Title: The More We Get Together (The Happier We'll Be)

Author: Jedi Buttercup

Disclaimer: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

Rating: PG-13.

Summary: B:tVS, Avengers. Tony brightened as he caught sight of Buffy. "Ah, if it isn't my favorite fellow member of the twenty million club! Long time, no see; where've you been? Any more assassination attempts?" 3000 words.

Spoilers: Post-series, and post-Captain America 2 in the MCU.

Notes: Request fic, for the prompt: "Buffy + Clint + Tony, a continuation of The Future's Open Wide? You wrote their first meeting, I'd like to see them as settled friends, potentially confusing the other Avengers? Just a little?" Title from the kid's song. Mostly snarky dialogue. :)

Buffy tilted her head back to look up the long, long sweep of glass to the glowing A at the top of Stark Tower, then pressed the back of one hand to her mouth to suppress a jaw-cracking yawn. Her high-heeled sandals dangled from the other; she flexed her toes against the gritty sidewalk, then faced forward again and headed for the doors to the main lobby.

It was only seven in the evening, but it had been a ridiculously exhausting day, not so much from the impromptu slayage a few blocks over-- some idiot vampire had apparently been enterprising enough to try turning a Chitauri during the invasion, now that had been a face only a mother demon could love-- but from the hours and hours of the Sineya Council's quarterly director's meeting beforehand. After combining the two? She totally intended to take Tony up on his open offer to visit, rather than trudge back home to her solo apartment and spend the next few hours on yet more reports. Ugh.

A man talking into his cell phone held the door absent-mindedly as she approached. She murmured thanks, then padded across the cool tile inside; there was enough of a crowd in the lobby to keep attention off the petite, disheveled blonde moving with the flow. During business hours, a constant flood of people crossed to and from the elevators or offices on the first floor; there weren't so many now, but there was still a line at the internal Starbucks. Buffy wouldn't be surprised if Tony had purposefully arranged to have it open at all hours, just to keep the clock-challenged kids on his R & D floors in late night caffeine.

She made it almost all the way to the private elevator before one of the guards noticed something was out of place. Sloppy, very sloppy; she'd have to tease Tony about that after she told him about the vamp Chitauri. She had a feeling his expression would be much the same for both.

"Ma'am," the young woman with the Bluetooth in her ear said, eyes darting from the indeterminate spatter on Buffy's blouse to the shoes and then back up to Buffy's face. "Are you all right?"

"Who, me?" She gave the guard her best winsome look, waving her free hand at her as she kept walking. "Oh, I'm fine. Just, uh, stubbed my toes, that's all."

Alas, the look didn't work nearly as well on most women as it did most men. The guard's brow furrowed, and she took several slow steps to angle herself between Buffy and the elevator, gesturing toward the far side of the lobby. "I'm sorry, but that's a private elevator. If you're looking for the nurse's station on the third floor, the public elevators are over...."

She made a grab as Buffy sidestepped neatly around her, pirouetting to put her back to the doors. They swooshed open behind her to the welcoming British tones of Tony's AI-- and the guard's obvious astonishment. "Ms. Summers. What a pleasure to see you again."

"Pleasure's all mine, J," she replied, giving the guard a cheery little wave as she stepped backward over the threshold. "Invite still open to the balcony level?"

"But of course," it replied, as it closed the doors in the guard's face. "There is, in fact, a gathering scheduled for this evening to introduce Mr. Rogers' friend to the Avengers; you will find Sir and Mr. Barton both in residence."

"Perfect." She smiled, and relaxed to enjoy the ride.

When the doors opened again, she stepped out into a much more intimately sized space-- though still big enough to swallow her entire apartment. There were seating areas, a bar, and windows out onto both a walkway balcony and a larger quinjet landing space; doors and archways led from the main room into other semipublic areas. She'd been there a couple of times before, and was familiar with the layout. The lights were on, and one of the people Buffy had most expressly come to see was sprawled on one of the palely upholstered couches, feet kicked out and right hand dangling over the padded arm. He was in something long-sleeved and comfortable today, the better to use as a post-slayage bolster.

