Here I Am
The following days at the tower passed in a blur of quiet moments and unspoken confessions. Clint found himself gravitating to Tony more than ever. It wasn’t intentional—it was instinctive. Tony, in turn, made space for Clint in his life without hesitation. A space that Clint wasn’t sure he deserved but wasn’t about to give up, either.
That morning, Clint was sprawled across Tony’s couch, fiddling with a stray arrow in his hands while Tony worked at his bench. The sounds of the workshop filled the air—tools whirring, JARVIS offering occasional commentary, and Tony muttering calculations under his breath. Clint watched him, equal parts amused and entranced.
“Do you ever sit still?” Clint asked after a while.
Tony didn’t look up. “Not unless someone pins me down, which you’re shockingly good at.”
Clint smirked. “That an invitation?”
Tony paused, straightening from his work. He turned, raising an eyebrow as a slow grin spread across his face. “I don’t know, Barton. You think you can handle it?”
Clint set the arrow down, standing and crossing the room in a few strides. He leaned against the edge of the workbench, close enough that Tony could feel the heat radiating from him. “Careful, Stark. I’m pretty sure that’s a challenge.”
Tony tilted his head, his grin softening into something more sincere. “You don’t back down from much, do you?”
Clint’s expression shifted, his smirk giving way to something quieter. “Not when it’s worth it.”
The moment stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Clint reached out, his fingers brushing against Tony’s wrist, a small but grounding gesture.
“You okay?” Clint asked, his voice low.
Tony nodded, his gaze searching Clint’s. “Yeah. I think I am.”
-
Tony Stark was a force of nature when he worked. Clint had seen it time and time again—the way Tony’s focus would narrow, his mind consumed by whatever idea or invention had sparked his interest. Today was no different.
The billionaire had been holed up in the workshop since early morning, barely acknowledging Clint’s presence aside from a distracted wave when Clint brought him coffee. Now, as the day bled into evening, Clint found himself lingering in the lounge area, his frustration mounting.
He wasn’t upset, not really. He knew this was part of who Tony was. But after spending days together, wrapped up in each other’s orbit, the sudden shift felt like whiplash.
Clint glanced toward the workshop door, debating his next move. He could leave Tony to it, let him finish whatever genius creation he was working on. Or he could take matters into his own hands.
A slow smirk tugged at the corner of Clint’s mouth. The decision was easy.
The workshop was a cacophony of sound when Clint stepped inside. The hum of machinery, the clink of tools, and JARVIS’s calm voice offering suggestions all filled the space. Tony was at his workbench, hunched over a sleek piece of tech, his hands moving with practiced precision.
“Stark,” Clint called, his voice cutting through the noise.
Tony didn’t look up. “Not now, Barton. I’m in the middle of something brilliant.”
Clint crossed the room, his boots echoing against the polished floor. He stopped just behind Tony, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’ve been ‘in the middle of something brilliant’ all day. Time to take a break.”
“Can’t,” Tony replied, his tone distracted. “This is a prototype for a new drone. If I stop now, I’ll lose my momentum.”
Clint’s eyes narrowed. “You know, for a guy who prides himself on being a genius, you can be pretty clueless.”
Tony finally glanced up, arching an eyebrow. “Clueless? Really? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve got a room full of patents that beg to differ.”
Clint leaned down, bracing his hands on the edge of the workbench so he was eye level with Tony. “You’re missing the point, Stark.”
Tony’s gaze flicked to Clint’s, his expression half-amused, half-inquisitive. “Enlighten me.”
Clint didn’t bother answering. Instead, he reached out, grabbing Tony by the wrist and pulling him away from the workbench with surprising ease.
“Hey!” Tony protested, stumbling as Clint guided him toward the couch in the corner of the room. “What the hell, Barton? I was working!”
“Yeah, well, now you’re not,” Clint said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Before Tony could object further, Clint pushed him down onto the couch, following him a moment later to straddle his lap. Tony blinked up at him, momentarily stunned into silence.
“This is one way to get my attention,” Tony finally managed, his voice tinged with amusement.
Clint smirked, leaning in until their faces were inches apart. “You left me no choice.”
Tony opened his mouth to respond, but whatever retort he had planned was cut off when Clint kissed him.
The kiss was firm and deliberate, a demand for Tony’s focus and nothing less. Clint’s hands framed Tony’s face, holding him in place as he poured his frustration—and his affection—into the kiss.
Tony’s hands came up to grip Clint’s hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of Clint’s jeans as he kissed back with equal fervor. Their mouths moved together in a heated dance, each one trying to outpace the other.
Clint bit down gently on Tony’s lower lip, earning a quiet gasp from the billionaire. Taking advantage of the moment, Clint deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping past Tony’s lips in a slow, teasing motion.
