This idea hit me out of no where while I was writing a completely different fic, and I just had to get it out while I was still in the zone. Hope you like it! :)

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When Clint has nightmares, they are all the same.

Blue.

Whispers.

Blue.

Commands.

Blue.

Pain.

Blue.

He hates the color blue – it always reminded him of what Loki had done to him, of how he had torn apart his mind and put something different – something evil – inside and used him as a puppet.

The guilt is the worst of it.

It was his plan, his actions, that had killed so many SHIELD agents on the helicarrier, including his handler and mentor. And that knowledge, that guilt, was something he would never be able to get rid of.

Thirty-seven.

That's how many people had died that day. More than that had been injured. And even though his mind had been mind controlled, agents still gazed at him with that same distrust in their eyes, the barely concealed hatred that it had been his tactical commands that had got their friends and partners killed that day.

He is grateful that the Captain had accepted Natasha's word that he could help them in New York, because he knows that his actions as sniper then had erased at least some of the added blood in his ledger. It could never be enough, because the people he'd had a hand in killing had been his coworkers and his friends…but at least other people's lives had been saved when he'd helped in the defense against the Chitauri.

He was the first one to accept going to live in Stark Tower ("No, Barton, I'm changing it to Avengers Tower now. You know everyone will want to live here eventually, and we've already got the 'A' on the side that says it's theirs, and they wouldn't want to make a liar out of me, would they?"). He had moved in even before Bruce, and Clint would have expected after the "Science Bros" had driven away together after seeing the Asgardians off that Tony would have convinced Bruce immediately to come join him. But the doctor was more stubborn than Clint had ever given him credit before, and it was a good two and a half months before Bruce finally caves to Tony's wheedling. After Bruce, everyone else came in fairly quick succession.

But in those eleven weeks, where it had been just Clint and Tony, they had grown closer than Clint would have ever expected. Originally, he had accepted the offer to live there to get away from the judging stares coming from all sides at SHIELD. He hadn't expected to see Tony too much, if he was honest; he'd heard enough rumors about how the man would stay in his workshop for days, only resurfacing when he ran out of coffee downstairs.

And that was true, in the beginning; Tony had stayed in his workshop, updating his Iron Man suits and working on better arrows for Clint.

But Clint hadn't known that at first – when Tony had first presented him with the stronger arrows with a whole array of new threats attached, he'd been stunned. Tony had brushed it off, but Clint knew that he was pleased with the reaction and subsequent thanks.

After that, Clint had begun dragging Tony out of the workshop more, insisting he needed to do something else so that he didn't go crazy. It had started with movie nights and video games, which had quickly turned into making and eating dinner together.

He'd been the only one there to offer comfort and take away the bottle when Pepper broke up with him. Clint had experienced some of the same thing years before, with a woman named Laura, who couldn't deal with the stress of not knowing whether or not he would come home whenever he went out on another dangerous mission. Pepper couldn't handle Iron Man, but she didn't want this to destroy their friendship as well.

And later, after the others had moved in, Natasha had observed his interactions with Tony, before telling him that he really needed to get his act together and ask him out already.

It's true that Clint had developed a crush on the genius, but he hadn't known that there was even a chance that Tony felt the same way. He'd thought that Tony was still recovering from Pepper. Knowing that Natasha wouldn't purposely lead him astray on something like this, he'd watched specifically for signs that Tony might feel the same way for Clint that Clint did for him. And after a few days, he certainly liked what he saw.

He hadn't thought he would ever get over his panic and his hatred over the color blue. He hadn't known that his panic attacks would ever fade at that specific shade.

But Tony changed that. Tony's arc reactor was almost the same shade as the blue that filled his nightmares of being controlled, and he'd thought for some time that he would never be able to be with Tony with it uncovered without slipping into his panic.

Amazingly, it never happened.

Their relationship moved fairly slowly – slower than anyone would have expected of Tony Stark. By the time they actually slept together, Clint had enough appreciation for the device keeping his love alive that it wasn't even possible to panic anymore when it shone up at him in bed. He could only pepper it and the skin around it with kisses, pleased that the action made Tony happy.

Now, when he had dreams, they were all the same.

Blue.

The light shining up on Tony's face while he threw his head back in a laugh.

Blue.

Sleepy cuddles in the early morning, shutting his eyes against the sunlight but peeping them open for the light of the reactor.

Blue.

Knowing that what he once associated with nightmares could now be associated with the one who made him happiest.

Blue.

He can love the color blue now – it reminds him of what he has, what he can lose if that blue light goes away. He seeks out the blue on Tony's chest when he sees him, knowing that it has to keep him alive, and panicking whenever it flickers in battle after a hard hit.

He snuggled close to Tony, who was still sleeping in their bed. He's on his back, mouth slightly open, hair delightfully tousled and the pillow and limbs spread every which way. His left leg is tangled with Clint's, and the arm around Clint is likely numb by now, but he doesn't move his head from Tony's shoulder, tracing his fingers absentmindedly around the edge of the reactor.

The sky outside is dark – it's the middle of the night – but the blue light from Tony's arc reactor illuminates the room, casting shadows on the walls. As always, he waits for the panic sure to come over him one day at the sight of the blue, but just as always, he can only feel calm and at peace that the blue is keeping Tony safe.

At last, he closes his eyes once again, letting the near silent hum of the arc reactor pull him to sleep, where he dreams in shades of blue.

...

Thanks for reading!