"Oh good, you are here," she said, making a beeline for the empty half of the couch. She let her shoes drop to the floor several paces away, then followed suit onto the cushion next to Clint, leaning over and burying her cheek in the little muscle-y dip between his bicep and the ball of his shoulder. "You make the best post-action pillow. Now if only I had a cup of JARVIS' best hot chocolate, my evening would be complete."

"And hello to you too," he said dryly, ruffling her hair with his free hand. "I take it this would be the kind of hot chocolate with plenty of Kahlua?"

"World of duh. Lay off, I'm windblown enough already; also, not your pet," she murmured against his sleeve.

"Aw, you're not? Guess I'll have to return that collar I bought," he replied in a bright, aw-shucks tone.

She tipped her head back to give him a skeptical eyebrow. "It would serve you right if I asked to try it on. What would certain other parties have to say about that?"

A choking sound carried over from the nearest chair. She hadn't paid any more attention to Clint's company than necessary to be sure he wasn't a threat, but she didn't recognize his voice; so, probably the new friend JARVIS had mentioned. "Wait, what just happened here?" he said.

Another pair of footsteps came up from the other side of the couch; light, balanced, precise, a lot like a Slayer's. "Clint has a bad habit of picking up strays; I'd heard about this one, but hadn't met her yet. Hi, Sam."

"Hey, Natasha."

"Hey, whatever; it's only half my fault this time," Clint interjected. "I'm sharing custody of this one with Tony, remember?"

"I remember you telling me that; I don't remember you explaining," the amused female voice replied. "And since when did he stop being Stark to you, anyway?"

"I am right here, you know," Buffy sighed in exasperation, shifting to get a better look at the guy in the chair. Dark skin, trim facial hair not nearly as evil-Spock-goatee as Tony's, impressively toned muscles; definitely the winged guy from the news. There'd been a couple of clips circulating on YouTube showing him catching Captain America, and-- she had to admit, the Falcon jetpack was maybe even sexier than Clint's bow. "Thought I didn't need to be Secret Agent Girl to the Avengers?"

"Aw, c'mon," Clint said, glancing down at her with a wry expression. "I had to have at least a little fun with this. I wanted to see the look on both their faces when I told her the story."

"Which part? That comedy of errors slash first meeting slash fight? Or the part afterward, where...."

"Whichever," he cut her off with a grin. "Speaking of which. Hey, Tony!" He raised his voice as another person entered the room.

"Is that my name I hear being taken in vain? What's up, Buttercup?" the tower's owner replied, brightening visibly as he caught sight of Buffy. "Ah, if it isn't my favorite fellow member of the twenty million club! Long time, no see; where've you been? Any more assassination attempts since the last time we saw you?"

"Favorite?" Clint scoffed. "I see how it is. I'm telling Banner you said that."

"No protest on your own behalf? Or his girlfriend's?" Mr. Avenger Adjacent Sam retorted, glancing between Clint, Tony, and Buffy with a curious expression.

"Pepper doesn't count; she already shares twelve percent custody. Or, twelve percent of my share, so... six percent? And Katniss doesn't count either; he totally agrees with me. Tell the man, Clint."

"Still right here," Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Then sit up and join the conversation, Lazybones," Tony grinned at her. "Faking exhaustion to get your grabby hands all over the man's admittedly excellent arms is so five minutes ago; it'll win you no concessions today."

"Spoil my zen, why don't you?" she pouted, but obeyed. She didn't want to overstep, anyway; Clint had been good with that particular display of friendly affection since their first post-battle crash, but their comradeship was still pretty new, and she didn't want to push any boundaries.

