Chapter Text
Tony stormed into the medical room as fast as his limp would let him. "How is he?"
"Still sleeping, so be quiet," Steve admonished. He looked Tony up and down, eyes lingering on every bruise and bandage. "Are you here AMA?" he asked with a frown.
"I didn't leave medical, did I?" True, the doctors had wanted to cart Tony straight from the exam room to an inpatient bed. He had bruised ribs, cuts and abrasions all over, his ankle was busted, and one of his wrists was in a splint. The giant cyborg bumblebees—This is my life now.—had slammed into him, shoved him into buildings, and shot him with their semi-organic projectiles which luckily didn't penetrate the armor but did dent it badly.
The attackers had been focused mostly on Tony and Thor as the only flyers, though the Hulk with his amazing ability to leap had taken out as many of the things as the rest of them combined and remained uninjured himself. Thor had a few bruises and cuts, but they were mostly minor and healing quickly. The same was true for Steve and Nat, thank god.
But he'd needed to know how Clint was, and no one would give him a straight answer. Tony limped over to Clint's bedside. He looked from the pale form of the archer to the beeping monitors. "Is he going to be okay?"
Clint had been on top of a building, shooting exploding arrows at the attacking swarm, and one of the beasts had gotten to him, slapped him around and propelled him off the building. The Hulk had caught him, but only after he'd hit a horizontal flag pole and a window ledge on his way down. Tony's guts churned at the memory of seeing him fall.
Bruce nodded. "Probably. He'll be out of commission for a while, but there's nothing here that can't heal up nicely, baring unforeseen complications. The biggest problem will be keeping him down and getting him to rest once he starts feeling better."
"Don't worry," Natasha said. "I'll make sure he stays put." It could have been a threat, but there was a curious warmth underneath it.
Tony was leaning on the rail of Clint's bed. Bruce looked at him from the other side, his face full of concern Tony didn't deserve. "Tony? Are you okay?"
"I—fuck." Tony half turned so he could look at Bruce, Steve, Thor and Natasha. But then he found he couldn't. He dropped his gaze to the floor. "Guys—I'm so, so sorry."
Bruce frowned. "Tony—"
"I should never have let this thing get to him! He could have died." He covered the arc reactor with his good hand.
"'Twas not your fault, Tony," Thor said. "The beasts were canny and swift flyers. Many a one got past me, too."
"But you weren't in charge of Clint's safety. I had one job."
Natasha spoke up. "Stark, if you'd let Clint down, you'd know. Because I'd have explained it to you in great detail while I killed you very, very slowly." She shrugged one shoulder. "It's combat. Shit happens."
Tony shook his head. Why was everyone going easy on him? He didn't deserve pity, his injuries were nothing compared to Clint's. "I—"
"Tony, I don't remember what happened." Bruce looked at Tony over his glasses. "But I know you. I know you always try your hardest at everything you set your mind to. And I know you don't let this team down." Any other day, Tony would have been thrilled to hear Bruce say those words. Only Tony just had let the team down. Badly.
He curled his shoulders and turned back to look at Clint. Even if Clint didn't die, what if he sustained permanent damage? He needed to be in top condition to do his job. What if he could never work again?
Tony would happily pay for Clint to live in the lap of luxury and never worry about a thing, but Clint would be miserable. He needed his job as much as Tony needed his workshop.
He heard Steve stand. "Tony. Front and center."
Trust Cap to not let him off. Tony immediately turned and moved to stand in front of Steve. He tried to stand at attention like he'd seen Clint do when he knew he was about to be chewed out. Not that it'd help anything, but he could at least try to do this right.
"What, exactly, were my orders to you?" Steve asked, his voice calm.
"Stay near Clint and protect his position. Don't let any of the ugly bugs get to him. Line them up for the shooting," Tony said. That was verbatim.
"And did you leave Clint's position?"
Damn, was that how Steve thought this had happened? "No! I was right there, Cap! I can show you the footage." He fumbled for his phone.
Steve shook his head. "I believe you. And for the first part of the battle, did you let any of them touch Clint?"
Tony shook his head. Steve had to know that. Tony was beginning to wonder where he was going with this.
"And then what happened?"
"It was after the Big Guy brought down their mothership, or whatever that floating hive thing was. It must have been a last-ditch attack. They were rushing us."
"And what did you do? Did you beat it and take cover?"
"What?" Tony fought hard to swallow the annoyance at the accusation. "Hell, no. I took down as many as I could. JARVIS was on my ass about putting too much strain on the arc reactor, but I told him if I couldn't get them down, there was really nothing to save it for."
Steve raised his eyebrows and turned his palms outward. "So, you did exactly what you were supposed to do, to the best of your abilities, but the enemy overwhelmed you by sheer numbers?"
Tony stopped and blinked. Put like that... Then he shook his head. "I should have been faster." He was Ironman, goddamit.
"You can only do what you can do, Tony." Steve put a hand on his shoulder. "This wasn't your fault."
"It was!" He was a genius. He should have been able to think of something, should have been prepared. "If I'd been better, if I'd built the armor to be more maneuverable..."
"Oh, fuck," Clint groaned from behind him. Tony turned. Clint's eyes were open and he was looking straight at him. "Nat, flick his ear for me, would you?"
"OUCH!" That had hurt a lot more than such a little thing should be able to.
"Thanks. Stark, come here."
Tony walked to the bed, rubbing his ear and looking anywhere but at Clint.
Clint rolled his eyes. "Give me your hand."
Tony bit his lip and put his hand down on Clint's upturned palm. Clint wrapped his fingers around Tony's.
"Now listen to me, you idiot. I saw the whole thing. There were thirteen of those things on your ass all at once, with six more closing in. I took down eight, but I couldn't shoot the ones really close to you because they might have taken you down in the explosion. You got ten. Ten that were right on you, shooting at you and hitting you and moving so fast even I could only just follow." He shrugged one shoulder, then groaned when his ribs complained.
"Lie still," Bruce gentled, offering him a bottle of water with a straw.
"In a minute, Bruce," Clint said. "Gotta finish this first." He looked back at Tony. "One got by you. One. It slipped by overhead while three others were pummeling you. I got an arrow in it just as it reached me, but it had enough time to slap me back against the rail, and the shock wave from the explosion threw me off the roof." He shook his head. "It was dumb luck, Stark. Without you, I'd be dead."
And hearing it explained like this, all the details plain and Clint's voice without the slightest bit of doubt or reproach, Tony could nearly believe it. Nearly. But... "You were almost dead with me, too."
"That's the job," Clint said, squeezing Tony's hand. "Stark, have I ever once hesitated to tell you when you'd screwed up, or when you were being a dumbass?"
Tony's fought back a smile. "Not that I could tell." Clint and he didn't pull punches with each other. That was why they got along so well.
Well, not metaphorical ones. If Clint didn't pull his real punches in hand-to-hand training, Tony wouldn't be standing here now.
Clint grinned. "Then trust me when I say you didn't screw up in the battle, but you're being a dumbass now. We beat 'em, and we all survived. It's a good day. Don't ruin it by moping."
Tony hesitated. "I'm just—fuck it, Clint, I'm sorry you got hurt, okay?" It wasn't much of an apology, but Clint didn't seem to want one.
"Yeah, okay. You're forgiven."
Tony took a deep breath for what felt like the first time since the battle. His ribs protested, but he didn't care. He grinned at Clint.
Clint grinned back. "Now do you suppose you could use your vast fortune to get us some decent food? SHIELD HQ food is even worse than the stuff in the caf on the Helicarrier."
Tony laughed and pulled out his phone.
The End