When Tony woke he wasn't expecting to be on a couch. Nor was he expecting to see Natasha curled up on an armchair reading a spy novel with an afghan draped across her three feet away from him. His eyes widened at the headache pounding against his skull and he bit his cheek. He closed his eyes to try to lessen the pain, thankful the only light illuminating the room was beside Natasha. Tony rubbed his eyes as he sat up slowly. Aside from the nagging headache, he felt wonderful. He almost laughed at the fact that sleeping on a couch felt better than sleeping in his bed.

His movement signaled Natasha of his rousing. Tony froze, gulping audibly. Natasha jerked her chin at the end table beside him. "Drink," she ordered.

Tony blinked rapidly for a moment before looked over his shoulder. He looked between the glass and Natasha, but she was already back in her book. Tony knitted his brow and brought a shaking hand to the glass. He turned his bandaged hand in front of his eyes and bit his lip. What happened to him? Where was he? Why did Natasha look so normal?

Tony shook his head and grabbed the cool glass. A murky brown liquid sloshed in the glass that made his nose wrinkle. Tony sniffed, turning his head away at the stench. He wasn't drinking whatever this was. It smelt worse than he did after a successful day in the lab. Natasha hadn't looked up again and the contents of the glass were making Tony's stomach writhe. He set it back down on the end table. He gripped the armrest to help him stand. Natasha flipped a page in her book and Tony wet his dry lips. He gripped the hem of his sweatshirt and hung his head. When Natasha didn't make a move to reprimand him for not drinking the weird liquid, he let his body relax slightly.

He opened his mouth to ask her those three important questions, but the words caught in his throat when she turned another page and hummed. He bit his lip and watched Natasha's every move. He didn't know why he felt uneasy, she was reading a book, but that didn't stop the feeling of dread expanding in his stomach. His eyes flicked to the glass and he whined in the back of his throat. He didn't want to drink it, but if he did the unease might go away and Natasha would stop ignoring him.

He shuffled toward the end table at the sound of another page turn. His hands trembled and he took a deep breath to steady himself. Tony bit down on his tongue when the lip of the glass neared his mouth. He hesitated and glanced at Natasha. She still wasn't looking. He didn't have to drink whatever this was. Natasha tapped the hardcover book with one pointed nail and the blood-red lacquer painted on her pointer finger glinted in the light. He shivered, chugging the glass in one go. He spluttered against the taste of egg and some green vegetable and nearly gagged at the feeling of the slimy substance going down his throat. He set the empty glass on the end table as he shakily wiped his mouth.

Natasha turned another page and Tony bit his lip. "Good. Now," she looked over the top of her book and Tony fell back onto the couch by the heat of her glare, "what were you doing walking around town drunk?" Natasha's face was a blank wall that had Tony trapped. He picked at the fabric of the couch cushion to distract himself. "Why were you drunk, Tony?"

Tony winced at the way she had the ability to sound exasperated and angry. He chewed on his lip. "Because I drank alcohol," he snarked. Tony balled his hands and dug his nails in, hard. "And it's none of your business. I can drink if I want to. Why do you care? You didn't care about what I did until I was your little English partner, and that was just to get a good grade." Tony took a daring step forward. "You don't even know me," he snarled. "I'm not some enigmatic mystery for you to solve. I'm just Tony Stark." Tony's nostrils flared and he stepped into Natasha's personal space. He only came up to her chin but that didn't deter him from his task. "I liked it better when you all ignored me."

He blinked when he realized how true the statement was. Before Strange's stupid project he was left alone by them. He could watch them from afar and never have to worry about any of them actually looking back. The only people he constantly had to deal with were Hammer and his goons, and the goons got annoyed when they realized he didn't shut up. Tony would rather go back to being alone and ignored than having the attention of these people. He hated it.

Natasha stepped forward and Tony stumbled back into the couch. Her green eyes sparked like a live wire, raw and dangerous. Tony waited in bated breath. Was she going to hit him? It would probably be worse than Howard if Natasha suddenly decided he talked too much, too. He flinched when she took another step. Her red hair looked like it was on fire in the yellow light and her red nails looked as sharp as claws. Tony briefly wondered if she would draw out his death or make it quick and painless. The only movement on Natasha's otherwise blank face was her eyes narrowing slightly. "Well, we can't exactly go back in time."

Tony remembered a conversation he had with Jarvis. The thought of his old friend made his heart twinge painfully. It seemed like years since he had last talked to him. Tony shook his head. "Yeah, we aren't exactly in a world with time machines," he mumbled.

Natasha blinked. Her body relaxed as she crouched in front of Tony. "I, for one, don't want to go back to when we didn't talk. I think I've learned more with you than I have in all my years of schooling." Natasha straightened her back. "But you are a mystery for me to solve, and solve it I will." Tony grimaced as Natasha tucked the book under her arm. "You can't stop me. We'll say I'm intrigued. Are you going to answer my questions?" Tony stiffened. "I understand drinking causes the user to get drunk, but it's usually spurred by the emotions they're feeling at the time. From what Bruce told me it didn't seem like you were getting ready to go to a club."

