A Thing for Parties
After a few days the team needed their own getaway. More specifically Tony and Clint needed a getaway. And that getaway was none other than a party.
The Stark Tower ballroom was alive with glitz and glamor, the kind of extravagant affair that only Tony Stark could pull off. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a warm golden glow, and the soft hum of conversation mixed with the clinking of champagne glasses. The music, which had started as upbeat jazz, now transitioned to something softer—a slow, romantic tune that seemed to enchant the couples scattered across the dance floor.
Tony had hosted countless parties like this one, but he always ended up doing the rounds, charming his guests and secretly wishing for a little peace and quiet. Tonight, however, was different. The Avengers had actually agreed to show up, and the thought of his chosen family being there—however reluctantly—added a new level of warmth to the evening.
After shaking hands with a few investors, Tony’s sharp eyes caught a familiar group huddled by the punch bowl. Thor was easy to spot, standing a head taller than anyone else, a goblet of punch in his hand as he laughed heartily at something Steve had said. Natasha leaned against the wall, her sharp green gaze sweeping the room while she sipped a martini. Bruce looked slightly out of place but relaxed, a small smile tugging at his lips as he listened to Sam recount an animated story.
And then there was Clint, leaning casually against the table, his arms crossed over his chest and his face partially obscured by a sly grin. Tony blinked in mild surprise. Clint wasn’t exactly known for his love of parties—especially billionaire soirées like this one—but here he was, dressed to impress in a tailored suit that actually fit him. Tony didn’t know what to make of it.
Curiosity piqued, Tony grabbed a glass of his own (not spiked; he was playing host tonight) and made his way over.
“Well, well, look who decided to grace us with his presence,” Tony said, his voice carrying over the soft hum of the music. “Clint Barton at a party. Is the world ending, or did someone bribe you?”
Clint smirked, lifting his glass of punch in a mock toast. “Don’t get used to it, Stark. I came for the free booze and to see what kind of mess you’d make trying to impress everyone.”
“Free booze?” Tony arched an eyebrow, glancing at the punch bowl. “You know that’s mostly fruit juice, right?”
Clint winked. “Mostly.”
The team laughed, and Tony found himself relaxing in their presence. The party didn’t feel quite as suffocating with his friends here, even if Clint’s sarcasm kept him on his toes.
As the slow song swelled through the speakers, the couples on the dance floor began to sway closer together, their movements fluid and intimate. Steve shifted awkwardly at the sight, clearly not comfortable with the romantic undertone, while Natasha quirked an amused eyebrow at him. Thor seemed oblivious, happily watching with Bruce, who was politely ignoring the whole scene.
Clint drained the rest of his punch and set the glass down, then turned to Tony with a mischievous glint in his eye. “So,” he said, loud enough for the others to hear, “how about it, Stark? Care to show off your moves?”
Tony blinked, his mouth opening to form a witty retort—but instead, he closed it again. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at Clint as if trying to figure out his angle. But then, to Clint’s surprise, Tony smiled, his expression soft and genuine.
“Sure,” Tony said, holding out his hand. “Why not?”
The group went silent, all of them staring as Tony’s words registered. Clint, clearly not expecting Tony to actually say yes, looked momentarily stunned before a laugh escaped him. “Wait, you’re serious?”
“As a heart attack,” Tony said, still smiling. He wiggled his fingers, motioning for Clint to take his hand. “Come on, Legolas. Don’t chicken out now.”
Clint hesitated for only a second before taking Tony’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled toward the dance floor. Behind them, Sam let out a low whistle, and Natasha’s amused laugh followed them like an echo.
The crowd parted just enough to make room for the two of them. Tony placed one hand on Clint’s shoulder, the other lightly gripping his hand, and Clint let his free hand rest on Tony’s waist. The contact sent a brief jolt through both of them, but neither pulled away.
The music washed over them as they began to sway in time with the rhythm. Tony’s movements were surprisingly smooth, confident even, and Clint found himself relaxing as they fell into an easy rhythm.
