Fic: "Gotta Catch 'em All" (4 of 6), Avengers, Clint/EVERYONE, Steve/Tony, NC-17
Yes, the chapters keep getting longer. I know. That's one reason why this fic took forever to finish ;)
Title: Gotta Catch 'em All (part 4/6)
Fandom: The Avengers
Characters/Pairings: Clint Barton centric. As for the pairings: Clint/Phil, Steve/Tony, Clint/Natasha, Clint/Tony, Clint/Bruce, Clint/Thor, Clint/Steve (yes, I am serious! lol!)
Rating: NC-17 baby
Word count: this chapter: 4 900 words, 20K overall
Summary: A classic 5 times + 1 story. Or maybe not. (aka the working title was "Clint gets some action")
A/N: The fic is complete and I will post the chapters as they come back from my fabulous beta, zelda_zee (thank you so much for such a fantastic job, love!). More notes on chapter 1
Ch.1, 2, 3
Can also be read on AO3
Chapter four: Work It Harder Make It Better
After the gym adventure, Clint expects that the UST between Steve and Tony will finally lead somewhere. Those two have been circling each other since the moment they’d met, the initial animosity dulling down over time until it morphed into a strong friendship. Oh, a friendship with a fuckload of arguments, that's for sure, but nonetheless Steve&Tony is a thing, they're almost attached at the hip. Or they were, as it happens, because suddenly, even though Steve is trying - badly - to be subtle about it, he's avoiding Tony the best he can.
Out in the field everything is A-okay and it’s business as usual. But off it? Steve acts pretty much normal except when Tony is there. Clint would put it down to a temporary gay freak-out, but Steve's not been avoiding him at all, even though the first couple of days were fidgety and without much eye contact. They still spar, and Clint may or may not have had hot flashes the first couple of times those hands held him down in any way, but it only took a joke or two and Steve was laughing with him, amused more than embarrassed.
Some may say Tony Stark is self-absorbed, but he's definitely noticed the Steve Rogers-sized hole at his side by now. There's only so many excuses Steve can make to avoid going to get a coffee or watching a movie with Tony before he notices. The result is that, more often than not, Tony reverts to asshole mode when he's brushed off. Case in point is the train wreck happening right in front of Clint's eyes.
He'd been on the roof with Tony to test how the new fletchings for his arrows Tony had developed react to live conditions - Tony still talks about building their personal wind-tunnel, though they're not there yet - when Steve comes out, sketch pad in hand. It's a fraction of a second, but his face falls before he composes a sunny smile. Tony saw the tell too and grows tense all over.
"Hey guys, what are you doing?" Steve asks.
"You're a bright guy, I'm sure you can guess," Tony snarks, taking an arrow and passing it over.
Clint fits it to the bowstring. "New vanes, more precision. Not that I actually need help in that department, but they’re pretty cool," he says, nudging Tony with an elbow.
Tony snorts. "Keep telling yourself that and then come back to kiss my feet when you can fire these babies in a hurricane and hit a bullseye without even trying. I have no idea why, for a weapon that's been, you know, basically the same for fourteen thousand years, no one ever thought to..."
He's about to launch in the expected techno-babble laced with mockery that is Tony's default language when Steve backs up towards the door leading to the tower. Normally, Steve loves hearing Tony rattle away even if he's no better than the rest of the world at understanding what he’s saying. He'd smile indulgently and use the well tested 'uh huh', 'really?' and 'that's cool' they all revert to. But he's not doing that right now, he's running away, again.
"That sounds great, I'll leave you to it then..." Steve says, still with that fake smile. Tony abruptly shuts up and in an instant all the shutters come down, just as quick as when the armor assembles around him. He holds up a hand.
"No need, I'm done here," he says, storming towards the door and Steve quickly steps aside to let him pass, as if he'd get burned if they touch. Tony notices that too, and all but snarls at him, before doing the best he can to slam the door behind him.
Steve stares at the door, looking miserable, and all of the frustration Clint that has been piling up for two weeks now boils over.
"What the ever-loving fuck is the matter with you, Rogers?" he hisses.
Steve's face falls even more before it morphs into something darker, angry, and he kicks at the wall beside the door with enough force bend the metal.
"Damn it!" he growls, and Clint's pretty sure he's this close to punching the wall as well.
"Hey, Rogers!" Clint shouts, stalking over. "I asked you a question here."
The look Steve shoots him is fierce.
"It’s none of your business, Barton," he barks.
Clint might not stand a chance at one-on-one against Captain America, but that doesn't stop him as he gets in Steve's face, craning his head up to look at him in the eyes.
"The hell it's not. You’re hurting my friend for no reason at all here, so that makes it my business, do you get that?" he says, low and threatening.
Steve blinks and it's as if all of the fight goes out of him at once, leaving only hurt and self-loathing.
"Oh, God, I know. I know. I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I just want things to be normal again."
"Then stop acting like a tool. Tony thinks he did something wrong and that you don't want to be his friend anymore, why would you do that?"
"What? No! He didn't do anything wrong! Why would he think..."
Clint laughs bitterly. "Come on, Steve, you know Tony would blame himself for the dinosaurs going extinct if he found a way to do it. You don't want to spend time with him anymore, ergo in his mind he fucked up. Stark 101."
"Shit. It's not him, it's -
"- it's you. Yeah right, that's always the greatest conversation to have. You decided you don't want to do anything about how you're attracted to him? Fine, I get that." Clint gets that way too much, in fact. "But don't make him pay for your cowardice. It's your fucking problem."
"It's not cowardice," Steve says, jaw set.
"Tactical reasoning?" Clint mocks. It's not like he can't relate, he's got unattainable dreams too, but he doesn't act like a jackass to the object of his affections.. "See if that keeps you warm at night, because newsflash, it doesn't. Get over yourself or you might lose a friend forever. Or even more than one."
Steve's hangdog expression is lethal so Clint goes before he can be mollified. Unsurprisingly, Tony went right down to his workshop, and JARVIS must sense it's not a good time to leave his boss alone because the door opens without Clint needing to punch in a code. It appears that Tony went straight to the armor, which again is not a big surprise. The fact that he's less than careful with it is, however.
