Chapter Text
Tony was absolutely baffled by Clint’s lack of education. By that he didn’t mean he thought Clint was stupid, not by any means- the guy was way smarter than he let on, but what kind of innocent soul doesn’t know what the hell Bee Movie is? Not that Tony didn’t wish he had that ignorance but he was a major figure in both the media and in technology, not to mention his admittedly… odd reputation. But c’mon the thing was still huge and it came out years ago. Clint, still “trapped” beneath Tony’s legs, did not look nearly as amused as Tony felt.
“What?” Clint snapped, glaring Tony down with eyes made of sharpened steel. Tony would have kicked the man instinctively if he didn’t know that the archer didn’t pose an actual threat to him.
“We’re watching it.” Tony said in lieu of answer, already looking back towards the T.V so he could hit play on the old and very terrible movie.
“Tony, I don’t want to watch a kids movie about bees.” Clint huffed, turning his glare from the billionaire to the movie cover displayed in the top left corner of the screen next to the equally terrible movie description. There was something about the way Clint said it that made Tony snigger, teeth grinding together in an effort to keep from laughing any louder.
“What do you have against bees, Barton?” Tony shot back, grin growing wider when Clint’s jaw visibly clenched. However, before he could hit play, the archer was leaning forward and expertly snatching the remote from his hands leaving them empty. Tony gasped, offended, and slapped a hand over the reactor embedded in his chest. “Thief.” He accused.
Clint rolled his eyes, which was a little odd from Tony’s point of view seeing as he’d never actually seen the guy do that before. Huh.
“I wouldn’t have to steal your shit if you’d pick an actually okay movie.” Clint insisted, a glint of something teasing in his eyes. Tony smirked. This was his favorite side of the archer; the joking, teasing, fun, prankster side. He had been there the first time Clint had pulled a prank on one of the Avengers. The shocked look on Steve’s face when flour had exploded from a kitchen cabinet when he’d opened it. The way the leader had turned to give Tony this look of utter betrayal that was slowly merging with a rising annoyance. Bruce just stood by the coffee pot in complete shock. They’d all been baffled when Natasha had walked in, seen the disaster that had become of them, sent them this terrifying smile and said ,in her usual serious tone, “He likes you.” They’d only figured out it was Clint when he’d come down later that day with this satisfied, accomplished expression and told Steve without even looking that the blonde had flour in his hair.
“It’s culture.” He argued.
“It’s stupid.” Clint responded while scrolling through the more like this section below the subject of their argument.
“It was made to save the bees.” Tony informed.
“What a great job it did.” Clint snarked.
“You, sir,” Tony began, “Are a terrible person. I bet you kill bees.”
“I bet you’ve killed more.” Clint huffed, a flicker of confusion crossing his face at the sight of one of the movies.
“Touché.” Tony caved with a shrug, turning to look at whatever monstrosity the agent had paused on. He couldn’t withhold the snort of laughter that escaped him when he saw that it was the Minions movie.
“What the hell is the world making?” Clint muttered, eyes narrowing as he continued to gaze at the movie’s cover with clear bewilderment.
Tony barked out another laugh at the statement, stifling his amusement moments later he asked, “You don’t really do animation, do you?”
“Disney’s the only animated stuff I’ve ever watched, and that was back when I was a kid.” Clint admitted with an uncaring shrug, shaking off his sense of curiosity and continuing to scroll. Tony watched him, trying to think of any animated movies that the man absolutely had to see.
“Wait, does that mean you haven’t seen any of Disney’s newer stuff?” Tony questioned in sudden realization. If not, there was a movie that Tony was going to shove down Clint’s throat just for shits and giggles. Not that what he had in mind wasn’t actually a good movie, but he wasn’t the biggest animation buff either. However, it was rare one could go wrong with something like Disney.
Clint shook his head with another shrug.