“You really know how to throw people off, don’t you?” Clint said, his voice quiet but laced with humor.
Tony smirked. “It’s a gift.”
They danced in silence for a moment, the world around them fading as the conversation turned inward.
“You’re full of surprises tonight,” Clint admitted, his voice softer now. “Didn’t think you’d actually say yes.”
Tony glanced up at him, his dark eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Maybe I just wanted to see the look on your face,” he teased lightly. Then, after a pause, he added, “Or maybe I just didn’t want to miss the chance.”
Clint’s brow furrowed slightly. “The chance for what?”
Tony hesitated, his gaze dropping to where their hands were joined. “To do something I actually want to do for once,” he said quietly. “Instead of putting on a show.”
Clint studied him, the usual sharp edges of his wit softening as he realized there was more to Tony’s words than he’d expected. “You’re not putting on a show now?”
“No,” Tony said simply, looking back up at him. “Not with you.”
The honesty in his tone took Clint by surprise, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. He hadn’t expected this—not here, not like this. But as he looked at Tony, really looked at him, he realized he didn’t mind.
“I guess I should say thanks,” Clint said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “For, you know… everything.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “Everything?”
“You know what I mean,” Clint said, rolling his eyes. “The hospital, the hovering, the… whatever this is.”
Tony’s smirk softened into a small, genuine smile. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Clint. You mean… a lot to me. More than I think I realized until I almost lost you.”
Clint’s breath caught, his grip on Tony tightening just slightly. “You mean a lot to me too, Stark,” he said quietly. “Probably more than I should admit.”
The music swelled, carrying their words into the air between them. For a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the room, the rest of the world fading into nothing.
Tony’s gaze lingered on Clint’s for a long moment before his lips quirked into a small, mischievous smile. “Well, this just got a whole lot more interesting,” he murmured.
Clint chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”
“And you like it,” Tony shot back, his grin widening.
As the song came to an end, they didn’t pull away. Instead, they stood there, swaying slightly to the lingering echo of the music, their gazes locked in a way that made it clear this was far from over.
As the song ended, the crowd around them shifted, the chatter and clinking glasses returning to fill the space left by the music. But Tony and Clint didn’t move. They stayed there, standing close, hands still loosely clasped. It was Clint who broke the silence first, his voice soft but steady.
“You know,” he said, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over Tony’s knuckles, “I didn’t expect you to actually say yes back there.”
Tony tilted his head, his lips curving into a small, almost self-conscious smile. “What can I say? You caught me in a moment of weakness.”
Clint snorted softly, his grip on Tony’s hand tightening ever so slightly. “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head, Stark. I’m not planning on making this a habit.”
“Sure, sure,” Tony replied, though the twinkle in his eye suggested he didn’t believe that for a second. He let out a small breath, his expression softening as he looked at Clint. “But seriously… thanks for asking. It’s been a long time since I’ve done something that felt this… real.”
Clint blinked, surprised by the vulnerability in Tony’s voice. He wasn’t used to seeing this side of him—the side that wasn’t all bravado and snark. “Real, huh?” he echoed, his tone lighter to balance the moment. “So what you’re saying is, I should feel special.”
Tony smirked, leaning in just slightly. “I hate to break it to you, Barton, but you are special. Don’t let it go to your head.”
Clint laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re something else, Stark. You know that?”
“Yeah,” Tony said, his voice quieter now, his eyes locked on Clint’s. “I know.”
The moment stretched between them, the air heavy with something unspoken but undeniable. Around them, the party continued, but it felt distant, like white noise fading into the background. It was just them now, standing together in the middle of the crowded ballroom, yet entirely in their own world.
Clint cleared his throat, breaking the tension just enough. “We should probably head back to the others before they start making bets about what we’re doing over here.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “Oh, please. Romanoff’s already running the betting pool, and I’m pretty sure Sam’s placing bets on how long it’ll take before we disappear entirely.”