"Are you trying to break it or what?" Clint asks as Tony pries off a gauntlet using a foot long screwdriver and an odd motion in a barely visible joint.
Tony tenses in surprise; he obviously hadn't heard him come in.
"Faster this way," he says. "What do you want?"
He's still pissed, that much is clear. But more than anything, he looks hurt and Clint can't brush that aside.
"We still have some testing to do, I believe," he says.
Tony sighs wearily. "Yeah, sorry about that. I've never been really good at dealing with being where I'm not wanted, so..."
Clint is surprised he's not avoiding the issue.
"We could kick Cap off the roof?" he offers.
Tony seems to surprise himself with a laugh and looks at him sideways with a smirk. "Nah, not worth the nagging. We tested enough, my new fletchings are awesome. What do you really want?"
Frankly he just wants to be sure Tony is okay, but he can't say that because he'd be brushed aside. But since sometimes Clint lies down in his bed at night thinking of cool stuff that Tony could maybe conjure up like a magician (and make it a hundred times better than his idea because that's just how Tony is), it's easy to voice one of those fantasies out loud.
"You may have noticed how I have the unfortunate tendency to fall off high rises?" he asks.
"No kidding! That's why I have a feed on you at all times," Tony says with a smile and that Clint's being caught by metal arms more often than not is suddenly less surprising.
"Really?" Clint asks, thoroughly pleased. Every leap of faith he takes on the field generally comes with a contingency plan, though never have his team let him down. He had no idea Tony was monitoring him specifically. On the other hand, he must be tracking everyone, that's just what Tony does.
"Well yeah. Do you have any idea how much shit we'd get from Coulson if you ended up pancaked on the pavement?"
Clint can't help the way his heart jumps at that before remembering that Phil would throw a fit at losing anyone.
"Still afraid of the taser, Stark?"
"I can neither confirm nor deny," Tony says with a wink. "So, what? About you falling, what were you thinking about?"
"Well I have that grappling hook arrow you made me that I keep as a last second kind of thing. But we assume that I'll be able to fire it when needed," Clint starts. Don't get him wrong, that arrow has more than once helped him get out of a hot spot, he loves it, but...
Tony's already turning to his table computer, snapping the monitors open and generating holograms out of thin air.
"Oh, I see," Tony says. "Maybe something you've got coiled on your person - unobtrusive, extra-strength wire with a hook and magnet in a throw-able head that can be either shot or manually thrown."
"Or that I can secure before jumping," Clint offers.
Tony snaps his fingers. "I could make it able to scan the immediate area and find a good anchor point if you’re in motion. It also could be activated by voice control."
And yes, that's exactly what Clint hoped for and more. They shoot ideas around and Clint sees it take life on the computer in a matter of minutes. Tony flaunts the word “genius” around, but he's entitled, because he really is, and it's a thing of beauty to see in action. Creating something new helps with Tony's mood in an efficient fashion when he gets totally absorbed by it. Clint thinks he handled this crisis pretty well, if he says so himself.
When they wind down and Tony gives JARVIS the instructions to start making a prototype, Tony checks a monitor and does a double take.
"Three already? Damn, time flies. I promised Pepper I'd go berate my engineers in R&D this afternoon. She suggested showing interest in their work for motivation purposes, but we all know it's going to end in bitter tears. If you want, I could let you see the plans for the new Quinjet?"
Clint gapes a little. "The new Quinjet?" he asks. "It's barely six months old, and it cost, like, a billion dollars!"
Tony hand-waves the objection. "Eight hundred million or so. But as you said, it's six months old!" He makes it sound like that's a fatal flaw, complete with a horrified face. "The current Quinjet is a prototype, and I've collected enough data for improvements. Plus, I'll be able to lease it to SHIELD or the Air Force for a hefty fee when the new one's ready, so it's a win-win all around. You've piloted it, so if you have additional input, anything at all? Just tell JARVIS. JARVIS?"
"Yes, Mister Stark," the AI says and a 3D hologram model appears over the main worktable. It's sleek, utterly gorgeous, and Clint has absolutely no worries that it will kick all kinds of ass. With a sight touch to the side of the model, he can make it spin this way and that, seeing all angles.
Tony is now at the live-in part of the lab, where Clint suspects he sleeps more often than not. There's a closet from which Tony fishes out a suit still in the dry cleaning bag; he then starts to strip out of his jeans and t-shirt to get dressed. Clint can't help looking because... well it's Tony Stark. When he told Bruce that someone good looking, funny, smart, and competent turned him on, he was not lying, and who embodies those qualities more than Tony Fucking Stark? He snorts when he notes the Ironman silk boxers as they disappear under perfectly tailored slacks, but then his gaze climbs up to Tony shrugging on a crisp dark grey shirt, skims the arc reactor, and travel upwards only to meet the man's eyes. Who's looking right back at him, head cocked to the side and considering. Oh, shit, Clint has time to think as he turns his attention to the jet model once again, you've totally been caught, Barton. Horrors of horrors, Clint can feel his ears heat up.
"Huh," Tony says and Clint looks back at him, determined not to let this be a big deal.
The bastard now has a predatory grin and there's absolutely no better word to describe what comes next but that he prowls towards him.
"See something you like, Clint?" he asks, playful and seductive, which makes heat pool in Clint's gut.
Clint can play the arrogant asshole part too, so he swallows his nerves and leans against the display table, cocking a hip and conjuring a smirk of his own. When Tony stops advancing, now just a couple of feet away, Clint gives him a slow and heated once over. He's pretty sure Tony is not messing with him right now, but he can give as good as he gets.
"You're not too shabby for an old man," he says once done, which makes Tony throw his head back and laugh.
"Ouch. Why so mean, Clint? And here I thought maybe we could have had a little fun together," Tony says, taking another step forward, bringing him within easy touching distance. His eyes never leave Clint's face, assessing every reaction.
