Tony pouted. Oh God, not the pout. The pout was just too Goddamn adorable.
Not sure if people remember this, but I began it as a sort of response to a comic I read ‘the Five Nightmares of Tony Stark’, so it’s basically just five unrelated drabbles lol. Here’s part two.
I spent all day (no exaggeration. On and off since 10 this morning until 9 tonight) trying to update a chapter for you and it failed miserably, and then I totally managed to write this out of nowhere. So I hope you like it. It’s your Christmas present.^^
I hope you all have a very happy holiday!
“Clint. Clint. Hey Clint.”
Clint did his best to ignore the voice, focusing all his energy on the target before him. He took a slow, deep, measured breath, about to let the arrow fly when-
The arrow left the string and hit the target with a loud ‘thunk!’ Unfortunately, thanks to Tony’s interruption, it hit just shy of the bullseye. He let out a growl of frustration, turning at last to Tony. “What,” he demanded. “What is it?”
Tony had an expression on his face that was half happy and half utter despondence. Clint had no idea HOW Tony managed to make those two expressions mesh but if anyone could do it, it would be Tony Stark. “Hi!”
“…..you did NOT interrupt my practice just to say ‘hi’.”
“Of course not.”
“Then what is it?”
Tony flashed Clint a brilliant smile. “I want attention.”
Clint stared, waiting for more, but it was clear from the wide grin on Tony’s face that that was it, that was all Tony was going to say. Clint’s head dropped back and he let out a groan. “Seriously, Tony?“
“Yea. Come on, Clint,” Tony whined. “I’m BORED.”
Clint pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tight. Any other time he would be more than happy for Tony’s distraction, but he hadn’t had a chance to put in time on the range for the past two days and Coulson was pissed. He had actually threatened Clint with extra paperwork if he didn’t clock in practice time today. There wasn’t a chance in hell Clint was getting stuck doing paperwork. “Tony…..I can’t. Not today.”
Tony pouted. Oh God, not the pout. The pout was just too Goddamn adorable. “But I’m BORED!”
“That doesn’t mean you need to distract me while I’m working!”
“You distract me while I’m working all the time!” Tony protested. Clint couldn’t contest that point. “Come on,” Tony wheedled. He was moving closer now, too, and Clint knew that the closer Tony got, the harder it would get to say no….especially if he started pouting again. “You don’t have to stop practicing. You can teach me to shoot.”
“I already taught you to shoot,” Clint protested weakly. “The day before the tournament.”
“Yea, but it was a short lesson. I’m sure I could use another.” Tony was so close now, their bodies practically touching. “What do you say, baby?” His voice was no more than a murmur. “Give me another lesson?”
Clint looked down into those big brown eyes. Goddammit. He could never resist those eyes. “Fine. Fine.” A smile immediately lit up Tony’s face. “A SHORT one.”
Clint rolled his eyes at that. “You’re such a child.”
“Look who’s talking.” Tony darted across the room to grab another bow, a right-handed one, returning quickly to Clint’s side. “Okay, boss, show me how it’s done.”
With a sigh, Clint reached for Tony, grabbing hold of the hem of his shirt. “C’mere.” He gave a tug and Tony obediently moved closer, his back up against Clint‘s chest, Clint‘s arms around him. “You remember the position?”
“Of course I do.” Tony glanced over his shoulder, that wicked smile on his face, and winked at Clint. “I’m good with positions.”
Clint felt the flush creeping up his throat. Dammit, how Tony still got to him so easily he would never know. “Dirty old man.”
Tony laughed. “Yup.” He raised the bow. “Like this?”
“Almost.” Clint adjusted the position of Tony’s right hand ever so slightly. “There. And your back needs to be a little more….” His hand at the small of Tony’s back, he could feel the man correct his position before he even had a chance to really show him what was to be done. “That’s right.”
