Work Text:
Clint had been crawling around the vents of Stark Tower for three weeks when he finally ran into somebody. He screamed, startled.
“It’s my fucking tower!” Tony snapped, glaring at him, from where he was repairing some wiring in a hole in the duct work.
The blond watched him, frowning, when the other man returned his attention to the hole he was basically hanging through. Typically if someone found him in their vents, they yelled at him. Or tried to kill him, depending on whether it was a mission or not. And yet, here was Stark, only mad at him for assuming he would be alone in the vents.
“…You remember me, right?” he asked, just to be sure.
Tony’s bitch face was even more impressive than Fury’s. “Hawkeye, Clint Barton, Agent, you use a fucking bow and arrow and were mind-fucked by Loki. Yeah, asshole, I remember you.”
Clint huffed, scowling, and was even more annoyed when the brunet ducked back into the wiring. “And you don’t care that I’m in your tower?”
“You’ve been in my tower for three weeks. I monitored you for like the first five days, but you didn’t do anything concerning, so I don’t care. You could at least be interesting,” Tony complained, then pulled back out of the hole and put the paneling back.
The blond gaped at him, brows furrowed together in disbelief.
Tony began crawling past him. “Come on, you useless creature.”
Clint was about to get very angry, but then something skittered over the wall. He yelped, quickly leaning out of its way, and gaped again when he saw what looked like a mechanical spider. It crawled over the wall on six legs, the last two clutching a flashlight. Come to think of it, it had been a little brighter. He’d thought it was just the light in the other man’s chest.
Tony pulled open another panel and waited for the spider-bot to position itself before ducking into it.
Clint crawled closer to him. “What are you doing?”
“Routine maintenance. Typically Skitter does it, but I always check on their work every six months.” He motioned at the spider-bot. “Skitter, meet Hawkeye.”
“Clint,” the archer supplied when the robot’s camera focused on him. He held his hand out, feeling like an idiot.
The spider-bot’s camera whirred from his face to his hand. Then it reached out a leg to tap his finger a few times.
“Aw,” Clint cooed, taking his hand back to clutch at his heart. “How cute!”
Stark pulled out of the paneling, glaring at him. “You sound surprised. Listen here, bucko, all of my robots are amazing and cute. And you’ve been scaring Skitter, so introduce yourself to all of them.”
The blond stared at him, confused. “…What?”
“Skitter is a single AI entity. She just has multiple bodies. All of them meet up and share their information, but they’re still different. So this Skitter is going to go back and say you’re safe, but the other Skitters are going to want to meet you too, just to make sure. It’s a failsafe for the wiring; they double check each other.” He pointed at the bot. “Just say ‘hello, Skitter, I’m Clint,’ and she will go about her business.”
“It’s a she?” Clint asked, but reached his hand out to the bot again.
It slid two of its legs forward onto it, and he realized it had something sticky at each foot, probably how it could so easily hang onto the wall. He wondered if its front two legs also had sticky stuff at the bottom.
Tony’s bitch face really was impressive. “Of course it’s a she. She’s intuitive, intelligent, and beautiful. Also dangerous. Skitter, zap him.”
Clint yelped as he felt a short, small charge of electricity, yanking his hand back. He immediately dove forward again when the spider-bot flailed the arms it had had on him and began to pitch off of the wall, camera making a high-pitched whirr that sounded like a tiny scream.
Tony glared at him for a moment longer before ducking back into the panel. “Asshole thinks I don’t know he’s in my tower and then insults my bots. I should kick him out.”
Clint noticed, as he followed the brunet, that he didn’t actually tell him to stop coming around.
.-.-.-.-.-.
“Hi, Skitter,” Clint said, carefully unscrewing the vent.
Skitter’s camera whirred as she watched him.
“Your dad doesn’t eat very well. And that’s coming from me. I eat pizza out of the trash and coffee straight from the pot.” He pushed the vent so it fell open and reached out to grab the bag of takeout he’d brought. He grimaced when he saw the grease staining the vent. He’d have to clean that later.
Skitter whirred again, dropping from the top of the vent with a neat flip to land on her spindly legs. Four of her legs drew into her body as she positioned herself over the grease stain. Bristles appeared on her belly, and her body began spinning like a top. Her legs moved her in tiny circles for approximately ten seconds, and then the bristles drew back into her body and her four legs extended again. The grease stain was gone, leaving the same shiny vent that extended through all of Stark Tower.
“Cool,” Clint told her, awed.
Skitter whirred, and, true to her name, skittered quickly out of sight, as if embarrassed. Clint kind of believed that she could be embarrassed, though. He’d seen a robot consisting of a single arm scolding the genius for not drinking the smoothie it made, once.
