I own nothig
He's not complaining, but it sort of just happens.
He only notices it one day because Clint falls asleep on the floor, squatting in an awkward position between him and Tony. Tony stops mid-explanation and looks down at the archer, somehow still on the balls of his feet, leaning on the legs of the table, eyes furrowed in uncomfortable sleep.
"I think it's high time we get a bed or something for Clint. He keeps falling asleep here." Tony says, and Bruce tries to remember since when Clint visited their lab while Tony and he were poking at things. He can't remember when. Clint has been there, between them, since he can put a mind to it. He's been poking around in glass vials, getting scolded by Bruce for touching deadly chemicals with bare hands, hacking through Tony's systems, and bringing them things he cooked himself ever since Bruce can really remember.
They manage to make a sort-of cot with the materials they have nearby, and coax Clint into it. Clint looks exhausted, back from a mission that lasted too long, but it's nothing that a good night's sleep won't fix.
And as they expect, Clint sleeps through the next day until about 5 PM, and that's only because he's hungry. He makes sounds that sound a lot like a grumpy cat that's roused from its nap, and brushes his teeth and washes his face in the lab sink. He squeezes in between Bruce and Tony and announces, "I'm hungry."
"Mm." Tony replies, pointing out the functions of a new engine he wants to build to Bruce.
Clint pouts. "Can we go get food? I want to go eat at a restaurant."
Bruce expects Tony to say no, or ignore him completely, but Tony glances briefly up at Clint, ruffles his hair and nods. "Yeah, give us five minutes."
Tony actually takes exactly five minutes, and then they're all heading down on the elevator to Olive Garden because Clint is craving it. Tony doesn't bother reserving a private room, but his name does bump them up on the wait list so they don't have to wait at all.
Clint orders a seafood alfredo but ends up eating more of Tony's Tuscan garlic chicken and Bruce's vegetable lasagna. Tony complains about 'fake Italian' food, Clint kicks him under the table, and Bruce eats through most of the free bread and salad.
They don't drink, even though Bruce can tell Tony wants to. Clint doesn't drink because of the memories of his father, and Bruce doesn't drink because when he gets drunk he tends to Hulk out easier. Tony sips on his tea, looking longingly at every alcoholic drink that passes by. Bruce laughs. "Don't worry, Tony. They're probably too cheap for you anyway." Tony quirks an eyebrow at him, and they just laugh together.
The days pass by normally after that. Clint goes on missions, comes back and squeezes in between Bruce and Tony. His touches get a bit more affectionate each time, brushes on elbows and knees turning into lingering touches on hands and cheeks and then to snuggles and hugs, up to the point where Clint is on full contact with either Bruce or Tony while he's in the lab.
Clint is surprisingly tactile, and Bruce finds he minds it not at all, and that Tony gladly replicates the touches. So he's not surprised at all one day when Clint pecks him on the cheek, and Tony sucks a bruise into the crook of Clint's neck.
The cooking also escalates. First they were cookies and random baked goods, but now they have become full-blown course meals, the best Clint can cook up. Bruce has had no idea Clint could cook, but he's pleasantly surprised every time. Tony stops going to expensive, 5-star restaurants, claiming he can't eat anything Clint hasn't cooked. Clint cooks up Indian, Thai, Italian, Mexican, French, Russian, Greek, Korean, Chinese, Japanese, and anything else he thinks up or Bruce or Tony requests.
But Bruce knows something's really changed when he Hulks out, and he comes to with Clint cupping his cheek. Later, Tony will tell him that Clint stepped in front of the Other Guy, and the Hulk just stared at Clint as everyone held their breath. And then Clint reached up, stroked the big guy's green cheek, and he smiled and shrunk back down to Bruce.
After that, nothing seems abnormal. Hulk likes Clint. Bruce can tell that much for sure, because he and the Other Guy aren't entirely exclusive. Bruce can deal with that. It's good news, especially because Hulk doesn't feel much else other than rage.
Days pass by until Clint kisses him again, and this time it's heated, a fervent, passionate necessity that gets Bruce to flip Clint over and press him into the table, clutching at each other until he feels the familiar drumming in his heart and he yanks back.
"Bruce." Clint reaches out. "He won't hurt me."
Bruce's eyes are wide, and he's breathing hard. "No."
"Bruce." Clint says again.
"No!" Bruce turns away, clenching his eyes shut. "This… this is different from anger, Clint. This is lust. I don't… I don't know how he'll do. With lust. I can't – I can't let you find out."
