Clint and Tony peruse the street-art put up after the Chitauri invasion.
You guys get to be the first to read this! Hasn’t even been previewed by the Double-J! Enjoy!
“Hey, check this one out!”
Tony moved down the sidewalk to his boyfriend’s side. So much artwork had gone up after the events of the Chitauri invasion, so much graffiti in tribute to the Avengers, that the two men had decided it was finally time that they got out and saw some of it up close. He looked up at the portrait the blonde was pointing to.
It was Natasha, down in her signature crouch, one leg out to the side, an arm behind her. Only THIS Natasha was vastly different than the Natasha they knew. This Natasha was wearing a shirt that was cut low, her ample cleavage threatening to burst free. Her lips were crimson red and pouty, pursed in a seductive smile; her red hair was as long as it had been when she had worked the job at Tony’s place, and it flowed dramatically behind her.
Tony burst out laughing. “Oh man. Can you imagine what she’d say if she saw this?”
“Forget what she’d say, can you imagine what she’d do to the artist?”
That only made Tony laugh harder. “Poor bastard. We can only pray she never finds him.”
Clint was grinning; he took Tony’s hand in his. Normally he wouldn’t display such affection, always worried about someone discovering their relationship and using it against them, but they had chosen this day specifically. There was a parade through the heart New York City, and nearly everyone who wasn’t working that day was there. The street was practically empty. It was a perfect day for them to be out without anyone there to witness the two of them together.
Giving Tony’s hand a soft squeeze, Clint moved on, gently tugging the man down the sidewalk. “Hey, here’s another good one of you.”
It WAS a nice one, Tony had to admit. It was an incredibly accurate portrait of his face, with him in his Iron Man Suit flying through the sky behind him, painting a background of brilliant colors. Whoever the artist was, he had done a fantastic job.
Clint was smiling at him. Tony returned the look, wishing he could kiss the man, but knowing that even with the streets as empty as they were, he couldn’t risk it. There were still buildings on either side, still people who might see, no matter how small the chances. Anyway, something was bothering him. He frowned.
“You know, there are no paintings of you.”
Clint didn’t seem bothered at all. “Yeah well I was up top the whole battle. Other than the very start of the fighting, no one got to see me.” He grinned. “Plus, compared to the Hulk, a god, a super-soldier, and Tony Stark, who’s going to be impressed with the archer?”
Tony’s brows shot up. “Wow, that was….incredibly modest of you.” Clint laughed. “But hey, you’re forgetting Tasha. She doesn’t have superpowers either.”
“No, but she’s got a killer body.”
Tony glanced down the walkway, back at the drawing of Tasha with her breasts hanging out. “…..I see your point.” He turned back to Clint, smile on his face as he trailed a hand over Clint’s bicep. This much he dared, onlookers be damned. “….yours is still better.”
Clint laughed. “You better think so. I’d be disappointed otherwise.”
“Oh, no worries there.” Tony took Clint’s hand again, and they resumed walking. “I’m still upset that no one got a good painting of you on here.” Then he stopped dead, hand breaking free from Clint’s as he pointed. “There! There you are!”
“Yea, you….” Tony trailed off, staring at the picture, then turning back to Clint. “……when did you fight a werewolf?”
“……what?” Clint stared at the picture, positive there must be some confusion. But there was no question about it, the painting was unmistakably him, bow in hand, battling a snarling beast that was most definitely a werewolf.
Tony still had that bemused look on his face. Clint turned to him with a grin. “I don’t know, but I bet it was AWESOME.”
Tony shook his head. “You’re such an ass.”
Clint laughed. “You know it.” And in a show of daring Tony never would have expected from him, he leaned in and gave Tony a quick peck on the lips. Tony stared at him, astonished. Clint smiled. “C’mon, Mr. Stark, let’s get home.”
Tony took Clint’s hand with a smile. “Sound’s good.” They headed down the street towards home. “I’ve had enough art for the day.”
“Really? You’re tired of looking at yourself?”
“I wouldn’t’ve thought that was possible.”
“Clint, I swear to God…” Tony’s words were angry but his experssion was anything but, amusement written in every corner of his face, in the smile lines in the corners of his eyes, those crow’s feet that Clint loved.
Tony gave him that warning look that he used when he was only pretending to be angry. “Shut up.”
“Yeah?” Clint’s eyes narrowed, a challenge in his smile. “Or what?”
Something darkened in Tony’s eyes, a heat rolling through them. “Or I make you.” The corners of his mouth curved in a smirk. “…..little boy.”
Clint felt a shiver run down his spine. “….oh.” His voice was practically a whisper when he spoke next. “…that’s not very good incentive for me to shut up.”
Tony’s head tipped back as he laughed. “Brat.” His voice was affectionate.
“Old man.” It was easy to see that those words affected Tony just as Tony’s had affected him, a flush rising to the older man’s face. He gave Clint’s hand a squeeze, and stopped walking. Clint looked around him, momentarily confused. “What’re we doing….” And then he realized that they had found their way back to the Tower. “…..oh,” he said, somewhat lamely.
Tony laughed again. “C’mon inside, little boy. Gotta see about shutting you up.”
Clint could feel that heat pulling at him, but he managed to hide it from his face, smirking brazenly at Tony. “Show me what you got, old man.” And from the look in Tony’s eyes, he knew that he was in for one wild ride.