Daddy's Home
4.
Clint (and in turn, Natasha, because they came as a package deal, take it or leave it) had quickly become one of Tony's best friends over the process of a year.
The two had a bond like no other, they were immature (constant sex jokes) and quirky (the most disturbing hobbies, disgusting food combinations) and just plain weird; that made them inseparable, especially when things got rough.
The team had unconsciously relied upon them for comic relief.
And they could use some comedy now, especially with Clint halfway across the country, on a solo mission that even Natasha had deemed dangerous; he'd been across the pond for far too long, without any contact.
Tony was worried.
Natasha was worried too, but she'd assured the genius that this was how these things tended to happen; you couldn't map it out, Clint was probably fine, taking his sweet time like the asshole that he was.
Friday night rolled around and Tony still hadn't gotten his big spoon back. He moved the recliner like Clint had done every week before, just in case the man showed up mid-movie, and had left extra space behind him for the archer.
The entire team had noticed how mopey Tony had gotten, how quiet and withdrawn he'd been; they hadn't said anything, hadn't tried to offer comfort, because that meant that it wasn't just a mundane mission. Natasha knew exactly how he was feeling.
She sat where she always did, her lap empty where Clint's head would usually sit. Tony was curled up into a ball a foot away, one of Clint's hoodies dangling off of his thin frame, a pair of too long pajama pants covering his cold toes.
He looked like he was mourning; Natasha wasn't about to let that happen, let that become a reality.
"Tony?" She patted her lap, the brunette frowning heavily as he whispered.
"Is Clint back yet?"
Natasha shook her head.
"I'm not taking his spot. He's coming back, Nat. You said so."
The red head looked conflicted; she knew he was coming back, when and in what condition were the questions, the variables of which she had, unfortunately, no control over. Tony was good at reading people though, and merely nodded once, worming his way up to her.
Natasha needed comfort, too.
"Just for tonight." He sighed, letting her nails rub at his head. Natasha nodded, humming a bit. Tony hugged at her waist, burying his face into her thigh.
"I know," She shushed, massaging the nape of his neck.
Two hours later the credits rolled. Tony had fallen asleep, along with Thor, who was snoring loudly. The rest of the remaining team (Bruce and Steve) made their way to their own beds, shooting her small smiles and comforting pats to the shoulder.
She sat in silence after that, reveling in the dim lights. Natasha felt like crying, but she wouldn't risk anyone seeing her like that. Clint would be back and-
The door to the communal floor opened; Natasha could practically smell him as he inched into the room, leather permeating the air.
"Honeys? I'm-"
"Home." Natasha finished, grinning up at Clint, who stood over the two of them, face a little worn, body a bit bruised; over all he looked okay, alive, which is the only thing that she could've wanted.
Clint kicked the bottom of the couch, Tony's eyes fluttering open. He moaned, burying himself further into Natasha and asking her the question that he'd been repeating for the past two weeks. "'S Clint back ye'?"
Natasha rubbed at his head, eyes sparkling; she was finally prepared to answer. "Why don't you look for yourself."
"Yeah," Clint voice broke in over the sound of Thor's snores, "Get out of my spot, punk ass."
Tony shot off of Natasha's lap, peeking from Clint's hoodie and into the archer's eyes. Clint held out his arms expectantly.
"It's me, the team orgy can now commence. Sorry for the hold up."
The smaller man didn't even snark back as he hopped onto the blonde, wrapping his legs around Clint's waist. The archer grinned at the genius' hoodie, toes digging into his back. Tony shoved his head into the crook of Clint's shoulder, squeezing him as tightly as he could, reactor pressing against the archer's sternum. Clint groaned a bit, body sore.
"S-sorry," Tony started, attempting to climb down the man. Clint shook his head, grinning brightly.
"No, Tony. 'S cool." He held Tony in place with one large palm to his lower back, holding out another arm for Natasha. The redhead slipped close to the two, wrapping her arms around them; Tony allowed her to squeeze him, not minding a bit as he sighed in relief.
The three stood in silence, Thor's snores dying down as the god started to rouse.
"Clinton! You have arrived safely, I see. Now," Thor stood, peeling off the shirt he'd fallen asleep in. His voice lowered, rumbling provocatively. "What is it that I hear about team orgies?"
"Maybe when Clint isn't black and blue." Natasha murmured, shooting Thor a wink. The god grinned, coming near and wrapping his arms around all of them. Tony squeaked as he was shoved into the very center, butt pressed near Thor's groin.
"'Tis only a matter of time, then. Heal quickly, Clinton."
The archer smirked, looking over the people surrounding him.
"Daddy's home."
Groans of distaste circled about the group; Thor looked as though he'd been presented with a challenge, and Tony could only squirm a bit as he got down, hoping that competition didn't get Thor horny, because his hole was close to the god's hammer, ifyouknowwhatI'msaying.
Natasha smirked, squeezing Tony one last time before snatching up the remote.
"Why don't we redo this whole movie thing?"
Thor clapped his hands excitedly, already moving towards the elevators, "I shall go awake our fellow team members, aye?"
Natasha settled into her spot, face more peaceful than it'd been in a while. Clint got into his regular position, holding out his arms for Tony, who happily filled them.
"Looks like you and Nat had fun."
Tony blushed, burying his face down into Clint's hoodie. Natasha only turned so she could use both of her hands to rub at their heads, mumbling something about the similarities between boys and dogs.
To Clint's amusement, Tony only settled closer to the two of them. The archer stretched out, sighing tiredly.
It's good to be home.