When they finally broke apart, both men were breathless, their foreheads pressed together.
“Distracted yet?” Clint asked, his voice low and slightly hoarse.
Tony let out a shaky laugh, his grip on Clint’s hips tightening. “You have my undivided attention, Barton. Happy now?”
Clint leaned back slightly, his hands sliding down to rest on Tony’s shoulders. “Getting there.”
For the next hour, the workshop was forgotten. Clint made sure of it, pulling Tony further into their moment until all thoughts of prototypes and deadlines had melted away.
It wasn’t just about the kisses, though those were certainly a highlight. It was about grounding Tony, reminding him that he wasn’t alone—that someone cared enough to pull him away from his relentless pace.
When they finally resurfaced, tangled together on the couch, Tony let out a contented sigh.
“You’re infuriating,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words.
Clint grinned, brushing a hand through Tony’s hair. “And you love it.”
Tony tilted his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yeah. I do.”
The simplicity of the admission made Clint’s chest tighten. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Tony’s temple.
“Good,” Clint murmured. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
-
-
The man was always juggling a dozen projects at once, most of which involved suits, gadgets, or upgrades no one had asked for. So when Tony called Clint into the workshop one evening, Clint wasn’t sure what to expect.
“Please tell me you didn’t build me a jetpack,” Clint said as he walked in, his tone half-joking but entirely wary.
Tony was standing in front of one of his workbenches, looking oddly nervous. “No jetpack. But now that you mention it, that would be pretty badass. Maybe for your birthday.”
Clint groaned, leaning against the doorway. “Tony…”
“Relax,” Tony said, holding up his hands. “It’s not a jetpack. It’s something practical. Well, practical for someone who voluntarily jumps off buildings for a living.”
Clint raised an eyebrow. “Okay, now you’ve got me curious. What is it?”
Tony grinned, that boyish excitement he got whenever he unveiled a new invention lighting up his face. “Close your eyes.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Tony said, crossing his arms.
Clint sighed but obeyed. “If this is some kind of prank, I’m stealing all your coffee pods.”
“You wound me,” Tony said dramatically. “Now, hold out your hands.”
Clint did, and a moment later, he felt something lightweight and cool against his palms.
“Okay, you can open them now,” Tony said.
Clint opened his eyes and stared down at the object in his hands. It was a sleek, compact quiver, smaller than the one he currently used but clearly packed with some kind of tech. The arrows inside looked custom-made, their tips glinting with subtle but unmistakable Stark flair.
“Is this…?” Clint began, his voice trailing off.
“Your new best friend,” Tony said, stepping closer and pointing at the quiver. “Lightweight, magnetic locking system, customizable payloads. I added some non-lethal options—smoke, flashbangs, that sort of thing—and a couple of specialty arrows I think you’ll like.”
Clint turned the quiver over in his hands, marveling at the design. “This is… amazing, Tony.”
Tony’s grin softened into something more sincere. “Yeah, well. You’ve got a bad habit of putting yourself in ridiculously dangerous situations. Figured it couldn’t hurt to give you an edge.”
Clint looked up at him, something warm settling in his chest. “You didn’t have to do this.”
Tony shrugged, his gaze flickering away for a moment. “I wanted to. I don’t say it often, but… I worry about you. A lot more than I should, probably.”
Clint set the quiver down and stepped closer to Tony, reaching out to cup his face. “You’re allowed to worry. Just don’t let it keep you up at night, okay?”
Tony’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Can’t make any promises.”
Clint shook his head, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to Tony’s lips. Tony responded immediately, his hands sliding up to rest on Clint’s hips, pulling him closer.
When they finally pulled apart, Tony rested his forehead against Clint’s. “You know, if you keep kissing me like that, I’m gonna keep building you stuff.”
Clint smirked. “Not a bad deal.”
Tony laughed, the sound light and unguarded in a way Clint didn’t hear often. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” Clint said, echoing their favorite refrain, “here you are.”
-
Later that night, Clint sat on Tony’s bed, testing out the features of the new quiver while Tony sprawled beside him, fiddling with a tablet.
“So,” Tony said casually, not looking up, “what’s your favorite arrow?”
Clint glanced over at him, smirking. “That’s like asking a parent to pick their favorite kid.”
“Good thing I’m an only child,” Tony quipped. “Come on, humor me.”
Clint thought for a moment, then held up one of the specialty arrows Tony had designed. “This one’s pretty cool. What does it do?”
Tony grinned. “Press the button on the side.”
Clint did, and the arrowhead popped open to reveal a tiny, glowing Stark logo.
“You branded it?” Clint asked, half-amused, half-exasperated.
“Gotta remind you who loves you,” Tony said with a wink.
Clint laughed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”
Tony leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to Clint’s cheek. “And yet…”
“Here I am,” Clint finished, grinning.