He expects Clint to argue, to tell him it's going to be all right, but instead he feels strong arms wrapping around him. "Okay." Clint whispers, his nose buried in Bruce's shoulder. "Okay, I understand."
And that's when Bruce knows Clint is it. The one that all those romance novels talk about. Clint had immediately understood that Bruce didn't need to be pushed, that he didn't need to be tested. He didn't needed to be told that it was going to be all right, that Clint trusted Bruce. Bruce knew that already. Clint trusts Bruce – and the Other Guy – with his life, Bruce knows. But Clint understands that the anxiety for Bruce that something may go wrong is worse than anything, and Clint understands Bruce needs space.
The next day, Clint sports more hickeys and limps and winces as he walks. Tony looks shamelessly happy, and Bruce finds he's happy as well. Clint limps over, pecks Bruce innocently on the lips, and snuggles up to his side as Bruce works on bacteria cultures. Clint even obediently puts on the mask and goggles when Bruce tells him to.
Tony and Clint have sex regularly, and one day Bruce walks in on them. Clint is gripping at Tony's hair, his ankles hooked on Tony's shoulders and both of them are clinging onto each other like there's nothing else in the world. The sight stirs something inside him, and it's not jealousy or anger, and it's lust, and the fact that Hulk is reacting just confirms his anxieties.
But before he can leave, JARVIS has shut the doors and Bruce stares at the closed door. "Come." Tony whispers. "Come here, Bruce."
Bruce is rooted on the spot, and Clint grips at Tony's arm. "Don't force him, Tony." He whispers.
"Come." Tony insists. "I'll open the door if you want me to, Bruce, but please. Come here."
Bruce is still frozen on the spot, but he doesn't ask Tony to open the door. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes deep breaths, but even as he turns around he can feel the curl of feral heat in the pit of his stomach. "Come here." Tony says, again. "He won't hurt us."
Bruce knows that's true, up to a certain extent. Hulk won't hurt them, either of them, at least not intentionally. But what happens if the Other Guy tried to… He shuddered and steeled himself with every step, somehow drawn in by Tony's gentle voice and Clint's pleading eyes.
By the time he's next to Clint and Tony, his breaths come in irregular gasps. Tony touches his cheek and gently rubs it. "It's okay. Calm down. Nothing is gonna happen." Tony sounds so sure of himself that Bruce can't even find a reason to argue. Clint's face is still flushed, his legs still spread around Tony, but he reaches out and cups Bruce's other cheek with a grin.
And Bruce sighs and sinks down to the floor. Tony follows after a moment, making sure he's got Clint before sinking both of them down. "Hold him." Tony suggests, and Bruce does, pulling Clint's back against his chest, and wonders again if this is really a good idea.
Tony intertwines one hand with Bruce's, and Bruce tangles his other hands with Clint's. Tony's free hand is cupping Clint's back, and Clint's clutching onto Tony as well. Tony starts moving, and it's slow and fast and hard and gentle and the same time. When the lust feraling inside him gets too much, Bruce whimpers and Tony stops his pace inside Clint. The three of them hold each other, Bruce's breath just as labored as Clint and Tony's even though he isn't doing anything.
"This is sort of like how guys get their orgasm to last longer." Tony comments once they're done, and Clint is asleep in the bed in the lab.
"But in the end, it does come." Bruce comments bitterly. "That was dangerous. I shouldn't have done that."
Tony says nothing and just looks at Clint, at the bruises he pressed into Clint's waist and the ones Bruce sucked into his shoulders.
The next few times after that, Tony and Clint doesn't ask Bruce to join them. He knows it happens constantly, because Clint limps slightly always afterward and Tony looks happy and relaxed afterward, but neither of them bothers him. He's thankful for it, but know they'll approach him again, soon.
He joins them again the second time Tony invites him. This time, his and Clint's chests are pressed together, Clint is clinging onto his shoulders and moaning and panting into Bruce's ear as Tony works behind him. This is dangerous, Bruce thinks, but he can't help but grip harder onto Clint's shoulders, to nibble at his ear and lick his shoulder.
The sessions last longer and longer each time, and the feral lust drops bit by bit. After about three months, Bruce doesn't even flinch anymore when Clint wraps his legs around Bruce as he's taken by Tony from the behind, and can even handle preparing Clint for Tony. They still do the things normal people do, except in threes – they go watch movies, they eat dinner and Tony complains about cheap food, and they even go on a road trip ones that pisses Coulson and Pepper off when they can't reach the three for a week and a half.
It's during the road trip when it happens.