“Give me the remote.” Tony demanded, holding out his hand and waiting impatiently while Clint turned to look at him. “C’mon Merida, we don’t have all day.” Tony had the grand epiphany, in that moment, that Clint had no idea who Merida was. That wouldn’t do, so of course Tony would force Clint to watch it later, but he had more pressing matters at hand. Clint slowly handed the remote over, obviously hesitant but curious about whatever bullshit Tony was so clearly cooking up. Tony was a fan of his asshatery getting him places, it’d always been a useful skill of his.
Tony, not wanting to give away him surprise, quickly typed the title into the remote and waited for the cover to appear on the screen. He was practically vibrating with misplaced excitement, Clint staring at him with a mix of exasperation and amusement that made Tony even more excited. Clint had always been the more expressive of the two assassins but that didn’t mean he was very expressive in general. It was seeing all the emotions cross Clint’s face that was adding to Tony’s enthusiasm in the first place. He watched Clint carefully from the corner of his eye as the movie popped up.
“Tony,” He sounded so done with the billionaire, it took all Tony had not to laugh and ruin the rest of this glorious moment. “I want you to look at me,” Clint said, waiting for Tony to turn to look at his unamused face. “And tell me if you think this is something that I would be into.”
“Oh c’mon! It’s Disney, and it’s actually good. Give it a chance. A tiny chance. Do it for me.” Tony dramatically draped his torso over the couch arm, hand to his forehand and legs pressing into Clint’s. “I thought we were friends, Barton, really. I’m hurting.” He continued, laying the Stark Snark on thick.
“Jesus Tony, just turn on the movie.” Clint gave in, jerking his knees up and successfully knocking Tony back to his original position. Tony complied without a word, pressing play and smirking victoriously as the Disney intro started up. “You’re a nuisance, Stark.” There was no bite behind the remark, however. There was no fondness either, but Tony would take the neutral tone as a win.
And that was how Tony got Clint to watch Zootopia with him. It was touch and go for a while, Clint watching the introduction with a skeptical look before finally relaxing and listening as Tony commented on the film and all of it’s pieces. “You’re totally the fox,” Tony said, pointing lazily at the screen. “Gruff mysterious asshole who’s good at what they do.” He elaborated when Clint sent him a curious look. The archer’s eyes narrowed, staring Tony down for a quick uncomfortable second before he seemed to accept the answer with a nod.
“Bruce is the otter.” Clint said in passing when the Emit Otter-whatever character was introduced. He seemed to have been waiting for the right moment, because he said it right when Tony was tipping back a glass of water the archer had shoved in his direction fifteen minutes earlier. Tony promptly choked, spilling a quarter of the glass on himself as he jerked and coughed in an attempt to clear his airways. Clint, the asshole, laughed at him while he leaned over the edge of the couch and hacked up a lung. Dick.
Near the end of the movie, when the big buffalo chief guy came up again, they shared a look. “Fury.” They said in unison. This time they laughed together. Tony was proud to have a moment shared with the secretive archer. Especially one like this one. It was a lot more real than giving each other pats on the back for mutual jobs well done.
The credits began not long after, Shakira’s voice thrumming from the speakers and making Tony tap his foot with every well placed beat. Clint watched, face blank, as the sexy tigers came out and danced about the screen with Shakira’s character. Tony watched Clint, having already seen the tigers when the movie had first come out. Clint’s face shifted occasionally, displaying emotions masked well enough that Tony couldn’t quite place them.
“Why are there sexy tigers?” Clint finally asked as the screen shifted to other characters dancing.
Tony snorted, “Why shouldn’t a kids movie have a little fan service for the adults?” he retorted. Clint made a face at that. Like he was trying a lemon for the first time.
“That’s bestiality, and weird.” He sent Tony a strange look. “Isn’t fan service an anime thing?” He asked as an after thought.
Tony couldn’t help the laugh that slipped past, “We stole the term, like we steal everyone’s.” He shook his head, sending Clint one of his best I’m-not-making-fun-of-you-but-we-both-know-I-am smiles. “Anyway, there anthropomorphic and human-functioning. Are you trying to say Furries are into bestiality, Clint?” He accused, waggling his eyebrows expectantly at the archer.
