"You remember the personal space issues we talked about? You know, around the fourth beer?"
"Mhmmhm." The sloppy mess next to Tony just squeezed him harder.
"Clint. Hands."
"Hands, Tony. Haaaands."
"You are not allowed to be this cute. Stop it right now." Clint's response was to snuggle closer to Tony's chest, murmuring unintelligibly. Tony would never admit to anyone that he secretly thought it was adorable how relaxed Clint would get after a bit of alcohol in his system. Cuddling on the couch was suddenly not such a bad cliche after all.
He supposed that without the suit he was in fact a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist pillow.