Bruce doesn't remember it, like he usually doesn't when he hulks out. But he comes to, aching and naked and painfully hard in the battering rain, the whirr of a familiar repulsor nearby. When Tony sees it's him, the repulsor shuts off. "I wasn't going to let him hurt Clint." Tony says gently, helping Bruce up and bringing him back inside the house in the middle of nowhere in Montana. "I knew you wouldn't forgive yourself."
"What'd he do?" Bruce whispers, his voice trembling violently.
"He pinned Clint to the wall and started ripping his clothes off. Clint and I controlled it before it could get anywhere. But…" Tony hands Bruce a warm towel. "He backed off." When Bruce raises his head, Tony clears his throat. "The Hulk. When he realized Clint and I weren't okay with it, he backed off and went to the rain. He de-Hulked himself."
Bruce stares, not daring enough to believe. He asks instead, "Where's Clint?"
"In the kitchen. He said you'd be hungry when you came back." Tony answers easily. "I think he wants it." When Bruce turns, Tony shrugs. "He'd take the Hulk, I think. I think he wants to."
"Then he's stupid." Bruce hisses. "He should know Hulk's power and.. and his size."
"I'm not stupid." Clint says, his face a gentle frown as he steps out with a plate of Mexican rice in his hands. "I know how big he is. I know how strong he is. I think I can take him, all right? Plus, he proved himself right now that he's not going to force anything."
But the conversation ends there, mostly because Tony and Clint don't want to push anything too far. But they press on, always pressing Bruce to join them in lovemaking even if Bruce doesn't want to ever actively participate in it. But Tony and Clint seem content with the fact that Bruce just wants to hold Clint as much as he can, pressing his lips onto Clint's nose when he whimpers in discomfort, or holding him tight as Clint writhes in pleasure.
They don't push him, ever, and he's grateful for that. He enjoys the trips that they make to the highest places Manhattan has to offer, like the Rockefeller Center observation deck or the Empire State observation deck. They do it mostly because Clint loves high places, flipping himself up onto the highest places where normal civilians aren't allowed and just looking down at the entire city with a huge grin on his face.
One day Tony even manages to book out the entire Empire State Building for the night, and they have a feast at the top of it, Clint glancing out into the night view of the city, drunk on the beauty of it. He perches on top of the glass safety and peers out into the city as Tony leans back, swirling a glass of expensive wine and smiling at Clint. Bruce knows exactly why – it's because he feels completely at ease, with the two people he trusts the most in the world.
And when Clint jumps down, laughing and plowing straight into Bruce's outstretched arms, well, there's nowhere else he'd rather be.
The sex comes up again, as it always does because they're three grown men and it's hard to ignore the urges just all the time, and also because Clint and Tony have a libido that's not that much different from a raunchy teenager's. This time they're all on a bed, Clint's arms around Bruce's stomach as Tony plows into him from the back.
And Bruce doesn't expect it or realize it until there's a hot mouth nudging at him. His eyes fly open. "What – Clint -"
"Shh." Tony urges, gripping his wrist. "Let it happen."
No, he thinks, but he can only watch as Clint does. His mind it on a ramble of dangerous no shouldn't be happening no way risky but it feels so good and how long has it been since I've done this. And before he knows it, his hands are gripping into Clint's short blonde hair.
It's not until it's done and over with that he tries to leave, and Tony stops him. "Bruce." He whispers. "You can't leave." He has Clint curled up against his side. "Listen, nothing happened. The Other Guy didn't show up, and all of us had a good time. That's all that matters. If you leave now you'll break both our hearts. You really want that?"
"Tony." Bruce says, not looking at him.
"Don't think. Just come here. You really don't want Clint to wake up in the morning without you, do you?"
No. No, Bruce doesn't. He sighs and cautiously climbs under Tony's sheets, which are clean thanks to JARVIS. Clint hums happily when Bruce strokes his cheek, and he slides an arm under Clint's head. Tony grins at him, and Bruce manages to smile back, and he falls asleep to the sound of Clint's even breathing and Tony's hand stroking his hair.
When he wakes up, Tony is in the bed, reading a newspaper, but there's no Clint. Before Bruce can panic, the smell of pancakes and eggs and sausages and bacon floats in, and Clint is walking into the bedroom, limping slightly but managing to balance a plate on both hands and on his head. JARVIS's mechanical arms are doing their own thing, holding cups and a pitcher of orange juice, and a pot of tea.
Clint lets Bruce grab the plate off his head and grins broadly, kissing his nose and complaining about Tony's beard.
It's all strangely domestic, and Bruce finds he doesn't mind it one bit.