opinion.

Banner had chosen the room farthest away from the others. Probably still didn't trust his anger management capabilities.

While walking down the corridor, Tony listened to the sounds that told him the others had settled in. 50s music from Rogers' room. The guy was trying to catch up with today, obviously. Some kind of – something from Romanoff's.

Tony stopped and listened more closely.

Chinese? Sounded like Chinese to him. Well, whatever. He continued to Banner's room. Only when he had almost reached it did he notice something was missing. He frowned. Turned around. Walked down the corridor once more, the other way. Romanoff. Rogers. And back again. Rogers. Romanoff.

Ah-ha.

Tony stopped before yet another door.

"Jarvis," he asked, "is Agent Barton in?"

"Yes, sir. In his room."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, he might have gone out and placed a Life Model Decoy in his room but that is highly unlikely, sir."

Tony had been asking because the room behind the door lay in absolute silence. No music. No TV. Nothing. It made him wonder what was going on in there. So he knocked and entered.

Barton looked up from where he was sitting on the floor Indian style. The parts of his bow lay scattered around him. As far as those few parts could scatter.

One of them and a greasy rag were currently in Barton's hands.

Tony did a quick inventory of the room.

Shelves – empty. Closet – ditto. He could tell because the door was half open. Quiver with arrows next to the bed. Gun on the nightstand, well within reach of the bed. Probably a knife under the pillow, Tony guessed.

On the other side of the bed, he spotted the bag Barton had been carrying the day he had moved in. That had been a good two weeks ago. It was still packed.

He noticed Barton following his gaze.

"Looking for something?" the archer asked.

"Uh, yeah. Green guy, big, mean-tempered."

Barton raised his eyebrows in amusement.
"Well, he's not hiding in my closet but if you wanna check under the bed …"

Tony looked at it. It was one of those beds that used the space between floor and mattress for drawers.
"Unless he's gone Mini-Hulk …"

Barton shrugged.
"Then, obviously, he's not here."

"Obviously. Thanks."

Tony turned to leave. As he did so, Barton's bag crossed his field of vision again. For a moment, he was tempted to ask. Drop a remark along the lines of "always ready to get going" or something. But then, he didn't.

He kept watching Barton, though. The man seemed to blend in with their strange group just fine. Meaning that he didn't go out of his way to avoid the others and didn't stick out like a sore thumb. He was easy enough to talk to, even cracked a quip here and there that made Rogers roll his eyes and Tony grin in approval. But on the whole, he seemed a little – detached. At least, to Tony. And blending in a little too well.

Might be a spy thing, Tony decided.

Maybe not, though.

Another thing he noticed was Barton's tendency to perch instead of sitting. Be it a chair – he usually preferred perching on its back with his feet on the seat – a couch – same there – the stools by the kitchen counter or one of the ledges outside. He could spend hours out there just watching – Tony wasn't sure what he was actually doing out there. Watching the reconstruction of the damaged and destroyed buildings? Scanning the area for possible attackers? Hatching an egg?

He always perched dangerously close to the edge. After realizing that, Tony had Jarvis keep the Mark VII on stand-by at all times and always wore the corresponding bracelets. Not that he thought Barton might suddenly develop suicidal tendencies after being mind-controlled into killing his own people or something like that. But accidents did happen and if he really should lose his balance and fall, Tony wanted to be ready to go after him.

Well, he'd try.

Probably would be too late, but still –

It was several days after that moment in Barton's room when Natasha caught Tony watching her partner who, once again, was outside and as high up as he could get.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

Tony shook his head.
"No. Just thinking."

She didn't buy it. Of course not, she'd probably been trained to detect when someone was lying to her.

A thought struck him. He looked at her, then Barton.

Those two were working together. They most likely knew each other very well. He could just ask her. Of course she might glare at him and tell him it was none of his business. Or punch him in the face and leave.

He decided to take the risk. Better than dying of curiousity.

"You two – how long have you been working together?" he asked.

"Quite a while. Ever since Clint brought me in to SHIELD instead of killing me."
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"If that's another attempt to guess my age –"

Tony waved it off.
"Found out about that weeks ago when I hacked into SHIELD's mainframe."
He ignored her glare and went on: "So you'd say you know him quite well?"

"I know all that I need to know. All that matters."
The look in her eyes changed from suspicion to wariness.
"Why do you ask?"

Tony shrugged.
"Just wondering."

It had been a bad idea. He didn't know what exactly he had said but Natasha suddenly moved in on him like a hunter on his prey and was only inches away from him with a look on her face that told him he was about to lose at least a limb, maybe even his head.

"If this is about Loki getting into his mind and forcing him to help him, I can assure you –"

"No!" Tony cut her off, surprised.

The thought that Barton might go over to the other side again at some point hadn't crossed his mind until now. This was about the man's behavior. It puzzled him. And being Tony Stark, whenever he was met with a puzzle, he tried to solve it.

"Then why have you been watching him?" Natasha demanded.

She still was in full attack-mode, ready to defend her partner. It spoke volumes, Tony thought. Not of Barton, unfortunately, but of her.

"Don't deny it", she pushed on. "I noticed and he did, too."

"Whoa, easy!"
Tony raised his hands and took a step back.
"I'm just curious, okay? A few days ago, I was in his room, looking for Banner and – well –"

Natasha relaxed and backed off a little. She even gave him a slightly amused look. He knew she didn't buy the thing about Banner.

"He hasn't unpacked his stuff, yet, and the room …"
Tony grimaced.
"A padded cell in the local nuthouse got a more personal touch. It's as if he's ready to leave at a moment's notice."

"We're still SHIELD agents. We're being sent on missions. Sometimes, we have to leave at a moment's notice."

"Yeah, but right now, you're both on leave. And besides, your room doesn't look like that", Tony pointed out. "It looks –"

He recalled the small collection of firearms, knives and other weapons that took up one entire wall of Natasha's room. And she seemed to prefer black. Most definitely.

"- intimidating", he finished.

Natasha shrugged.
"That's Clint. He just likes it that way. His room at SHIELD headquarters looks the same." She frowned. "Granted, he does put his clothes in his locker but except for that –"

"And you don't think that's odd?"

Her eyes narrowed again.
"Above all, I think it's none of your business."

"Geez, Tasha –"
Tony sighed.
"I'm not trying to pry. I'm just trying to figure that guy out. Right now, I can't. We're on the same team, after all, and will be for some time. He's blending in alright but –"

"He's part of the group but not really part of it", she said.

"Yes, and I'm wondering why because it isn't like we've been giving him hell about what he did. He couldn't help it – he wasn't himself. We all know that."

Natasha gave him a long piercing look. She turned away, towards the window, to gaze out at Barton.

It took her a while to make up her mind.

"He once told me that, once you've been through five foster families and five states in just as many years, you learn not to become too attached to anything. Or anyone", she said slowly.

"Foster care, huh? That really sucks. You know how old he was when –"
Tony made a vague gesture.

Natasha frowned in thought.
"Six, I think."

"And then?" Tony asked. "I mean after all the foster homes. He got adopted?"

"No. He ran away with a circus."

"Yeah, right."
Tony was about to laugh when he realized she was serious.
"Circus?"

She didn't even blink.

His eyebrows shot up right to his hairline.
"Circus. Alright."

Natasha turned to leave
"Yes. What do you think where he learned to shoot like that?" she asked back over her shoulder.

Tony frowned.
"Dunno. Sherwood Forest?"

She did punch him for that – but not too hard.