starkravingmad | In The End

Entry tags:

aa,
clint

In The End

It’s been quiet lately though Tony isn’t quite sure if the bad guys have actually taken a vacation of if Fury has secretly grounded him for the whole nasty stunt with the Mandarin. It hadn’t been one of his brightest moments, but in his defense he was pretty much running off of caffeine and nearly losing a member of his little misfit family had sent him over the edge. He’d acted out. He’d called out a supervillian and terrorist on national television and given him and everyone else his home address. Mansion was gone and lessons were learned the hard way.

And damn New York was a lot colder than he remembered it this time of year…or maybe that was just the ice pack he was holding to his shoulder after a mild (really it wasn’t /that/ bad) incident while calibrating his newest edition flight regulators.

Note for the future….need softer ceilings.

Old and half empty pizza and take out boxes were piled high on one of the back tables along with the remnants of way to many sodas and red bull cans to keep them company. A fresh pack of menthols sat beside him as several holographic projections surrounded him in his seat.

“Let’s reduce the power by ten percent and rewire…”

As he spoke the suit plans on screen slowly modified to follow his directions.

“Sir, Agent Barton is in route…should I allow him access?”

Tony leaned back in his seat, lips pressed together as he shrugged his shoulders. Maybe this would be the revilement from boredom he was looking for. An end to the quiet.

“Sure why the hell not…open up, J! Please tell me that you brought me something good from..that secret mission in that secret place I'm not suppose to know about."

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"You know I always get you the best bring home stuff. Here."

He drops a sack with a thump on the table next to him. Its got the shape like the thing inside is a head.

And whats inside is exactly that. A drone head. Its got a fierce and ugly battle mask for a face but its the eyes and the nuero network that is worth investigating. He taps it tiredly. "These bitches were smart. Have fun. But be quiet about it. Not supposed to have liberated it from the evidence cache."

“See this is the reason that I love you, Honey Bear. You just get me….”
He was quite to take the drone’s head in his hands, turning it for inspection before bring it up to his face leaving him staring eye to eye with the lifeless machine. It’s definitely got some of his influence in it though whoever built the damn thing obviously didn’t have his great since of style. Well he had his plans for the weekend. Much better than making that appearance at some boring and overly crowded charity event he was booked for.

“My lips are sealed ….”

Tony’s fingers purposefully slide across his lips in the common motions that went with the gesture. The helmet was set aside, the holographics pushed to the side in order for the engineer to see Barton better.

“So what’s the lowdown that Fury doesn’t want me to know about….you can’t bring me a treasure like this and not give me a backstory behind it.”

Properly looking at him Clint looks like hell. He's obviously been in a shower recently. His hair is soft and fluffy. But his skin is pale. Half of his face and throat are mottled with great dark blooms of bruises and discolorations. He's dressed in loose clothes thar nearly cover him up completely. He holds himself stiffly and carefully. A sign of internal damage.

And he doesn't sit. Like sitting would likely be far more painful than standing. The archer gives a wince as he shakes his head. "Sorry. I'll be in enough trouble and you can't keep a secret. Just be happy , huh? I figured it would cheer you up a bit.

“I think I should be offended by that.”

It would actually take quite a bit to throw Tony into one of his moods. Usually it was Steve that sent him into one of his sulking moments. The subject of Howard was a big ‘no go’ in the rulebook of how to deal with Stark, one that apparently the Captain had yet to read. Things were better though or semi better now that Steve was out of the tower and off on his own self-discovery adventure or whatever the hell Fury had him on.

Was he feeling dramatic today?

Yes he was.

“Yup. I’m offended.”

Tony pulled the ice pack from his shoulder and threw it in the nearest trashcan, leaning over the steel table.

“Come on, Barton. Give me something. I’m here sitting on the sidelines while the rest of you all get to have fun…I have to live vicariously through you. Are you really going to take that away from me?”