The woman behind them drew in a sharp breath as she got a good look at Buffy's face, then finished circling the couch and dropped gracefully into the chair at the end of the couch opposite Sam's. "Okay, I forgive you, Clint. Your reputation precedes you, Ms. Summers; your people speak well of you."

"Ms. Romanov," Buffy replied, with a respectful nod to Clint's preferred working partner. "So do yours."

"Oooh, please tell me you're going to spar while you're both here," Tony interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest as he glanced avidly between them. "I would pay you literally anything you asked for if you let me watch."

"Not as long as I have control of your checkbook," Pepper Potts said dryly, joining the conversation by way of stepping out of the elevator. She was wearing a lavender power suit of a similar cut to the professional yet stylish gray outfit Buffy had worn to her own meetings, though with much more expensive, and probably more comfortable, shoes. "Ignore him. Hello, Buffy; JARVIS told me you'd stopped by. It's good to see you again."

"Since I'm not delivering a bruised-up Tony wearing only two-thirds of his armor this time, you mean," Buffy beamed at her. She'd liked Pepper since their first meeting; she reminded Buffy more than a little of a business-oriented Tara. "I'd get up and hug you, but I think I've done enough damage to your cleaning bill as it is."

"Nonsense, we're all friends here," Pepper insisted, approaching and holding out her hands.

How could she say no to that? Buffy pushed to her feet and obliged, doing her best to keep the worst of the ick from transferring from her clothes to Pepper's immaculate outfit.

Pepper smiled at Sam next. "And Mr. Wilson; it's good to meet you. I'm Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries."

"Among other things... which are absolutely not more important to her identity than the professional position she earned through hard work and excels at much more thoroughly than I ever did," Tony added dryly, though the smile he aimed at Pepper softened the statement considerably.

"She certainly has you well trained," Clint smirked-- then cleared his throat as Pepper's coolly amused gaze shifted his way. "As, of course, is only her due."

"You're learning," Natasha commented, lips curved in amused approval.

"Are you kidding me? With the number of women in my life who could kill me without even trying? I'm not that pretty," Clint clapped a dramatic hand against his chest.

"I take it you'd be one of them, then, ma'am?" Sam said politely, ignoring the rest of the byplay. "Don't mean to press; but since I seem to be the only person who hasn't met you, or at least heard of you...."

"It's not just you, don't worry," yet another voice chipped into the conversation. "Good to see you, Sam; you're early. And I don't believe I've had the pleasure?"

Buffy blinked at the sight of Steve Rogers approaching the group; years of being a superhero herself had largely overridden childhood indoctrination from a Cap-fan father and comic enthusiast BFF, but had done little to prepare her for his sheer presence. And she didn't just mean his physique; most of the people she ran into who generated that much personal gravity tended to use it for the other side, not the good guys. Luckily, she'd met Clint and Tony already; that gave her something of a buffer.

(Given the sheer number of epic personalities on their team capable of spawning rabid cults of celebrity should they ever try, it was probably a good thing they'd weaponized their senses of humor as much as their intensity.)

"Pleasure's mine; and I mean that," she said as she shook his hand. "You'd already saved my life the day I met them, actually; I was on HYDRA's list too, me and my people. We wouldn't be here if you hadn't done what you did. Thank you." She turned from his half-sheepish expression to nod to Sam, shaking his hand next. "And you. I'm Buffy Summers, from the Sineya Council."

"Sam Wilson," he replied. "And no thanks necessary. I was with the VA, before all this went down. Now I do what he does, just slower." He grinned, jerking a thumb at Rogers. "It's just the right thing to do."

"Yeah, no thanks necessary," Tony sniffed, interjecting himself back into the conversation. He'd drifted off to the bar after greeting Pepper; now he gestured in her direction with a coffee mug, before setting it on the table in front of the couch. "Us superheroes need to stick together, you know."

"And how much didn't you notice that I wasn't thanking you?" she teased him, then picked up the mug, breathing deeply. "Oooh, from JARVIS? I was hoping he'd heard me."