"Because that's such a great idea," Clint says. In truth, he's lost that particular battle already, and he knows he's going to fold if Tony pushes even one bit.
Tony knows it too and he laughs again. "Everybody knows I'm the king of bad ideas. But, we should never forget that I also own the market for very, very fun ideas, too." He reaches out to caress Clint's arm with the back of his knuckles. It makes goosebumps raise on Clint's arms, right up to the nape of his neck. "Come on, what do you say? I haven't been fucked in a while."
Clint almost chokes at that, and he doesn't even have time to process that Tony is flush against his chest before he's being pulled into a kiss. Tony kisses to make a point and it's very, very convincing.
"C'mon," Tony coaxes against his lips when they barely break apart. "Getting laid would improve my day tenfold."
And... well it's a wet dream come true, Clint's not gonna lie. Instead of words, Clint answers by grabbing Stark's ass and pulling him flush, which makes Tony laugh and say, "Awesome. You won't regret this."
"What, you offer a guarantee?"
"You bet I do," Tony says, eyes sparking. "Great sex, don't accept anything else. For the record, I’ve never had any complaints."
"Yeah yeah," Clint says before kissing Tony again, helping him shrug off the shirt and then geting to work on the pants. Tony manages to undress Clint at the same time and for some inexplicable reason it feels like his hands are everywhere. When Clint's pants finally fall, Tony goes with them, kneeling as he helps him get them off. It's not surprising at all when Tony then looks back up with a devious grin.
"I suppose you won't mind if I suck your dick right now?" he asks, a hand already on Clint's cock; the bastard is literally licking his lips, eager.
"Not at all," Clint all but squeaks (he doesn't think anyone could blame him).
"It's been a while since I've done this," Tony says brightly, as if he's glad for the opportunity, and then he just goes to town, doing a frankly indecent tongue trick before sucking him in.
It turns out that Tony Stark is one gifted cocksucker. It's a combination of impressive technique, enthusiasm, and an almost uncanny mind-reading ability that within two minutes has Clint gripping the workbench's edge hard to stay mostly still and not fuck Tony’s face. As absolutely hot as it is to see Tony Gag-Reflex-What-Gag-Reflex? Stark blow you, with his total focus cataloguing and exploiting every little reaction, Clint has to close his eyes or he's going to get off too fast.
It's not that coming down Tony's throat isn't an appealing idea, because this is probably the best blow job he's gotten in his life and he's rapidly losing all upper brain function, but there was another plan. A good one at that.
"Oh, God, fuck that's good," Clint pants. "But you talked about fucking?"
Tony pulls off and Clint opens his eyes, ready to take the words back because he wants that mouth on him again; that would be really good right about now instead of the cool ambient air. But looking at Tony is almost the jolt to send him over the edge because the damn dexterous bastard is actually prepping himself with the hand not holding Clint's dick, and has what looks like two fingers up his ass, maybe three. Clint groans and Tony squeezes the base of his cock firmly.
"Oh yeah, so don't you even think of coming yet," Tony says, voice rough from the abuse on his throat. Then, tragedy of tragedy, he gets up and Clint all but pouts before he's being kissed again. But a Tony on his feet means that Clint's got access to the fun parts now too, and he fists Tony's erection, reveling in the drawn out moan it pulls out of him. "Fuck yeah. Come on," Tony says, walking backwards towards the couch and taking the little nondescript bottle he's been using as lube with them. He stops to fish a condom out of one of his suit jackets and he all but purrs at Clint as he rolls it on his cock.
"So, are you going to give it to me?" he asks, eyes gleaming in a teasing dare.
"You bet," Clint says, manhandling Tony around and bending him over the couch's arm, which makes him laugh.
"Ohhh, yeah, I like it. Come on," he says as Clint kicks his feet further apart and dribbles what turns out to be some kind of extremely slick oil from the little bottle Tony used on his fingers. He supposes that it must not be toxic or Tony wouldn't put it up his ass. Well in theory, because who knows with that guy? He slips two fingers right in, easy, and fuck, this is going to be so good. Tony's moaning shamelessly, pushing back on his hand and Clint can't help caressing the curve of his spine.
"You're gorgeous," he says, a little awed. "Open up for me," he adds, scissoring his fingers before adding a third that has Tony grunt and buck, not so silently asking for more. "You love it, look at you."
"Oh yeah," Tony pants, but since being a smart-ass doesn't seem to be hindered by sex, he follows it by: "I like it when you talk dirty to me, baby. Now if you could kindly fuck me..."
A pushy bottom, then; no one is surprised.
"You're a piece of work," Clint says as he slicks oil on the condom and starts to push in.
"Don't pretend you're surprised," Tony says with a laugh.
He's trying to be careful and considerate but Tony's doing most of the work, pushing back while not shutting up for one second with ordering Clint to just do it, fuck him, he doesn't have all day. Mostly it makes Clint laugh while trying not to lose it too soon; it feels fantastic and Tony nearly brought him to the edge only minutes ago, after all. He manages to pin Tony to the couch with a hand braced between his shoulder blades - the all-body shudder and shameless moan at that move is very very interesting - and then proceeds to fuck him hard and fast just to shut him up. It works up to a point: monosyllabic words and curses are the best he can hope for, it seems.
Clint keeps Tony down with the hand on his back and the other with a firm grip on his hip, hanging onto his control by sheer force of will. He's got a chance to fuck Tony Stark, and he's gonna make sure it's good for him (there's pressure to perform with a guy who's gotten around so much, Clint's competitive like that. Right now, though, Tony seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself).
"How's that?" Clint pants.
"Great, yeah, fuck. Just..." Tony shifts minutely, changing the angle slightly and he gets even louder, makes it hard to keep Clint’s own arousal in check. If he doesn't finish Tony soon, he's going to come first and that's not what Clint wants at all.
"You feel so great, God," Clint says, and he can feel it building, he's got to speed this up. The obvious solution is to pull Tony a bit closer to him and then reach around, gripping his cock, which makes Tony shout.
"Yes, yes, please, come on," he starts to beg and it's slick and easy to jack him, he's so wet with precome.