Tony's lips twitched into the smirk he reserved for galas. "You always drink a little before going to the club. That's Clubbing 101." Natasha cut her eyes to him and his tongue turned to ash. He blurted, "I got drunk because of my best friend."

Natasha looked up toward the pale ceiling for a moment. "Honeybear?"

Tony tensed. "How do you know that?"

"In your drunken stupor, you kept saying it to Bruce. Something about a voicemail," she deadpanned. "I inferred."

Tony crossed his arms. "Yeah, sure. He's my best friend, except for the fact that he hates even thinking about me." Natasha's eyebrow twitched. "He was supposed to come home and he's not. I threw a temper tantrum. Nothing big. Now take me home."

"I have a proposition for you," Natasha said fluidly as if she hadn't heard him. Tony shrunk on the couch when Natasha turned around to face him. Her hands were clasped behind her back and the way her green eyes swam sent a shiver down his spine. "Will you listen? Bruce and I propose that you spend winter break with us."

"What?" Tony whispered. His rubbed the stutter his heart started.

"You will spend the break with us at Steve's home. In his hometown. We always go back to his house for the break because it's the biggest and he has the least problems with his family. What do you say?"

"What do I say?" Tony blinked slowly with a knit brow. "I say you're crazy. There's no way I'm going with you to the town that produced Mr. American Dream. And even if I wanted to, which I am going to make explicitly clear don't, I don't have any bags and Steve hates my guts. You all do the last time I checked. Why would he force himself to spend his free time with me in his home when he can barely stand to spend a minute with me at school? No thanks, Romanoff."

Natasha didn't seem fazed. "I can handle Steve and the bags. I promise it'll be fun."

Tony fumed silently. He wanted to tell her that he didn't trust promises anymore, but his tongue was tied from the normalcy of the gesture. He would admit that it was a nice gesture on her part. They were friends with Bruce and from what he could remember Bruce found him about to be run over in his stupid drunk spree around town. It was no wonder that she felt obligated to give him the offer. He wasn't supposed to actually accept. It was a pity offer, and he hated pity almost more than he hated Howard. Tony couldn't help but feel a piece of his heart chip a little more at the realization. He missed being ignored; it was painful, but it hurt much less than this.

Tony sighed. "I can't go. Howard's coming back from a business trip tonight and he'll be worried if I just up and leave," he lied. It felt like molten lava on his tongue but he stuck with it. Howard wouldn't care if he was gone. He probably wouldn't notice with his Tokyo deal coming up. He wouldn't even have time to beat Tony because of SI. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Natasha sighed, fingering the lip of the empty glass. "I don't know why you're lying to me," Tony flushed with shame as he stared at his sneakers, "but I get why you don't want to go. You're right, we do hate your guts."

Tony winced. "Ouch," he hissed. "If this is some sort of explanation it needs work."

Natasha continued. "It's different for Bruce and I. I never hated you. I just wasn't interested in anything relating to Tony Stark. And you know Bruce likes talking to you in your chem class. He admires you, Tony." Tony flushed with embarrassment this time. "Steve, Bucky, and Clint don't know how to think for themselves sometimes, but they got their heads out of their asses. They can mean well, and if you come with us I won't let them bother you."

Tony wasn't convinced. He felt anxiety crawl up his spine. He wanted to know who's house he was in and who's couch he was on and where he was. He bounced his leg. He doesn't think the manor's ever been his home, but he's never wanted to go back more than he did right now.

Natasha placed a hand on his knee and he brought his eyes up. He sat entranced by the vibrant greens, the visible walls he could see she was letting down. He hunched his shoulders protectively. "Please say you'll come. What if I made Thor your personal escort? He hasn't been here in months. He's a clean slate. He doesn't know Tony Stark. He can't hate you without knowing you, that isn't in his nature. If Thor was your buddy for the break, at least until you wanted to branch out, then would you come with us?"

Tony mulled it over. It wasn't like he could actually go. There was no harm in indulging a fantasy. Tony stared back into Natasha's eyes. "I don't need him," he mumbled. "I can handle myself."

"So that means you're going to come?" Tony hesitated before nodding. Natasha smiled and patted his knee twice. She swiped the cup off the end table. "Don't worry," she said over her shoulder, "I'll make sure Thor happens to be on your side in the car."

"Car? We're leaving now?" Tony jumped up to follow her. Natasha nodded. Tony picked at his sleeve, eyes flitting everywhere in the short hallway. They stepped into a quaint kitchen. "I-I..." Tony seized up when his eyes landed on a familiar head of blonde hair.

Steve swung a bag over his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder at Natasha. "This should be the last of them then we can be on our way. Everyone's waiting by the car. Uh, Bruce said something about..." Tony stepped back when Steve looked at him. "Something about a guest." Steve blinked hard. "W-What is he doing here? Why is Stark here exactly?"

Tony bit his cheek. "I'd like to know where here is actually," he mumbled.

Steve narrowed his eyes. "My house. Well, Bucky and I's. We live here during the school year."

Tony glanced at the small wooden table and the nicked oven door. "Oh," he said eloquently. "It's, uh, nice."