Clint sent him another glare, elbowing the genius’ shin. Tony’s pained shout obviously gave the other man a sick satisfaction seeing as it was painted all of his stupid smug face. “That’s obviously not what I’m saying jackass.” Clint insisted, “Just that it’s weird in a kid’s movie. I don’t remember a lot of… fan service in the movies I’m used to watching from Disney.”
Tony shrugged, “You said you watched them when you were a kid,” He took a drink from his glass, eyeing Clint suspiciously so the guy couldn’t try to drown him on land again. “Most kids don’t really recognize that kind of shit.” He assured, awkwardly reaching up to pat Clint’s shoulder like the man was in need of comfort.
Clint gave him a look that very clearly meant ”Do that again and I’ll stab you” but Tony found it to be progress when he wasn’t sure if Clint meant it or not. They watched the actual credit sequence scroll for a few minutes in a comfortable near-silence broken only by the movie’s music. Tony sucked in a gentle breath through his nose, letting it out in a slow thoughtful sigh. He was sure Clint noticed, but he was kind enough not to say anything.
Tony thought about what exactly had been on his mind before Clint had shown up at too early in the morning. He’d definitely been in one of his slumps. The ones that not even Pepper had ever been able to pull him out of. His mind was replaying bits and pieces from his run-in with Afghanistan, the torture and the desperation that he had felt in those moments. He had been remembering Yinsen’s face before the man had run off to buy Tony more time. It had been one of grim acceptance; resignation. Tony had watched the screen uploading the programs with fear, pleading desperation, and need. It had been too late, in the end, and Pepper never could have understood that.
It had been when Clint showed up and forced him to see some sense that he had been pulled from his head. It had been when Clint had made it so obvious that he had been through terrible things, revealed pieces of himself that Tony wasn’t used to seeing, that Tony realized he wasn’t alone in his suffering anymore. It was a strange epiphany he had tried to squash with jokes and more beer, but that had inevitably failed.
He’d always known that his teammates have been through horrible, traumatizing things. Steve having fought in the war and buried himself deep in the ice for so long everything he’d ever known was practically gone. Bruce was so afraid of himself and what the other guy could do, he’d been on the run from bad people for a long time. Thor had heapings of family issues that would traumatize anyone, God included. What little Natasha file held was dripping with red and unforgettable pains. Clint’s wasn’t much different, only having a bit more information than the widow. Clint’s was filled pools of red and missions that had gone terribly wrong. Tony wasn’t an idiot though, he knew that not even close to all the information was in those files. He knew that Fury had an old fashioned filing cabinet filled to the brim with information on every agent. What he’d seen on the digital platforms, however, was more than enough for Tony. As impatient as he is, he could wait for his teammates to want to open up to him. At least he could try to.
It was odd to him. Knowing that the people around him no longer just said they understood but meant it. He would never admit it, not when he was sober enough to hold his tongue, but it meant so much to him. It filled a hole in his chest he hadn’t even been aware of until it wasn’t there anymore.
“Hey,” Clint’s voice was pitched low, careful and soft. Tony shifted his gaze from the T.V, the screen having gone black when he wasn’t paying attention. He looked Clint dead in the eye. That seemed to be a new theme for them. The storm of gray was softened from it’s usual harsh steel. The care and attention that Tony saw there put a lump in his throat he couldn’t seem to shake no matter how much he tried to swallow it down. “Are you okay?”
Was he? He wasn’t sure, most days. He’s spent so much time hiding behind facades and masks that he was getting confused on where the line between reality and pretend was. Instead, he nodded slowly. He felt okay. He didn’t feel lost, or broken, or hurt. He just felt… thoughtful; nostalgic. He was reminiscing on the good and the bad and it put him into a head space that made him feel almost numb.
“Yeah,” Tony’s voice was strained and hesitant. Part of him was unsure if he should continue. The part of him that spewed anxieties. The part damaged the most by his father’s neglectful ways. “Yeah,” He began again, with more confidence. The lump in his throat faded away, his previous train of thought derailing and bringing him back to the now rather than the new and old. “Yeah, I’m alright. Thanks, Feathers.”
