Healing
Tony didn’t leave Clint’s side after that. Not for food, not for water, not even when Natasha came by with an encouraging smile and told him to rest. He waved her off without looking, keeping his gaze locked on Clint, as if the sheer force of his will could keep him tethered to the earth.
Clint drifted in and out of consciousness over the next several hours, his body still fragile, but there was color returning to his cheeks, the faintest strength creeping back into his voice. Every time he woke, Tony was there, his hand never letting go of Clint’s.
“You’re still here,” Clint rasped at one point, his voice hoarse but teasing. “Starting to think you don’t have a life outside of this med bay.”
“Funny,” Tony replied, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back in the chair. “I was going to say the same thing about you and the field. Maybe this is the universe telling you to stay put for a while.”
Clint chuckled softly, though the sound turned into a faint cough that had Tony immediately leaning forward with concern. “Okay, okay,” Clint muttered, raising his free hand in a mock surrender. “Message received. No more heroics.”
“Good,” Tony said firmly, though his lips twitched with a hint of a smile. “Because if you pull a stunt like that again, I swear I’ll lock you in the tower and throw away the key.”
“Promises, promises,” Clint said, his grin faint but real.
Tony rolled his eyes, but the tension in his shoulders eased ever so slightly. For the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself believe that Clint was going to be okay.
-
Later that night, when the med bay was quiet and the others had gone to their rooms, Tony found himself still sitting by Clint’s bed, his hand idly tracing circles against Clint’s palm. Clint had fallen asleep again, his breathing steady and even, and Tony couldn’t help but watch him, his chest tightening with something that felt like both relief and fear.
He thought about the rooftop, about how close he’d come to losing himself in his grief. He thought about Clint’s promise, the quiet certainty in his voice when he’d said he wasn’t going anywhere. And he thought about everything they’d been through—every fight, every laugh, every moment that had led them here.
“I’m a mess,” Tony murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know that, right? I’m stubborn and selfish and a complete pain in the ass. But you…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to their joined hands. “You make me want to be better. For you. For us.”
Clint stirred faintly in his sleep, his hand tightening around Tony’s for just a moment before relaxing again. Tony’s heart ached at the simple, instinctive gesture, and he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Clint’s knuckles.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Tony admitted quietly, his voice cracking. “And I don’t ever want to find out.”
For a long while, Tony just sat there, the faint hum of the med bay machines filling the silence. He didn’t know what the future held or how long it would take for Clint to recover fully, but for now, he was content to sit here and hold on to the man who had somehow become his entire world.
-
The following morning brought a quiet sense of relief, though Tony remained tense as he sat by Clint’s side. The sun was beginning to rise, its rays spilling into the med bay, painting everything in hues of gold. Clint had stayed stable throughout the night, his vitals slowly improving. It was enough to let a cautious thread of hope take root in Tony’s chest.
When Clint finally stirred, his eyes fluttering open, Tony leaned forward immediately, his hand still wrapped around Clint’s. “Hey,” Tony said softly, his voice rough from exhaustion. “You with me?”
Clint’s gaze was groggy, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Still here,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. “Didn’t ditch you.”
Tony exhaled a shaky laugh, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a little. “Good. Because if you did, I’d find a way to drag your stubborn ass back.”
Clint chuckled weakly, the sound more of a huff, but it was real, and it sent a wave of warmth through Tony. Clint’s fingers twitched in Tony’s grasp, and Tony realized he was holding on a little too tightly. He loosened his grip, but Clint’s hand didn’t pull away.
“You look like hell,” Clint murmured, his tone teasing despite his obvious exhaustion.
Tony smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And you look like you’ve been hit by a bus, so I’d say we’re even.”
Clint’s grin widened slightly, but his expression softened as he studied Tony’s face. “You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter.
The question caught Tony off guard. He blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to come up with a response. Was he okay? He honestly didn’t know. The past twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of panic, fear, and heartbreak, and he was still reeling from it all. But looking at Clint now, alive and smiling at him, he felt something he hadn’t in what felt like forever: relief.
“I will be,” Tony said eventually, his voice soft but steady. “As long as you’re here.”
Clint’s eyes softened, and he squeezed Tony’s hand weakly. “Not going anywhere,” he said, echoing the promise he’d made before.
Tony nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not done annoying you yet.”
Clint’s laugh was quiet but genuine, and for a moment, the weight on Tony’s chest lifted. He knew there was still a long road ahead—Clint’s recovery wouldn’t be easy, and neither would dealing with the emotional scars this ordeal had left behind. But for now, they had this moment, and that was enough.