He dropped to the ground and grunted quietly, having not expected that much height. Then he was sprayed with white powder. He screamed and curled to protect the food.
Tony appeared in the powder next to him a second later, brandishing a wrench wildly. “Cut it out, cut it out!”
The bot made an indignant beeping noise and tossed the fire extinguisher it had been wielding at them. Tony yelped and jumped out of the way, then began brandishing his wrench again. That, apparently, seemed to spook the robot into screeching away, tires leaving rubber burn marks on the floor.
Clint checked to make sure the food was still safe, then looked up at him incredulously.
Ah, the return of the bitch face. “What did you expect?” Tony sneered, brushing powder off of his shirt. “You dropped into my workshop unannounced! Of course Dum-E attacked you!”
“You named your robot ‘Dummy?’” Clint asked incredulously.
“He attacked you with powder when he literally had a blowtorch right next to him,” the brunet scoffed. “You’re lucky he’s dumb.”
Dum-E beeped sadly.
“Don’t beep at me like that! You tried to poison me this morning!” the other man shrieked. “Who puts motor oil in a smoothie?!”
Well, that actually explained a lot.
Clint held up the bag. “I brought burgers.”
Tony dropped the wrench and made grabby hands, and it was disgustingly endearing.
.-.-.-.-.-.
“Is part of Skitter’s job to clean the vents?” Clint asked, watching as the brunet carefully fixed a broken joint in one of the spider-bot’s legs.
Tony nodded, eyes ridiculously large behind the magnifying goggles he was using to see the tiny joint. “Yeah. Things work better when they’re clean, right? Also my clothes. I hate when they get dusty.”
Clint rolled his eyes and didn’t point out that the brunet’s tank top, pants, and arms were covered in oil.
“Thanks for bringing Skitter to me,” Tony added, voice taking a much more serious tone. “I should install an SOS signal in them. Who knows how long you would have been there,” he added to the robot, looking concerned. “And then you would have needed one to carry you, and then who knows how damaged your leg would be?”
Skitter looked up at him, camera whirring happily. She didn’t care, apparently, because he was fixing her. He didn’t know how a spider-like robot with a camera for a head could look so smitten and devoted, but she managed it.
Clint snorted, amused. “Man, I call you their dad as a joke, but you really are their dad, aren’t you?”
“Shut the fuck up, Hawkeye,” Tony said, but didn’t argue.
The blond smiled happily when he noticed a little flush around his cheeks. “I heard that Fury’s trying to force you to let us move in.”
“You heard wrong,” Tony replied. He snapped his fingers. “Hand me that Phillips head.”
Clint couldn’t even tell whether it was a Phillips head, the end was so small. He passed it over anyway, knowing that the older man would correct him if he was wrong. “Natasha told me.”
The brunet groaned, long and loud. “God. Yes, okay, he’s trying, but I’m making him sweat before I say yes. I made rooms for all of you anyway. We need a central location.”
“Oh,” the blond said, surprised, as the other man bent closer to the bot and carefully replaced a screw almost too small for the archer to see. “But what about Malibu?”
Tony’s face did something terrible.
“Never mind,” he added quickly.
Tony didn’t answer him for a long time.
.-.-.-.-.-.
Clint’s room was plain, and yet it was the most lavish room he’d ever been in. “What the fuck is this thing?” he asked, pointing at a weird looking chair.
“It’s a fainting couch,” Tony said, looking putout that he didn’t know that. He’d never even seen one before. “Look, I’m just here so I can make notes on whatever you want changed.”
Clint didn’t mention that he knew JARVIS was taking everyone else’s notes. He wanted to pinch the brunet’s cheeks. He was so bad at showing his friendship. He kind of loved him for it.
“Nah, man, this is great.” He waved the genius’s concerns away and flopped onto the fainting couch. He immediately regretted it. “Ow! Man, this thing is as hard as a carp!”
“Why would you do that?!” Tony exclaimed, looking horrified.
Clint gaped at him, confused. “It’s called a ‘fainting couch!’ I thought it would be comfortable if I fell on it!”
“No!” the brunet shouted, throwing his hands up. “It’s just there to make you look like you’re not actually as trashy as you are!”
“Literally everyone that meets me knows exactly how trashy I am,” the archer argued. “Please take this uncomfortable chair out of my room.”
“No!” Tony said again, looking petulant. “Now it’s staying for sure!”
Clint walked in on Tony trying to drag the couch out by himself in the middle of the night. He tugged it back into position and pretended it didn’t hurt as badly as it did when he flopped on it. Tony yelled at him, but brought in tons of pillows to make the chair more comfortable later.
