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Tony stood in front of the door for almost an hour now but he couldn't make himself to open it and enter the room – the morgue – behind. He couldn't. He knew, what he would find behind it.
“Are you okay, Tony?” A voice asked and Tony snorted bitterly, but didn't bother to hide the tears on his face. Steve appeared beside him and placed his hand on his shoulder.
“What do you think?” Tony whispered and wiped away the tears.
“Do you need more time? Or company?” Steve looked at him and Tony saw the compassion in his eyes.
“Why, Steve? Why did that happen to him? To me? To us?” Tony leaned himself against the wall beside the door and hiccuped once.
“I don't know,” Steve sighed. “But at least, he saved lots of people. Lots and lots of people, Tony. He died a hero.”
“That goddamn idiot! He was unprotected! If it'd been me...” Tony wiped away another tear and stared at the ceiling, closed his eyes and pressed his lips together.
“Then you would be dead and I would be here to give comfort to Clint. Do you honestly think your suit would've protected you against a bomb this big?” Steve said quietly and looked at Tony. “It was his decision to fly away with the bomb, Tony. You couldn't have changed it, you knew him.”
“I know,” Tony whispered and Steve leaned himself against the wall beside him.
“Do you want me to accompany you?” Steve asked and gestured to the door with his chin. Tony turned his head, stared at the closed door for a very long moment and gritted his teeth. But then, when he licked his lips and pushed himself away from the wall, he nodded.
“Yes, I... I...” Tony started but couldn't finish his sentence. But Steve understood him without saying it out loud. He needed a friend right now.
Steve pushed himself off of the wall as well, went to the door and grabbed the handle. But before he opened it he looked at Tony and when the other man nodded, Steve pushed it open and made a step in the room.
It was dark in the morgue and Steve switched on the light. The room didn't have any windows but lots of steely cupboards and shelves along the walls. On one of them were the cold chambers and in the middle of the room was a steel table with a body on it, covered with a huge, white sheet. Steve looked over his shoulder if Tony followed him. And only when he saw him, he entered the room, Tony at his side.
Tony took a deep breath when he saw the body on the table. He was so still, so immobile. Nothing like the man he remembered. He closed his eyes and tried to think of Clint, of his smile, of his sparkling eyes when he planned another prank, of the laugh lines around his eyes, of his face and his body, his fingers when they held his bow or a knife or when they caressed him, Tony. Slowly he stepped up to the table, tears running over his face and he grabbed the sheet, covering the dead body of his lover. Bruce had told him that it was bad but Tony needed to see him, needed to say goodbye, needed to be sure. Steve came over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder again, squeezed it slightly and Tony was thankful, that he was here. He wasn't sure if he'd ever came into this room, if Steve weren't beside him.
Carefully he lifted the sheet a bit at the side and stopped, when he saw a hand. It was burnt with blisters and charred flaps of skin but not as bad as he'd expected it to be. He looked at Steve for a second before he finally touched Clint's hand. It was warm.
“Steve,” he whispered and swallowed hard, moved his own hand back.
“Is he supposed to be so warm?” He asked and saw the super soldier frown. “Shouldn't he be cold?”
“Maybe... maybe it's because of the fire?” Steve licked his lips nervously and that confused Tony even more but when Steve reached over and touched Clint's hand, he moved it back immediately and stared at Tony.
Tony grabbed the sheet and revealed more of Clint's body, his arm, his shoulder, the side of his face. Bruce had told him that it was bad, but his arm was almost intact, only a few small, black smudges on his skin and Tony needed to touch it.
When Tony was seventeen he had to identify his parent's bodies and they burnt in their car after a crash. It was horrible. The skin was black, peeled off and it stank horribly. But most important, both, his mom and his dad, were cold when he saw them in the morgue. He barely could recognize their faces but when he removed more of the sheet and revealed Clint's face, it was as pretty as usual.
“Steve?” Tony couldn't hold back and he saw the super soldier stare at the dead body of his lover as well. He wasn't sure, but bad was something else in his opinion.
“I... I don't understand...” Steve stammered and touched Clint's shoulder. “He's warm... almost as if...” he said and looked at Tony, as confused as the genius. They both stared at Clint, Steve leaned over him a bit and he just pointed at something and opened his mouth, when suddenly, both men screamed and jumped back, scared to death.
The dead body – the assumed dead body – of Clint Barton sat up and gasped for air!
***
Tony screamed, staggered back, and reached for something to hang on to. Steve had lost all his facial color and stared open-mouthed at the man sitting on the table, breathing heavily and trying to find out where he was. He looked at his hands, at his chest and then he looked up. At first he saw Steve, opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and then he realized that Tony was there, too.
“Tony,” he croaked quietly, more a whisper, and he tried to get up, his feet became entangled in the sheet that had covered him and he nearly fell down.
“What...” Steve started and still stared incredulously at Clint. But when Clint moved again Tony grabbed something from the tablet with the set of instruments for autopsy behind him. It was a bone saw and he held it in front of him as if to defend himself. Clint raised both his hands and shook his head.