-
Over the next few days, Clint’s condition continued to improve. Bruce and Dr. Cho monitored him closely, and Natasha stopped by often, bringing books, snacks, and her usual dry humor to keep Clint entertained. Tony remained a constant presence, refusing to leave the med bay except to grab the occasional cup of coffee or to take a quick shower.
Clint, of course, took every opportunity to tease him about it. “You know, Stark, I’m starting to think you just like watching me sleep,” he quipped one afternoon, his voice stronger than it had been in days.
Tony rolled his eyes, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “Don’t flatter yourself, Barton. I’m just making sure you don’t do anything stupid while I’m not looking.”
“Like what? Fall out of bed?” Clint raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Pretty sure I’m not going anywhere in this condition.”
“Exactly,” Tony shot back, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. “Which is why I’m here. Someone has to keep an eye on you.”
Clint’s smirk softened into something more genuine, and he glanced down at the blanket draped over him. “Thanks,” he said quietly, the teasing edge gone from his voice.
Tony’s expression softened in return. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said, his tone equally quiet. “I’m not going anywhere, either.”
Clint met his gaze, and for a moment, the room felt too small for all the emotions that hung between them. Gratitude, relief, affection—it was all there, unspoken but understood.
-
A week later, Clint was finally well enough to leave the med bay. He was still weak, moving slower than usual, but his color had returned, and the spark in his eyes was brighter than it had been in days. Tony hovered nearby as Clint tested his limits, grumbling about stubborn archers who didn’t know how to take it easy.
“Relax, Stark,” Clint said, grinning as he settled onto the couch in the common area. “I’m not going to break.”
Tony narrowed his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he handed Clint a mug of tea before sitting down beside him, careful not to crowd him. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the weight of everything they’d been through slowly fading into the background.
“You know,” Clint said eventually, his voice thoughtful, “for someone who claims to be a selfish billionaire, you’re surprisingly good at the whole ‘taking care of people’ thing.”
Tony snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t get used to it. This is a limited-time offer.”
Clint chuckled, his grin widening. “Sure it is,” he said, leaning back against the couch. “But seriously, Tony… thanks. For everything.”
Tony glanced at him, his expression softening. “Anytime, Barton,” he said quietly. “Anytime.”
-
Over the following weeks, Clint grew stronger, steadily reclaiming his independence bit by bit. He started walking laps around the common area, stubbornly refusing to let anyone help him, even when his steps faltered. Tony tried not to hover, but it was a losing battle—he was always nearby, pretending to tinker with something or scrolling through his tablet, but his eyes never strayed far from Clint.
“You’re like a mother hen,” Clint teased one morning, catching Tony watching him out of the corner of his eye as he leaned on the back of the couch to steady himself.
Tony didn’t even bother to deny it. “And you’re like a reckless teenager who doesn’t know when to sit the hell down,” he retorted, setting his tablet aside. “What if you fall?”
“I won’t,” Clint said with a smirk, though the wobble in his step betrayed him.
Tony shot up from his seat and was at Clint’s side in an instant, his hands hovering just inches away as if he were afraid to touch him. “Barton,” he said, his voice low and warning, “you’re one misstep away from me wrapping you in bubble wrap. Don’t test me.”
Clint chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m fine, Stark. Relax.”
But Tony didn’t relax. He couldn’t. Every time Clint stumbled or pushed himself too far, the image of him lying unconscious on the battlefield flashed in Tony’s mind, and it sent a fresh wave of panic through him. He knew Clint was tough—probably one of the toughest people he’d ever met—but that didn’t stop the fear from clawing at his chest.
That night, after the others had gone to bed, Clint found Tony in the workshop, bent over some new piece of tech that looked like it hadn’t been touched in hours. Tony didn’t notice him at first, too lost in thought as he stared blankly at the schematic on his tablet.
“You okay?” Clint asked softly, leaning against the doorframe.
Tony startled, looking up sharply before letting out a breath. “Jesus, Barton, make some noise next time,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
Clint raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure I did. You were just too busy brooding to notice.”
“I don’t brood,” Tony shot back automatically, though the lack of conviction in his voice made Clint smirk.
Clint pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the workshop, his movements slower than usual but steady. He pulled up a stool beside Tony and sat down, his gaze studying the other man. “What’s going on?” he asked after a moment. “And don’t give me some bullshit about being fine. I’ve been watching you, Stark. You’re not.”
Tony sighed, his shoulders slumping. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands over his face. “I just… I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “Ever since… you know. I’ve been on edge. I can’t stop thinking about what almost happened.”
