Work Text:
Doing our best
Tony wakes up enveloped in warmth. There are strong arms wrapped around him, making it impossible to move while hot, even breath is tickling his neck.
He hums happily, cuddling closer into the source of blissful heat. There is another body in front of him, which is running just as hot and it just about lulls him back to sleep.
Unfortunately though, after a few minutes of dozing, it moves away, leaving behind a flow of cool air that now creeps into Tony. An unhappy noise escapes him, and a gentle kiss to his forehead is what he gets in response.
Agreeable, sure, but he’d rather keep both of his human heaters around, thank you very much. Especially since Clint has been hogging the blankets again, goddamnit.
“Stay here.” Tony is slurring his words and tries to reach out to keep Phil from leaving the bed. But he can’t move much, thanks to the cuddly octopus currently curled around him.
It’s way too early in the morning, for anything really, but someone is an absolute fucking heathen that gets out of bed before dawn on a Saturday morning.
Why, Phil? Just why.
“Can’t, sorry. I have a meeting with Fury. Go back to sleep.” He really does sound like he regrets these circumstances, but there is nothing to be done about it. Still, he steps closer to the bed again.
A hand is running through his dark, thick hair, scratching his scalp ever so gently. With a happy hum, Tony dozes off and adjusts his own grip around Clint’s arms that are still tightly wrapped around him. He didn’t stir once throughout the entire conversation.
Only a few minutes later, Tony blinks awake again to the sound of water shutting off in the bathroom. Now that he woke, his bladder makes itself known. Damnit. He was hoping to stay asleep for a bit longer.
Grumbling into his beard while Phil is getting dressed, Tony attempts to free himself from the Snuggle-Archer-Death-Grip.
Slowly, he squirms out one of his arms. Then, he attempts to gently loosen the grip around him without waking the other man up. When he’s almost got it, Tony starts to wiggle away, only to be promptly pulled back into a tight hug like he is an overgrown teddy bear.
A choked off noise escapes him, and Phil laughs quietly into the wool sweater that he’s currently pulling over his head. It’s cold outside, and if it was up to Phil, he’d be somewhere in that pile of limbs in their bed. No such luck for him today.
Clint lets out a small, content sigh without waking up. He presses his face into the back of Tony’s shirt, poking him through the fabric with beard stubble and radiating more wonderful warmth.
Normally, Tonywould love this. Right now though, he really needs to go to the bathroom. He glares in his other partner's direction when he finds himself effectively trapped in the arms of a man who refuses to give up his snuggle buddy.
“Phil, help. Please.”
“I believe this is what you signed up for, Honey.” Phil replies, still chuckling.
He loves the mornings with his family, and having to leave doesn’t suit him at all.
However, he is enjoying the banter an awful lot. It’s not like he hasn’t been on the receiving end of this particular brand of affection from Clint for over a decade. Phil would be lying if he said it wasn’t funny that he now gets to watch the whole spectacle instead of always being the one fighting a useless battle against his husbands sleepy octopus-tendencies.
“I did.” Tony says, starting another, fruitless attempt to get out of bed, “But I didn’t remove my bladder in the process.” Once again, he tries to squirm out of the hug. Unsuccessfully so - he sighs with an eyeroll.
“Which I’m starting to think would have been very useful.”
“No idea what you’re talking about.” Still smiling, Phil steps closer to the bed and starts to rub the well muscled arms that are still slung around Tony in an attempt to wake up the affectionate octopus.
Clint stirs a little bit at that, finally blinking one eye open under the touch. Then he loosens his grip, finally, but he does so for just as long as it takes to grab a handful of Phil and pull him right back to bed. Not a chance to move in the meantime for Tony, who is starting to accept that this is just his life now - suffering with a full bladder, but at least being buried in love.
“Oof.” Phil ends up right on top of his two partners, legs hanging off of the bed. Tony is squashed under and in between the two of them, alternating between laughter and half hearted complaints while Clint just smirks, like the cat that got the cream.
“Ah, yes. Perfect.” He’s not even kidding - this is his own personal heaven.
“I love you both very much, but I’m afraid you’ll have to let me go.” Phil tries to reason, but half-awake Clint isn’t having any of his logic - he may not be able to make out the specific words, but he can be very sure of their sentiment. He gestures over to the bedside table where his hearing aids are sitting in a small dish.
“No can do, can’t hear you, sorry. Did you say you’ll stay right there for the next three hours? Because I agree, that's what we should do.”
“As much as I’d like to, no.”
Phil shakes his head, and finger spells “m-e-e-t-i-n-g” just to be clear. All he gets is a nonchalant grumble, but then Tony senses his opportunity to finally get up. He simply pokes Clint in the side until he looks at him with one raised eyebrow.
