Crossing the Line
The tension between Clint and Tony grew like a silent current, unspoken but impossible to ignore. It was there in the quiet moments, in the way Tony lingered a little too long after cracking a joke, in the way Clint hesitated before leaving the room. Neither of them talked about it, but they both felt it.
One night, the unspoken finally cracked.
Clint was in the kitchen, rummaging for a late-night snack when Tony wandered in, barefoot and unusually subdued. He leaned against the counter, watching Clint with a casual air that felt anything but.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Tony asked, his voice softer than usual.
Clint shrugged, pulling a granola bar from the cabinet. “Something like that. You?”
Tony held up a small device in his hand. “Took a break from saving the world to check the fridge. Priorities, you know.”
Clint snorted, but his laugh faded when Tony didn’t smirk in response. Instead, Tony studied him, his sharp gaze softened by something Clint couldn’t quite place.
“You’ve been quiet lately,” Tony said, his tone almost careful.
Clint shrugged again, unwrapping the granola bar. “I’m always quiet.”
“Not with me,” Tony said, taking a step closer.
Clint froze. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way Tony said them, like he was peeling back layers Clint didn’t even know he had.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clint said, but his voice wavered.
Tony raised an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar, Barton.”
Clint glared at him, but it lacked its usual bite. “Why are you pushing this, Stark?”
Tony hesitated, and for a moment Clint thought he might deflect, crack a joke, or retreat into his usual bravado. But he didn’t.
“Because I care,” Tony said simply.
The words hit Clint like a punch to the gut. He stared at Tony, his defenses crumbling faster than he could rebuild them.
“Don’t,” Clint said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
Tony took another step closer, close enough that Clint could see the faint glow of the arc reactor beneath his shirt. “What if I do?”
Clint’s breath hitched. His instinct was to run, to shut down whatever this was before it went any further. But something in Tony’s expression—the vulnerability he rarely let anyone see—held him in place.
“Then you’re an idiot,” Clint said, but there was no venom in his words.
Tony smiled, a soft, almost tentative smile that Clint had never seen before. “Probably. But you like me anyway.”
Clint didn’t respond. He couldn’t.
The moment broke when Friday’s voice interrupted them.
“Mr. Stark, there’s an urgent message from Director Fury.”
Tony sighed, stepping back. “Saved by the Fury. Classic timing.”
Clint let out a shaky laugh, grateful for the interruption.
Tony shot him one last look before heading for the door. “This conversation isn’t over, Barton.”
Clint watched him leave, his heart pounding.
Later that night, Clint sat on the balcony, staring up at the stars and trying to make sense of the chaos in his head.
He didn’t hear Tony approach until he spoke.
“Figured I’d find you here,” Tony said, settling into the chair next to him.
Clint didn’t look at him. “Thought you’d be busy with Fury’s message.”
“Already handled it,” Tony said. “Turns out, saving the world can wait five minutes.”
Clint finally glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “Why are you here, Tony?”
Tony leaned back in his chair, looking uncharacteristically serious. “Because I’m tired of pretending this isn’t happening.”
Clint frowned. “Pretending what isn’t happening?”
Tony turned to face him fully, his eyes meeting Clint’s with startling intensity. “This. Us. Whatever this thing is between us that we’ve been dancing around for weeks.”
Clint opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out.
“I know I’m a lot,” Tony continued, his voice softer now. “I know I’m annoying and stubborn and probably the last person anyone would want to deal with. But you don’t seem to mind, and I—”
“Tony,” Clint interrupted, his voice low. “Stop.”
Tony fell silent, his expression carefully guarded.
Clint took a deep breath, his mind racing. He didn’t know how to do this—didn’t know how to let someone in without everything falling apart. But when he looked at Tony, saw the way he was waiting, hoping… something in him shifted.
“I don’t know what this is,” Clint admitted. “But I think I want to find out.”
Tony’s eyes widened, and for once, he was speechless.
“Don’t make me regret this,” Clint added, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Tony grinned, his confidence returning in full force. “I won’t. Promise.”
For the first time in a long time, Clint let himself believe him.