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"Oh, futz, you're my hero."
Clint took the iced coffee Steve held out to him with both hands, and started sucking it down, eyes half-closed with pleasure.
Steve smiled and reached out, pulled Clint to him. "I know." Clint stopped drinking just long enough to let Steve bend down a little and kiss him. "You ready?"
Clint met his eyes and took a deep breath, lowering the half-empty coffee cup. "Yeah. Got the keys. You s -"
"Yes, I'm sure. And Bucky'll be pissed if we don't go through with it, I made him help me load the van and drive it all the way from Midtown."
"Yeah," Bucky put in from where he was leaning on the side of the unmarked white van full of Steve's stuff. "You're not allowed to back out or ever move again. Have you seen how many books he has?"
"I'm gonna look so smart," Clint murmured, and went back to his coffee.
"You're already -" Steve started, fighting the eternal fight against Clint's self-deprecating comments.
"Hey babe, nice legs!"
Steve whipped around, face flushing, while Clint squinted at him and then at Bucky, who signed a lazy, resigned description of the situation. 'Someone catcalled, something about legs'.
That made Clint swing around, too. He was looking for the perpetrator, looking for a fight. Instead he found Tony Stark, strolling down the sidewalk, hands in pockets, sunglasses on.
"Tony," Steve chided. "What…"
"I don't think I've ever seen you in shorts, Capsicle. Won't you melt?"
"I'll melt without them, it's ninety-two degrees."
"Hm. Well. It's nice of you to show off those gams to the whole neighborhood."
"What are you even doing here, Tony?" Bucky asked, coming to stand closer to Steve and Clint - flanking Clint's unguarded side, like he'd noticed the tension that had bloomed between the archer's shoulders.
Tony shrugged. "It's a big day for our boys. I thought I might help. I can fly, after all."
"We're trying to keep quiet, Tony," Steve reminded him, leaning close like someone might be eavesdropping.
"Yeah, I know. You're no fun. I can also carry things. And order pizza."
Clint grinned. "Yeah, okay, you can stay."
"Hi!" A cheery voice called behind them, making them all spin around again, maybe slightly faster than normal people would - people who didn't spend half their life in training or on battlefields.
A woman was standing there, looking them all up and down and beaming.
Bucky shifted even closer to his friends. Tony just beamed back at her. "Hello there!"
"Are any of you the new tenants? I heard someone was moving in today! I'm Tracy, I live on the 3rd floor!" She said everything like it had an exclamation mark on the end, but she seemed harmless. Sweet, really.
And also, they'd investigated everyone in the building, and her story checked out. A 30-something woman named Tracy lived in 303.
"Yes indeedy," Tony said, stepping around the others and shooting her another winning smile. "My taciturn friends here are moving into 502. Just the blonds, not the brunette. This is Steve, and that's Clint."
Steve held out a hand. "Ma'am."
She smiled even wider at that, if it was possible, and shook his hand. "Ooh, I like you! Steve, right? And Clint."
Clint nodded and held out his hand, too. "Nice to meet you. Tracy?"
"Mmhm! Welcome! It's a friendly building. We do a lot of cookouts on the roof, slip a note with your emails under my door - I'm in 303 - and I'll make sure you get the alerts! Good luck moving in! Bye!"
"She liiiiked you," Clint teased as soon as she was inside, putting down his empty coffee cup and wrapping his arms around Steve's waist.
Steve laughed. "Me? She couldn't stop staring at your arms."
"Sorry to burst your bubbles," Tony put in, "But I'm pretty sure she knows you're together. Steve, you had your arm around Clint's waist for most of that conversation."
Steve and Clint looked at each other, then at Tony. "Really?" Steve asked.
"Really," Bucky confirmed. No one ever said anything about it, not wanting to make them self-conscious, but in the last few months Steve and Clint had slid right from overwhelming discomfort with expressing their feelings to straight-up PDA. It was good for both of them. It eased the constant tension out of Clint's body and kept Steve's sad lost looks at bay. "You guys are gross. Now're we moving you in, or what?"
"Not without the calvary, I hope."
They all swung around, again - Bucky heaving a sigh, getting tired of the dramatics - and there was Natasha. And Sam. And Wanda.
"Futz, guys, we told you were trying to lay low…" Clint said.
"You lost speaking privileges when you told me you were moving next weekend, Barton," Natasha replied, but she still stepped forward to kiss him on the cheek.
"Steve told me Wednesday," Sam put in.
"He told me Thursday," Wanda said. "Clint said Monday."
"Oops," Clint mumbled.
"You didn't even bother to lie badly to me?" Tony asked. "I'm hurt."
"Yes, about that - you let Tony come?" Natasha asked, directing an exaggerated frown at Clint.
"No," Steve said, "We just banned him from showing up, and yet…"
"Hey, I just happened to be taking a walk in the neighborhood."
"In Bed-Stuy?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Have you ever even to Bed-Stuy before, Tony?" Clint asked.
Tony just shrugged, grinning.
"You also told Bucky," Sam said.
Bucky just stuck out his tongue at him.
"Bucky has super-strength but isn't an obvious superhero," Steve said.
"And he literally tells no one anything," Clint said. "Tasha, don't look at me like that, I know you tell Bruce all sorts of things."
"Also I figured it out," Bucky said. "Clint left their lease out on Stevie's table."
'Also you were supposed to be away this weekend!' Clint signed at Natasha, a pleading look on his face because she still looked annoyed. 'It was going to be a nice surprise when you got back. You hate moving.'