Clint’s expression softened, and he reached out, placing a hand on Tony’s arm. “Hey,” he said gently. “I’m still here. You didn’t lose me.”
“I know,” Tony said, his voice tight. “But I almost did. And I don’t think I can go through that again.”
Clint’s grip on his arm tightened slightly, grounding him. “You won’t,” he said firmly. “I’m not going anywhere, Tony. I mean it.”
Tony looked at him, his eyes searching Clint’s face for any hint of doubt, but there was none. Clint’s gaze was steady, his expression resolute, and it was enough to ease some of the tension in Tony’s chest.
“Okay,” Tony said after a moment, his voice soft. “Okay.”
They sat in silence for a while, the weight of everything they’d been through hanging between them. Eventually, Clint broke the quiet with a small, teasing smile. “So… are you going to keep hovering over me like a helicopter parent, or are you going to let me heal in peace?”
Tony huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I make no promises,” he said, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone. “But I’ll try to dial it back. Maybe.”
“Good enough,” Clint said, leaning back with a satisfied smirk.
-
It happened so quickly that Tony barely registered it. Clint had been walking around the common area again, stubborn as always, when his foot caught the edge of the rug. His already-weakened balance betrayed him, and before he could catch himself, he was falling.
“Clint!” Tony’s voice tore through the air, panicked and sharp. He was at Clint’s side in an instant, practically diving to the floor as Clint hit the ground with a dull thud.
For a split second, there was nothing but silence—no sound, no movement. Then Clint gasped, a ragged, wheezing noise that sent Tony’s heart into his throat.
“Breathe, Clint!” Tony urged, his voice cracking as he crouched next to him. His hands hovered, unsure of where to touch, terrified of making things worse. “Come on, just breathe!”
Clint’s chest heaved as he struggled to draw in air, his face pale and pinched with pain. His hands clutched at the floor, his eyes wide and unfocused. Tony’s own breaths grew shallow as he watched, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios.
“You’re okay,” Tony said, more to himself than to Clint. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay. Just—just breathe, damn it!”
Finally, Clint managed to suck in a shallow, wheezing breath, then another, each one steadier than the last. His face started to regain some color, and the tension in his body eased slightly. He let out a weak groan, blinking up at Tony with a pained but sheepish expression.
“Guess… I tripped,” Clint rasped, his voice hoarse from the effort of catching his breath.
But Tony wasn’t laughing. He was shaking, his eyes wide and glassy as he stared down at Clint like he’d just watched the man die all over again. “You scared the hell out of me,” Tony whispered, his voice trembling. “I thought—I thought—”
Tony cut himself off, running a hand through his hair as he sat back on his heels. His breathing was shallow, almost hyperventilating, and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He looked like he was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.
Clint, still catching his breath, frowned and reached out weakly, his fingers brushing against Tony’s arm. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice steadier now. “Tony. Look at me.”
Tony didn’t respond at first, his gaze fixed on the floor as he tried and failed to calm himself. Clint gritted his teeth and pushed himself up onto his elbows, wincing at the effort. “Tony,” he said again, more firmly this time.
Slowly, Tony’s eyes met Clint’s. They were filled with fear, guilt, and something raw and vulnerable that Clint hadn’t seen before. Clint gave him a small, reassuring smile, his hand gripping Tony’s arm to anchor him.
“Breathe with me,” Clint said gently. “Come on. In for four, out for four. You can do it.”
Tony hesitated, his breaths still shallow and erratic, but Clint’s calm, steady voice broke through the haze. Clint took an exaggerated breath in, counting softly. “One, two, three, four. Now out. One, two, three, four.”
Tony mirrored him, though his first breath was shaky and uneven. Clint didn’t let go of his arm, didn’t let him spiral. He kept counting, kept breathing, until Tony’s breathing began to sync with his own.
“There you go,” Clint said softly, his smile widening just a little. “That’s it. You’re okay.”
Tony let out a shaky exhale, running a hand down his face. He still looked pale, but the panic in his eyes had dimmed. “You’re the one who fell,” he muttered, his voice weak but laced with a hint of exasperation. “Why am I the one freaking out?”
“Because you care,” Clint said simply, his tone light but honest. “And because you’re a control freak who doesn’t like seeing things go wrong.”
Tony huffed a laugh, though it came out more like a sigh. “You’re impossible, Barton.”
Clint grinned, finally pushing himself into a sitting position. Tony immediately reached out to steady him, his hands firm but careful. Clint let him, knowing it would make him feel better.
“I’m fine, Tony,” Clint said softly, his voice steady and reassuring. “It was just a fall. I’ll be more careful, I promise.”