"Are you going to come for me?" Clint asks, speeding his strokes as Tony all but squirms against him, pushing back to take what he needs, all sensual moves and total abandon. Clint's never been with a guy who enjoys being fucked that much, or sex in general that fully, and it's incredibly arousing. "That's it, come on," Clint coos when Tony's rhythm finally starts to get slightly erratic.
It's just before he comes that Tony falls totally silent at last, as if suspended on the edge before crashing, shuddering in Clint's grasp. His orgasm makes him spasm around Clint's cock in such a way that he finds himself racing to the finish line too, barely managing to fuck Tony through it before he comes with a grunt, pleasure so vivid it punches the breath out of him. It takes long seconds before he gulps air again, rocking slightly to ride the aftershocks as Tony finally finds his voice back.
"Oh yeah," he says, almost purring with contentment.
Clint's drained, to be honest, and it's through a haze that he pulls out and ties the condom. Tony gets rid of it and then Clint slumps down on the other end of the couch while Tony wipes off the mess with the previously discarded clothes. He should get dressed and think about leaving, but Clint thinks he deserves a second to bask in the satisfaction of crossing one item off his bucket list.
Tony flops down on the couch, too, his head in Clint's lap and grins up at him.
"That was great!" he declares, stretching both arms over his head like a satisfied cat.
It's impossible not to smile back and Clint loves how totally at ease Tony is right now. His hair is ridiculous, sticking up all over the place and Clint combs his fingers through it.
"Yes it was," he agrees. He's been on a lucky streak lately.
Suddenly an idea flashes through his brain and Clint starts to laugh. He's like a Pokemon Master, but for sex with the Avengers. He remembers hearing all about Pokemons from the little brother of an ex and how the goal was to catch them all. That's pretty much what Clint did. Every. Single. Avenger. He so wins.
"What?" Tony asks, curious.
"Nah, it's nothing. Just cracking myself up here, don't worry." If only Tony knew he was the last... Clint's not sure if he'd be offended by that or if he'd be pleased that he wasn't the easiest to get.
"I want to laugh, too," Tony pouts.
"I can't just be in a good mood?" Clint asks. It makes Tony grin, and he probably puts it down to the sex (which he would be 95% in the right about).
With a last comb of Tony's hair, Clint bends down and kisses his forehead before he manhandles him out of the way and gets up. Where are his boxers again? Right, by the work bench. Clint whistles the Pokemon theme song as he puts on his clothes and he can't help but notice that Tony looks beside himself at having info withheld from him.
"JARVIS, what's that tune?" Tony asks, as he starts getting dressed too.
Clint stops abruptly, but of course JARVIS has an answer. "It appears to be a quite passable rendition of the Pokemon theme song."
Tony makes a face and Clint worries for a second that he's going to make a connection - he won't, right? - before Tony shrugs it off.
"You’re weird. You know that, right?" Tony says.
Clint laughs again and winks.
"It’s part of my charm," he says. He's still damp with sweat and his t-shirt is sticking to his body uncomfortably; he definitely needs to go shower. "See ya," Clint says.
"Yeah, I see how it is, wham bam and no gratitude at all. Didn't peg you as a love 'em and leave 'em type of guy." The banter is genuine and Clint can clearly read the underlying relief that things are easy and comfortable right now in Tony's body language, even when the heat of the moment has passed.
Clint grins as he opens the door, exiting backwards, "Uh huh, didn't you patent that move? Do I need to play royalties?"
He has to duck a rolled sock and laughs as he closes the door between them, stopping the second sock from hitting him on the forehead. Clint takes a moment to savor the moment because holy shit, he really just fucked Tony Stark. The elation lasts for about 2 seconds because when Clint turns around it's to see a stern Steve Rogers who's scanning him up and down. He looks at Tony's sock and back again. Great, just what Clint needed. But he won't feel bad about this, oh no he won't.
"Steve," he says with a nod, fully intending to leave it at that as he walks past... only to have his arm grabbed.
"What is going on here?" Steve all but hisses as he stops him. He looms, which Steve generally keeps for Supervillains, but Clint won't be intimidated.
"You're a bright guy, I'm sure you can guess," Clint parrots Tony's earlier line.
Steve's nostril flare, and Clint doesn't know if it's because he reeks of sex or if Steve's just so jealous he's greener than the Hulk. The hand on Clint's bicep squeezes a bit tighter.
"You little - " Steve starts, but Clint cuts him off immediately.
"Oh, shut up. You made it clear you wouldn't make a move, you have no right to be pissed."
The truth doesn't seem to mollify Steve all that much.
"I never said that," Cap protests vehemently, but it's a dirty lie. Earlier on the roof, it was absolutely clear he never planned to man up. "Now I'm going in there, and if all goes well you'll keep your hands off him."
Clint snorts. "Caveman much? I'll keep my hands off if Tony says so. Who, by the way, jumped me and not the other way around," he can't resist adding, because Clint got a great afterglow ruined and he's pissed off.
He shakes Steve's hand off his arm, who all but growls at him before turning to the workshop door. Clint barely resist the urge to stick his tongue out as Steve enters his code and storms in, and he hears a surprised 'Steve?' before the door shuts. Okay, so that could go either very well or very badly for them, but it's not Clint's concern anymore; he flips the bird at the door before turning to go towards his room.
Clint must have done absolutely terrible things in a previous life because Phil Coulson, of all people, is standing ten feet away, jaw clenched, and Clint's stomach drops to the vicinity of his heels. What is it with this fucking corridor right now that’s bringing on the most inappropriate encounters possible at the worst possible time? Clint straightens up because it's not like he's ashamed or anything, but he expects Phil to make a crack about how he hopes he just hallucinated Clint and Steve fighting over Tony. Instead, what happens is that there's a flash of genuine hurt on Phil's face before he covers it up with the blandest expression ever. They stare at each other silently for long seconds before Phil turns around and sees himself out.
