Author's Note- Special thanks Hawksicle and the other folks over at The Beta Branch for going over the story with a fine tooth comb!

Disclaimer: The Avengers are not mine, but Marvel/Disney's.

This story was partly inspired by 'This is a story about a cat.' by dysprositos, as well as recent articles about Military Working Dogs finding homes after years of military service. If there are any innacuracies, no offense is meant :)

Clint stared out of the barely opened door at his unexpected visitors. "That's a dog, Stark."

"Brilliant deduction," Stark replied, pushing his way through the door to enter the rather pitiful living room. The leash in his hand led to a rather grumpy looking German Shepherd, who glared back at Clint. "Yes, this is a dog. More correctly, your dog."

He watched as Stark examined the room, appraising Clint's rather Spartan living quarters. Aside from an old couch, tv and coffee table, there was a pair of large, framed landscape photographs on one of the walls. The kitchen sat in the corner closest to a sliding door that led to a balcony. The walls were mostly brick, though one was pockmarked with what looked suspiciously like old arrow holes.

The sink was full of dirty dishes, mostly glasses. A stack of old pizza boxes lay stacked haphazardly in one of the corners on the countertop next to an alarm clock, while the range top was covered with a thin film of dust. Stark shook his head; he hadn't expected to find the normally tidy man's home in such a state of neglect.

The engineer looked back at the pockmarked wall. "They do make bales of hay with pretty, colorful circles for that. I can make some that cheer when you hit a bullseye, you know."

Clint looked back in surprise. There was a hint of amusement in his eyes as Tony led the canine over to the narrow breakfast bar in front of the kitchen. Finally closing the battered door, he turned around and crossed his arms. "Stark. Why is there a dog in my apartment?"

"Your dog," Stark insisted, unclipping the leash after telling the dog to sit. He pulled a thick, sealed manila envelope out from under his arms and set the large bag he had carted in with him on the counter.

Clint blinked in confusion. "What the hell am I gonna do with a damn dog? My lease doesn't even allow pets!"

"They do now," the engineer shrugged as he began pulling items out of the bag. "I spoke with your landlord and offered a rather healthy sum to cover the pet deposit to convince him to change his mind. He's a rather grumpy fellow, isn't he?"

There was a steadily growing pile of supplies piling up on the counter. A small bag of kibble sat next to a grooming brush, a bag of treats, and two bowls, all nestled cozily atop a greasy pizza box. Clint watched as Stark glanced around the apartment, shuddered quickly, and then shrugged. Pulling out his phone, the genius began scrolling through options on the screen.

Clint approached the dog warily. "I don't know how to take care of a fucking dog. It's gonna starve within a week. I don't even want a pet, Tony! When am I going to find the time to do, well, whatever it is that you do with it?"

"Nonsense. And, it's a he, by the way- one look at his ass and you can't miss 'em. German Shepherd, full blood based on his pedigree. In the envelope, by the way, along with the rest of his paperwork," Stark replied rapidly. "He's had his vet check after leaving quarantine, so he's ready for you to hug him, love him, pet him, and squeeze him… or whatever it is you kids do with dogs."

"Quarantine? What, is he sick or something?"

Stark shook his head quickly as he headed for the door. "Nope. Vet approved, remember? Anyways, it's standard protocol for any animal being shipped back from overseas. Quarantine makes sure they don't bring anything back with them from whatever country they've been running around in."

"Uh- "

"Come on, Barton- this big guy is just like you: ill-tempered, mopey, and best of all, guarantee to rip to shreds anyone he doesn't like. You'll get along fine."

"I'm starting to not like you very much," Clint grumbled. The dog was nothing like him! "Listen- how about you take the damn mutt if he's so great! I am the last person you want looking after it."

Stark smiled. "No can do, Legolas. What's done is done."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

The engineer was rubbing his hands together with a manic grin. "Therapy, Clint. Mandated by the SHIELD psych team that has been overseeing your recovery, and they agree wholeheartedly that you two can help each other get over what nasty little issues you've still got locked up in your head that you won't talk about or even try to do anything about."

