Chapter Text
The fallout from the New York Post publication of Tony and Clint’s intimate embrace had made both men protective of their relationship, the Avengers and their civilian extensions being as equally defensive when questioned about the subject. Natasha’s repeated diatribes in Russian had failed to oust the few remaining journalists from the around the Tower and since none of them were daring to step past the ground floor level (Pepper had delivered her equally blistering threats in English when she caught a couple of them trying to sneak further up the Tower) there was very little the Avengers, or StarkIndustries staff could do but ignore them. Steve was amazed that none of Tony’s company employees had used the frenzy to either add their own gossip or to blackmail Tony but the engineer had informed him, perhaps a little too smugly, that he had some of the loyalist employees in the country. The fact that it was only speculation that appeared in the press, and never as the result of ‘a source who did not wish to be named’ or ‘a source close to the pair’, meant that every single one of the Tower’s employees had certainly earned themselves an additional bonus that holiday.
Neither Pepper nor Phi were convinced that the full story would remain out of the press for long, however, so in order to remain ahead of any sensationalist headlines that would help neither man (and allow Tony to reclaim his foyer) the two handlers had persuaded Clint and Tony to provide an interview. Clint had balked at the idea while Tony was far from happy at once more having his private life dragged out for all-and-sundry to read then use to line the bird cages and cat-litter trays. Phil and Pepper, however, were able to sooth ruffled feathers by suggesting they design the entire interview, from the publication downwards.
Hill had been furious, Fury was determinedly ignoring the entire thing, Sitwell nabbed a copy for a rainy day and the first 2013 edition of the TIME magazine sold out within hours of it hitting the shelves.
Clint had insisted that they chose a writer and photographer from obscurity who would benefit from the notoriety an exclusive interview would bring. Tony had agreed with little complaint, already working out how he to ensure Ms Jessica Carpenter of Vanity Fair received a copy, though he did insist that they get to proof the final article before it went to print. Miss Jennifer O’Connor, the young reporter whom JARVIS, Phil and Pepper had all agreed would be perfect for the task, had stutteringly agreed to the lover’s terms.
The front cover boasted a polished image of Tony sitting one of the communal area’s sofas with Clint sitting on the floor between his legs and about a third of their lopsided Christmas tree standing in the background. Both men were dressed down into t-shirts and jeans and grinning like lunatics. The pose was the exact opposite of risqué, the contact between the pair as chaste as Tony’s arms wrapping around Clint’s shoulders and his ankles pressing into his hips, but there was no denying that they were together – the matching rings of twisted silver and gold that adorned Tony’s finger and hung from a chain around Clint’s neck helped with that - and that they were happy. The title banner of Comfort and Joy, written in a festive red, curled across Clint’s shins, his bare toes poking out from underneath the ‘o’ in both words.
The TIME’s relaxed style of writing leant itself well to story and inside there spanned a seven page tale, dotted with photographs, telling the lovers’ story as friends, partners and Avengers, though the exact nature of Clint’s role in the Initiative was kept relatively low-key. Throughout the interview, Tony had been his usual flirtatious self, catching Miss O’Connor off her guard as she didn’t know how to respond when the man’s lover was sitting with them. Clint, observing her skittish behaviour, has smiled, slapped Tony across the shoulder in rebuke before gently coaxing their guest from her shell until she too was smiling and joking, the interview suddenly becoming a conversation. One that Miss O’Connor made sure to include the rest of the Avengers and their civilian cohorts.
“Pleased we did it?” asked Tony, wrapping his arms around Clint where he sat reading the article at the communal kitchen’s breakfast bar, the archer currently making his way through a comment by Steve where the man expressed his support for the couple.
“I am,” said Clint, pressing back into Tony’s arms and resting a hand over Tony’s, his fingers going to play with Tony’s ring. “Are you?”
“Best decision I’ve made in a long time,” replied Tony, glancing at the magazine and the trio of pictures that spaced out the pages – one of which was a lucky shot of Miss O’Connor laughing at something Clint said. The genuine expression of joy on Clint’s face and the way his hand had rarely left Tony’s during the four-hour interview finally gave him the courage to say the words Clint would never press him for but was desperate to hear nonetheless. Silently, Tony reached over Clint’s shoulder to close the magazine and turned the archer around so that they were face to face. Clint cocked his head in curious concern at the serious expression on Tony’s face.