Puppy dog brown eyes. It was one of his best tactics and something that even Pepper had a hard time ignoring and she had been dealing with his bullshit for years now.

“Tell me or I’m going to have to resort to drastic measure that we both know are going to annoy the hell out of you..."

"Annoy me differently then you already do? This is a horrifying thought. I brought you a robot head! Shut up and be happy so you don't have to watch the paparazzi reports for a whole weekend huh? I almost lost an arm for that stupid thing."

Clint carefully leans against the nearest table and crossed his arms loosely over his chest.

“…….Ouch.”

Tony leaned back down resisting the urge to mimic Clint and cross his own arms over his chest. The need to cover and hide the arc reactor had disappeared after he’d spent some time getting to know the blond archer both personally and through some high tech search and find with the help of ‘J’.

“Someone woke up on the grumpy ass side of the bed today…or possibly last week from the circles underneath your eyes.”

He could be sympathetic over this matter. How many nights had he spent wide awake while Pepper slept unstairs? How many nights did he stay awake now that she wasn’t just so he wouldn’t have to face an empty bed? Too many to count.

"Coffee? Soda? Red Bull? I would offer you a RockStar, but....well those are /mine'."

Clint rubs his face a bit. Really digging into his eyes until he sees little bursts of light when he opens them again. "Remind me not to come here right after a mission ever again. My brain can't keep up with it all. Coffee. Just coffee."

"Hmm. Yeah. No. We both know I can't keep that promise, sweetums. Then I wouldn't get any cool new toys."

Tony pushes his feet against the floor, the wheels on his chair making a small clicking noise as it slides across the tile. He could just get up and get it, but there has been a lingering love for spinning in office chairs and basically using them as his own personal roller coasters since he was six.

Dumm-E hands him a clean white mug, generic considering just how many of the things ended up broken or coated with mold when he leaves them for too long.

"One Lump or two..."

It's still black when he pushes himself back across the room and offers the steaming brown liquid.

"You actually used lump sugar? That's old school, I have to give you that. Not what I expec.... well black is good."

Clint moves to take the mug, his hand twitches sharpy and he winces before switching hands to take it with the other. Picking the couch as a likely place to sit down and not expect to get up again for a while Clint moves stiffly that way and slowly eases himself down into the edge and then back to settle into the cushions.

"So I'm guessing from the general air of causality and relaxation that you either don't know whats been on the news or you don't care... or you're drunk-"

Clint sips the coffee and makes a face.

"- this is terrible."

Tony pauses in a mid spin, the look on his face one of complete and clear confusion. He's not drunk. He hasn't been drunk in a while now, the plastic starter chip a heavy reminder of what he's been trying to accomplish.

"No. Why? They showing reruns about the house again? You know you'd think that would grow old..."

He smirks at Clint's comment shrugging his shoulders.

"What do you expect? I made it ....yesterday? I think it was yesterday."

The look Clint gives him is deadly seriously and he slowly moves to set the mug a side and sit up a bit more to face Tony better.

He hesitates. Its kinda obvious that he doesn't /really/ want to be the bearer of whatever news it is that he's about to lay on Tony.

"... Tony... they found out about the AA... which means they figured out about the the drinking... its plastered all over the news... they're talking about filing suits and investigations..."

"Excuse me..."

The smirk falters. It's suppose to be a secret. /His/ dirty little secret that's been put out in the public eye for years so much that no one ever actually stops to think about it. Hidden in the public eye. It's something that had to come to an end eventually, but he didn't ...it wasn't expected like this.

"Jarvis..."

He doesn't even finish the sentence before his AI is projecting the latest from TMZ. The grainy footage that can only come from a mobile phone replying over and over. The admittance...'My name is Tony Stark...and I'm an alcoholic...' louder than the annoying buzzes of the reporters in his head.

"Sonva...Shit..."

That... that pisses Clint off right there. That someone in Tony's group was the leak and sell out. Those places were supposed to be safe. Secure and hell anonymous. He's already got half a mind to find the particular sell out and tear them apart himself.