“You already said that.” Clint responded. There was a gently grin on his face but his eyes were still soft and caring. It was a sign to Tony that Clint was just trying to tell him it was okay without really saying it.
“Just know I mean it.” Tony pushed. He wasn’t one for mushy moments. He was the guy that made jokes and poked fun and dripped sarcasm no matter the situation. When he was being heartfelt and sincere it was important that it was recognized. It was important to him that it was recognized. “Seriously, Clint, it means a lot.”
Clint smiled. A real one. Not a grin, or a smirk. A smile. It wasn’t big or eccentric. It was small and genuine and kind. It was a glimpse into who the archer was and Tony felt warmth bloom in his chest at the implications of that. “I told you, Tony. Anytime.” Clint reached out and put a strong hand on Tony’s shoulder, it was an assurance and a truth. Tony felt a newfound bond with the assassin before him, a potential friendship similar to the ones he had with Rhodey and Pepper. The relationships he had with his two closest friends meant the world to him, the idea of having more people like them in his life was something that filled him with contentment.
“Sir,” JARVIS began, the sudden noise making Tony’s thrumming hangover flare. The water Clint had forced in his direction had helped, but there was still a distinct ache that throbbed in his temples. “There appears to be a group of men trying to break into the tower. I’ve locked all entry points and contacted Captain Rogers. Is there any further action you would like me to take?”
Okay, that wasn’t really what Tony was expecting. And to think, he was beginning to believe he was queuing up for a good day. Before Tony could respond Clint was pushing Tony’s legs off his lap and standing, walking towards the elevator while asking the A.I “Did the Captain give you an E.T.A?” Tony pushed himself to his feet, head momentarily spinning, but he moved to catch up. The archer didn’t have to wait for the elevator, JARVIS having already positioned it.
“E.T.A is forty-seven minutes, Agent Barton.” JARVIS reported dutifully, the elevator ticking up quickly until the doors opened up to reveal Clint’s floor. “Your suit is on it’s way up, Sir. The group appears to be overriding my security, I’m sor-” JARVIS shut down with a whir before he could finish his apology.
While Clint strode through the living space towards his room Tony’s eyes immediately found the dog laying on the couch getting bright blonde fur all over the expensive piece of furniture. Tony walked in and eyes the canine warily. “Since when did you have a dog!” Tony yelled across the floor. He watched as the dog perked up, ears swiveling and flicking as it turned to gaze at him with a single brown eye. Okay, creepy.
“Since I’ve had a dog!” Clint yelled back after a minute of silence. The dog’s tail wagged at the sound of its master’s voice, mouth opening and tongue rolling out in a very dog-ish smile. If it started slobbering Tony was gonna leave, intruders or not. He was not in the mood to get slobbered on.
Clint rounded the corner, quiver strap tightly secured across his chest and box in his other hand. The way his jacket scrunched up, leather bunching under his arms, looked both restrictive and uncomfortable but Tony had no doubt that the blond would still be able to hit any target he shot at. It was while Clint was walking over that one of the windows behind Tony smashed, the Iron Man suit flying up and quickly opening up to attach itself to him. The dog barked, standing and crouching low while the metal suit expertly molded itself to Tony’s body. Clint clicked his tongue and the dog trotted over, moving behind his legs and eyeing Iron Man with fierce uncertainty.
“C’mon.” Clint tilted his head towards the stairs, moving towards the door without getting any sort of confirmation from Tony. So much for bonding moments, then.
They moved down the staircase as a unit, the dog left behind on Clint’s floor much to the mutt’s chagrin. Tony’s suit whirred and clicked subtly which each movement but every noise seemed to echo down the stairs. He could see Clint grinding his teeth together, hold tightening on the grip of his bow, obviously annoyed with Tony’s complete lack of stealth. It was nice of the guy not to say anything, though, but Clint was in mission mode and that tended to result in a minimal amount of talking.
