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Clint looked up from the magazine he was perusing when Tony flopped down on the couch with his usual tumbler of Scotch. “Done doing evil for the day?”
“If by evil, you mean giving Fury a migraine, then yes, my work is done for the day.”
Clint softly chuckled. “I thought that was just a past time for you.”
Tony shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “So what have you been doing?”
“Spent some time on the range and caught up on some paperwork Phil had been bugging me about,” Clint answered with a tired grin.
“Sounds like fun.”
“You know it,” Clint quipped. “So let me ask you something.”
“Sure.”
“How certain are you that you don’t have a twin?”
"What makes you ask that?"
Clint held up a month old issue of GQ he had been quietly flipping through. It was open to an ad hawking a rather expensive looking watch on the wrist of a model who bore an uncanny resemblance to the billionaire.
It wasn’t the first time he had run across this particular model, but it was the first time he had a chance to indulge his curiosity. His lover was an incredibly private man and they were still getting to know each other despite being together for almost six months.
"Oh," Tony breathed. He had forgotten about that ad.
"That all you got?"
Tony quickly regrouped and countered with, "I'll answer your question if you will answer one of mine."
"Okay," Clint agreed. He set the magazine back on the coffee table.
"Why are you looking at old issues of GQ?"
"I was looking for ideas on what to get Phil for his birthday," Clint explained. “I wanted to get him something other than another tie.”
“Yes, he does have a rather extensive tie collection,” Tony softly quipped. He wasn’t going to admit that he rather liked some of the ties in said collection. “That your doing or Tasha’s?”
“You know me and Phil are the only ones allowed to use that nickname,” Clint reminded Tony.
“We’ve come to an agreement,” Tony replied with a grimace. “I can use it if I promise to never call her Nat again because as she so gently reminded me she is not an annoying, flying insect.”
"More me than her,” Clint admitted with chagrin. “And, she must have gotten you good.”
“Yeah, I was bruised for a week,” Tony whined.
Clint laughed which caused Tony to pout. “If that was all you suffered then she was being gentle with you.”
“Tell that to my pride.”
“Poor baby,” Clint said and then he leaned over to brush a soft kiss against Tony’s lips.
A kiss that Tony returned and let Clint break before it became too heated since he had a feeling that Clint was more interested in having his question answered than in sex.
Clint pulled back and looked Tony directly in the eye. “So is this a doppelganger or really you?"
"It's me," Tony quietly admitted.
"Why?"
"It was something I started doing while I was in college so I could have some money that was mine and not Howard’s," Tony explained. "Now, I do it for fun and donate the money to charity."
"I thought you disliked having your picture taken all the time," Clint surmised having seen how stressed Tony got when he was harassed by the paparazzi.
"I do," Tony agreed. "But, Eddy Carter doesn't."
"I like it. Has a nice ring to it,” Clint said with a smirk. “So what was Howard’s reaction when he found out?”
"Pissed the bastard off to no end. He threatened to disown me.”
"Ouch."
"Wasn't the first time."
"Somehow that doesn't surprise me."
Tony shrugged. "Wasn't much for authority figures back then."
"You still aren't."
"Touché."
"Any way I could get Eddy to recreate a particular pose?"
"Depends on the pose."
Clint uncurled himself from the couch and walked over to the book shelf near the large screen T.V. He ran his finger along the spines of old issues of GQ he had spotted months earlier and selected an issue that had come out a few months after Tony’s return from Afghanistan. It was a personal favorite, but he wasn’t going to tell Tony that. He flipped it open to a remembered page and held it out to Tony.
Tony took one look at it and started to chuckle. “This is one photo shoot I do remember,” he remarked. “I missed an awards ceremony for it and Obie blew a gasket when he found out.”
“Wasn’t that the awards ceremony you were supposed to attend in Vegas?”
“Yeah.”
“Way I heard it you gambled the night away before taking home a reporter from Vanity Fair.”
“It’s amazing what money can buy one.”
“Indeed,” Clint murmured thoroughly amused. “So would you be willing to recreate it?”
“I’m not certain how appealing it would be with the scars and the reactor,” Tony said with a slight grimace. He didn’t like flaunting the arc reactor, but he trusted Clint not to take advantage of him. “But Eddy could be talked into it."
“Good, because I got the perfect idea for Phil’s birthday present,” Clint said his eyes crinkling with a smile that had Tony suddenly wondering what he had just agreed to.
“And that is?”
“This pose with an addition.”
“What would this addition be?”
Clint tossed the magazine onto the coffee table returning to the couch and taking Tony’s hands in his before softly answering, “Me.”
“Are you thinking of giving Phil this picture as an invitation to join us?” Tony gently inquired.
“I am, but if it bothers you, we don’t have to go through with it,” Clint replied. “You know I would never do anything to hurt you.”
"I know. I trust you with my life," Tony said giving Clint's hands a reassuring squeeze before taking one and placing it on his chest over the arc reactor. "I can trust you with this."
Clint swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. "Thank you," he whispered awed by the amount of trust Tony placed in him. Not many people had ever given him that level of trust and it had only gotten worse after the shit Loki had put him through.
Tony nodded. He let Clint pull his hand away from his chest as the archer set back on the couch still a bit awe-struck. "So how long have you been thinking about asking Phil to join us?"
"For awhile now," Clint answered. "He'll give us the balance and stability to keep us from flying apart."
"He will," Tony agreed.
“You’ve been thinking about it too, haven’t you?”
Tony gave Clint his patented devil-may-care smirk. “I like Phil. He’s like Pepper. He calls me on my shit and just rolls his eyes whenever I blow up my workshop, plus he has a wickedly dry wit that I miss when he’s off on a mission.”
“That describes him perfectly,” Clint admitted with a dry chuckle. “So are we on the same page concerning his present?”
Tony stood up and then pulled Clint to his feet as well. “Let’s go make Phil a very happy birthday boy.”
Fin or is it?