Clint chuckled, his lips twitching into a grin. “Sounds about right. Still, we should—”
“Or,” Tony interrupted, his voice dropping slightly as he stepped closer, his hand sliding from Clint’s shoulder to rest against his chest, “we could let them talk and just… stay here. Dance to whatever song comes next. Who cares what they think?”
Clint swallowed, his pulse quickening beneath Tony’s palm. “That doesn’t sound like the Stark I know,” he said, his voice teasing but soft.
Tony smiled, his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of Clint’s suit jacket. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
Clint’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure what to say. But then the band struck up another song—a slower, more intimate melody—and Tony didn’t give him the chance to protest. He took Clint’s hand again and pulled him back into a slow, swaying rhythm, their movements falling into sync as if they’d been doing this for years.
They didn’t speak this time. They didn’t need to. The words they’d already shared lingered between them, unspoken but understood. Clint let himself relax, his hand sliding from Tony’s waist to rest lightly on the small of his back. Tony leaned into the touch, his head tilting just slightly as he looked up at Clint, his expression open and unguarded in a way that made Clint’s heart ache.
As the song played on, Tony’s fingers tightened around Clint’s, and he leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to lose you, Clint. Not ever.”
Clint’s chest tightened at the raw honesty in Tony’s voice. He searched Tony’s face, looking for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but all he saw was sincerity—and something deeper, something that mirrored the feelings Clint had been trying to bury for so long.
“You’re not gonna lose me,” Clint said quietly, his voice steady despite the emotion threatening to choke him. “I’m not going anywhere, Tony. I promise.”
Tony’s lips parted, but whatever he was about to say was lost as Clint reached up, his fingers brushing lightly against Tony’s cheek. The touch was soft, almost hesitant, but Tony leaned into it, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment.
When he opened them again, Clint was closer, his breath warm against Tony’s skin. “You mean a lot to me too, you know,” Clint said softly, his voice barely audible over the music. “More than I think I even realized until now.”
Tony’s breath hitched, his hand tightening on Clint’s. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t have to. The look in his eyes said it all.
And then Clint closed the distance between them, his lips brushing against Tony’s in a kiss that was soft and slow and filled with everything he couldn’t put into words. Tony froze for a split second, his mind catching up to what was happening, and then he melted into the kiss, his free hand sliding up to cup the back of Clint’s neck.
The world around them disappeared entirely. There was no music, no crowd, no Avengers watching from the sidelines—just the two of them, wrapped up in each other, finally letting go of the walls they’d both kept up for far too long.
When they finally pulled back, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. Tony’s lips curved into a soft, almost shy smile, and Clint chuckled under his breath, his thumb brushing lightly over Tony’s cheek.
“Well,” Clint said after a moment, his voice low and warm, “that was unexpected.”
Tony laughed softly, his fingers tracing idle patterns against the back of Clint’s neck. “Yeah,” he said, his voice equally quiet. “But I don’t regret it.”
“Me neither,” Clint admitted, his gaze holding Tony’s. “Not even a little.”
They stayed like that for a while, swaying to the music that neither of them was really paying attention to anymore.
-
As the next song began to play—a lilting, romantic tune that seemed to weave itself perfectly into the moment—Tony and Clint stayed in their bubble. They swayed together slowly, their movements unhurried and intimate, like there was no one else in the room. Neither of them said anything for a long moment, but the silence wasn’t awkward. It felt easy, natural, as if they’d been doing this for years.
Eventually, Clint broke the quiet, his voice low and warm. “So, what do we do now? You know, after this whole… ‘dancing and kissing at a billionaire party’ thing.”
Tony let out a soft chuckle, his forehead still resting lightly against Clint’s. “Well, first, we deal with the inevitable commentary from our friends. Pretty sure Romanoff’s going to have a field day with this.”
“Nat’s going to milk this for years,” Clint agreed, though there was no real annoyance in his tone. He sounded almost amused by the idea. “Sam, too. I can already hear the jokes.”
