Chapter Text
After Tony leaves, Bruce thinks he might fall apart. He knows it isn’t what’s right for him to do, that he shouldn’t make Clint come comfort him--but it isn’t like he has a lot of other people to call. Even if Steve and Tony aren’t that close, Bruce suspects Steve will have been at the party. Football stars usually end up there. What if he tells Phil and Steve shows up sheepish and apologetic for not saying something?
Tony is so blase about the whole thing and it really makes him feel how different they are. Why wouldn’t Tony Stark get it on with whoever he wants? He wanted Bruce, but maybe only briefly. Bruce feels like his soul is ripping apart-- how could Tony do this to him? Suddenly all the things he’d been trying to ignore--the fact that Tony is rich, popular, smart hit him hard in his heart. Anxiety bubbles in his chest and maybe this whole thing had been a game for Tony. He should have deleted that email, ignored it, marked it as spam, something. If he’d done that, maybe he could have held onto Tony for a little longer, even if it wasn’t something genuine. Bruce is used to to never getting anything but leftovers.
He reaches around his bag for his phone. His fingers curl against it and he types out a brief message to Clint. “It’s over.” Bruce sits and waits for a reply, blinking back tears because he isn’t sure what else to do. Tony was the first person to make him think that there might be something better, relationship wise. It’s not like he’s ever had any healthy models, but he and Tony clicked. He didn’t remember the last time his parents got along. His dad hates him, he knows, sees Bruce as the scapegoat for all of his own problems. His mom doesn’t hate him but he knows it’d be easier for her to get away if she didn’t have to worry about him. Bruce looks down at his stupid cell phone, thinking about the night he stayed up late texting Tony, and imagines Tony typing one handed while he’s with someone better. The messages from Tony are taunting him and Bruce hits delete all before he does something stupid like text Tony. The number is the next to go, even though his hands shake the whole time.
When he closes his eyes, searching for some comfort, all he can see is the blonde girl on top of Tony. There’s so many things Bruce futilely wishes he had, something to trump whatever attracted Tony to her in the first place. He’s probably not attractive enough or smart enough or maybe he’s boring. Some combination of all of them, even. Maybe Tony has had his kicks with Bruce and now he’s bored. The blonde just happened to be there at the right time. It could have been anyone who wasn’t Bruce. That brings him a twisted measure of comfort, to know that he’s always going to come up lacking. It’s the first life lesson he ever learned.
Bruce opens his eyes to check his phone and is frustrated that Clint hasn’t responded. It was a selfish text to send but he thought Clint would understand. There’s a link between them--something more solid than whatever Bruce and Tony had had--and Bruce is letting himself hope. Why hasn’t he given up on that?
There’s a tapping at his window and Bruce is momentarily baffled. He stands up, wiping his eyes, before opening the curtain. He heaves out a breath of relief when he realizes it’s Clint. He opens the window with a huff. “I have a door, you know.”
“Yeah, but I prefer to make a unique entrance,” Clint says as he climbs through the window. Bruce snorts at him and settles back onto his spot on the floor. Clint slides down beside him, easily, like he didn’t just drop everything to come to comfort Bruce. That display of friendship makes him ache a little. He doesn’t deserve nice things and Clint is undeniably one of those.
Clint hesitates but wraps an arm around Bruce. It’s gentle and easy to fall into it and let Clint hold him. Things could be different, he thinks, with him and Clint, maybe.
“What happened Bruce? What did he do to you?” The tone in Clint’s voice is possessive and angry. Bruce wants to defend Tony but can’t even make himself start. There isn’t really much to defend; even he can recognize that from his admittedly warped relationship sense. Tony had admitted to everything which might have helped if he’d actually apologized. It was all posturing to distract Bruce from what had happened.
“Someone--I don’t know who--emailed me a photo of him with a blonde all over his lap at a party.” Saying it sends a fresh pang into his heart but he knows he can’t invite Clint over to comfort him and not bother to tell him what happened. He digs a hand into the carpet and worries a patch of it.
“I asked him about it and he just said he’d had too much to drink.” Bruce draws in a big, shuddering breath, trying to calm down. Part of his anguish comes from knowing that Tony drinks to the point it affects his decisions. He doesn’t want to see parallels between his dad and Tony. “Tony never told his friends we were together. Maybe if he had, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Clint’s body tenses next to him and Bruce touches his leg lightly, calmingly. “It’s... It’s okay Clint.” It isn’t, but he doesn’t want Clint to complicate the situation more.
“I’m going to kick his ass,” Clint says with chutzpah.
Bruce laughs because he can picture it. He’s not sure who would win but he knows that he would lose. “No, you aren’t; don’t be ridiculous.”
“Fine, I’ll get Tasha to do it. He won’t realize he’s lost until he wakes up the next day.“
Okay, now that, he can picture with stunning accuracy and clarity. Bruce suspects Clint overestimates how much Natasha likes him but he knows she’d do anything for Clint. Even if that means cleaning up for Bruce.
“You’ll get expelled.” He pulls back from Clint and turns to face him. There isn’t a hint of humor on Clint’s face. “Drop it, Clint. Isn’t this the part where you tell me I deserve better or something?”
Clint’s face stiffens for a moment before relaxing into what Bruce is certain is a half fake smile. But it’s still a smile, and so Bruce allows himself the tiniest of smiles in return.
“You already know my feelings about Stark. Now...I say we put on a movie heavy on action and low on feelings.” Clint pauses and sighs dramatically. “I don’t know about you but I’ve hit my feelings quota for the day.
“Yeah. I’d like that.” Bruce watches Clint as he gets up and digs through Bruce’s (admittedly paltry) DVD collection. It’s a much better end to the day than he could have anticipated. Maybe he doesn’t have to be defined by Tony Stark.