“Does anyone copy?”
Clint’s voice sounded slightly concerned, and each avengers responded, one by one.
“I copy.”
“Copied, Legolas.”
“Copy, shut it, Tony.”
“Copy.”
“I copy Hawkeye.”
There was silence on the other line, and the team waited patiently for their instructions from Clint. They were fighting an army of robots/loins, and while they were relatively easy to take down, there were a lot.
“Does anyone copy?” They heard Clint’s voice again, and Tony could feel the dread settle in his stomach at the tony of Clint’s voice. They each copied again, but with a little more urgency than before.
“Hey? Anyone copy?” Clint’s voice was getting panicked, and the realization hit Tony like a tidal wave.
“Guys! Clint’s fucking comm is broken, he can’t hear us,” Tony said urgently. What if he was in trouble? What if he was trapped under a building or under a Robion (robot/lion, catch up)? What if he was dying? Bleeding out?
“Jarv, please fucking locate,” he said.
“Sir, I am unable to reach his tracker, which is in his broken comm.”
“FUCK,” Tony let out, causing an avalanche of questions by the rest of the team. The worry increased, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe as clearly as before, the panic settling in.
“His tracker is in his comm. Which is broken.”
“Guys? Guys? Can anyone hear me?” Tony heard the fear slowly creep in Clint’s voice, and he cussed loudly along with the other avengers.
“Shit, we have to get to him,” Natasha’s voice came in his ear, loud and frantic, and he heard a chorus of agrees.
“Split up. I’ll take 6th, Nat, 7th, Thor, 8th, Tony, 9th. Hulk? Find Clint. Find tiny bow and arrow guy.”
“Guys? No no no no no- someone answer!” Clint shouted.
“Someone FUCKING ANSWER!”
They all cringed, and hulk’s roar was loud in Tony’s comm.
“Clint, we’re coming, okay? We’re okay! Jesus fuck, hear me!” Tony shouted, manic fear reaching into his heart and driving it out. He raced towards 9th Street, praying he got there it time, reaching up to whatever universal being was out there, praying, praying, praying.
“Tony! Calm down. Stay focused-“ Steve’s voice was abruptly cut off as Clint started screaming.
“TONY? CAP? NAT? THOR? FUCK FUCK FUCK SOMEONE ANSWER!”
Tony could hear Clint’s sobs, could hear his pleas and his screams, and Tony didn’t realize he was crying until his vision was getting blurry and hot tears were trailing down his cheeks.
He desperately took out his anger and panic on the robions, blasting them out of his way as the zipped through ninth. But he wasn’t fast enough. When was he ever fast enough? He couldn’t breathe he couldn’t think it was only get to Clint get to Clint get to Clint-
“PLEASE ANSWER. GUYS? GUYS? SHIT, WHERE ARE YOU? DON’T FUCKING LEAVE ME, OKAY? PLEASE DONT FUCKING LEAVE-“
Desperation wrenched in Tony’s gut and he numbly opened his faceplate and vomited onto the pavement.
“I CAN'T- WHERE ARE YOU? Where are you? Don’t leave me. Please,” Clint’s yells got less scream and more desperate as he called out for them, and they could all hear the sobs, or was it all of them who were sobbing? Tony couldn’t tell.
Get to Clint, get to Clint, where the fuck was he?
“Tony? Tony, is that you?”
He rammed to a stop and turned to his left, and there, fighting off robions with tears on his face and blood on his hands, was Clint, looking at him like he was the only thing in the world.
“Guys I have him!” Tony shouted, and there was a chorus of cries and relief, and the worry swam in Tony’s stomach as he saw the bloody gash on Clint’s head.
He stumbled over to him, throwing the robions out of the way with a force that was not necessary, but Clint was there, Cling was there, he was there.
“On my way, everyone to ninth.” Steve’s voice was strong and commanding, but Tony could only hear the worry laced in it.
“Jarv, disengage, sentry mode. No robions.”
The suit opened and Clint was running into his arms, throwing himself onto Tony, and he could feel Clint’s harsh breathing under up.
Tony threw his shields up in the air, and they fell to the ground, rolling away from them and moving into a neat circle.
And then the bubble of protection was around them, and Tony could breathe.
He put his arms around Clint and tried to stop the tears, tried to block the haunted look in Clint’s eyes, tried to block out the screams.
“Jarvis, send all other suits in compartment C49 and destroy these motherfuckers.”
“Already done, Sir.”
He held Clint and rubbed his back softly, patting it gently and waiting for him to calm down.
“Tony, I was so scared. Tony, you’re here. You came?” Tony could hear the yells of “we came? Of course we fucking came” in his ear, but he knew Clint couldn’t.
“We came? Of course we fucking came. The team is on their way now. I got the robions handled. You’re comm was broken and we could hear you and you couldn’t hear us. You’re okay. We came.”
Clint slowly unclenched himself from Tony, and as he backed away, Tony could see the uncertainty in his eyes.