“Oh, definitely,” Tony said, smirking. “He’s probably coming up with a whole list of them as we speak.”
They both laughed softly, and the sound felt easy, like a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Tony’s hand slid from Clint’s shoulder to rest lightly against his chest, his fingers brushing against the fabric of Clint’s suit jacket. His expression grew a little more serious as he tilted his head to meet Clint’s gaze.
“But after that,” Tony said quietly, his voice softer now, “I don’t know. We… figure it out, I guess. Take it one step at a time.”
Clint’s hand, still resting on Tony’s lower back, gave a small, reassuring squeeze. “I can do that,” he said simply, his tone steady. “As long as you’re in it with me.”
Tony’s smile softened, and he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m in, Barton. All the way.”
The sincerity in his words made Clint’s chest tighten, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. So instead of speaking, he leaned down and kissed Tony again, this time slower, deeper, letting the kiss say everything he couldn’t. Tony responded without hesitation, his hands sliding up to cup Clint’s face as he leaned into the kiss, his heart pounding in his chest.
When they finally pulled apart, they were both slightly breathless, their foreheads pressed together as they stood in the middle of the dance floor. Around them, the party continued, but it felt like a distant hum compared to the quiet intimacy of their moment.
“You know,” Tony said after a moment, his voice light but tinged with affection, “if we keep this up, we’re going to give the tabloids a field day.”
Clint snorted, a grin tugging at his lips. “Let them write what they want. I’m not hiding this.”
The honesty in his words caught Tony off guard, and for a moment, he just stared at Clint, his expression softening even further. He reached up, his fingers brushing lightly against Clint’s cheek. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“Yeah, well,” Clint said, his grin turning playful, “so are you. Guess that’s why this works.”
Tony laughed softly, shaking his head, but the warmth in his eyes didn’t fade. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you like it,” Clint shot back, his grin widening.
Tony didn’t respond verbally this time. Instead, he leaned up and kissed Clint again, a brief but tender press of his lips that left Clint momentarily stunned. When he pulled back, Tony was smirking, his eyes glinting with mischief.
“Come on,” Tony said, tugging lightly at Clint’s hand. “Let’s get out of here before someone starts taking pictures.”
Clint raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest, letting Tony lead him off the dance floor and toward one of the side exits. As they passed the rest of the team, Natasha arched an eyebrow at them, her lips twitching into a knowing smirk. Sam gave them a thumbs-up, while Steve just looked mildly confused. Thor, of course, was oblivious, too busy chatting with a group of partygoers to notice their departure.
Once they were out of the ballroom and away from prying eyes, Tony let out a small sigh of relief, leaning back against the wall and running a hand through his hair. Clint watched him for a moment before stepping closer, his expression soft.
“You okay?” Clint asked, his voice low.
Tony looked up at him, his dark eyes searching Clint’s face. “Yeah,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet but steady. “Better than okay, actually.”
Clint’s lips quirked into a small smile, and he reached out, his hand brushing lightly against Tony’s arm. “Good,” he said simply. “Because I’m not going anywhere, Stark. You’ve got me for the long haul, whether you like it or not.”
Tony chuckled softly, his lips curving into a smile that was equal parts amusement and affection. “I think I can live with that,” he said, his voice light but sincere.
Clint’s grin widened, and for a moment, they just stood there, the world outside the party feeling a little quieter, a little more manageable.
Tony pushed himself off the wall, stepping closer to Clint, his hands instinctively finding their place at Clint’s hips. He tilted his head slightly, his voice softer now, barely above a murmur. “So, you really don’t mind being seen with me like this? You know the world’s going to talk about us tomorrow.”
Clint raised an eyebrow, his hand brushing over Tony’s arm. “Tony, I don’t care if the world talks about us tomorrow, next week, or ten years from now. Let them talk. I’ve spent most of my life hiding one thing or another. I’m done with that.”
Tony blinked, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly, a genuine smile spread across his face—one that Clint could tell wasn’t plastered on for show. It was real, unguarded, and warm. “God, you’re too good for me,” Tony said, shaking his head slightly.