“Bathroom. Now.” Tony lets him know, and oh wonder of wonders, the archer lets him go. He’s disgruntled at the loss of both warm bodies in this bed, but then again, he is always disgruntled before coffee if he doesn’t get cuddled, so it’s nothing to be concerned about.
Despite the danger of running late and against his better judgement, Phil flops back down into bed and lets Clint wrap himself around him just a little bit longer. He’s leaning into the touch, his nose is pressed into the sleep-warm skin of his partner's throat. Phil loves inhaling the familiar and comforting scent that’s been home to him for so many years now.
Sometimes, it seems unbelievable that they can still have this, after everything that happened. But they still have their life, still have each other - and it’s only gotten better with the addition of another partner - another member in their small family.
Phil sighs, unwilling to let go but mentally preparing for it - he’ll have to leave, soon. But he loves these small moments, and very much so. Their lives are busy - hence the evil force that are SHIELD meetings on a Saturday morning. Every small bit of comfort counts.
A few minutes later, Phil forces himself to get up and heads towards work after kissing both Clint and Tony goodbye. He manages to convince Clint, who is almost asleep again, to let go of him - barely.
Tony on the other hand, lets himself be pulled back into bed - it’s warm and contains one of his favourite people, so who is he to deny that invitation? He’s happy - so much happier than he thought he ever could be.
This is how their day starts out.
It’s how many days start out for them now, and time really flies so fast, it catches all of them off guard when they find that it’s been almost a year since Clint and Phil opened their marriage to welcome Tony into their relationship as an additional partner.
Sometimes, it seems too good to be true when they think back of how they even ended up here.
Their way there has been long and oftentimes painful, especially while Phil was presumed dead. Neither of them like to think or talk about this very much - it just hurts, brings back too many memories and dark thoughts.
They really don’t need that, on top of everything else.
Instead, they try to make the most of their days now. However much or little they see each other, they will always find ways to make time for each other - even if it’s a video call when they’re scattered around the world due to work reasons.
This particular Saturday in October starts out lazy and warm, but when the coffee is almost finished, the tell-tale alarm sounds through the entire tower, and JARVIS announces that there is a call to assemble. There is barely time to shut off the stove and coffee machine, then they run to suit up.
15 minutes later, the team scrambles into the jet and then they take off.
“What are we even dealing with?” asks Clint from the cockpit as he does what needs to be done to get them to their destination as quickly as possible.
“We’re not sure yet, but it’s huge and it’s currently busy with tearing large buildings down into chunks.”
There is a joke at the tip of his tongue, but Steve shakes his head, looking concerned.
“There are still civilians in the area.” he adds, and that takes every last bit of humor out of the situation.
Civilians in close distance to disaster points are never a good thing. One would think that the situation itself would be bad enough, but unfortunately, panicking people are even more likely to hurt themselves or each other. It’s never an easy job, and they can only hope that they’ll be able to prevent the worst.
The way isn’t far, but the destruction is immense by the time they get there.
It takes the Avengers most of the day to contain the threat - a giant tentacle mutation, which is terrifying enough on it’s own. Buildings are torn down all around. There is dust and debris everywhere, as well as smudges of blood.
Dead bodies are in the streets, and scared groups of people are cowering in small corners, desperately trying to hide away. Getting those people to safety is one part of the mission - the other is, trying to contain the tentacle monster.
None of them have ever seen this particular type of monster before - they don’t know where it’s come from, who is responsible for it or anything really. But one thing is obvious after a while: it is scared.
Something has scared this thing out of its mind, bad enough to cause so much hurt and destruction. This much is obvious now, but the Avengers are not sure what they can do to help it.
“Take it down!” is the simple order from the beginning of the day, but the thought makes Clint sick now.
He is pretty sure that if they knew a way to help, killing this thing wouldn’t be necessary. In a way, he is very much reminded of Hulk - scared, angry, misunderstood. And look at where he’s now. With time and patience, so much is possible. But time is a luxury they don’t have right now, and people are dying.
Finally, when Clint manages to get a clear path, he lines up an arrow. He hits the mark, but none of his non-lethal shots bring the creature down. On the contrary, it only scares it more, makes it even angrier and therefore, it lashes out again.
Cursing out loud, Clint jumps across the rooftop to avoid getting caught by one of the swinging tentacles. Another building is down, and with it more people. Any more death and destruction is on him now, Clint knows.
He hates these kinds of missions. He hates hurting and killing where he should help, but the safety of the people is what makes him choose to aim differently now.