“Clint, it’s okay. I think you’ve warranted a hug.” Clint nodded, but didn’t say anything, trying to wipe his tears and avoiding Tony’s gaze.
Tony whipped around and saw Natasha running up to them, dodging robions and Iron Suits. Tony ordered Jarvis to let the team into the bubble, and then she was there, next to them. Clint was still trying in vain to get his composure back, and Tony could see the emotions overflowing in Natasha’ eyes. She walked over to him and gently took his face in her hand and stroked the tears away from his cheeks.
And then Natasha did the impossible, she smiled, so bright and happy that it had both Clint and Tony smiling back.
And then Bruce stumbled in, half naked and looking confused.
“I remember,” he said.
“I remember, Christ, I remember, I remember. Clint, I remember,” repeating the phrase over and over until Tony put a gentle hand on his shoulder. Once Bruce felt the touch, he broke down and started crying quietly. Tony wrapped his arms around him and then Bruce was crying in his shoulder.
Next it was Steve, walking into the bubble shakily, and although he tried to disguise it, Tony could tell he had been crying. He stared at Clint for a good thirty seconds, and they could feel Clint holding his breath. All was paused as they waited for their Captain to make the first move.
“Clint, shit, Clint, Crist, I’m sorry,” he eventually said, walking over to Clint like a newborn gazelle (Tony poor metaphor) and saluting him with a sloppy two fingers but with the poise of a soldier. Clint smiled and returned it, throwing a careless arm up. Tony could see his fingers shaking from here.
And finally, Thor joined them, flew straight over to Clint and put his big, strong arms around him. Clint resisted for a fraction of a second (which went completely unnoticed by Thor), but eventually hesitantly returned the hug.
And then it hit Tony and he stumbled away. Was this his family? Did these people love him as much as they loved Clint? The way Clint called for him…
And then the air was out of his lungs, he was drowning, he was dangerous, why were these people tolerating him? He was an asshole. He was The Merchant of Death. He’s killed people. Did they not see how evil he was? Didn’t they see how weak he was? A liability. Why was Clint so grateful to see him? Why did Bruce lean into his touch? Why didn’t they kick him out?
And then he was walking away, stumbling away, and the team was looking at him, and he was in his suit, he needed away, away, away, and he knew just how fucked he was on the flight back to the tower, running away from the thing he wanted most, the thing he did not know how to accept.
And then he was down in his workshop, in safety, he was safe, safe, safe.
Comms. Comms. Build comms that won’t fucking break like that. So he never has to hear Clint’s sobbs and his screams. Comms. Build the new comms.
His fingers knew what to do before his mind did, and he let the familiar feeling of creating overtake him. The one thing he was good at, why they kept him around in the first place, they weren't a family, he was just a consultant. They don’t actually want him.
God, he was a fuck up. Could he ever stop running? he never faced his problems, never wanted to talk about them, just kept running away and never faced reality.
And he felt the tears, hot in his eyes, blurring his vision. He couldn’t see the comms he needed to build, he needed to build them, he needed to build them so he wouldn’t hear Clin’t sobbs and his screams, so they would keep him, so they would like him, so he could so the one thing he was good for. The only thing he was good for.
Worthless. They all think so. Hell, you can’t even build a fucking comm unit without breaking down. Without crying like the worthless piece of shit you are. They all know it. You aren’t even an actual avenger, just a consultant, unimportant, would they even notice if you just left?
He could never have a family, Starks weren’t made for it. Howard proved that enough. Tony didn’t need to fuck things up even more.
Comms. Build the comms so you aren’t completely worthless.
Hours later, he emerged from his workshop with bags under his eyes and comms in his hands for each of the avengers. He was still incredibly dirty from the mission and hadn’t eaten anything yet. The elevator doors opened and what he saw made his eyes tear up because fuck, they really didn’t need him did they?
They were all spread out over the communal living room, yet somehow managing to touch each other. Natasha was leaning on Clint on the couch. Bruce was splayed on an armchair with Thor’s head at his feet and Thor’s legs on Steve’s lap, who was on the ground leaning up against the couch. Steve seemed to be the only one awake. He looked over at Tony, wet hair a mess on his head. Tony looked into those bright blue eyes and tried to compose himself.
“Hey Tony,” Steve said, his tone… sad?
“We missed you after the mission. What happened?” Tony shook his head minutely, not trusting himself to speak, and held up the comms that he made sure would not break.
“Those could’ve waited,” Steve said, his tone gentle and confused, and he really didn’t get it did he? He didn’t get how the overwhelming love for them choked Tony because he knew they couldn’t love him the same way. He didn’t get how Tony was trained to run from love because it would only end in pain. He didn’t get that Tony was merely a consultant, not a permanent member of the avengers, how his presence made it so everyone hated him, how he made his words sharp and cutting so they would never get close to him. He didn’t get that the comms could not have waited, because they were the only thing Tony was good for, the only reason he could even fight with the avengers, the only reason they pretended to like him.
