This FF was written after a photoshooting with me as Clint and a friend of mine as Tony... pls don't take it to seriously xD it was more a fun thing conjured of the picture! Well enjoy!
Clint Barton thought himself a simple man. Well as simple as you can be coming from an abusive family, being raised in the circus and make your money either being a professional assassin or one of earth's mightiest heroes.
But he did appreciate the small things in life: the feeling of a warm blanket after an especially hard mission, a good talk with Natasha to keep his ever so prominent nightmares away and the safety of his own nest, his home for only him and him alone.
After moving into Avengers Tower (to be exact he was bribed - but come on: a whole floor shaped to his wishes? Constant free food and new equipment for his bow and quiver from an easily bored genius... who was he to decline?) he tried to get along with the rest of the team. He could be really social if he was in the mood: chatting for hours with the Captain, tinkering with Bruce over some science (most of which he didn't get but it was worth a try) or simply sharing a good time with Thor while drinking beer.
The only strained companionship came to be with the one coaxing him into here in the first place: no one but Tony Stark himself. There were times where everything was just peachy: while they sat on the couch, drinking a beer or two and discussing bullshit over some underrated movies. Almost like friends.
And sometimes they would nag and brag, hiss and insult, grating on each others nerves on purpose (like raiding the air vents and dropping into the locked lab besides Tony in the middle of the night to make him scream like a girl or mixing hair dye in each others shampoos – the usual stuff).
Those mood swings annoyed the hell out of the archer until he retreated into his nest to sulk (and the billionaire into his lab, none of the others saw him for days). He really looked up to the engineer (though he never said that aloud while having company besides Natasha) and being on bad terms with the main reason to become a hero in the first place was absolutely unsatisfying. Maybe they just had to keep on trying.
But with all the pranking and mischief they caused, there was one exception nobody ever dared to cross: messing with the private things of an Avenger. Everyone cherished the comfort and safety coming with their own room since always being the target of supervillans' craving for blood kind of made you paranoid and never gave you time to relax.
On that particular evening he didn't feel like company so he stepped into the tower after his mission and (while letting Jarvis excuse his absence to the others) craved nothing more than a hot shower and his bed.
Discarding his equipment carelessly after reaching his room he faced the bathroom door as the feeling hit him – something was different. Missing to be precise.
He scanned his surroundings with a sharp look and his gaze fell towards the empty spot on his nightstand. Not a few hours ago he had left a small box of chocolate there – a thank you-gift from a cute little girl for saving her life while taking some damage himself.
He never was one for fame: with Iron Man, Captain America and Thor (well and Hulk but there's no way you can't notice mean and green) being the main protagonists of their team, Natasha and Clint mostly acted in the background - never drawing medial attention towards them to not bust their identities during undercover missions. He knew he was a valuable asset to the team even without superhuman powers – his skills have more than often saved his teammates life – and everyone knew he would take a bullet to the chest without even thinking to let them stay safe.
But this... this one appreciation he got in all this time was taken from him. He felt his temper boil and teeth grinding while he took the furniture in for a second time; he had to stay calm. Lowering himself on eyelevel with the nightstand he noticed the tiny black patch on its edge. Nudging the substance with his thumb he smeared it over his skin und sniffed cautiously – grease and motoroil.
Stark...
„I'm sorry Mr. Barton but Mr. Stark wishes not to be disturbed while working on his new project." the polite A.I.'s voice informed him as he demanded entry to the lab Stark was currently hiding.
„Working my ass! Tell him to open the door or I'll drag his fucking ass out here!" Clint practically yelled but Jarvis was not to be tempered with. Well but if one door closes...
Deeply concentrated on the new repulsor technology he was working on, the selfproclaimed genius failed to notice the quiet noises coming from above his head.
/Just a little turn to the left, then it will probably.../
Not finishing his thought he yelped and threw himself away from his lab desk on which Clint just made his entrance out of nowhere with a loud bang.
He stared at the blond, gaping like a fish for a few second before finding his voice.
„Seriously Barton WTF you're thinking?! And what did I tell you about the freaking air vents?! One day I'll certainly have a heart attack and then I'll charge-"
He stopped as the archer rose to his full height, his shadow towering over the brunette inventor.
„You took what's mine Stark..." came the dangerously low answer – more sounding like a growl - „and I hate it when someone messes with my nest!" the answering snort just made him clench his fists harder.
„This is all about this stupid little thing?" the genius drawled when he sauntered over to his work bench, gripping a small black heartshaped chocolate box, waving it towards him, „the threats of dragging me out of my beloved lab, nearly giving me a heartattack and snarling at me like an animal for some sweets? Seriously Barton if I had known you have such a sweet tooth I would've bought a ton of this stuff!" Tony grinned, popping one of the chocolate hearts into his mouth, looking so smug Clint wanted to punch his jaw ever so badly. Climbing down the laboratory desk he crossed the distance between them just as the Iron Man was about to eat another piece.
Moving faster as he estimated (and probably has ever seen) the marksman was standing by his side, grapping his jaw in an ironvice grip and preventing him from detaching the sweetness which was currently located between his teeth. Even through the shades the other was wearing he could still feel the burning gaze locked into his. „Those sweets are mine Mr. Stark.. and now I have to reclaim them...".
For a fraction of a second Tony believed Clint was kidding – maybe some people came jumping out of nowhere, laughing at him that he got punk'd or such shit. But the hot breath on his face said otherwise. Teeth grazing his lips send a hot tingly feeling straight into his stomach before soft skin was fluttering against him. Just when he thought he'd be kissed for real, the Hawk retreated while chewing happily. His victim just stared before it clicked in place - that fucker just bit off the damn chocolate! And he was standing there expecting – what was he even excepting?! That little...
Seeing the baffled look on Starks face was nearly enough to laugh out loud but Clint mustered all his will to remain collected – but a smug smile never hurt, didn't it?
He turned and made his way towards the door, picking up the box of sweets on his way and gave the brunette a quick two-fingered salute while standing in the doorframe.
„Always nice to fuck up your boring lab hours! Remember the next time you touch my stuff I'll punch your gut for good!".
Then he disappeared from Tonys sight and he was alone again, as if nothing ever happened - well minus the sweets. The mechanic huffed and rubbed his chin – damn that bitch had strong hands...but was to be expected from an archer? His lips grew into a playful smirk at this thought.
Well the Hawk wanted to play? Then he would play for good...
-The End (?)-