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It's Trousers, not Pants!

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John Watson didn’t look like much.  In fact Tony had outright laughed in the poor man’s face when Nick Fury had introduced him to the Avengers as their new caretaker.  The other Avengers would have told Tony off for being rude, if they hadn’t been secretly agreeing with the mad billionaire.  John Watson was just so…


He wore bland cardigans and jumpers, made an extortionate amount of tea, used words like ‘bollocks’ and blushed faintly whenever someone mentioned pants.  How was this guy supposed to replace Coulson? 

This was the other problem with the guy.  He was replacing Coulson!  No one could do that.  No one should even try.  Especially not a short British man with little fashion sense and a blog filled with imaginary adventures he supposedly had with his flatmate (who had jumped off a roof six months earlier).

The Avengers silently agreed that the man would be gone within a week.

Except one month later he was still there; despite living with them in the Avengers (previously Stark) Tower.  His first morning there he’d opened the fridge in the communal kitchen to discover the body of a dead chicken Thor had brought back from a trip (no one asked about the trip, agreeing it was best not to know).  Thor had insisted on leaving the carcass in the fridge to pluck, clean and cook later and no one, not even Steve, had dared argue with him.  The Thunder God had been so forlorn since returning from Asgard that no one dared do anything that might cause the slight smile he’d worn since the trip to vanish.

So when they saw Watson open the fridge and come face to beak with a dead and slightly mangled chicken they all held their breath, expecting screaming and a request for an immediate transfer.

Watson just blinked, surveyed the chicken critically for a moment and then reached past the body to fish out the butter that was lying behind it.  They all stared at him as he calmly buttered his toast before returning the butter to the fridge. 

That wasn’t the only incident.  When Clint got angry a few days after the bird incident and shot a dozen arrows at the living room wall all the British doctor did was sigh, call up a repairman from somewhere lower down in the tower and tell Clint calmly that the expense would be coming out of his next pay check, pointing out that there were perfectly serviceable training rooms if he needed to let off a little steam.

When Tony went for three days without sleep trying to perfect his latest invention, designed to try and detect any magic being used anywhere near or in the tower, everyone was at the end of his foul temper and sharp tongue.  Thor was almost in tears after Tony rounded on him and spent ten minutes tearing him to shreds, using the failed relationship with his brother against him.

“That’s enough,” Watson entered the room with a cup of coffee.  His voice was stern but his posture was mild mannered and his jumper was as fluffy as ever.  “There is no need to take your foul mood out on the rest of us.”

“Why not Doc?  What other use do you have around here?  One Eye just drops you off here one day and lets you freeload.  What possible use do you have here?  It’s not like we have any crimes to solve.  No wait… That wasn’t you, that was the other one.  Where is he by the way?”

The rest of the Avengers were silent, all cursing Tony silently in their heads.  Trying to figure out a way to get him to stop talking.  Because this is too low.  It’s one thing to yell at them, they’re all family in a weird way, but to pick on this poor guy and to use his dead friend against him.

Bruce was forced to leave the room to regain some control and Thor’s hand is flexing on Mjolnir.  Clint and Natasha faces were completely blank, but they were sharing looks that usually means they’re somehow telepathically agreeing on the best course of action to take someone out.  Steve was shaking with suppressed rage.  He hadn’t let being a short asthmatic weakling stop him from jumping to someone’s defence and he wasn’t about to let the poor doctor suffer.

Just as Steve was about to step forward and possibly punch Tony in the mouth, Dr Watson held out the mug of coffee.

“Fury offered me the job and my… acquaintance, Mycroft, accepted it for me.  Before I knew it I was here.  Anyway, I may not be able to build a supersuit, but I’m well versed in the art of making copious amounts of tea and coffee, so why don’t you drink it and get back to your important, world-saving inventions.”

Tony grumbled that someone at least has some sense as he grabs the proffered mug and drained the contents in one gulp without even saying ‘thank you’.  He took two steps towards his lab and then fell to the floor.  No one bothered to try and catch him.  They all stared at the doctor incredulously. 

“Sorry about that,” Watson rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, as though he hadn’t been on the receiving end of a verbal lashing that should have driven him to tears.  “That should knock him out for a few hours.  Who wants to carry him to his room?”

All the Avengers keep their distance after that.  It’s just too awkward to be around the British man.  Tony went out of his way to avoid him when he was reminded by Steve exactly what he'd said to the doctor.  For everyone else there was the awkwardness of waiting for a broken man to crumble while he did his best to display to the world that he’s coping.

So after a month Dr John Watson was still living at the Avengers tower and hadn’t run away screaming.  It was agreed that this was probably only because there hadn’t been any fights he’d had to get involved in yet; all the villains seem to be on holiday.  They all believed that when the fights began again then it wouldn’t be long before the doctor moved back to England.