When he gets another clear shot, he doesn’t waste any time.
The arrow hits it’s target - right into the heart of the tentacle coloss. It goes down with a high pitched, animalistic scream and then remains motionless on the ground. One of its many eyes rolls around, and it stops as if to stare right at Clint, accusing and full of fear and hurt while the last bits of life fade away from it.
People are cheering in the distance, celebrating the defeat.
Clint hates himself a little more - he knows, there was no way around it. But he can’t help but feel incredibly guilty.
He turns away from the scene with his head hanging low and his teammates quietly join his side.
Despite the people around them celebrating the death of the mutated coloss, the team knows better - Clint has told them, as soon as he saw right through the behavior and patterns. They did their best, trying to save everyone, the so-called monster included.
But it didn’t work out this time, and on the way home, the inside of the jet is quiet enough to hear a needle drop.
By the time they arrive back at the tower, the sun has gone down entirely, leaving the autumn sky dark and covered in thick, gray clouds. Of course, just when the team makes their way from the jet on the rooftop to the inside, the sky breaks open and starts pouring rain.
The small, dramatic streak in Clint notes that it is quite fitting for the day, although he won’t say it out loud.
Today has started out so beautifully, but then everything had to go to shit.
It started out with so much love and affection, and now they’re covered in blood. Even more fitting, the rain soaks through them in a matter of seconds, despite the way from the jet to the door not being far at all.
None of them has said much the entire time since the battle, and instead of throwing one of the “We’re still alive”-parties or just pile in the living room together, everyone wanders off either alone or with another person to go and lick their wounds in peace.
Even Tony is unusually quiet as he walks back to the shared apartment with one arm around Clint, who in turn has one wrapped around the smaller man’s waist. Both of them are exhausted - this mission has taken a lot out of all of them, and there are plenty of things to talk about - but not right now.
Right now, they make their way inside to ditch the dirty clothes and shower as hot as humanly possible without causing burns.
A small post-it note on the door lets them know that Phil knows they’ve had to head out and also that he has been called out with SHIELD shortly after arriving back home. Hopefully, he should be back sometime that same night, he lets them know.
“Hope you’re safe out there ” the note ends in Phils neat and even handwriting, next to a lopsided heart.
Seems like all of them have had a long day - the apartment is dark, which means that Phil is probably still out.
Quietly and in agreement, they make their way to the bedroom. Clothes fall, slowly one after the other, and for a little while, they just stand there, holding each other.
Skin on skin contact feels nice. It feels comforting, like a piece of home. Minutes tick by, and when the chilly air leaves them shivering and with goosebumps all over, they part with a quick but passionate kiss.
There is sadness radiating off of both of them, and they make their way into the large bathroom.
“Are you okay?” Clint asks quietly, stopping in his tracks as he is about to take out his hearing aids to avoid getting them wet. One of his hands is circling Tony’s waist, and the other man nods. He looks bone tired while he does so.
“Yeah, I am. Not great, but… Yeah. Don’t worry about me.”
“We did what we could.” Clint says, leaning his forehead against Tony for a bit. Maybe, someday, he’ll start to believe it himself.
“We did. It still sucks.” he says, pulling Clint into another hug. “But it’s not your fault, okay? So stop that, I know this look.”
Clint huffs a little laugh, despite everything. “Pot, meet kettle.”
Tony smiles back, a sad little movement, but doesn’t say anything else. After that, Clint turns to take out his aids, and then the two of them step into the large shower with various sprays of steaming hot water.
One perk of the tower is it’s huge and luxurious bathrooms. There is more than enough space to fit a shower large enough for three or four people, a bathtub with another shower and even a whirlpool in the corner. It seems excessive - but that’s Tony for you.
Right now though, being able to share the room in silence to wash off the grime, blood and stress of the day is a godsent.
Quickly, the room fills with steam, fogging up every surface around them. They stay close the entire time, washing each other's hair and in turns and lean into the gentle hands massaging foam into the scalp. It’s quiet and intimate, and after days like this, there is nothing sexual about the shared shower.
This is about being close, seeking comfort as much as giving it.
By the time they dry off and get dressed again, the lights flicker on and off - which means that somebody entered the apartment. Clint can’t hear any noises, but Tony perks up. He signs Phil’s name over to Clint with a small smile, and despite everything, he can’t help but return it.
“Go ahead, Love. I’ll join you both in a minute.”
Clint can’t hear the sound of his own voice, but he cannot deny that his throat feels scratchy, even more so than before. He’s not sure how bad he sounds, but Tony looks at him with concern and asks,
“You sure?”
A nod. “It’s fine, I’m fine. Won’t be long.”
