First Steps
For the first time in weeks, the air between Clint and Tony felt lighter. Not easier—nothing with Tony Stark was ever easy—but lighter. Like they had finally stopped dancing around the edge of something and decided to step into it together.
Not that they talked about it much.
Tony, for all his bravado, wasn’t the type to have deep heart-to-heart conversations, and Clint wasn’t exactly itching to spill his feelings. Instead, they fell into a rhythm of small gestures and unspoken understanding.
“Hey, Katniss, catch!”
Clint looked up just in time to snatch the object Tony had tossed his way. He blinked, turning the sleek arrow over in his hands.
“What is this?” Clint asked, his tone wary.
Tony grinned from his spot across the workshop, arms crossed like he was waiting for a gold star. “That, my dear archer, is your new best friend. It’s a prototype for a multi-purpose arrowhead. One click, and it’s a grappling hook. Two clicks, it’s an EMP. Three clicks—well, let’s just say you’ll want to aim carefully.”
Clint raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been working on this?”
Tony shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “What can I say? I had some free time.”
Clint rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Stark. I mean it.”
Tony smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “Don’t get used to it. I have a reputation to uphold.”
Later that evening, they found themselves back on the balcony. It had become their unofficial spot, a place where they could just be without the weight of missions or expectations.
Clint leaned against the railing, watching the sky as the last traces of sunlight disappeared. “So, what’s the plan, genius?”
Tony, sprawled in a chair with a glass of whiskey in hand, raised an eyebrow. “Plan for what?”
Clint gestured between them. “This. Us. Are we just gonna wing it?”
Tony tilted his head, considering. “I mean, I’m not exactly the ‘five-year-plan’ type, but… yeah, I guess we wing it. Unless you have a better idea?”
Clint chuckled. “Not really. Just figured I’d ask.”
Tony leaned back, his expression softening. “Look, I’m not saying I have all the answers. Hell, I probably don’t have any of the answers. But I do know I don’t want to mess this up. So maybe we just… take it one day at a time?”
Clint glanced over at him, his lips quirking into a small smile. “That might actually be the smartest thing you’ve ever said.”
Tony smirked, raising his glass in a mock toast. “High praise from the guy who once tried to take down a Chitauri Leviathan with a bow and arrow.”
Clint rolled his eyes, but the warmth in his chest was undeniable.
Over the next few weeks, their tentative relationship started to take shape. It wasn’t perfect—Tony’s workaholic tendencies and Clint’s reluctance to let anyone in made sure of that—but they were figuring it out.
One evening, after a particularly grueling training session, Clint walked into the kitchen to find Tony staring at the coffee maker like it had personally offended him.
“Everything okay over there?” Clint asked, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.
Tony sighed dramatically. “No. The stupid thing’s on the fritz again.”
Clint smirked, stepping closer. “You do realize you’re a billionaire inventor, right? Pretty sure you could just build a better one.”
Tony turned to him, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Or I could just hire someone to make me coffee. Interested?”
Clint laughed, shaking his head. “Not a chance.”
Tony grinned, but the humor in his eyes softened into something warmer. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Barton.”
Clint froze, his face heating. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And yet, here you are,” Tony said, his smirk widening.
Clint rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at his lips gave him away.
That night, as they sat on the couch watching a movie, Clint found himself leaning closer to Tony without even realizing it. By the time the credits rolled, Tony’s arm was draped over the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against Clint’s shoulder.
Neither of them said anything, but Clint didn’t move away.
It was a small thing, but it felt like progress.
In the quiet of the compound, in the moments between missions and chaos, Clint and Tony were building something. Slowly, cautiously, but with a surprising amount of hope.
For the first time in a long time, Clint felt like he had something to hold onto.
And for Tony, the man who had spent most of his life running from real connections, it felt like he was finally standing still.