Clint was beginning to realize that there was no way he was ever going to get his time clocked in for the day. Maybe Coulson would qualify range time with Tony as practice time, but somehow he doubted it. Oh well. If he had to do paperwork, he had to do paperwork. It wasn’t like he often got to shoot with Tony. Make that EVER got to shoot with Tony. This was only the second time, and he was determined to make the most of it, paperwork and Coulson be damned.
“Hey…” Tony spoke up suddenly, “….what are some good archery words?”
“……what does that have to do with anything?” Clint was confused. The question came completely out of the blue.
“Words. Archery terms. I wanna know some.”
“…..Tony…..that has nothing to do with me teaching you to shoot…”
But Tony was adamant. He had lowered the bow ever so slightly, no longer prepared to string an arrow. “Just give me one term.” It was clear he wasn’t going to move on until his question was answered. Clint sighed.
Tony‘s brows shot up at that; he grinned. “Fletching? Ooh. I like that. My, you look fletching today.”
Clint felt an overwhelming wave of amusement. “…..Tony, that is SO not how you use that word.”
“No?” Tony sounded surprised.
“Well, that’s what it sounds like!” Tony was defensive. Clint bit his lip. He was struggling not to laugh.
“Tony….” Clint pulled an arrow from the quiver. “THIS is the fletching.” He ran a fingertip along the feathers at the end of the arrow.
“OH!” Tony took the arrow from Clint, regarding it with the pleased expression he only got when he had learned something new. Clint LOVED that look. “This is what aerodynamically stabilizes the flight of the arrow.” Oh, and now he was talking nerd. Clint LOVED when he talked nerd. Still, the fact that he hadn’t known…
“Yeah.” Clint couldn’t hide the amusement on his face. “Tony, you make my Goddamn arrows for me. How did you not know that?”
“Hey, it’s not like I ever studied archery or the building of bows or arrows,” Tony retorted. “I learned it all as I went.”
That stopped Clint dead. “You……you made this……that bow, all those arrows…..you didn’t read any books? You just taught yourself?”
“….yea.” If anything, Tony sounded even more defensive than he had a moment before. “So?”
“….so?” Clint couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Tony….that’s AMAZING.”
“…..yea?” Tony’s voice was hesitant, as if he weren’t sure if Clint really meant it.
“Yeah! Damn.” Clint shook his head. “I’m not surprised you managed to get a good shot your first time shooting. You seem to have a damn good understanding of archery.”
Tony grinned. “Well that’s obviously cuz I was destined to end up with the World’s Greatest Marksman.”
Clint burst out laughing. “Oh, is that so?”
“Yup. That’s so.” Tony shifted as though trying to move even closer to Clint. “Think about it. I’ve got an inborn knack for making bows and arrows, you’ve got the greatest archery skills ever…..you can’t tell me it’s coincidence we ended up together.”
Clint ran a hand through Tony’s hair, smiling. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” He didn’t know what else to say. He had told Tony before that he didn’t believe in fate, and he still wasn’t sure that he did. But if fate was real (and now and then, life with Tony made him think perhaps it was), he knew that Tony truly was the one he was meant to be with. Those thoughts were still too touchy-feely to share aloud with Tony, though. He blushed at the very thought of them.
Tony seemed to see the blush, or something else told him that there was more to Clint’s response than just the teasing, for he didn’t push, merely smiled and answered “oh yea. I know.” Giving Clint a quick kiss, he turned back to the target. “So,” he notched the arrow, drawing the bow taut, “if I hit the bullseye, you get a reward.”
That caught Clint by surprise. “Wait. I get a reward?”
Tony glanced at Clint, smiling. “Yup. You do.”
“Isn’t it normally the other way around?”
“Well, yea. But you know….” Tony let the arrow fly and, as the one time before, it hit the very edge of the bullseye. He turned to Clint, smiling. “….what’s the fun in doing things the normal way?”
And moments later, in the supply room, back against the wall with Tony’s mouth on his cock and fingers in his ass, Clint was forced to agree…..the normal way was definitely overrated.