Steve and Tony stared at the two identical, black journals laying side by side. There was silence in the room; Clint looked from Steve to Tony, to the journals, and back again to Steve.
"So...what's the plan now?" He asked, finally breaking the confusing silence. Steve and Tony looked at each other.
"Well," Tony began slowly, thinking, "We have the journals, which means that Barnes can't be controlled by Hydra. But we don't even know where he is, and whether or not he's in 'super soldier killing spree' mode."
"I'll find him," Steve said immediately, and rather confidently. "It shouldn't be that hard; he's probably still in D.C." At this, Clint and Tony exchanged worried glances.
"I don't know, Cap." Clint responded, unsure. "He doesn't remember you," He pointed out and looked apologetic when Steve winced. "And you saw the weird metal arm thingy he has now. He could destroy you. No offense." He added quickly. This earned a small smile from Steve.
"None taken," He assured Clint, before frowning slightly, "So if I can't go find him, what are we planning on doing? Just chilling until he decides to make an appearance?"
"First of all," Tony said with a smirk, "Anything that comes out of your mouth referring to cold weather or ice is from now on a pun. (Steve sighed) Secondly, we won't just sit around, don't worry. We're gonna find him." Tony slapped Steve on the back in what he clearly thought was a comforting manner. "But for now, I feel like our team has some catching up to do." When Steve looked puzzled, Tony added, "On you."
"Oh." Steve answered blankly, his cheeks heating up. "That's really not necessary, Tony."
"Steve, you've been practically non-existent. It's time for team-bonding. God," He added, with a horrified look on his face, "I sound like you, don't I?"
Clint and Steve laughed, though Steve still gave Tony a look that plainly said that he was only half-amused. Tony picked up the two journals and tapped a seemly random part of the wall. A hidden compartment door appeared, and Tony opened it, stuffing the journals inside. Then, ignoring the gaping mouths of Steve and Clint, he walked nonchalantly back into the kitchen. Shrugging, Clint and Steve followed him.
"Brucey!" Tony called, loudly. When there was no response, he huffed loudly, muttering, "Rude. Jarvis," He called out suddenly, "Call Bruce into the kitchen. Also, order some beer. And Chinese."
"What are we doing?" Steve asked, curiously.
"We're gonna sit and chill and talk." Tony said, "I don't know why I'm feeling so chummy, but let's roll with it. I don't know how long it's gonna last." He added, as if that was an explanation.
"I'm game." Clint said, shrugging, "I got nothing better to do." They both looked at Steve, who suddenly felt very attacked.

"I'm in." He said hastily, relaxing when Clint and Tony looked satisfied.
"What's going on? Jarvis said you wanted me?" Bruce asked as he entered the kitchen. "He also aid you ordered beer and Chinese. So, I'm guessing this will take a while."
"We're gonna catch up with good ole Capsicle." Answered Tony, earning himself a glare from Steve, which he shrugged off with a grin and a wink.
"I hate that nickname." Steve said, with just hint of pout in his voice.
"Nah, you love it." Tony as they walked to the living room. "My humor kills you."
"Makes me die a little on the inside, sure." Steve retorted, causing Clint to freeze completely and turn around to face him.
"Who are you and what in the world did you do to Captain America?" He asked.
"I am Steve Rogers." (DID YOU GET THAT? Yes? Okay, thanks) Steve said slowly, as if he was speaking to someone who didn't understand English, "An actual human being. That is capable of humor. Get used to it; it ain't going away any time soon."
"I love Steve Rogers. We should hang out with him more often." Said Tony, flopping onto one of the couches.
"Gee, thanks Stark." Steve said dryly.
"You're welcome!" Said Tony brightly. "Now, we are NOT starting any serious conversation until we all have at least one beer in our systems."
"Wise idea, I'm sure." Said Bruce, sarcastically.
"I can't even get drunk, so what's the point?" Asked Steve, following Tony's lead and flopping onto the same couch.
"That is truly the saddest thing I have ever heard." Said Tony somberly.
"Just wait until I start actually talking. You'll be a mess." Steve said off-handedly. Then, noticing the concerned looks of his teammates, he added quickly, "I'm joking, guys."
"Uh-huh." Said Clint, sounding very disbelieving, but he didn't comment further.
"Sir." Jarvis interrupted, startling all four, "The beer and Chinese are here."
"Thanks, J." Said Tony, getting off the couch with a groan.
"Nah, I got it." Said Steve, holding up a hand. "It's the least I can do after today." He said, as Tony opened his mouth to argue. Steve grabbed his wallet from the kitchen and stepped into the elevator, pressing the main floor button. In a few seconds, the doors opened to the main floor, and Steve headed to the doors, where a man stood, holding the beer and takeout. Steve paid him (beer was a LOT more expensive than he remembered) and carried the bags back up to the main floor, where he found Bruce, Tony, and Clint lounging on the couches.
"If I can chug my beer in less than fifteen seconds, you have to make me new, cooler arrows." Clint said, leaning back in his armchair, with a smirk on his face.
"And if you don't?" Asked Tony lazily, an eyebrow raised.
"I'll take your next overnight mission." Clint answered quickly. Although, the second it left his mouth he regretted his decision. Tony usually got the mission in the coldest places, because he had the Iron Man suit. Clint didn't.
"Deal." Said Tony with an evil grin, which Clint ignored. Steve, who had been following the whole conversation with little interest and a lot of exasperation, plopped the bags onto the table, startling the other men.
"Oh, the beer's here." Said Clint, jumping out of his seat and grabbing one. "Ready, Stark?" He asked, popping the lid off. Tony set his stopwatch to fifteen seconds.
"Alright, and....GO!" He shouted and Clint knocked back the beer. Steve watched with grudging admiration as Clint chugged and finished the beer in ten seconds, flat.
"I WIN!!!!" He yelled, running around the entire room, doing what he called a 'victory lap'.
"Alright, alright. You win. Besides, this is supposed to be about the team, not how much alcohol you can guzzle down. So calm yourself." Tony said, and Steve snorted. "Did you want to say something, Rogers?" Tony asked, turning slowly to face Steve.
"Nope, Mister Pouty Pants. But I am hungry, so Clint, stop dancing. It hurts my eyes." Clint dropped his arms and glared at Steve.
"Fine."