Clint's been shot in the gut before, so he knows that kind of pain, and it's pretty much what this moment feels like. Fuck. Maybe, just maybe, Phil had been interested in him after all and Clint just ruined everything.
( chapter 5
Title: Gotta Catch 'em All (part 4/6)
Fandom: The Avengers
Characters/Pairings: Clint Barton centric. As for the pairings: Clint/Phil, Steve/Tony, Clint/Natasha, Clint/Tony, Clint/Bruce, Clint/Thor, Clint/Steve (yes, I am serious! lol!)
Rating: NC-17 baby
Word count: this chapter: 4 900 words, 20K overall
Summary: A classic 5 times + 1 story. Or maybe not. (aka the working title was "Clint gets some action")
A/N: The fic is complete and I will post the chapters as they come back from my fabulous beta, zelda_zee (thank you so much for such a fantastic job, love!). More notes on chapter 1
Ch.1, 2, 3
Can also be read on AO3
Chapter four: Work It Harder Make It Better
After the gym adventure, Clint expects that the UST between Steve and Tony will finally lead somewhere. Those two have been circling each other since the moment they’d met, the initial animosity dulling down over time until it morphed into a strong friendship. Oh, a friendship with a fuckload of arguments, that's for sure, but nonetheless Steve&Tony is a thing, they're almost attached at the hip. Or they were, as it happens, because suddenly, even though Steve is trying - badly - to be subtle about it, he's avoiding Tony the best he can.
Out in the field everything is A-okay and it’s business as usual. But off it? Steve acts pretty much normal except when Tony is there. Clint would put it down to a temporary gay freak-out, but Steve's not been avoiding him at all, even though the first couple of days were fidgety and without much eye contact. They still spar, and Clint may or may not have had hot flashes the first couple of times those hands held him down in any way, but it only took a joke or two and Steve was laughing with him, amused more than embarrassed.
Some may say Tony Stark is self-absorbed, but he's definitely noticed the Steve Rogers-sized hole at his side by now. There's only so many excuses Steve can make to avoid going to get a coffee or watching a movie with Tony before he notices. The result is that, more often than not, Tony reverts to asshole mode when he's brushed off. Case in point is the train wreck happening right in front of Clint's eyes.
He'd been on the roof with Tony to test how the new fletchings for his arrows Tony had developed react to live conditions - Tony still talks about building their personal wind-tunnel, though they're not there yet - when Steve comes out, sketch pad in hand. It's a fraction of a second, but his face falls before he composes a sunny smile. Tony saw the tell too and grows tense all over.
"Hey guys, what are you doing?" Steve asks.
"You're a bright guy, I'm sure you can guess," Tony snarks, taking an arrow and passing it over.
Clint fits it to the bowstring. "New vanes, more precision. Not that I actually need help in that department, but they’re pretty cool," he says, nudging Tony with an elbow.
Tony snorts. "Keep telling yourself that and then come back to kiss my feet when you can fire these babies in a hurricane and hit a bullseye without even trying. I have no idea why, for a weapon that's been, you know, basically the same for fourteen thousand years, no one ever thought to..."
He's about to launch in the expected techno-babble laced with mockery that is Tony's default language when Steve backs up towards the door leading to the tower. Normally, Steve loves hearing Tony rattle away even if he's no better than the rest of the world at understanding what he’s saying. He'd smile indulgently and use the well tested 'uh huh', 'really?' and 'that's cool' they all revert to. But he's not doing that right now, he's running away, again.
"That sounds great, I'll leave you to it then..." Steve says, still with that fake smile. Tony abruptly shuts up and in an instant all the shutters come down, just as quick as when the armor assembles around him. He holds up a hand.
"No need, I'm done here," he says, storming towards the door and Steve quickly steps aside to let him pass, as if he'd get burned if they touch. Tony notices that too, and all but snarls at him, before doing the best he can to slam the door behind him.
Steve stares at the door, looking miserable, and all of the frustration Clint that has been piling up for two weeks now boils over.
"What the ever-loving fuck is the matter with you, Rogers?" he hisses.
Steve's face falls even more before it morphs into something darker, angry, and he kicks at the wall beside the door with enough force bend the metal.
"Damn it!" he growls, and Clint's pretty sure he's this close to punching the wall as well.
"Hey, Rogers!" Clint shouts, stalking over. "I asked you a question here."
The look Steve shoots him is fierce.
"It’s none of your business, Barton," he barks.
Clint might not stand a chance at one-on-one against Captain America, but that doesn't stop him as he gets in Steve's face, craning his head up to look at him in the eyes.
"The hell it's not. You’re hurting my friend for no reason at all here, so that makes it my business, do you get that?" he says, low and threatening.
Steve blinks and it's as if all of the fight goes out of him at once, leaving only hurt and self-loathing.
"Oh, God, I know. I know. I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I just want things to be normal again."
"Then stop acting like a tool. Tony thinks he did something wrong and that you don't want to be his friend anymore, why would you do that?"
"What? No! He didn't do anything wrong! Why would he think..."
Clint laughs bitterly. "Come on, Steve, you know Tony would blame himself for the dinosaurs going extinct if he found a way to do it. You don't want to spend time with him anymore, ergo in his mind he fucked up. Stark 101."
"Shit. It's not him, it's -
"- it's you. Yeah right, that's always the greatest conversation to have. You decided you don't want to do anything about how you're attracted to him? Fine, I get that." Clint gets that way too much, in fact. "But don't make him pay for your cowardice. It's your fucking problem."
"It's not cowardice," Steve says, jaw set.
"Tactical reasoning?" Clint mocks. It's not like he can't relate, he's got unattainable dreams too, but he doesn't act like a jackass to the object of his affections.. "See if that keeps you warm at night, because newsflash, it doesn't. Get over yourself or you might lose a friend forever. Or even more than one."
Steve's hangdog expression is lethal so Clint goes before he can be mollified. Unsurprisingly, Tony went right down to his workshop, and JARVIS must sense it's not a good time to leave his boss alone because the door opens without Clint needing to punch in a code. It appears that Tony went straight to the armor, which again is not a big surprise. The fact that he's less than careful with it is, however.