'Not this time, bird boy.' She looked from him to Steve, eyebrows quirked, and Clint smiled at her. "Okay," she said, switching back to speech. "Let's get organized." She pulled the van doors open and rolled her eyes at the messy pile of boxes and suitcases inside, then turned back to Clint. 'Where's your stuff?
"Kate's car." He hooked his thumb at a purple convertible pulled up a few spaces away with an even more haphazard pile of boxes and bags in its passenger seat.
"Where's Kate?" Wanda asked.
"Watching Lucky. She doesn't believe in helping people move when professional movers exist."
Tony laughed. "Same."
Steve rolled his eyes. "Rich kids. Plus, we wanted to look normal."
"By moving in using exactly one scary friend?" Sam asked. "Most people have more than one friend, Steve. And also that's why we didn't bring Pietro or Vision."
"Yeah, okay. Fine. Natasha, what's the plan, you looked like you had one."
She had been gazing into the back of the van, but now she turned and frowned at both of them. "Where's your furniture?"
There was a long silence before Clint, rubbing at the back of his neck, eyes on the ground, finally mumbled "We were just going to go to IKEA tomorrow."
The resounding "NO"s from everyone except the original moving day trio made both Bucky and Steve jump.
"New plan," Natasha said. "Tony, can you get IKEA to deliver a mattress, a bedframe, and a table and chairs by the end of the day?"
"Of course."
"Then do that."
"On it." He pulled out his phone and wandered down the street, already in full Stark mode.
"Natasha," Steve said, sounding slightly Captain America as he tried to take back control, "You don't have to - he doesn't have to -"
"Nope. Sam, are we letting them go on an IKEA trip on a moving weekend, unsupervised?"
"No futzin' way."
"I don't understand."
"Vision and I almost broke up the first time we went to IKEA together, and he is the most rational of men," Wanda said, patting Steve's arm. "We are not allowing you to go through that kind of stress."
"Natasha and I'll go with you tomorrow," Sam declared. "A superspy and a counselor, I think we can maybe get you through it without any major incidents."
"Also I am not letting you be those kind of terrible disaster men," Natasha said. "Even for one night. You will sleep on a bed. With a bedframe. And sheets - Tony, order sheets!"
Tony flashed her a thumbs up from down the block.
Clint sat down suddenly on the front steps, head in his hands. Steve frowned at everyone and went to sit with him, rubbing his back softly until he looked up. 'What's up?'
'Everyone's going to know who we are. I wanted it to be normal… I wanted it be normal for you. Normal life, no war, no SHEILD, no Avengers, just.' He paused, took a breath, blinked. 'Just us.'
Steve signed a small, soft 'Sweetheart,' then pulled him in for a hug. Clint snuggled down against his chest and stayed there, taking a break for a minute. Steve, meanwhile, watched their friends. Natasha looked like she was in some kind of haute couture biker gang as usual, and yet was somehow not sweating at all in the heat. Sam was in long shorts and a loose tanktop like some aged-up college kid, and sweating as hard as Natasha wasn't. The two of them were bickering about something, but good-naturedly, Natasha smiling at Sam as he got worked up. Wanda, ignoring them and texting, was wearing a flowy yellow sundress that was totally inappropriate for the job, but Steve knew she'd make it work just fine. Bucky was leaning in the shade on the side of the building and scowling at nothing, hair lank from the humidity. He'd put on his lightest-weight hoodie as his only concession to the heat. Tony was pacing up and down the other side of the street now, sunglasses still on, wearing distressed jeans that had probably come like that and had probably cost $300, shouting something about Allen wrenches into his phone.
Steve patted Clint's back, getting his attention. Clint huffed a sigh, but sat back to see what he had to say.
'I don't think anyone will think we're superheroes,' Steve signed. 'They'll think we're everyday New Yorkers. A gay couple and their weird, slightly outrageous group of friends. Nothing's more normal than that, here. It's too bad we're not more diverse though.'
Clint looked from Steve to their friends, and back, and smiled. 'I think you're right.'
Steve nodded and leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead. 'Ready?'
'Ready. I love you.'
Steve's face broke out in one of his best smiles, one he reserved for Clint, always soft and happy and a tiny bit surprised. 'I love you, too.'
They got everything into the apartment without much incident - neither Steve nor Clint owned very much stuff - and were all sitting on the floor eating pizza and drinking beer when the IKEA furniture showed up. The strongest people (Steve, Bucky, Clint, and Wanda) carried it up, while Tony declared Natasha and Sam his honorary helper bots and dictated furniture assembly to them.
It only took a few hours from start to finish, and then everyone else scattered and Clint and Steve were on their own in their new apartment. Steve was the one who looked exhausted and a little overwhelmed now, so Clint wrapped him in his arms, and closed his eyes. He didn't need to look around to see what they had. A little apartment, with big windows where Steve could catch natural light for his drawing table, and a fire escape where Clint and Lucky could watch the goings-on of the city, and a cosy bedroom that was slightly too small for the just-right bed Tony had ordered them, with a comfortable kingsize mattress for their long limbs and everything else they got up to, and clean modern lines like Tony liked, but light wood like Steve liked, and a polka-dotted purple duvet like Clint liked.
Steve shifted against Clint, working a hand between them to press against Clint's chest. Clint knew what he was doing without having to look; he could feel the pressure of Steve's folded middle finger and ring finger, and of the pads of his index and thumb and pinkie, extended from his palm. And besides, they'd done this before, many times. A silent statement when they were close together.
"Love you, too," he mumbled, and Steve pulled back for a kiss.