Steve dropped the bag, the blues in his eyes hardened to stone. "Yeah, it's home. Not everyone can have seven houses to choose from."

Tony averted his gaze. He'd already said something wrong so there was no reason to try to fix it. He put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head back. "Eight, actually. We got a new one."

Steve snarled, "Shut the hell up, Stark. Natasha, why is he in my house?"

Tony almost scoffed but the glare Natasha sent him made it freeze in the back of his throat. She turned back to Steve with cool indifference. "He will be joining us."

Steve looked between the two. "Where?"

"Your mother's house. He's tagging along for winter break."

"Like hell he is," Steve growled.

Tony shrugged. "Believe me, I don't want to go any more than you want me there. I would rather chew my own leg off, Roger Rabbit. But it seems I don't have a choice in the matter. I had nothing better to do anyway."

"Steve-"

"No." Steve's cheeks grew pink and he clenched his hands. Tony's eyes were glued to the sheer size of those fists. He absently wondered how painful it would feel if he were hit by one of them. He gulped. "Not happening. I'm not bringing him to my mother's home."

"Who says I want to be in the home that produced the Star Spangled banner?" Tony snapped.

"Stark, I'm trying really hard not to punch you but your mouth is making it really difficult."

Tony smirked. "Well, why don't you do something about that, Ro-gers?"

Steve took a step forward only to be stopped by Natasha's hand. "Both of you cut it out," she snapped. "We are going to go to the car and we are going on this trip. We are going to be civil with one another. If that means avoidance then so be it. But I am not putting up with this for the whole of my winter break. All right? Understood?"

"Then I should just stay-"

Natasha whirled around. "I do not like to repeat myself, Stark."

Tony scowled. "Understood," they said together. Steve narrowed his eyes at him, swiftly turning and slamming the back door behind him. Tony wrinkled his nose at the spot Rogers had been standing. Natasha pressed a finger to her temple. "Do not speak, Stark. Your mouth has gotten you in enough trouble already." His mouth clamped shut tightly. "Do not say a word. I cannot believe you...Just go to the car."

Tony nodded defeatedly, shuffling out the door Steve just used. Tony looked back at the house, eyes catching on the identical door on his right. Tony pressed his lips together. They live in a townhouse, he thought. Tony shook his head and turned around. He stuffed his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, trudging toward a grey van in the driveway. Steve frowned when he neared. Tony tried to pay him no mind.

Bruce wiped his brow as he backed out of the trunk. He squinted his eyes, his hand coming up to block the sun. "Tony?" he asked incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

Tony half-shrugged. "I thought you might know considering you brought me here." Bruce chuckled sheepishly but Tony wasn't in the mood for jokes. "Why the hell did you bring me here of all places, Bruce?"

Bruce sighed, cleaning his glasses with the hem of his shirt. "You were out of it Tony. I had to make a decision. This seemed like the best one."

"It was the wrong one," he muttered. Tony squared his shoulders. "Take me home."

"Who's going home?" Tony stiffened when Barnes's head peeked over the roof of the van. He furrowed his brow at the sight of Tony. "What are you doing here, Stark?"

Tony misinterpreted the question as a threat, stumbling back a few steps. "I-I didn't exactly have a choice in the matter." Barnes jumped off the step, his head disappearing behind the car. He walked around, his boots crunching the gravel underneath the soles. He glanced at Steve before looking over Tony. Tony held up his hands. "Honest."

"Steve, what's he doing here?"

"Bruce brought him here," Steve said, soft. His eyes never left Tony.

Barnes looked around to find Bruce. "Bruce?" The smaller boy shrugged and pressed his glasses up. "Steve just tell me what's got you so worked up. Maybe I can-"

"Stark's joining the trip!" he announced. Steve hit the passenger door hard enough to rouse Clint and Thor. Tony put a hand to his head. That headache was coming back. "He's tagging along! There, now everyone knows." Steve gave Tony a throwaway glance over his shoulder. "My mother's gonna love him."

"Everyone does," Tony taunted. "It's the way of nature. You know, women and Starks. Two peas in a pod. They seem to enjoy me especially. It must be my-"

Steve slammed the passenger door shut before Tony could finish. Clint poked his head out of the window while Thor clapped Steve on the shoulder. "What's this I hear about Stark coming along?" Clint glanced at Tony with a yawn. "Is he serious?"

Tony nodded. Clint looked up when Natasha came sauntering out of the house. "Deadly. Clint, sit down. Tony, get in the car." Natasha clapped her hands. "Now."

Tony hesitantly climbed into the vehicle, landing with a soft grunt beside Thor. Just like Natasha promised. Natasha climbed into the back row beside Clint, and Bruce sat next to Tony. He could feel the warmth from the two and the ache in his chest lessened at the comforting pressure of seating beside them. Barnes glanced back at Tony, catching his eye. His blue eyes scanned over him for a fraction of a second before he turned the key and backed out of the driveway.

Tony gulped, squeezing his eyes tight at the jarring sense of being turned around. He fell onto Thor, Bruce fell onto him, and he suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe properly. He bit his damaged lips softly, blocking out the white noise as the trip to end all hellish trips began.

What fun they would have.