"Are you trying to break it or what?" Clint asks as Tony pries off a gauntlet using a foot long screwdriver and an odd motion in a barely visible joint.
Tony tenses in surprise; he obviously hadn't heard him come in.
"Faster this way," he says. "What do you want?"
He's still pissed, that much is clear. But more than anything, he looks hurt and Clint can't brush that aside.
"We still have some testing to do, I believe," he says.
Tony sighs wearily. "Yeah, sorry about that. I've never been really good at dealing with being where I'm not wanted, so..."
Clint is surprised he's not avoiding the issue.
"We could kick Cap off the roof?" he offers.
Tony seems to surprise himself with a laugh and looks at him sideways with a smirk. "Nah, not worth the nagging. We tested enough, my new fletchings are awesome. What do you really want?"
Frankly he just wants to be sure Tony is okay, but he can't say that because he'd be brushed aside. But since sometimes Clint lies down in his bed at night thinking of cool stuff that Tony could maybe conjure up like a magician (and make it a hundred times better than his idea because that's just how Tony is), it's easy to voice one of those fantasies out loud.
"You may have noticed how I have the unfortunate tendency to fall off high rises?" he asks.
"No kidding! That's why I have a feed on you at all times," Tony says with a smile and that Clint's being caught by metal arms more often than not is suddenly less surprising.
"Really?" Clint asks, thoroughly pleased. Every leap of faith he takes on the field generally comes with a contingency plan, though never have his team let him down. He had no idea Tony was monitoring him specifically. On the other hand, he must be tracking everyone, that's just what Tony does.
"Well yeah. Do you have any idea how much shit we'd get from Coulson if you ended up pancaked on the pavement?"
Clint can't help the way his heart jumps at that before remembering that Phil would throw a fit at losing anyone.
"Still afraid of the taser, Stark?"
"I can neither confirm nor deny," Tony says with a wink. "So, what? About you falling, what were you thinking about?"
"Well I have that grappling hook arrow you made me that I keep as a last second kind of thing. But we assume that I'll be able to fire it when needed," Clint starts. Don't get him wrong, that arrow has more than once helped him get out of a hot spot, he loves it, but...
Tony's already turning to his table computer, snapping the monitors open and generating holograms out of thin air.
"Oh, I see," Tony says. "Maybe something you've got coiled on your person - unobtrusive, extra-strength wire with a hook and magnet in a throw-able head that can be either shot or manually thrown."
"Or that I can secure before jumping," Clint offers.
Tony snaps his fingers. "I could make it able to scan the immediate area and find a good anchor point if you’re in motion. It also could be activated by voice control."
And yes, that's exactly what Clint hoped for and more. They shoot ideas around and Clint sees it take life on the computer in a matter of minutes. Tony flaunts the word “genius” around, but he's entitled, because he really is, and it's a thing of beauty to see in action. Creating something new helps with Tony's mood in an efficient fashion when he gets totally absorbed by it. Clint thinks he handled this crisis pretty well, if he says so himself.
When they wind down and Tony gives JARVIS the instructions to start making a prototype, Tony checks a monitor and does a double take.
"Three already? Damn, time flies. I promised Pepper I'd go berate my engineers in R&D this afternoon. She suggested showing interest in their work for motivation purposes, but we all know it's going to end in bitter tears. If you want, I could let you see the plans for the new Quinjet?"
Clint gapes a little. "The new Quinjet?" he asks. "It's barely six months old, and it cost, like, a billion dollars!"
Tony hand-waves the objection. "Eight hundred million or so. But as you said, it's six months old!" He makes it sound like that's a fatal flaw, complete with a horrified face. "The current Quinjet is a prototype, and I've collected enough data for improvements. Plus, I'll be able to lease it to SHIELD or the Air Force for a hefty fee when the new one's ready, so it's a win-win all around. You've piloted it, so if you have additional input, anything at all? Just tell JARVIS. JARVIS?"
"Yes, Mister Stark," the AI says and a 3D hologram model appears over the main worktable. It's sleek, utterly gorgeous, and Clint has absolutely no worries that it will kick all kinds of ass. With a sight touch to the side of the model, he can make it spin this way and that, seeing all angles.
Tony is now at the live-in part of the lab, where Clint suspects he sleeps more often than not. There's a closet from which Tony fishes out a suit still in the dry cleaning bag; he then starts to strip out of his jeans and t-shirt to get dressed. Clint can't help looking because... well it's Tony Stark. When he told Bruce that someone good looking, funny, smart, and competent turned him on, he was not lying, and who embodies those qualities more than Tony Fucking Stark? He snorts when he notes the Ironman silk boxers as they disappear under perfectly tailored slacks, but then his gaze climbs up to Tony shrugging on a crisp dark grey shirt, skims the arc reactor, and travel upwards only to meet the man's eyes. Who's looking right back at him, head cocked to the side and considering. Oh, shit, Clint has time to think as he turns his attention to the jet model once again, you've totally been caught, Barton. Horrors of horrors, Clint can feel his ears heat up.
"Huh," Tony says and Clint looks back at him, determined not to let this be a big deal.
The bastard now has a predatory grin and there's absolutely no better word to describe what comes next but that he prowls towards him.
"See something you like, Clint?" he asks, playful and seductive, which makes heat pool in Clint's gut.
Clint can play the arrogant asshole part too, so he swallows his nerves and leans against the display table, cocking a hip and conjuring a smirk of his own. When Tony stops advancing, now just a couple of feet away, Clint gives him a slow and heated once over. He's pretty sure Tony is not messing with him right now, but he can give as good as he gets.
"You're not too shabby for an old man," he says once done, which makes Tony throw his head back and laugh.
"Ouch. Why so mean, Clint? And here I thought maybe we could have had a little fun together," Tony says, taking another step forward, bringing him within easy touching distance. His eyes never leave Clint's face, assessing every reaction.
"Because that's such a great idea," Clint says. In truth, he's lost that particular battle already, and he knows he's going to fold if Tony pushes even one bit.
