So, Loki's reality show is totally on the way, but this weird little idea worked its way in somehow…

I've decided to mark this story as "complete" since there isn't actually a definitive end to it, I just update whenever the plot bunnies in my head or from awesome readers inspire the Muse. But I know some readers won't read a story unless it's finished, and I really hate to deprive them of this little naked-Thor-exploiting gem. ;D

OoOoOoOoOo

Unlikely Housemates

By: Syntyche

(on a posting spree today, woooohooooooo! lol)

OoOoOoOoOo

"You're crazy if you think I'm letting you push me around any more!"

The angry shout reached her ears and Natasha's head snapped up immediately, her attention sharpening to focus on her partner's furious voice. Gripping the book she'd been reading loosely by the spine, one finger between the pages to mark her place, she cocked her head to listen to the argument approaching from down the hall.

"Well, you sure can't handle it on your own!" Tony snapped back and those words froze Natasha into immobility for a moment. Tension had been spiking since Loki's drama-filled reappearance, and short tempers amongst the already unstable housemates had shot to an all-time high (for the eighteen days they had cohabited within the Avengers Tower.) Natasha was especially worried about Clint, who had his own very personal reasons for hating the demigod and now had to deal with Loki's continued presence being shoved in his face incessantly as the god of mischief prepared for his new, ridiculous reality show starring the Avengers. Unbelievably, Fury had backed the idea: Natasha and Clint's faces were already plastered all over the media now, and since no amount of scrubbing could sanitize their once shadowy faces now topping Google's search for assassins for hire, Fury had seized the opportunity to capitalize on their popularity and "human" element of the team, and to try and generate some positive fan love for the Avengers.

But Natasha worried what the attention would do to her abnormally reclusive partner. She'd been quietly afraid, ever since she and Clint moved into the tower and became Avengers, that her hawk would fade away quietly. He just wasn't comfortable here, in this almost forced familiarity, and dread had settled on her heart like a weight: Natasha liked it here, liked the team, and she'd thought that Clint and Tony were getting along well, perhaps a little too well - ie, into trouble a little too easily.

But the raised voices shouting in the hall made her wonder if she'd been wrong.

"Please!" she heard Clint snort irritably. "I've been on my own since before you learned to tie your shoes, metalhead!"

"I'll have you know I was tying my shoes by the time I was twelve," Tony retorted, and this was followed by a fleshy sounding smack! accompanied by a groan from Clint that had the Black Widow halfway out of her chair before Clint could growl back,

"Yeah, thanks for making my point! Stop pushing me, I mean it!"

Afraid they were coming to blows, Natasha skidded into the hall, mouth dropping in aghast horror as she took in the scene before her.

Tony and Clint looked like hell.

Black eyes, bloody noses, bruises, splints and split lips. Tony, leaning heavily on a crutch, was laboring to back up the wheelchair Clint was spitefully perched on, rubbing his knees and glaring maliciously at the wall Tony had inadvertently pushed him into.

"Damn it!" Tony snapped, pivoting awkwardly and succeeding only in running his teammate into the wall again. Clint said a very bad word that would have made Steve blush and dropped his face into his hands.

"I hate you," Clint mumbled, though it was unclear if he was speaking to the wall or to Stark.

Unable to witness any more, Natasha planted her hands on her hips and cleared her throat loudly. Two sets of bruised eyes flew up to meet her challenging green gaze.

"What is going on here?" she demanded, and Tony looked away guiltily while Clint mumbled through his fingers.

"Nat," he sighed forlornly. "Please make him stop pushing me. I keep asking but he won't stop."

"Oh, quit being such a crybaby," Tony griped irritably, throwing his wiry frame against the handlebars in an attempt to get the wheelchair to turn.

"Do I even want to know how the both of you ended up in such a state?" Natasha asked dryly, completely unsurprised by the guilty look they shared before chorusing a solid, "no!" Tony went to lean casually against the chair and it caught on a bump in the rug and tipped them both over, Tony on top of the wheelchair and the wheelchair on top of Clint.

"I really hate you," Clint groaned again, and Natasha knelt to reach strong arms under the capsized chair and lever the archer out gently. She shook her short red curls patronizingly at the tangled mess of Tony and the wheelchair.

"Be glad Loki doesn't have his cameras set up yet," the assassin said dryly, and to her surprise Clint huffed a snickered laugh, and after a moment Tony did too, a helpless little giggle coming from behind the overturned chair.

And Natasha, the fearsome Black Widow, had to laugh too:

Her boys were ridiculous.

OoOoOoOoOo

Okay! So if you'd like to see more of this odd story please let me know… I love writing these little one-shots, but mayrun their course…? Ideas are most welcome, too, if there's anything you might like to see. be they've :D