“For five years you’ve nurtured a love that I’m still not entirely sure I deserve,” Tony said, pressing a finger against Clint’s lips when he made to speak. “I have a less than stellar past and it took a near-fatal shrapnel wound and the last wish of a dying man for me to even start becoming something resembling a decent human being. That you have been willing to stand beside me, protect me, love me and fight to find the man behind the mask when almost everyone else had all but given up means more to me than I can ever say. So, I’ll start with this: I love you.”
Clint choked and sat blinking for a moment before throwing himself at Tony, cupping the engineer’s cheeks and seeking his mouth in a blistering kiss that was willingly, and delightedly, returned.
“Dear God, I knew this was going to turn out to be a bad idea!” exclaimed Steve as he stumbled to a noisy halt in the doorway. Clint and Tony broke apart with a laugh.
“Sorry, Cap,” said Clint, sliding to his feet and grabbing Tony’s hand, tugging the grinning engineer out the kitchen.
“Legolas?” Tony asked as he was dragged back towards the elevator. “Ah, what happened to breakfast?”
“Gotta work up an appetite first,” said Clint.
Steve’s scandalised exclamation of “Clint!” followed the two laughing lovers down the corridor.
Epilogue
After the TIME interview, life went back to normal for the Avengers. They continued to answer when Fury called from them to Assemble, Tony in his ever evolving Iron Man armour and Clint in his Stark-designed-and-patented armour that Tony had given him that first Christmas. Six months later, Tony finally yielded to the pressure from both Clint and Bruce and designed a similar battle-armour for Natasha, which she accepted with a genuine smile that continued to freak the engineer out. With neither man wearing armour or using weapons that were suitable for ring-bearing, Steve designed a tattoo for them – a graphic representation of the rings they wore when off-duty that Clint had inked into his right upper-arm, in his line of sight when using his bow, while Tony chose to have it tattooed across his right hip, in memory of the IED explosion that could have so easy torn Clint away from him. (Steve had designed a bald-eagle with wings outstretched and a snake grasped between talons for Clint to have tattooed across the same area)
The start of May saw a sombre mood fall upon the Avengers, and the population of New York, as they remembered those lost in the Chitauri invasion, Clint vanishing for the four days he had been under Loki’s control before ultimately reappearing, pale and shaken, in Columbia Gardens Cemetery where the SHIELD personnel had been buried. The Avengers had slept together in the lounge that night, Clint secure in an embrace from at least one of his teammates.
June was more celebratory with Hannah and Theo graduating from High School with honours and walking straight into a place at any college, university or training programme of their choosing, funded by grants from the No Limits Foundation that Tony had set up to aid those from poorer backgrounds, particularly those in New York’s care-system, attend further education.
August passed without much eventful happening (unless you counted a batch of rogue mechanical bugs that terrorised the downtown area of New York for ten days) while September saw Tony and the Clint standing as groomsmen and Natasha as maid-of-honour at the wedding of Happy and Pepper, Miss O’Connor more invited to report on the event. October again saw wedding bells as Kit and Thom became one of the first same-sex couples to tie the knot in New York, Clint and Phil standing witness as promised.
Between honeymoons, the legal rigmarole of making sure Pepper still had the right and authority to be CEO of StarkIndustries now that she was Mrs Virginia Hogan rather than Ms Potts, sporadic nuisance appearances by the denizens of AIM and Von Doom and Clint’s worry about Hannah and Theo as they settled into the life of a student, Hannah at MIT (Tony was far too proud of that choice) and Theo at Harvard, the rest of the year faded away quicker than anyone realised and the lovers were suddenly faced with their first anniversary.
Tony celebrated it by leading Clint on a bizarre treasure hunt across New York, the younger man receiving a small gift at each of his stops, before wining and dining his lover at the Carlyle Hotel Restaurant. Clint had then turned the tables on his lover as they finished their dessert, going down on one knee in the middle of the surprisingly crowed restaurant and asking Tony to marry him. When the elderly lady who had been sitting at the next table over – who the pair would later recognise as being the lady who had shared Pepper and Happy’s table at the Robin Hood Foundation dinner-dance – told Tony he had better make his decision sharpish otherwise she was snatching Clint up for herself, Tony had laughed and pulled Clint back to his feet.
