Tony Stark one shots

Closet

NOT avengers friendly sorry....

Tony sighed.

Ever since the battle, his team was acting too strangely for his liking. They weren't going out of their way to antagonizing or straight-out shouting what was wrong, (Not like last time, Clint.) Actually, Tony feared that maybe the Avengers were blaming him for the fight going wrong. He knew he should've been more careful, but it was either defying Capsicle's orders or let hundreds of people die when he could've done something. Okay, maybe that was a little bit of an exaggeration, but who knows, maybe that missile would have hit that building also!

Natasha was especially angry at him. It wasn't that unsurprising since the one that got hurt was Clint, but why couldn't she understand he didn't have a choice? Wasn't it obvious or when Clint got involved, it got all foggy?

An eye for an eye. He feared Romanoff would agree with the outdated law. Tony wondered if she would actually follow with her threat to break his arm slowly, painfully, and surely. He really didn't want to have his arm broken.

Tony straightened his back quickly, glancing around before groaning quietly. He was still sore and aching since the battle and with everything going on with Clint he never got the chance to go see his personal doctors- maybe even a hospital at the rate he was going on. Yeah, he was that desperate.

He stumbled into the kitchen having abandoned the previously occupied couch, and for the first time in many years, he stayed silent. The Avengers (Minus Clint) were sitting there quietly, doing tasks to occupy their time. Natasha was the first one to notice him, and her eyes were colder than ever before, colder than when he stole her personal pistol, died it hot pink, and rigged it to shoot pink cotton balls. Tony turned, trying to avert his eyes from the cold emotionless voids that were her own, but seemingly wherever he dared look she looked back. Even closing his eyes, he could feel the glare burning his skin.

"How's Clint doing? His arm getting any better?" He tried asking with a flippant nature, but the words caught partway causing them to sound slightly strangled. Her eyes continued to burn him, and he couldn't help but gulp loudly.

"He's fine," she replied calmly and quietly, flipping the page of the magazine that was held carefully on her lap.

Tony slightly wished she would scream, yell, jump up and kick him hard enough to sing soprano, anything except that. Screaming, yelling, hitting and cursing, he could handle, that was to be expected. This...This quiet anger and deadly eyes that was what he wasn't used to. That was the persona she used with traitors and in interrogations. That was the look Loki got, getting those eyes meant that he pushed the little boundaries a little too far, making a permanent little Tony-shaped dent in the Mental-Natasha-wall.

He stared, the awkwardness of the situation increasing as he noticed Steve by the window, neck muscles tensed as he refused to look at Tony. Bruce also didn't look, instead staring at the pages of his book intensely, while Thor huffed, playing with a small clump of play-dough.

"...You all are mad at me, aren't you?" Tony asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

"No, you think?" Steve growled, turning and glaring with a look of anger, a look Tony was all too used to.

'Huh, maybe that's where dad learned it.' Tony mentally supplied, years of shielding were his only defense against a major slip up and a large flinch.

"Guys, it wasn't my fau-"

"It was!" Natasha snapped, eyes blazing now before burning to icy blocks of coal as Tony found himself swallowing again against the dryness of his mouth.

"It was your carelessness that injured Clint." She finished voice colder then the northern most tip of her homeland.

"It was a ro-" He shut up as Bruce's jaw clicked shut, and Tony immediately knew that the entire team was against him- peachy.