Author's Note: Thanks for reviewing Gleevengers98, First Wave, Radi0Activity, and Mrs Capt Jack Sparrows! Hope you enjoy the chapter :) There are spoilers for Titanic within this particular chapter.
Throughout the course of the Titanic, popcorn began slowly littering the smooth floor, and Clint eventually crept up behind the sofa and crawled across the ground, just able to view the TV.
Once Tony realized, since the agent was a sneaky man and who knew when to move, it was too late. Without the energy to stand up and pull Clint away, Tony glared at him and at the colorful potted plant.
He had the feeling Clint got the point.
Dramatically sighing, Tony leaned back into Bruce and continued watching the classic movie. A short time after, Bruce had re-positioned himself, allowing the billionaire to lie down on his legs, and the soft material of his blue sweatpants surrounded Tony.
Natasha was lying on Clint's arm, and Steve was staring intently at the quality screen. It had taken him only seconds to download the Titanic, which was a perk of being a billionaire.
I love you, Jack.
The popcorn was set back on the dirty table, and would not be touched for the remainder of the movie. Although to be absolutely honest, only the charred pieces and seeds were left. If Thor was here, there wouldn't even be any crumbs.
Don't you do that, don't say your good-byes. Not yet, do you understand me?
A cascade of awkward shuffling fell upon the room. Pillows were systematically put behind backs and under feet for comfort. Tony dragged himself up and strode towards the wall, turning off the lights for dramatic effect. He then crawled back to his position by Bruce.
I'm so cold.
Subconsciously, five separate super-soft blankets were pulled up closer to their respective owners, further tangled between multiple legs and arms. To be honest though, Steve and his baby pink blanket would create a sensational front cover of a gossip magazine.
Listen, Rose. You're gonna get out of here, you're gonna go on and you're gonna make lots of babies, and you're gonna watch them grow. You're gonna die an old... an old lady warm in her bed, not here, not this night. Not like this, do you understand me?
There were absolutely no tears forming at this point, and nobody curled further into their seats. The disregarded jellybeans were thrown back upon the table by Tony, hitting the popcorn bowl and shoving it to the near edge of the table, eliciting several gasps.
I can't feel my body.
The Avengers thoughts did not consist of, "Please don't die. Please. Come on. Please. Please." Steve did obviously not start crying, since that was not manly and did not befit a super soldier.
Winning that ticket, Rose, was the best thing that ever happened to me... it brought me to you. And I'm thankful for that, Rose. I'm thankful. You must do me this honor. Promise me you'll survive. That you won't give up, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless. Promise me now, Rose, and never let go of that promise.
"Really? Is this really happening?" Tony wondered, covertly takes a tissue from the winter edition box to his left. For Bruce. Not for him. Tony does not cry (even less than Steve), not for Marley and Me and certainly not for Titanic.
"No. No. No. No. Non. Nope. Nein. Nee. No. Just no." There's no point in denying the simple fact that that was a basic summary of what everybody was thinking. Even Natasha. Her hand had somehow snaked above her mouth.
Never let go.
Clint's face was pressed into his yellow pillow. Natasha had slightly covered her face with her blanket. Steve had disappeared beneath a pile of cushions. Bruce had grabbed the box of tissues from Tony. Tony, however, was totally fine. He was still facing the TV. Really.
I'll never let go, Jack. I'll never let go.
"…" No words are available in the current Oxford English Dictionary to describe this exact moment.
Nearing the end of the movie, the silence had grown so deafening a pin could be heard from a few miles away. This, unfortunately, meant that any form of sniffles or tears would instantly turn the heads of the Avengers.
Although, to be honest, everyone within the room had received a few stares from the others. Excluding Tony, of course. He was not an emotional guy, and he definitely did not cry because dammit, Rose and Jack only had each other.
After a short while, the tragic movie had finally ended. Undeniably, every single person had shed at least a tear, the present world record of one tear held by Natasha Romanov.