Clint dragged all of them into the vents.
.-.-.-.-.-.
“Why did Skitter bring me all of the pillows I gave you?” Tony asked, looking mulish to cover up the hurt. “If you don’t like them, you don’t have to hide them. I can have them returned to the store.”
Clint scowled at him. “Tell Skitter to stop stealing all of my pillows! I finally get a decent nest set up, and then all of the sudden it’s gone!”
He’d hoped that as friends, Tony would stop giving him his awesome bitch face. Alas.
“Those are throw pillows!” the brunet snarled indignantly. “They aren’t comfortable at all!”
Clint snorted. “Why do you think it takes me so long to make a nest? Tell Skitter to stop messing it up!”
“How is Skitter supposed to clean when your pillows are in the way!?”
The blond had no answer for that. “…I will clean my nest,” he finally said after some thought.
Tony grabbed one of the pillows and turned it upside-down. Crumbs fell onto the floor.
“…I will try to clean my nest,” Clint amended.
Tony threw the pillow at his head. Because it was a throw pillow, it hurt.
.-.-.-.-.-.
Clint was staring up at the ceiling of the vent, trying to forget having no control of his body, screaming words only he could hear, when he heard rustling in the vent about ten feet away. His hand instinctively went to the knife in his thigh pocket. He tilted his head a little, just enough to peek over the pillow he was leaning against.
Tony turned a corner and came into view, trailing a big, ugly wool blanket. His eyes were red and dry, bags purpling under them. He looked awful.
“Move over,” Tony said, climbing over the pillows to flop into the nest. He pulled the blanket in after him, and it looked like it took a lot of effort. He must have been very tired.
Clint reached out to help him pull the blanket in. “Come on, Stark, baby bunnies are stronger than you.”
“Fuck you,” the brunet said, without any heat. He didn’t complain when the archer situated the blanket on top of him.
Clint lay there, listening to the brunet breathe, and felt it when the older man’s trembling fingers closed around his left sleeve. He lifted his hand to place it over Tony’s, and didn’t say anything. After all, he hadn’t been the only one in this tower that had been fucked up beyond belief. He didn’t want to talk about it. He sincerely doubted that Tony wanted to talk, either.
He waited for Tony to fall asleep before he crawled under the blanket as well. It was scratchy and uncomfortable, but Tony was warm, a solid presence, and Loki hadn’t been able to take over his mind. Tony was safe.
Clint fell asleep and stayed asleep for the first time in weeks.
.-.-.-.-.-.
“You and Stark are close,” Natasha commented. She was digging for information. He knew that, though.
“Someone’s gotta take care of him,” Clint replied, shrugging. “Otherwise he’ll keel over.”
“Aw.” She smirked at him. “Softie.”
Clint shrugged. “If you say so.”
Natasha stared at him for a moment longer, then huffed, part amused and part annoyed. She hated it when he kept things from her. That was part of the fun, though.
And Tony probably didn’t want her to know, anyway.
She smacked him on the shoulder as she stood. “Come get your ass kicked, Clint.”
Clint obediently followed her toward the gym.
.-.-.-.-.-.
“Why does Skitter have colored dots on her backs?” Tony asked, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen.
Clint held up a slice of pepperoni pizza. “Hungry?” he said, instead of answering.
“Yes,” the brunet replied aggressively, and stalked into the kitchen. He snatched a piece of pizza out of Steve’s hands and shoved it into his mouth.
Steve stared at his empty hands for a moment, looked at the older man, then silently grabbed another piece of pizza. He hunched over it protectively, though.
“Dots, Clint!” Tony said again, muffled by food.
“It’s so I know whether or not I’ve introduced myself to her or not.” Clint shrugged. “I introduced myself to the same Skitter three times, Stark. She was judging me. And she thinks the dots are pretty. ‘s not my fault that you decided to make her boring by making her solid black.”
Tony pointed at him, scowling, then grabbed the slice of pizza out of Steve’s hands again and ran from the room, grumbling to himself.
Steve gaped at his empty hands.
Thor looked at him, then carefully placed another piece into them.
“…Why,” he whispered to the pizza, looking pained. “Why is this my life now?”
“You get used to him,” Bruce replied, sitting up straight. He’d hunkered down over his plate immediately after he saw Tony.
Clint had seen Tony take food from the other scientist regularly. Bruce had probably learned early on to protect his food.
“What’s this ‘skeeter’ thing that Tony was talking about?” Natasha asked, taking a bite of her own pizza.
Clint shrugged. “Robots in the vents to clean and maintain them. I used to scare them, so Tony told me to introduce myself to them.”
