"Is that a Slam Man?" Tony asks, walking a slow circle around it. "Didn't they stop making these in the 1990s?" Steve gives him a look that says he's asking the wrong person. "Right, you were. Busy. Being frozen. So why did you bring this horrifying piece of cheap crap into my shop?" Steve, who is clearly excited about his cheap crap, isn't fazed at all by Tony's criticism. "It's a boxing dummy, with lights!" he says. Tony can’t remember the last time Steve looked this excited about something. "And you can program it for your workout. It's almost a robot, right? And you build great robots." Steve gestures toward Dummy, who chirps at him and spins his end effectors, the flirt. Tony thinks Steve actually blushes. "So...can you build something like this? But better?"

Modern AU. When Merlin Emrys gets a summer job at Buckingham Palace, he doesn't expect to even meet King Arthur, let alone become involved in protecting him from a plot to overthrow the monarchy.

You find teenagers like someone would find stray dogs. They’re lost and fucked up and can’t take care of themselves, no one ever having taught them how. No one ever taught you either, but better you than nobody.

In which Clint is not the emotionally stunted one, plays pretty well with others, and Sitwell is a foul-mouthed matchmaker against his will.

“He’s not telling us everything,” Fury reached out and shut the projection off, “I’m not comfortable with this.” Coulson didn’t respond, didn’t need to. “Let Rogers know I want Barton watched; he doesn’t go anywhere alone until we understand exactly what’s going on. I’m not losing him to some egotistical mind-f***ing blade-dancer who has mentor issues and wants to take it out on our asset.” Phil nodded efficiently. He couldn’t agree more.