"All seeing, all hearing, except in some people's guest bedrooms because they're a little paranoid about their privacy," he smirked. "Good?"

She took a sip, then nodded: it was the promised chocolate and marshmallows and Kahlua, but much smoother than anything that came out of a mix or a bargain liquor store, with just a hint of extra spice. "Mmm. Still not thanking you though. JARVIS?"

"You are very welcome, Ms. Summers," the AI chipped in, smugly.

"Aw, what does a guy have to do to get a little appreciation around here?" Tony gave an exaggerated pout.

"Still sore about that?" Clint chuckled.

"Sam's right, we were just doing what needed to be done," Rogers said, a curl at one corner of his mouth hinting that he wasn't so much ignoring the intervening teasing as provoking it further by pretending to ignore it; ooh, good tactic. Xander was going to die when he heard about this little get together. "I'm sure you're used to that; I think I've heard of your Council. You deal primarily with small-scale supernatural threats?"

She had to laugh at that. "I'd argue with your definition of small-scale, but I admit, only a couple of the things I've faced have lived up to the kinds of things the Avengers deal with. That's actually why I'm here; I didn't intend to crash your party, I just thought I should mention I ran into a vamped Chitauri, in case Tony had any way of tracking them to see if there might be more. Their intelligence level apparently goes up when they're detached from their big boss, just so you know; it wasn't easy to take down."

"I'm sorry, did you just say vampire?" Pepper replied first, sounding startled. "First Norse gods, now vampires? How many myths out there aren't real?"

"Unfortunately, not as many as we might hope," Natasha commented, amusement draining out of her at the news. "I've encountered vampires before; most of them are at least as strong as Steve."

"You can think of them as aliens too if that helps; animate energy forces from another dimension who kill people, infect their bodies, take them over, and live to spread that infection to as many more as they can." That had been Tony's attempt at a magic-avoiding explanation, anyway; hopefully it would work for the rest of them, too.

"Sounds like the last thing we want is them finding out that there's better host bodies out there," Clint frowned. "You think that one had got the news out yet? It's been two years since the invasion; enough time for rumors to spread, at least."

"Notice how not invaded we are? I think we've got enough time to stomp out his nest, and then...."

"No alien vamps, no evidence it was more than rumor," Tony concluded. "Yeah, I got a good up close look at the Chitauri and some of their tech before SHIELD swept up the scraps-- Bruce and I ought to be able to work something out. You haven't met him yet, have you? Dr. Banner?" He glanced around the room. "Where is the Big Guy, anyway?"

"He said he'd be meditating before the party-- he might have lost track of time," Natasha said.

"Well, I still have to change into something more comfortable-- I'll look in on him on my way back," Pepper offered. She reached up to touch Tony's face as she turned to go, giving him a private smile that made his eyes light up. "Tony? Be good while I'm gone."

"Square deal," he smirked. Then he turned back to Sam as she departed. "So, Wilson. How 'bout some embarrassing stories of Cap from DC? I know you've got to have a few."

Sam gave him a skeptical eyebrow; apparently, he could keep up with Rogers there, too. "No, see, I think we were promised the story of a 'comedy of errors slash first meeting slash fight' first?"

"Nah, you don't want to hear that boring old story," Tony immediately scoffed, expression turning wary.

"But I do," Natasha interjected. "And seeing as how it's supposed to be Sam's party...."

"Sounds like a fair exchange to me," Rogers put in, smile broadening as he found a seat of his own. "I'd like to hear about the not so small-scale threats you've faced as well, if Sam doesn't mind."

Buffy sat back down, retrieving her mug again, and gestured to Clint. "Sure. Clint first, though-- and don't give me that look, you volunteered!"

"I guess I did, didn't I?" Clint heaved a sigh. Then he sat up, pulling an arrow from where he'd tucked it between the couch cushions, and twirled it between his fingers as he began.

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