Tony knows it too and he laughs again. "Everybody knows I'm the king of bad ideas. But, we should never forget that I also own the market for very, very fun ideas, too." He reaches out to caress Clint's arm with the back of his knuckles. It makes goosebumps raise on Clint's arms, right up to the nape of his neck. "Come on, what do you say? I haven't been fucked in a while."
Clint almost chokes at that, and he doesn't even have time to process that Tony is flush against his chest before he's being pulled into a kiss. Tony kisses to make a point and it's very, very convincing.
"C'mon," Tony coaxes against his lips when they barely break apart. "Getting laid would improve my day tenfold."
And... well it's a wet dream come true, Clint's not gonna lie. Instead of words, Clint answers by grabbing Stark's ass and pulling him flush, which makes Tony laugh and say, "Awesome. You won't regret this."
"What, you offer a guarantee?"
"You bet I do," Tony says, eyes sparking. "Great sex, don't accept anything else. For the record, I’ve never had any complaints."
"Yeah yeah," Clint says before kissing Tony again, helping him shrug off the shirt and then geting to work on the pants. Tony manages to undress Clint at the same time and for some inexplicable reason it feels like his hands are everywhere. When Clint's pants finally fall, Tony goes with them, kneeling as he helps him get them off. It's not surprising at all when Tony then looks back up with a devious grin.
"I suppose you won't mind if I suck your dick right now?" he asks, a hand already on Clint's cock; the bastard is literally licking his lips, eager.
"Not at all," Clint all but squeaks (he doesn't think anyone could blame him).
"It's been a while since I've done this," Tony says brightly, as if he's glad for the opportunity, and then he just goes to town, doing a frankly indecent tongue trick before sucking him in.
It turns out that Tony Stark is one gifted cocksucker. It's a combination of impressive technique, enthusiasm, and an almost uncanny mind-reading ability that within two minutes has Clint gripping the workbench's edge hard to stay mostly still and not fuck Tony’s face. As absolutely hot as it is to see Tony Gag-Reflex-What-Gag-Reflex? Stark blow you, with his total focus cataloguing and exploiting every little reaction, Clint has to close his eyes or he's going to get off too fast.
It's not that coming down Tony's throat isn't an appealing idea, because this is probably the best blow job he's gotten in his life and he's rapidly losing all upper brain function, but there was another plan. A good one at that.
"Oh, God, fuck that's good," Clint pants. "But you talked about fucking?"
Tony pulls off and Clint opens his eyes, ready to take the words back because he wants that mouth on him again; that would be really good right about now instead of the cool ambient air. But looking at Tony is almost the jolt to send him over the edge because the damn dexterous bastard is actually prepping himself with the hand not holding Clint's dick, and has what looks like two fingers up his ass, maybe three. Clint groans and Tony squeezes the base of his cock firmly.
"Oh yeah, so don't you even think of coming yet," Tony says, voice rough from the abuse on his throat. Then, tragedy of tragedy, he gets up and Clint all but pouts before he's being kissed again. But a Tony on his feet means that Clint's got access to the fun parts now too, and he fists Tony's erection, reveling in the drawn out moan it pulls out of him. "Fuck yeah. Come on," Tony says, walking backwards towards the couch and taking the little nondescript bottle he's been using as lube with them. He stops to fish a condom out of one of his suit jackets and he all but purrs at Clint as he rolls it on his cock.
"So, are you going to give it to me?" he asks, eyes gleaming in a teasing dare.
"You bet," Clint says, manhandling Tony around and bending him over the couch's arm, which makes him laugh.
"Ohhh, yeah, I like it. Come on," he says as Clint kicks his feet further apart and dribbles what turns out to be some kind of extremely slick oil from the little bottle Tony used on his fingers. He supposes that it must not be toxic or Tony wouldn't put it up his ass. Well in theory, because who knows with that guy? He slips two fingers right in, easy, and fuck, this is going to be so good. Tony's moaning shamelessly, pushing back on his hand and Clint can't help caressing the curve of his spine.
"You're gorgeous," he says, a little awed. "Open up for me," he adds, scissoring his fingers before adding a third that has Tony grunt and buck, not so silently asking for more. "You love it, look at you."
"Oh yeah," Tony pants, but since being a smart-ass doesn't seem to be hindered by sex, he follows it by: "I like it when you talk dirty to me, baby. Now if you could kindly fuck me..."
A pushy bottom, then; no one is surprised.
"You're a piece of work," Clint says as he slicks oil on the condom and starts to push in.
"Don't pretend you're surprised," Tony says with a laugh.
He's trying to be careful and considerate but Tony's doing most of the work, pushing back while not shutting up for one second with ordering Clint to just do it, fuck him, he doesn't have all day. Mostly it makes Clint laugh while trying not to lose it too soon; it feels fantastic and Tony nearly brought him to the edge only minutes ago, after all. He manages to pin Tony to the couch with a hand braced between his shoulder blades - the all-body shudder and shameless moan at that move is very very interesting - and then proceeds to fuck him hard and fast just to shut him up. It works up to a point: monosyllabic words and curses are the best he can hope for, it seems.
Clint keeps Tony down with the hand on his back and the other with a firm grip on his hip, hanging onto his control by sheer force of will. He's got a chance to fuck Tony Stark, and he's gonna make sure it's good for him (there's pressure to perform with a guy who's gotten around so much, Clint's competitive like that. Right now, though, Tony seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself).
"How's that?" Clint pants.
"Great, yeah, fuck. Just..." Tony shifts minutely, changing the angle slightly and he gets even louder, makes it hard to keep Clint’s own arousal in check. If he doesn't finish Tony soon, he's going to come first and that's not what Clint wants at all.
"You feel so great, God," Clint says, and he can feel it building, he's got to speed this up. The obvious solution is to pull Tony a bit closer to him and then reach around, gripping his cock, which makes Tony shout.
"Yes, yes, please, come on," he starts to beg and it's slick and easy to jack him, he's so wet with precome.
