The Tower was unusually quiet—at least, quiet by Avenger standards. Y/N was barefoot in the common kitchen, standing on her toes to reach the top shelf while the coffee machine hissed aggressively behind her. Someone—Tony—had replaced the regular mugs with novelty ones again. She grabbed the least offensive option (World’s Best Billionaire, unfortunately) and poured coffee like her life depended on it. “Careful,” Natasha’s voice came from behind her. “That thing bites before 8 a.m.” Y/N snort