Ok, this one took waaaaay too long to be finished. I'm sorry for the delay. Only excuse I got is that life's kept me quite busy. And that I've also started working on another short story with Hawkeye and Black Widow. Just a little bit of fun to tie "Iron Man 2" and "Thor" together. That one's still gonna take a while but I hope I'll be able to finish and post it soon. In the meantime, this one here came up. Enjoy!

I don't know if I'm Good or Bad but at least, I'm not Ugly

Clint was surprised to find he wasn't the only one to be up at half past three in the morning. When he saw it was Tony, standing by the window with a glass of something in his hand, he wasn't so surprised anymore.

He made sure Tony could see his reflection in the window as he approached him.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

Stupid question, of course, since the answer was pretty obvious. But he had to start somewhere, right? And besides, Tony's answer would show him what kind of mood he was in.

Tony shrugged and took a sip from his glass. Whisky-glass, Clint noticed. Clear liquid.
He frowned.
"I really hope you haven't been into Tasha's vodka, cos –"

"It's water."
Tony didn't sound particularly annoyed. He didn't sound particularly anything, in fact, which was kinda worrying. Of course, Clint knew by now that Tony's usual behaviour was only about two parts his real self and one part mask. Not so unusual. Everyone was wearing masks all the time, chose more or less carefully what he wanted others to see. Usually, though, Tony was more careful not to let it slip.

Clint stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited. Most of the time, when you said nothing, people felt compelled to fill the silence with words. At first, it didn't seem to work. Tony just stood there, slowly sipping his water. Clint remained as he was. He was used to waiting. Sometimes even in plain sight of his target.

"Look at them", Tony said suddenly. "It's been almost a year and they're still repairing the damage."
He nodded at the city below.

Clint shrugged.
"The Chitauri gave the city a proper smashing. And the Hulk, too, but don't tell Bruce I said that."
He flashed a smile at Tony that was completely lost to the man.
So he added: "It takes time to repair that kind of damage."

"Obviously."
Tony lifted his glass to drink, saw that it was empty and lowered it again.

Seconds ticked by, turned into minutes.

Clint waited.

"Almost a year and there's still nights when I wake up and can't go back to sleep", Tony finally said.

Clint made a sound that was somewhere between a huff and a laugh. Tony gave him a curious look.
"Almost a year and sometimes, I still wake up in the middle of the night and run to the bathroom to check whether my eyes got their proper colour."

Clint hated those nights. He hated those dreams where everything was tinged blue because they felt just like he had felt while he had been controlled by Loki. Like being caught in a dream and knowing something was off although you couldn't quite put your finger on it.
This was one of those nights, in fact.

"As I said – it takes time to repair that kind of damage."

"Except that sometimes, you can't repair it."
Tony turned back to the window.
"I dream that I'm falling", he said. "Suit's out of power, I can't move, I can't breathe and I'm falling. And I know: That's it. That's the end."

"You saved a lot of lives, that day", Clint pointed out.

"Yes, but that – it wasn't –"
Tony looked at him.
"I'm not like that. I'm not the kind of person to happily risk or sacrifice their life to save others. I'm not like you guys."

"Who?"
Clint raised his eyebrows.
"Oh, you mean like this guy who spent years killing the wrong kind of people and now, is trying to make up for it by killing the right kind of people?"

Tony glared at him.
"You know what I mean. I'm not a hero. I mean, not so many years ago, I was still designing weapons that killed – I don't know how many people. Quite a few more than you did in your life, I dare say."

Clint sighed. Of course he had to play that same old card again.
"Right, let me tell you something. I've seen plenty of things in my life. Maybe more than I should. Enough to be able to say I've seen them all – the good, the bad and the ugly. And you, my friend, might not be a hero – not any more so than me or Tasha or Bruce, anyways – but you're definitely not one of the bad guys, either. And since you're not exactly ugly ..."
He shrugged.

"I'm one of the good guys?" Tony asked.
He wasn't smiling but the corners of his mouth curled slightly upwards.

"Well, you know what Sherlock Holmes said. When you rule out the impossible ..."

"But –" Tony started.

Clint raised his hand to cut him off.
"No 'buts'. We all make mistakes. I did, you did – even Fury made a few in his time. The important thing is: You're trying to make up for it. And as far as I'm concerned, you're doing it just fine."

Tony looked down at his glass.
"I'd drink to that, but ..."

Clint smiled.
"It's too early for that."

"Right."
Tony nodded his chin at the living area.
"Bob Ross, then?"

Clint frowned.
"Bob Ross?"

"Yes, the painting guy. You know, the one who paints a picture in half an hour. I always watch him when I can't sleep. That show's kinda – soothing, I guess."
Tony frowned now, too.
"Must be his way of talking. And he's living in such a happy little world. Happy little trees and bushes and clouds all around."

Clint laughed.
"Yeah, I know who Bob Ross is. I'm just surprised you do. It's not exactly the kind of show I'd expect you to watch."
He grew serious again.
"You are aware that guy used to be US Air Force, aren't you?"

Tony huffed.
"I'm sure there's some kind of analogy in that but it's way too early to go looking for it."
He turned and started towards the living area.
"C'mon, I think it's 'Desert Glow' today – that's one of my favourites. Always reminds me of those old John Wayne movies."

"How do you know?" Clint asked.

"They're showing the episodes in order and I saw the one three nights ago."
Tony switched on the large plasma TV and flopped down on the couch.

Shaking his head, Clint followed him. He knew better than to challenge Tony on this.

He must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing he knew was that it was bright day outside and Tasha was standing next to him, using her phone to snap a picture of Tony who was draped over the other end of the couch, snoring and drooling from a corner of his open mouth.

"Blackmail material", she told him with a smirk.

Which made Clint wonder whether she had any "blackmail material" of him, too. She probably did. She was the Black Widow, after all.