The Avengers quickly retire to bed, possibly to wipe their faces and maintain the shreds of dignity they still possessed, except Tony. The billionaire came to the horrible realization that the room was filthy with rubbish.
Complaining that he was being forced to clean up their mess certainly did not help his case, as he was met with rapid, "We're technically guests." They all then proceeded to wish him a wonderful night and hopped off towards their snug beds.
A variety of pillows were violently thrown towards his fellow roommates. All sadly missed since they had already retreated to their evil lairs. The pillows gracefully hit the wooden doors, and this merely resulted in Tony just having to increase his list of 'Things to clean up'.
Carefully picking up every single piece of popcorn off the floor, which added up to a total of 37 pieces, Tony suspiciously glanced towards Barton's room. The darkness of the living room may have dangerously impaired his Mischievous-Clint-Doing-Things-He-Should-Not vision.
He would look at the high-quality security tapes tomorrow morning.
Tony continued to grab the empty cans of Dr Pepper and Coca-Cola Zero (it seems Natasha loves to take the fun out of things), threw them into the bin and seized his technological tablet. He then rushed towards the elevator.
Glancing back, the glass table was still covered in popcorn pieces, runaway jellybeans, and a large spill of Dr Pepper. The pillows innocently lay across the room.
Softly chuckling, Tony was sure Steve would be up extremely early and flawlessly clean the entire tower, so what was the point? Tony basically tidied 80% of the rubbish.
Advancing to his customized laboratory, Tony checked for any significant emails or messages that he had received since yesterday. Except for Pepper's message exclaiming how annoyed she was at having to stay in Tokyo for another week, hundreds of brands pleading for him to star within their commercials spammed his mailbox.
He swiftly replied to Pepper, taking a selfie of him smiling and attaching the file, because he was still part of the crazy generation and he was extraordinarily cool.
Once reaching the new glass doors of his lab (it was hard to explain to Pepper that Natasha had broken his door down for no apparent reason, as Pepper eventually blamed Tony because he didn't eat), Tony stepped into the pristine room.
He sprang into the X-Ray machine, as he had done approximately 42 times previously, and counted to thirty before the consistent whirring slowed to a stop.
The genius seated himself on the table and meticulously analyzed all results of the last week. Running his hand vigorously through his dark hair, he decided he should attempt to remove the shrapnel permanently.
Perhaps through extensive surgery, he might survive. But this would be the last resort, because it might kill him instantly instead.
Suddenly, sharp pains shot up along his body. He instinctively clutched his chest.
His limbs were now paralyzed. He couldn't open his mouth to scream.
His vision fades.
He finally reaches a sweet blackout, praying he wouldn't have a heart attack soon.
When Tony finally regains consciousness, it's only because Bruce was shaking his shoulders.
In the background he faintly hears "There are no second chances. You're eating with us right now." The dull ache of his body and the annoying tingling in his fingertips causes him to grunt in pain, but he reluctantly drags himself up.
He doesn't want to risk his teammates finding out about his condition.
Putting on a fake smile, he lets himself be guided by Bruce towards the door, who mistakenly believes he is just suffering from post-sleep laziness. It exists, of course.
The only highlight is that when he reaches the kitchen, after an endlessly long journey upwards, is that Steve has baked his famous chocolate chip pancakes and has cleaned up the 16th floor.
Steve nonchalantly flips a finished pancake up from the pan and towards Clint, who catches it with ease and forcefully stuffs it in his mouth.
Natasha is continuing her secret work on the counter, gingerly eating the food with a fork and knife. Tony desperately wanted to hide or destroy all of the available cutlery, so Natasha would finally eat with her goddamn hands.
She constantly cuts pizza into miniscule pieces, and seriously, who does that?
Steve notices Tony's less-than-exciting entrance, smirks, and throws a pancake towards him. He catches it fiercely, and his fingers were immediately coated with a thick layer of Belgian chocolate.
He raises his eyebrows, and truly smiles.