“No, no they couldn’t,” Tony said, and the captain must’ve read the desperation in Tony’s tone because he could see Steve’s confusion. However, he had the grace not to press.
“Maybe you could shower and I could make you something to eat? You haven’t eaten after the mission, have you?”
“I have too-”
“Coffee doesn’t count, Tony.”
Tony sighed and shook his head.
“Then go. I’ll make you something. It’s almost breakfast, actually. Eggs?” he asked, and fuck, he was pulling out the puppy eyes, Tony couldn’t refuse now.
“Sure Steve. I’ll see you in a minute.”
He rushed down the hall because he couldn’t spend another minute with Steve, who cared much more than anyone else Tony had met in his life.
And when Tony walked in the kitchen again, Steve was waiting for him with a plate of breakfast food and a cup of coffee.
“You know I like my coffee black,” he said indignantly. Steve smiled.
“You put cream in it when you think no one else is looking,” and damn, Tony didn’t have anything to say to that. So he shoved a fork of eggs in his mouth.
As the team woke up slowly, they each took their turn to be surprised Tony was there, which he pointedly pretended not to notice. They did, however, thank him for the new comms.
“Tony, have you even slept at all?” Bruce asked, bringing the fork up to his mouth, and Tony really didn’t know how to respond, because he cared? About Tony’s sleep? And not the comms?
And then Tony was suffocating, because he wasn’t used to this, this care, it was overwhelming, drowning him. And should he lie to Bruce? Should he tell the truth? Apparently his pause was long enough for the team to get the answer, because Steve pulled out the eyebrows of disappointment and Bruce sighed.
“Then you need to go to bed, Tony,” Natasha said, and only because it was Natasha and not Steve did Tony comply.
Tony fell asleep easily. He did not wake up easily. Clint’s screams echoed in his head, he flew over to Clint but Clint wasn’t breathing, he checked for a nonexistent pulse and then Natasha and Steve and Thor and Bruce were yelling at him, he could’ve saved Clint, should’ve gotten there in time, but Cint was dead he wasn’t alive-
Tony raced down the stairs, forgetting he even had an elevator, forgetting he even had JARVIS, forgetting Clint was alive, forgetting to breathe, forgetting, forgetting, forgetting.
He burst through the communal door, and there was the team, the team was looking at him, all the eyes were looking at him, at his panicked eyes, his fear, his vulnerability, his everything.
“Tony?” Clint’s voice was hesitant, but he was there, he was breathing, he was alive. Tony stood there and reveling in that fact, and he was aware he was staring, but he didn’t particularly care.
“Y- you’re alive,” he whispered, so small he wondered if they had heard him, but by their reaction he knew they did. Clint made the first move, standing up and making his way over to Tony. He took Tony’s hand gently in his own, and brought it to the pulsepoint. Tony felt the steady beat of Clint’s heart and closed his eyes. He was there. Clint was alive. He was breathing and his heart was beating and he was alive.
Tony dropped his hand away, and Clint held out his arms for a hug.
But Tony really didn’t know what to do with that, didn’t know how to accept that because he never had, but he wanted it, but he didn’t want it, but he did, and he didn’t.
His hesitation must’ve been evident (of course it was evident), because Clint smiled a little sadly and walked towards Tony, a question on his face. Tony nodded slowly, and Clint stepped forward with a flourish and wrapped Tony in his arms. Tony froze, because sure hugs were good when the other person needed them, but he had never needed them- scratch that, yes he did, it was obvious, but he had pushed away from them. Pushed away from love.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and there was a chorus of rebuttal, of argument.
“Don’t Tony. Just don’t, okay?”
“Don’t apologize. Not for this.”
“You would not be apologizing for anything, Man of Iron.”
“No Tony. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“Tony… don’t apologize for things that aren’t your fault-” Steve was cut off by a snort from Tony.
“Not my fucking fault? Are you serious? I’m supposed to protect my team’s tech, but I let SHIELD give you- give us- the shitty comms. That? That was my fault,” Tony said, and then he was crying into Clint, into his team.
“Tony, you didn’t build the comms. You had no fucking clue they would just- break like that. What you didn’t know we can’t blame you for.” that was Natasha quietly next to him. He shrugged.
There was silence as they pondered what to do next.
“Let’s sit sit down, yeah? We can watch a movie.” Tony nodded at Clint’s suggestion, but immediately felt the loss when he let go.
His posture slumped a little without the contact he didn’t realize he wanted this badly.
The team noticed because the team always noticed, and then Natasha was patting her lap on the couch and pushing his head down on it. She carded a hand through his hair and he sighed in relief.
Clint sat on the other side of the couch and put Tony’s legs in his lab. He smiled and Thor, Steve, and Bruce leaned on the bottom of the couch.
And they were there, his team was there, with him, with him, with him.
“Yeah Tony. We’re always with you,” Steve said quietly.
Tony smiled and allowed himself to fall asleep, surrounded by the team, the team, his team.
And when he woke up?
They were still there.
Just like they would always be.