Clint suddenly raised his hand in that universal sign of stop that everyone saw in every action movie known to man. Silence filled the air, only their breathing audible to Tony through the speakers on his helmet. The sudden sound of a door opening was startling and Tony wondered how the hell Clint had known as soft footsteps began creeping up the stairs. Luckily, the JARVIS installed in Tony’s suit was still active. His vision switched to thermal without the need of a command, counting up the bodies that were approaching from three floors below. He reached forward, careful of the gentle noises his suit made and tapped Clint’s shoulder. When he got Clint’s attention he held up five fingers to tell him how many people he counted below. Clint gave a curt nod and promptly jumped over the railing.
“Fuck,” Tony couldn’t help but hiss as the bowman fell down the large center space between the coiling staircases. He watched as Clint fired two arrows with ease, the grunts of pains and shouts of surprise reverberating through the closed space. He figured that was as good a cue as he would get and flew down the space himself, firing a repulsor blast at one of the men fumbling to grab the pistol holstered at his hip. A few bullets pinged off the suit but when he turned to handle it Clint was already snapping the man’s neck with a sense of ease Tony wasn’t sure he’d ever achieve despite his company’s previous intentions. “Give a guy a warning next time, Barton.”
Clint simply brushed past him, shrugging as he made for the door their assailants had entered through, “I could’ve handled it.”
“Not the point,” Tony snarked, landing gracefully and following after his teammate. “JARVIS?” He asked expectantly.
“No scans are picking up any signs of life besides Agent Barton, Lucky, and yourself, Sir.” The A.I reported.
“Lucky?” Tony questioned.
“The dog, Sir.” JARVIS clarified.
Clint opened the door, unsurprisingly landing themselves back in the commons, and scanned the room. “JARVIS says there are no more life signs in the building.” Tony informed, watching as Clint’s eyes flicked over every part of the room with practiced calculation and precision.
Of course, it was that moment that a shrill ringing broke through the air. Tony’s vision darkened and flashed as the monitors of the helmet’s interface fizzled and flickered before going out, the suit itself locking into place as it short-circuited. The noise had Tony’s head splitting in two, vision blurring, his headache kicking back up with a vengeance. With his head-spinning and movement restricted he didn’t even notice when the ringing stopped, or when someone was walking up to him. He was startled back into the present when a voice spoke up right beside him. Finally, his eyes focused again and he quickly took note of the men laid out on the floor around Clint. Blood pooling beneath some of them while others’ heads were facing the wrong direction, an image that didn't help Tony's already rolling stomach. A knife was held in Clint’s hand that dripped with crimson, the same red was splattered against the archer, the smears glinting on his face and adding a shin to his jacket that hadn’t been there before. There were more men creeping up on the assassin, keeping a safe distance, but Clint’s focus was on whoever was next to Tony.
“I suggest you drop your weapons, Mr. Barton.” A heavy German accent filtered in through the openings in the helmet, voice low and definitely male. “There are tools I have that I will not hesitate to use on Mr. Stark here. You wouldn’t want to risk the man’s safety, would you?” Oh, how Tony wished he could see this asshole. He’d like it a lot more if he thought he could open his mouth without puking, too, but that wasn’t as important, obviously.
“Barton,” He tried, voice strained and croaking, he felt bile fill the back of his throat and let out a harsh breath.
“Ah, ah, ah, hush now Mr. Stark. This is your companion’s decision.” The German man said not unkindly. He was annoyingly polite and smug, like every British bad guy on television pretty much ever.
Clint’s eyes narrowed, there was a long pause, and then he threw the knife. It embedded itself into the throats of one of the men behind him, Clint snapped the neck of another one within the next second. He put it down, Tony mused to himself as Clint spun around and grabbed the fist of the next man that rushed him, twisting the arm and snapping it with ease before another shrill shrieking filled the air. Tony felt white hot pain fill his head again, his vision whiting out in a flash before flickering back. He watched the blurred figure of Clint grip his head before falling to his knees.
“Clint!” He heard himself shout, muffled and distant, as the man he had been watching Disney movies with not even thirty minutes ago collapsed into a heap on the floor. It was after that the German moved in front of him and looked into the cold eyes of the Iron Man suit. Too bad Tony’s vision was too blurry to make out anything but spiked black hair and pale skin.
It was then, that things went black.