Clint smirked. “Probably,” he teased, but the twinkle in his eye softened the jab. “But you’re stuck with me anyway.”
Tony laughed, a sound that felt like relief and happiness wrapped into one. “Yeah, I think I’m okay with that.”
Clint stepped closer, his hands sliding up to rest lightly on Tony’s shoulders. “Good. Because I wasn’t giving you an out.”
Tony hummed in response, leaning in until their foreheads touched. They stayed like that for a moment, breathing in each other’s presence, the muffled sounds of the party filtering through the walls but feeling worlds away. For once, Tony didn’t feel the weight of expectations or the gnawing edge of his usual anxiety. He just felt… grounded.
“I can’t believe you actually came to this party,” Tony said, breaking the silence, his tone light but filled with curiosity. “You hate these kinds of things.”
Clint chuckled, his thumb absently tracing patterns against Tony’s shoulder. “Yeah, well, I figured I’d make an exception for you. Besides, I wanted to see what kind of chaos you’d stir up.”
Tony smirked. “Chaos? Me? I’m a perfect gentleman.”
Clint laughed, leaning back just enough to look Tony in the eye. “Sure, Stark. Whatever you say.”
Their playful banter hung in the air between them, comfortable and familiar. Clint’s gaze softened as he looked at Tony, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “But honestly? I came because… I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to see you.”
Tony’s smirk faded, replaced by something far more vulnerable. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Clint’s lips. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was steady, reassuring, and filled with everything Tony couldn’t quite put into words yet.
When they pulled apart, Clint let out a quiet breath, his forehead resting against Tony’s. “You’ve got a way of making a guy feel special, Stark.”
Tony chuckled, his fingers brushing lightly against Clint’s waist. “Just returning the favor, Barton.”
Clint shook his head, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Come on,” he said, his tone light again. “Let’s get out of here before someone actually comes looking for us.”
Tony hesitated for a moment, his fingers tightening slightly against Clint’s waist. “You’re sure you don’t want to go back inside? We can stay, dance some more, let everyone stare. I don’t mind.”
Clint smiled, his expression soft. “Tempting, but I think I’d rather spend some time with you without half the Avengers placing bets on how long it’ll take before we make out again.”
Tony snorted, shaking his head. “Fair point. Let’s go.”
They slipped out of the party together, their hands brushing but not quite holding as they made their way through the quiet hallways of the tower. The city lights glittered outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a soft glow over their path. For once, neither of them felt the need to fill the silence. It was enough just to walk side by side.
Eventually, they ended up on one of the quieter floors, a space Tony often retreated to when he needed to think. It was a private lounge of sorts, complete with plush couches, a stocked bar, and an impressive view of the Manhattan skyline. Tony flicked on a lamp, the warm light spilling across the room, and gestured for Clint to take a seat.
Clint didn’t sit right away. Instead, he walked over to the window, his hands sliding into his pockets as he gazed out at the city below. Tony watched him for a moment, his expression softening. He crossed the room and stopped a few feet behind Clint, his voice quiet when he spoke.
“Thanks for coming tonight,” Tony said. “I mean it. It meant a lot to me.”
Clint turned to face him, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Yeah, well, you’re worth it.”
Tony felt his heart stutter at the sincerity in Clint’s tone. He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush against Clint’s arm. “You’re gonna make me fall for you even harder if you keep saying stuff like that.”
Clint smirked, his hand coming up to rest lightly on Tony’s. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
The words hung between them, solid and sure, and Tony felt a sense of calm settle over him—a calm he hadn’t realized he was searching for. He leaned into Clint’s touch, his forehead resting against the archer’s shoulder as he let out a quiet sigh.
Clint wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist, holding him close as they stood there together, the city lights casting a soft glow around them. For the first time in a long time, Tony felt like he wasn’t standing on the edge of a precipice. He felt grounded, steady, and—for once—like he wasn’t alone.