The common room of the Avengers Compound was warm, softly lit, and smelled like coffee and something Tony had burnt in the kitchenette ten minutes ago. Clint was sprawled across the entire length of the sofa, throwing peanuts at Steve’s shield where it leaned against the wall. Thor was peering down at the chessboard between Bruce and himself with deep, theatrical suspicion. Natasha sat perched on the armrest, a tablet in hand, watching the door like a hawk.