He eases over to lie down tiredly on his side on the couch and shut his eyes.

"They're giving you credit for getting on the wagon but they're playing the 'everyone falls off' thing. They're calling the idea of you and the suit and a couple of drinks the whole 'drunk driver possibility' thing. They got people talking about your birthday party a couple years back. Started walking through all those disclosures SHIELD had 'em sign..."

Edited 2013-12-19 01:47 (UTC)

His eyes haven't left the screen. He doesn't know what to say. Hell he doesn't even know if he /can/ talk at this point from the way his blood is rushing in his ears, the way his heart is beating against his chest, and the way he suddenly feels like the world is moving underneath his feet. Well it is techincally moving. It always is, but it's not like he should be able to feel that right?

"Shit...."

They were trying to take it away from him again. They were trying to take away his one chance to make up for all the stupid shit he had done in his life. The one chance he had to make up for all the blood on his hands.

The most horrifying part about this....they were right.

He would slip. Starks always slipped back to the drink. It's just a matter of time...

"I can't...Shit. They can't..."

Tony leans forward, his hands burying themselves into his ebony hair.

Clint hears the difference in his tone and his eyes snap open instantly. He shoves himself up to look towards the inventor.

"Tony?"

He's... never seen the guy panic before. He heard a rumor in passing that Tony had been having an issue with anxiety recently. That was in the news too but more from the few accounts from the team and the SHIELD floaters that followed Tony in the company.

But the guy looked pale, sweating, shaking... Clint instantly took on a mask and sturdiness. He needed to be the calm and collected one if Tony was going to act up like this.

He moves over and squats next to Tony on the chair, laying a hand on his shoulder. A twitch of his other and Jarvis shuts off the news feeds.

"Tony. Talk to me. Take a few deep breaths. What do you need?"

He needs for all of this to disappear. He's already been half way to this point before. The birthday party. Rhodey barging in and taking one of his suits. It was the one that Tony had planned on giving him eventually anyway, but that's not the point. The point is that his security has been comprised. He's put trust into so few things since Obadiah ...and the one time he actually tries to fix himself back up. What happens...

It comes back and kicks him in the ass.

"How the hell did this happen..."

His eyes are closed and it almost feels like he's dying. Like his chest is constricting and he can't breath like he should. He hates feeling like this. Hates being helpless because he's a goddamn superhero. He's not suppose to be...

Normally he'd be reaching for a drink right now and damn it, he wants to. Wants the familiar burn to ease the pain of all this way, but he can't...because he wants to be good. He's trying to be good.

"Fuck...They're gonna take it away..."

Clint sees the twitching fingers and it gives him and idea. He looks around the workshop before picking the nearest surface. He forcibly drags Tony's chair, and Tony, along with it to the surface then twists his hand and cracks his watch against the edge of the desk. It gives a little sound as it breaks and Clint ignores the pain that shocks through his wrist and hand as he strips the watch off and sets it down in front of Tony.

"They aren't going to take it away if we can help it, okay? But I need your help first. I need you to fix my watch. Focus on that okay? C'mon genius. Use that brain. It's just a watch, its nothing."

He doesn't even seem to notice that he's being moved. Things are clouding together. The problems that are more than likely going to rise up now that everything is out in the open like this. The board members. The reporters. SHIELD. The senators. Pepper.

It's the crack that draws his attention. Bringing him dropping back into reality as the piece is dangling in front of him. The blur is still there. He can hear him, but he can't exactly see Clint. He knows he's there. The watch though. It's in focus. He can /see/ it.

Dumm-E is already there at their side, the small sound he makes almost sound concerned if that is possible for a robotic being made by a sixteen year old kid. One that is very much outdated mind you. A small box is clutched in his claw. It's not Tony's usual tools. Not the welder. Just a simple screwdriver set. One that Happy got him for Christmas ...how many years ago was it?