"Therapy?"

"You betcha. Your lovely psychiatric department has implemented a pilot program to try to help their more troubled 'assets' with Animal-assisted Therapy. The program's new, and you're the first one that gets to try it out, because face it, Sourpuss- you really need a hug."

Clint arched his eye skeptically at the other man. "And you had nothing to do with this, I suppose."

"I may have suggested the idea."

"Stark," he warned. "That dog doesn't look like it even wants a hug."

Tony scoffed. "Oh ye of little faith. Some dog treats, a few long walks in the park, a game of fetch, and you'll be best pals in no time."

"It looks like it wants to eat me."

"Well, it was a long trip overseas, and I'm sure the food at Customs wasn't exactly gourmet. Besides- what young American boy doesn't want a dog?"

"I had a dog, Stark," Clint snarled, fixing his teammate with a glare. "My dad cut its throat when I was six because it pissed on the carpet."

"See? You're sharing already." Tony grinned and picked up the folder, lightly tapping it on Clint's chest and releasing it as he opened the door to escape. The dog threw Stark a pleading look as he walked out the door "Trust me. It'll be good for you!"

Clint moved cautiously over to the breakfast bar, opening the manila envelope while maintaining eye contact with the dog. It was glaring at him again; its ears were laid back and the head was lowered. He could swear that the eyes had narrowed in defiance. So far, the dog had stayed right where Stark had left it.

Pulling the papers out of the envelope, he took a quick glance at what was included. There was a copy of a service record, a medical file, pedigree papers, and a certificate from Customs. Nestled in the pack of paperwork was an adoption form with his name listed on it.

Pulling out the service record, he opened the file and blinked in surprise. It was a military record, marking the dog as a former Military Working Dog. He hadn't been around them for a long time.

"You're an ordinance sniffer, eh? Not sure why Stark thinks I need a walking bomb detector," he complained. The dog grumbled in return, its head swinging up towards the greasy pizza box. "Hungry bomb detector, I guess."

He snorted as he read the dog's name. "Arrow? Fuck you, Stark."

Sighing, he reached for the two metal dishes sitting on top of the pile of dog supplies. Pouring some kibble into the bowl, he laid it down in front of the dog, who began to eat quickly. Clint repeated the same process with the second bowl, filling it with water.

Plopping himself down on the couch, he drifted off to old A-team re-runs, wondering how he had gotten himself into this mess.

Stark Tower…

Pepper walked into the dim workshop, deftly avoiding the various wireframe holograms that were being categorized and shifted around the room. "Tony? Tony- I'm home."

"Over here," he called, lifting a set of welder's goggles off of his nose and setting them on top of the table next to him. What the redhead could only label as a "contraption" sat in front of him, two rods attached to the center. "Alright, Jarvis- run simulation one alpha, please."

"Very well, sir- would you like the simulation based on recreational targeting, or shall I incorporate simulated battle conditions?"

He leaned back, spinning the seat around until he was facing her. "Surprise me. Pepper, you are looking, well… radiant tonight."

She paused, an eye twitching weakly. Pepper could spot an apology build-up a mile away. "You didn't. Tony-"

"Before you say anything, I had nothing but good intentions. And besides- it's all Captain America's fault, really," he started, standing up and walking towards her. He was wearing his best "I've done exactly what you've asked me, no- ordered me not to, but I couldn't resist doing it anyway and I'm not ashamed to admit it" look. "He was the one that wanted to take one of those old-fashioned deathbed promise-to-a-dying-fellow-soldier things seriously."

"Tony, you have got to stop meddling in everybody's lives. You're not exactly subtle," Pepper complained, rubbing an eyebrow in annoyance.

He reached out and pulled her closer, lightly kissing her forehead. "You know I can't do that. It's too much fun!"

Sighing, she hung her purse from Dummy's offered grasping attachment. "Thank you, Dummy."

The robot assistant chirped happily, trundling over to Tony's desk and setting the purse down neatly. She smiled; the robots had been learning quickly with the new upgrades he had installed last week, and were making fewer mistakes than before.