“Tony,” he whispered and removed the sheet from his feet and rose carefully.
“No! No, no, no, no, no! You stay where you are, whoever you are!” Tony yelled and waved the bone saw around.
“It's me, Clint,” he said and held his hand so both, Steve and Tony, could see them all the time and he moved really slow now, licked his lips and his gaze switched between the two of them.
“No! NO! Clint died! I... I've seen it,” Tony waved the bone saw in Clint's direction and he made a step back. Steve looked at Tony now, worry in his face, and he seemed to deliberate if he should disarm Tony or if he should attack Clint.
“Please, let me explain,” Clint said and made a step back, his hands still raised.
“Who are you? What are you?” Tony shouted and still waved his bone saw.
“I'm Clint, babe,” he said and his eyes alternated between Steve and Tony again.
“That's impossible! Clint is dead! Bruce... Bruce said you're dead,” Tony lowered his arm and Steve reached over and took the bone saw, put it back onto the tablet.
“I can explain,” he said and looked down at himself again. He was naked save for a cloth that covered his middle and he looked around for some clothes. But there weren't any.
“But can we... I don't know... go somewhere else?” Clint gestured around and then pointed at himself. “Somewhere, where I can get some pants and a shirt? And a sandwich maybe?”
“But... but... how's that possible?” Steve seemed to wake up from his momentary stupor and he shook his head. “I've seen the quinjet explode, Clint. I've seen the remains of... of you on a stretcher. And now you're here, in the morgue, naked and whole. How's that possible?” Steve moved his hand and touched Clint's shoulder but he removed it as fast as possible the next second, visibly shocked.
“Steve, please. I'll explain everything. But...” Clint gestured at himself, at his current state of undress. “Can we...”
“We can go up to my floor,” Steve suggested but Tony shook his head vehemently.
“NO! No way that... that thing enters my tower,” he pointed at Clint who bowed his head and licked his lips.
“I'm sorry, Tony,” he said and then he looked up and the pain in his eyes was nearly palpable.
“Actually, we are already in your tower, Tony,” Steve said and turned his head to the genius. Tony had build in a complete hospital floor with everything from operating room and patient's rooms to a morgue.
“And I'm not a zombie or something like that,” Clint tried to joke but Tony paled even more. Apparently he hadn't thought of that yet.
“What are you then?” Tony asked and felt for the bone saw but Steve had put it out of his reach.
“It's a long story,” Clint shrugged with one shoulder and Tony shook his head again.
“Give me the summary!” He demanded and Clint finally nodded.
“Okay. To put it in a nutshell, as incredible as it sounds, I'm immortal,” he said. And then he waited for a reaction. But there was none. Both, Tony and Steve, just stared at him. Steve blinked one time but Tony just stared. “Guys? Can you please... I don't know... say something?” Clint asked and licked his lips, crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed his upper arms with his hands. It was cold in the morgue. That was, when Tony realized, that the last remains of the burns, he had had all over his body, were gone.
“Immortal?” Tony eventually blurted and Clint nodded slowly.
“And maybe I'm a little older than my ID says,” Clint added and shrugged again with one shoulder.
***
“Okay, spill it,” Tony demanded - a gun in one hand and a glass with whiskey in the other - after Clint was dressed and had eaten a sandwich. They sat in Steve's apartment – Tony still wasn't sure if he wanted a zombie or alien in the penthouse – and Clint leaned back against the backrest of the couch and sighed.
“Sorry, I'm always almost starving when I resurrect,” Clint said and looked at the empty plate. Steve deliberated if he should get him another one but he was more interested in his story if he was honest. And so he waited.
“I've been born during the reign of Cloten of Dyfed and Brycheiniog – that was around 650, I think – in a small village near Talgarth. That's in Wales. My name was -” and then he said something that sounded like syn-ee-ah and both, Steve and Tony, looked at each other and blinked.
“What?” Steve finally asked and Clint smirked and spelled it out. Cynwrig.
“During a battle against an enemy tribe I got killed. And two days later I woke up in a grave, buried and screaming. I had to dig myself out of my grave. Luckily they gave me my weapons. With the sword it was possible but I died two more times while digging myself out, I suffocated, got dirt in my lungs and it made it even more difficult. And then, when I walked back to my village, the people who saw me started to scream and ran away and then the warriors came and attacked me. I died again and woke and they killed me once more. They tied me up when I woke up and burnt me at the stake, called me demon.
Of course I woke up again and this time I managed to escape. My own parents and my siblings demanded, that I got burnt and...” He stopped and wiped his face, swallowed hard.
“It's okay,” Steve said and leaned his elbows on his knees.
“I left my homeland and rented out my sword and my bow to whomever could pay me,” he said, swallowed and looked down onto the ground. Steve took a deep breath and then he leaned over and placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I never came back,” Clint's voice was barely audible.