He reaches for it...

"I can do that..."

"I hope so. Natasha gave me that watch. She refuses to get me another one cause its supposed to have a warranty or something."

Clint keeps a hand on Tony's shoulder. Laying just over the place his neck and collar connect, trying to be a supportive weight. As Tony focuses on the watch, slowly trying to set right the damage Clint gauges his body.

His breathing settling down slowly, the shaking tapering off for the choice to work instead. Though his eyes still look glazed the inventor's attention was pointed to one point instead of jumping around.

Only when he was sure that Tony wasn't going to shake apart did he slowly drag his hand away. He put away the information. That Tony needed something to work on when he went into a state like that. It was a useful tip. And Clint resolved to keep something small, mechanical and breakable on him at all times for just this purpose.

The watch is already taken apart in his mind. The layout projected just behind his eye lids much like the holo blueprints Jarvis often projects while Tony's working on his suits. He turns when he's sure he has mapped everything else, taking the small box from Dumm-E's hand.

The bot hangs off out of way and just to the side, curious and waiting to see if his creator has any other need of him acting much like a loyal dog laying at his master's feet.

"She's going to kill you..."

Tony doesn't have to say who 'she' is. Natasha is a force to be reckoned with. No one is foolish enough to argue with that.

"Wouldn't be the first time she hung me out to dry for something like this." Clint relaxed at being addressed directly. That was a good thing. Right? He dragged a chair over to sit across from Tony. He folded his arms on the edge of the table, giving the inventor plenty of room to fiddle with the watch. He didn't know if he really expected it to get fixed or turned into something at Tony's whim but the important part was it was getting done instead of panicking.

He gave it a few minutes and only when he was positive Tony was engrossed in the work did he actually address what just happened.

"... we're not going to let them take the suit away Tony. First of all if they tried they'd have to take guns and cars away from the public at large and that's just not gonna fly. Double standard..."

He’s decided to throw in some extra features to this watch, add some stuff that might be useful if the archer gets himself into a bind. Clint won’t be getting this one back until at least tomorrow afternoon. What’s the point of rebuilding if you can’t make it better, right? Or at least that is usually how his brain works. Still his hands pause as Clint speaks, his grip on the tiny screwdriver just a little harder than it had been just moments before.

“Those don’t apply to me and you …”

Rights. Common Rights that so many people take for granted. Things that the Avengers no longer have.

“We’re different.”

The sad truth of it is that he /is/ right. Superheroes. Living Life in the public. People tend to look at them at them differently. Forget that they are human beings too.

“I’m already on Fury’s shit list as it.”

No wonder why he hasn’t called. No wonder why he’s been stuck here for so long.

"It does. Us more than the rest of the team. We're human at least..."

He shifts and settles on the edge of the table, watching Tony work. His hands. Its frighteningly beautiful when Clints brain slows it all down and he can soak in the smallest movements.

His head cocks slightly and his eyebrow tweaks up. "You think Nicky doesn't like you?"

"First off...'Nicky'?"

Tony shot him a look that composed of a raised brow and his 'you've got to be kidding face'.

"I don't think so. His name is Patches. Second off..."

This was an easy answer. Tony /knew/ he was a difficult person to work with. He didn't need Captain America in his face throwing off barbs to know that. He'd always been difficult to work with. He was pretty sure he was singularly responsible for ever minor gray hair on Pepper's red head.

"I don't really care if he does or if he doesn't...I just want..."He sounded pathetic, didn't he? God he did. What was he becoming?"to be apart of the action."

Clint cocked his head a bit as he listened. He smiled a little.

"You realize the reason that you get left at home to do the media footwork and PR is because you're /good/ at it right? The rest of us wouldn't know what to do with a reporter unless they were tossed out a window for us to catch. But if you want to go into a hot zone I'll request you for my partner next mission. Which should be... tomorrow considering I feel like hell."

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In The End

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