“Glacaim leis,” said Tony. Clint had given a startled laugh at the Irish phrase before pulling Tony into a modest kiss and the restaurant burst into applause.
The wedding was held the following April with Kit and Natasha standing as Clint’s witnesses while Rhodey and Pepper stood as Tony’s and Phil stood between them looking stupidly proud as the Justice of the Peace performed the ceremony. Miss O’Connor was given her third Avengers exclusive, and a job offer to be the Avengers’ official spokesperson and press liaison, which she accepted with a barely supressed squeak.
“And while this is not a fairy story,” Tony said, drawing his story to a close. “They did indeed live Happily Ever After.”
“But you fo’got ’bout finding Jace!” protested Ashely Hogan, the only one of the three children Tony had been regaling that was actually still awake, her three-year-old brother Zach sprawled spread-eagle his front and dead to the world at Tony’s side while two-year-old Jason River Barton-Stark was curled in his father’s arms with his ear pressed against the gently whirling arc-reactor. Tony turned to child, who was curled into such mountain of pillows and blankets she looked like a multi-coloured marshmallow clutching a stuffed rabbit.
“That’s Uncle Clint’s story to tell, Strawb’ry,” he said, watching as the child squirmed in pleasure at the nickname that Pepper had tried, and ultimately failed, to prevent the engineer giving her daughter.
“Tomorrow?” asked Ashley, her eyes widening pleadingly.
“Guess that means Boss is getting the cliff-notes version of my report,” said Clint from where he rested against the doorjamb, his arms folded across his chest and still dressed in his SHIELD-issue, Stark-modified sniper blacks. Ashely squeaked in delight and scrambled out of her blankets to launch herself at the archer. Clint caught her with ease and pressed a kiss to her forehead before Ashley curled into his embrace, stuffed rabbit going up to be squished between them. Tony smiled at the behaviour as he slid from Zach’s bed and repositioned Jason in his arms so he could pull Clint into a brief kiss of welcome.
“Mission accomplished?” he asked.
“Mission accomplished,” agreed Clint, settling Ashley back into her mountain of covers with another kiss before turning to retrieve Jason from his husband’s arms. In a ritual that Clint had started when Jason was a mere three months old and now refused to have broken regardless of who asked, the archer proceeded to gently rock Jason while humming a lullaby that Phil had once used with Thom before pressing a kiss to Jason’s forehead and settling him in the bed next to Zach with a whispered goodnight.
“Night Uncle Tony. Night Unca Hawk,” murmured Ashely, her words broken by a yawn.
“Night, Strawb’ry,” said Clint with a gentle smile.
“JARVIS, night-light,” Tony instructed and the light dimmed appropriately as the pair backed out the bedroom and crossed the hall to their own room. Once there, Clint quickly found himself pinned against the nearest wall, his wrists held above his head while his mouth was plundered by Tony’s tongue and a solid thigh slid between his own.
“Hey,” the archer breathless chuckle when they eventually broke apart in need of air. “Take it I was missed?”
“Hell, yeah,” replied Tony, shifting so he could slip a chain from around his neck and slipping it around Clint’s, taking a moment to appreciate the way the attached gold and silver ring shone out again Clint’s black clothing before sliding his hands up to entangle his fingers with Clint’s.
“We’ve got nine hours for me to show you exactly how much,” he said before swooping in for another kiss that served to tease and enflame both men, Clint breaking Tony’s hold on one of his hands to pull his husband closer.
The need for air once more broke them apart and Tony nipped along Clint’s jawline before latching on to his pulse point and proceeding to suckle, unzipping Clint’s jacket as he did so, pressing into the warm muscle beneath. Clint moaned and bucked against him, arousal singing through his blood.
“JARVIS,” he managed to choke out as Tony used his free hand to slide under his t-shirt and drag his nails across fading scar tissue. “Keep the kids out.”
“Very good, Sir.”
FINALE