“But... I don't understand, why? Why are you immortal... if it's true,” Tony said and Steve saw the hurt in Clint's eyes. He rose, went to the kitchen and came back with a knife. He looked in Tony's eyes when he moved the blade over his arm and blood started to drip out of the wound and onto the floor. But then small sparks of some energy appeared and the wound closed itself almost immediately.
“I have no idea why it got me but there are others like me. I've met a few of them, made friends, made more enemies, killed some of them.”
“You... you killed them? I've thought it's impossible!” Steve blurted and moved his hand back from Clint's shoulder, shared glances with Tony. The genius downed his whiskey and refilled his glass to the brim and took another swallow.
“It's the game. There can be only one, I don't know. It's some bullshit about absolute power and stuff like that. If you cut off my head, I'm dead for good. If you are immortal and cut off the head of another immortal, you absorb their essence. It makes you stronger, you get their knowledge and everything. It's disturbing. I always tried to stay out of the game as far as possible. Sometimes I get challenged but... I don't like it. I never wanted it but I had to make the best of it.”
“So,” Tony started and took another long sip from his whiskey before he put the empty glass down on the table between them and gestured with his gun. “You are immortal. And you never thought about telling me? I mean, we were together!” He yelled and Clint's head snapped up.
“Were?” He asked carefully, again that pain in his eyes.
“I...” Tony stopped and wiped his face. “I don't know if you... if you are still the man I fell in love with,” he murmured then and looked away for a second.
“I've never lied to you, Tony,” Clint said and shook his head slightly. Tony's eyes went wide and it seemed as if they would pop out of their sockets any moment.
“You... you never lied?” Tony yelled and waved around the gun and Steve looked at Clint nervously. He didn't like the fact that he had the gun but Tony had insisted, in case Clint was a brain-eating zombie and he needed to stop him.
“I didn't tell you some facts, but I never lied.”
“Some facts,” Tony snorted and pressed the gun onto his forehead. “You tell me you are more than thousand years old!”
“Tony,” Clint rose but when he wanted to move in Tony's direction the genius raised his head and moved his hand to aim at him. Clint raised his hands to show him that he was unarmed and no threat. “Tony, babe. I've never told you because I was scared that you wouldn't believe me, that you would leave me. I can't lose you, Tony,” he said and made a step in his direction. Tony unwillingly moved his head and finally placed the gun on the table. Clint closed the distance between him and Tony and Steve took the gun and left the room after nodding at Tony reassuringly.
Clint wrapped his arm around Tony's head, pulled him close to his chest and kissed the top of his head. “I love you, babe, and that I'm a little bit older than I look doesn't change my feelings for you.”
Tony finally wrapped his arms around Clint's middle and pressed his face against his chest.
“I will love you as long as I live,” Clint murmured and kissed Tony's forehead and the genius looked up at him.
“You mean, as long as I live,” he said and swallowed.
“No, I mean as long as I live,” he hunkered down in front of Tony, took his face in both hands and looked in his eyes. “I was in love before, Tony. I lost them.” He looked onto the ground. “But the love... the love is still here,” he pointed at his chest, his heart. “The love will always be here. I will love you, Tony, as long as I live.”
“Now you sound a little cheesy,” Tony snorted and it sounded a little bit like a sob but then he had a smile on his face, a sad smile. “I'm glad, that you're not dead,” he said and rose. “I'm... I'm glad... I wouldn't... I couldn't...” he started but he didn't manage to finish his sentence, Clint interrupted him with a kiss.
“Hey, and there's another advantage. I don't age, too. So, when you're hundred, you will still have this smoking hot boyfriend,” Clint smirked and Tony slapped his arm but he still didn't let go of him, held him as close as possible. And then he kissed him again.
***
“Soo...” Tony drawled and turned in their bed to look at Clint, who lay beside him, his arm around Tony's shoulders. He moved his hand onto his chest and started to tease his nipples.
“Yes, Tony,” Clint said and smiled and maybe he was a little aroused. He had always had sensitive nipples and Tony had talented fingers. Very talented fingers.
“You're more than thousand years old...” he stopped and licked his lips and then a mischievous grin appeared on his face. “You do not know, by chance, who's been this famous archer?”
“If you want to ask me if I was Robin Hood, then I have to disappoint you,” Clint shrugged with a smirk and Tony raised his brow. “Robin Hood wasn't only one person, there were more than one. Robin was a very popular name at the time and the 'Hood' meant, that they were outlaws,” Clint explained. But then his smirk broadened. “But there was this one Robin Hood, a good guy, a good archer, stole from the rich, gave it to the poor,” he said and Tony slapped his chest.
“I knew it! That's been you, right?” He sat up and turned to look at him properly. “You've been Robin Hood, right?”
“No,” Clint shook his head and Tony's face fell. “But who do you think taught him, how to shoot?”
Tony shook his head but couldn't hold back the chuckle. “I love you, syn-ee-ah,” he said then.
“Rwyf wrth fy modd i chi, hefyd.”