Tony stared at him for a long moment, his jaw tight. “You scared me,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought—” He stopped, shaking his head as if trying to dispel the thought. “I can’t lose you, Clint. I just… I can’t.”
Clint’s expression softened, and he reached out, resting a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You’re not going to lose me,” he said firmly. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”
Tony nodded, though he still looked shaken. Clint gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then added with a smirk, “Now help me up before I make a habit of sitting on the floor.”
Tony rolled his eyes but stood, pulling Clint up with surprising gentleness. He kept a hand on Clint’s arm, steadying him until he was sure Clint was stable.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Tony muttered as they made their way back to the couch.
“Damn right I am,” Clint said with a grin, settling onto the cushions. He patted the spot beside him, and Tony sat down without hesitation.
For the rest of the night, Tony stayed close, his hand brushing against Clint’s every so often. And while Clint knew it would take time for Tony to fully let go of his fears,
-
The evening stretched into quiet comfort, the soft hum of the city filtering through the windows of the Tower. Tony hadn’t moved far from Clint’s side since the fall. He sat at the far end of the couch now, but his hand rested loosely on the cushion between them, close enough that Clint could feel the warmth of his palm radiating near his thigh.
They were watching some random movie that Clint hadn’t paid attention to the title of, though he was sure Tony wasn’t watching either. Tony’s focus was split between darting glances at Clint and occasionally rubbing his temple as if willing away the echoes of his earlier panic attack.
“You know,” Clint said suddenly, breaking the silence. “For a guy who once told me I was the most annoying person alive, you’re pretty invested in me.”
Tony’s head snapped toward him, a look of mild indignation crossing his face. “I never said you were the most annoying. I said you were one of the most annoying.”
Clint smirked, shrugging one shoulder. “Same difference.”
Tony leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, his brow furrowing. “Yeah, well… people change.”
“People, huh?” Clint teased, tilting his head. “Or just you?”
Tony groaned, throwing his head back against the couch dramatically. “Why do I even bother?”
Clint laughed, the sound low and genuine. “Because you like me. Admit it, Stark—you’re a softie for me.”
Tony turned his head to glare at him, but there was no real heat behind it. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here you are,” Clint said with a smug grin, gesturing between them. “Sitting here, hovering, like I’m a fragile egg.”
Tony’s expression softened, his eyes darting down to where Clint’s hand rested on his lap. “You scared the hell out of me, Clint,” he said quietly, all traces of sarcasm gone from his voice. “I’ve been scared since that day on the mission. And today? When you hit the ground? It felt like my heart stopped.”
Clint’s smile faded, replaced by something softer and more serious. “I know,” he said, his voice equally quiet. “I can see it, Tony. Every time you look at me. I wish I could tell you not to worry, that nothing like this will happen again, but I’d be lying. We’re Avengers. Danger comes with the job.”
Tony looked down, his jaw clenching. “I know that,” he murmured. “I’ve always known that. But you… you’re not just another teammate to me, Clint. You’re—” He hesitated, swallowing hard. “You’re more.”
Clint’s heart skipped a beat at the raw honesty in Tony’s voice. He hadn’t expected him to say it—not so plainly, not like this. He’d felt it in the little things Tony had done lately: the hovering, the glances, the quiet moments when Tony’s hand would linger just a second too long on his shoulder or arm. But hearing it now, spoken aloud, made it feel real in a way Clint wasn’t entirely prepared for.
“I get it,” Clint said after a moment, his voice softer now. “I do. And for what it’s worth, you’re more to me, too.”
Tony looked up at him, his eyes searching Clint’s face for any sign of doubt, but there was none. Clint gave him a small, reassuring smile, one that said everything he couldn’t quite put into words.
They sat in silence for a while after that, the weight of their unspoken feelings settling between them like a shared secret. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable—just quiet, filled with a mutual understanding that didn’t need to be explained.
Eventually, Clint shifted closer, closing the gap between them on the couch. He reached out, his hand brushing against Tony’s. “Hey,” he said softly, waiting until Tony looked at him. “We’re gonna be okay. I promise.”
Tony nodded, though his expression remained guarded. “You can’t promise that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” Clint admitted, squeezing Tony’s hand gently. “But I can promise that as long as I’m here, I’m not going anywhere without a fight. And you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
Tony let out a shaky laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Good,” he murmured, his fingers curling around Clint’s. “Because I’m not sure what I’d do without you.”
Clint grinned, leaning back into the couch and tugging Tony with him. “Well, lucky for you, you don’t have to find out.”
Tony let himself relax, his head leaning against Clint’s shoulder.