Natasha smirked at him. “Softie.”
“You eat peppers on your pizza. You don’t get to call me a softie,” the blond replied airily.
He found a Skitter with bright green legs a few days later.
.-.-.-.-.-.
“Have you seen Stark?” Natasha asked, making Steve look up from his sketchbook.
“No. Why?”
She shrugged. “I wanted to ask him about the new Widow’s Bite he made me.”
The blond frowned in concern. “Is there something wrong with it?”
Natasha gave him a scandalized look. “When has Tony ever given us gear that has something wrong with it? No, I just had a question about the new casing.”
Steve lifted his hands apologetically. “Sorry. Have you tried asking Bruce?”
“Bruce said he hadn’t seen Tony for a few days.” She shrugged. “He’s working on something time-sensitive, and you know Tony. If it’s science, he’ll let Bruce have all the time away from him that he needs.”
“Sounds about right.” Steve nodded. “Thor?”
“Hmm?” Thor asked, not turning away from the television, where he was watching people with orange skin and white hair yell at each other.
“…You seen Tony?”
“Nay,” the god replied, clearly distracted. “There is no merit in this show, and yet I cannot remove my attention from it. What magic is this?”
Natasha glanced at the TV, grinned, then schooled her face back into mild amusement. “JARVIS, please turn off Jersey Shore.”
“Of course, Agent Romanoff,” the AI replied. The screen went black.
“…Many thanks,” Thor said, looking relieved.
Steve stared at him for a moment, then looked back at Natasha. “Have you asked Clint? Or is he still hiding because he covered a congressman in Jell-o at that gala and is afraid you or Pepper is going to murder him?”
“Pepper said she smoothed the ruffled feathers, but she thought he deserved to be covered in Jell-o, so he’s not hiding.” She looked up at the vent above the coffee table. “Clint?” There was a long pause as they heard shuffling. Then an Oreo Thin fell through the vent. She caught it and popped it into her mouth. “He’s up there,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. She looked up at the vent again, then turned toward Steve. “Give me a hand?”
Steve set aside his sketchbook and stood up. “Sure.” He clasped his hands together so she could step into them, then lifted her so she could step up onto his shoulders. “Careful.”
“I’m always careful,” Natasha lied, wavering a little when he stepped onto the coffee table to give her more height. She felt another pair of hands on her thighs to hold her up and turned to look.
Thor smiled at her. “I thought perhaps another pair of hands might ease the stress of this event.”
“…Thanks, Thor,” she said, and made it sound mostly sincere. She slid a lock-picking tool from behind her belt buckle and used it to unscrew the vent. She thought about crawling up into the vent as well, but decided against it; it was just a quick question. “Clint?”
Clint was back in his nest, mouth crammed full of Oreos. “Mfwha?”
“Have you seen Tony?” she asked, going up on her toes so she could get a better view. His nest looked as strange as always, a mishmash of pillows, blankets, and somehow a big red cooler.
“Mm?” the blond replied.
“I want to ask him about the casing of my Widow’s Bite.”
Clint held a finger up to his lips, silently asking her to be quieter.
“What? Is it Skitter?” she asked, voice immediately going softer. She’d met a Skitter. She appreciated how clean they kept the vents.
It hadn’t been soft enough.
Tony sat up, blinking slowly, and looking soft and warm. And sleepy. Natasha unconsciously put a hand over her chest.
“…Oreo?” Tony asked, and opened his mouth so the blond could put one in it.
Clint did, then patted his head. “Go back to sleep.”
“’kay,” the brunet answered, disappearing from view again.
Natasha gaped, clutching her necklace.
Clint looked at her very seriously as he reached over and began petting him. “Never talk to me or my bird-son while we’re sleeping again.”
Natasha let out a bark of laughter, throwing her head back, and even snorted. Then she yelped as she toppled herself over. “Catch me!”
Steve yelped as well as he began falling backward himself. “Oh God please catch us.”
Thor might have been able to if it had been one or the other, but not both. He gave a valiant effort.
Clint crawled over to the vent to peer down at them, watching as Natasha giggled, covering her face.
“What? What was it?” Steve asked, trapped between her and Thor.
“Aye, what could have caused you to lose your admirable balance?” Thor asked.
Natasha looked up at him.
Clint pointed at his eyes, then pointed at her, and drew the vent closed again.
She brought him another pack of cookies later and stroked the genius’s hair before she left them to snuggle together.
“My bird-son,” Clint mumbled, putting an arm over the brunet’s chest protectively.
Tony snuggled closer to him, mumbling under his breath.
Clint sighed, unable to help a smile. What would this idiot do without him?