"Are you going to come for me?" Clint asks, speeding his strokes as Tony all but squirms against him, pushing back to take what he needs, all sensual moves and total abandon. Clint's never been with a guy who enjoys being fucked that much, or sex in general that fully, and it's incredibly arousing. "That's it, come on," Clint coos when Tony's rhythm finally starts to get slightly erratic.
It's just before he comes that Tony falls totally silent at last, as if suspended on the edge before crashing, shuddering in Clint's grasp. His orgasm makes him spasm around Clint's cock in such a way that he finds himself racing to the finish line too, barely managing to fuck Tony through it before he comes with a grunt, pleasure so vivid it punches the breath out of him. It takes long seconds before he gulps air again, rocking slightly to ride the aftershocks as Tony finally finds his voice back.
"Oh yeah," he says, almost purring with contentment.
Clint's drained, to be honest, and it's through a haze that he pulls out and ties the condom. Tony gets rid of it and then Clint slumps down on the other end of the couch while Tony wipes off the mess with the previously discarded clothes. He should get dressed and think about leaving, but Clint thinks he deserves a second to bask in the satisfaction of crossing one item off his bucket list.
Tony flops down on the couch, too, his head in Clint's lap and grins up at him.
"That was great!" he declares, stretching both arms over his head like a satisfied cat.
It's impossible not to smile back and Clint loves how totally at ease Tony is right now. His hair is ridiculous, sticking up all over the place and Clint combs his fingers through it.
"Yes it was," he agrees. He's been on a lucky streak lately.
Suddenly an idea flashes through his brain and Clint starts to laugh. He's like a Pokemon Master, but for sex with the Avengers. He remembers hearing all about Pokemons from the little brother of an ex and how the goal was to catch them all. That's pretty much what Clint did. Every. Single. Avenger. He so wins.
"What?" Tony asks, curious.
"Nah, it's nothing. Just cracking myself up here, don't worry." If only Tony knew he was the last... Clint's not sure if he'd be offended by that or if he'd be pleased that he wasn't the easiest to get.
"I want to laugh, too," Tony pouts.
"I can't just be in a good mood?" Clint asks. It makes Tony grin, and he probably puts it down to the sex (which he would be 95% in the right about).
With a last comb of Tony's hair, Clint bends down and kisses his forehead before he manhandles him out of the way and gets up. Where are his boxers again? Right, by the work bench. Clint whistles the Pokemon theme song as he puts on his clothes and he can't help but notice that Tony looks beside himself at having info withheld from him.
"JARVIS, what's that tune?" Tony asks, as he starts getting dressed too.
Clint stops abruptly, but of course JARVIS has an answer. "It appears to be a quite passable rendition of the Pokemon theme song."
Tony makes a face and Clint worries for a second that he's going to make a connection - he won't, right? - before Tony shrugs it off.
"You’re weird. You know that, right?" Tony says.
Clint laughs again and winks.
"It’s part of my charm," he says. He's still damp with sweat and his t-shirt is sticking to his body uncomfortably; he definitely needs to go shower. "See ya," Clint says.
"Yeah, I see how it is, wham bam and no gratitude at all. Didn't peg you as a love 'em and leave 'em type of guy." The banter is genuine and Clint can clearly read the underlying relief that things are easy and comfortable right now in Tony's body language, even when the heat of the moment has passed.
Clint grins as he opens the door, exiting backwards, "Uh huh, didn't you patent that move? Do I need to play royalties?"
He has to duck a rolled sock and laughs as he closes the door between them, stopping the second sock from hitting him on the forehead. Clint takes a moment to savor the moment because holy shit, he really just fucked Tony Stark. The elation lasts for about 2 seconds because when Clint turns around it's to see a stern Steve Rogers who's scanning him up and down. He looks at Tony's sock and back again. Great, just what Clint needed. But he won't feel bad about this, oh no he won't.
"Steve," he says with a nod, fully intending to leave it at that as he walks past... only to have his arm grabbed.
"What is going on here?" Steve all but hisses as he stops him. He looms, which Steve generally keeps for Supervillains, but Clint won't be intimidated.
"You're a bright guy, I'm sure you can guess," Clint parrots Tony's earlier line.
Steve's nostril flare, and Clint doesn't know if it's because he reeks of sex or if Steve's just so jealous he's greener than the Hulk. The hand on Clint's bicep squeezes a bit tighter.
"You little - " Steve starts, but Clint cuts him off immediately.
"Oh, shut up. You made it clear you wouldn't make a move, you have no right to be pissed."
The truth doesn't seem to mollify Steve all that much.
"I never said that," Cap protests vehemently, but it's a dirty lie. Earlier on the roof, it was absolutely clear he never planned to man up. "Now I'm going in there, and if all goes well you'll keep your hands off him."
Clint snorts. "Caveman much? I'll keep my hands off if Tony says so. Who, by the way, jumped me and not the other way around," he can't resist adding, because Clint got a great afterglow ruined and he's pissed off.
He shakes Steve's hand off his arm, who all but growls at him before turning to the workshop door. Clint barely resist the urge to stick his tongue out as Steve enters his code and storms in, and he hears a surprised 'Steve?' before the door shuts. Okay, so that could go either very well or very badly for them, but it's not Clint's concern anymore; he flips the bird at the door before turning to go towards his room.
Clint must have done absolutely terrible things in a previous life because Phil Coulson, of all people, is standing ten feet away, jaw clenched, and Clint's stomach drops to the vicinity of his heels. What is it with this fucking corridor right now that’s bringing on the most inappropriate encounters possible at the worst possible time? Clint straightens up because it's not like he's ashamed or anything, but he expects Phil to make a crack about how he hopes he just hallucinated Clint and Steve fighting over Tony. Instead, what happens is that there's a flash of genuine hurt on Phil's face before he covers it up with the blandest expression ever. They stare at each other silently for long seconds before Phil turns around and sees himself out.
Clint's been shot in the gut before, so he knows that kind of pain, and it's pretty much what this moment feels like. Fuck. Maybe, just maybe, Phil had been interested in him after all and Clint just ruined everything.
( chapter 5