With another look and a hand running down his back, Tony nods at him. Before turning around and opening the door, he holds out one hand, palm pointing forwards, middle- and ring finger touching it and the others stretched out.
‘ I love you .’
‘ I love you, too.’
Leaving him right now doesn’t feel right - it never does in moments like this. But Tony knows Clint for long enough and most of all well enough to recognize the need to be alone for a little bit when things get hard. Hell, he knows the feeling from himself all too well.
As long as they know the options of help and company are always there, it’s all good. All three of them make sure they’ll always keep the lines of communication open. It’s how they work out, after all.
So, Tony heads out of the room and does so just in time to meet Phil in the living room.
“Oh, hey. You’re back.”
They come together in the middle of the room to embrace one another. The hug lasts a beat longer than usual.
“Everything okay?” Phil asks, immediately picking up on the mood.
“Mission sucked - well, that’s the short version, anyway.” Tony sighs unhappily, lightly scratching the exposed bit of skin in between Phil’s collar and the back of his hair. Then, he explains as quickly as possible what happened - the monster attacking, people dying and them being unable to help. Them having to kill a scared creature for the safety of everyone else.
“Clint is still in the bathroom.” he adds, “Didn’t talk much. He’s feeling responsible for this whole thing.”
Quietly, Phil nods. He isn’t surprised in the slightest - situations like this are never easy, especially for people like Clint who blame themselves for just about everything that ever went wrong.
“What about you?” Phil asks. He knows just how much Clint and Tony are alike in this - shouldering the weight of the world and taking all the blame when it doesn’t work out. It’s how they are, and letting go of this habit is pretty much a lost battle.
“Not great, but not as bad. Wasn’t me who had to kill this poor thing.” Tony cringes. “Ah fuck. Sounds wrong when I say it like that. Sorry.”
Phil squeezes him a little bit tighter for a moment.
“Not your fault. And it’s not Clint’s fault, either.”
“Yeah, okay. You tell him that.”
“Absolutely.”
By the time they have ordered food and piled several blankets on the couch, Clint finally emerges out of the bedroom. He looks worn out, and about as bad as he probably feels right now.
“Hold the Fuck-Up” he says, draping himself over the back of the couch to hug both Tony and Phil, burying his face in the latter man’s neck.
“Hold up, what?”
“I’m the Fuck-Up. Hold me.” He’s aiming for a joking tone of voice, but it’s missing the mark. Cringing when he notices, he adds, “You okay, Phil? You’ve been out for just as much.”
Turning his head slightly to be able to kiss him, he leans close in an attempt to comfort.
“I’m okay, just tired. Get over here, huh? Dinner is on the way, we have a bit of time until then.”
Humming instead of answering, Clint unwraps himself from his partners to step around the couch. Both of them scoot over to the sides to make space for him in between them. Gladly, Clint settles down there and all of them shift until all three of them are lengthwise on the sofa. Phil has stretched out there, and Clint is resting on top of him, pressing as close as possible.
Tony climbs on top of his back, legs wrapped around him and arms dangling down. His fingers are running over arms, shoulders, necks - anything he can reach. Tony has always been a tactile person. He’s almost constantly touching or fidgeting with something, or someone. Having not one but two people he can be close to at any time is simply wonderful. It hits him sometimes, how much he loves them.
Then, Tony pulls one of the thick woolen blankets over all of them to cocoon them in a blissfully warm nest of body heat and loved ones.
One of Phil’s hands ends up as a solid weight on his own back, the other starts playing with the slightly damp strands of Clint’s hair pillowed on his chest.
“I’m sorry this happened. It’s not your fault.”
“Feels like it.”
“It’s really not. You guys did what you could.”
Since the statement is met with silence, Phil asks,
“Do you want to talk?” but a slight shake of head is the only answer.
“That’s okay.” They kiss, and they wrap their hug even tighter.
“I love you, very much.”
“You, too.” Clint says, and just as quietly adds, “Both of you.”
A small smile lingers on the corners of his mouth when the statement is met with Phil holding him closer, and with Tony pressing a kiss to his neck before he puts his face back into the warm spot on Clint’s back that he loves nuzzling into.
The day has been long, tiring and emotional, so it doesn’t take long for the three of them to doze off. Pressed close to each other and buried in familiar body parts that feel like they were made for each other, things look just a tiny bit lighter on the horizon.
Outside, the wind and rain pick up again, plattering against the windows in an even rhythm. The electric fire in the chimney adds to the cozy feeling, with it’s flickering light that’s illuminating the otherwise half dark room.
*+~
Prompt No. 40: "Hold the Fuck Up"