She received a small nudge, causing her to turn. You was waiting, a towel laid over its own grasper, a martini held in its grip. "Um, thank you, You."

"You're going to spoil them, you know," Tony teased, his head turned over his shoulder as he scrubbed his hands in the nearby sink. "Alright, you guys- show's over. Leave Pepper alone. She's had a very long day."

"So, Tony. How did your little visit go?"

"As well as could be expected. He's still depressed, and based on what I've seen, taking it out on his wall."

Pepper blinked, taking a sip of her drink. Three olives- just how she liked it. "His wall."

"Yeah- using it for target practice or something. Based on the pile of leftover pizza boxes, accounting for age of the various grease stains, I would be highly surprised if he's left that little hole he's been staying in since they let him leave SHIELD headquarters," he recounted bitterly. She watched as he reached into his snack drawer. Pulling out a silver packet, he began tossing small pieces of dehydrated fruit into his mouth.

Pepper knew he had been concerned about Agent Barton over the last few weeks. He had had his initial suspicions about the man- they all had, except for Natasha- but once Tony had gotten some downtime to go over the records and sit down to talk with the agent, he had taken a liking to Agent Barton.

Taking a liking, in Tony's case, meant interfering in said target's personal business, and in some cases, ill-advised and disastrous attempts to make things better.

She watched him sadly. He had lived alone for so long, aside from Rhodey, Happy, and herself, that he had never truly learned how to deal with others, and often misunderstood when to stop crossing boundaries. Tony had a good heart, when he wasn't trying to make an ass out of himself or the next unfortunate target for his boredom. Deep down, he was such a lonely child.

At least he had Bruce to keep him company now. The two scientists had bonded over their mutual respect for each other's skills and experiences, and Tony had been delighted to finally have a companion that he could actually talk to without breaking things down into "laymanese", as he called it.

"Want one?" Tony was holding the silver pouch out to her. She raised an eyebrow at him. He looked at her and then back at the bag in confusion, his eyes widening as he read the label. "Oh yeah. Oops."

"No problem," she said with a smile. He hadn't even noticed it contained strawberries. "Thank you for offering."

"See? At least someone's appreciative," he whined. Tony Stark was never stumped by problems. Problems were just questions that hadn't found the right solution yet. "I just… Pepper, I don't know what to do. He looked so lost, you know?"

"So you thought that surprising him with something like a new dog would make things better?" She sighed, pinching her nose. "Tony, what were you thinking?"

"I thought that maybe," he drawled, "Legolas would get the idea that he should stop wallowing in misery. You didn't see his apartment- total dive, by the way. I don't know why a guy like that stays in a… a place like that. It's a damn firetrap that ought to be torn down. Hey- now that's an idea… "

Reading his sudden flash of inspiration, she decided on some preventative damage control. "No, Tony. You are not buying the building and tearing it down. There are innocent people living there who will possibly have no place to go- it's not fair to them, no matter how effective it might be at getting Agent Barton out of the house."

"But Pepper-"

"No, Tony." She knew he had been slightly disappointed in the surly agent's continuing refusal to take him up on his offer of finding him a place to stay. He had been so excited when he showed her the initial plans for the Tower renovation; it had been designed with the team in mind, and included sleeping quarters, a track, and a training floor. There was also another plan to include a community area as well as a landing bay for a Quinjet. If Pepper didn't know any better, he would even find a way to include a weapon range for the two SHIELD agents.

It was a perfect playground for a team of superheroes, but so far most of them weren't biting. She didn't think it was personal; Tony just didn't understand that you couldn't go out on a mission, albeit a dangerous one, and then expect everyone to want to become roomies. Barton and Romanoff were especially protective of their privacy.

Setting her martini glass down, she approached him and took his head lightly in her hands, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Tony. Give it time. Give them time. Just take things easy, and make friends with them the normal way, and I'm sure they'll come around eventually. Rome wasn't built in a day."

"You're right, Pep. You know, you're always right."