It took time to get to this point, and it was completely, entirely worth it to come home to scenes like this. Clint couldn’t stop grinning as he leaned against the door frame in his sweats, watching his lovers sleep, Tony all wrapped up underneath Phil. They made a pretty picture, and Clint practically forgot the bruises and aches in his muscles.
The reactor lit their faces a little from below, and Clint smiled, knowing how long it had taken to convince Tony that the safety Clint and Phil presented wasn’t an illusion. They’d coaxed and prodded every secret and smile from him until, all at once, they discovered they could override Jarvis and Tony could cook Italian like a gourmet chef. Tony’s hair was a disaster full of grease, pressed into interesting creases by his pillow. Phil lay partially on top of Tony, whose face was pressed into Phil’s neck, one arm snagged in Phil’s belt loops. Tony loved being surrounded, held, cuddled, coddled, and generally just pampered. They’d had a hard time at first, since the reactor made it hard for Tony to sleep on his side on bad days, but they’d eventually worked out a way to balance all three of their sleeping habits.
Phil cracked open an eye and arched an eyebrow at Clint, who grinned at him. Phil woke the instant Clint opened the door, and was doubtlessly curious about what was taking him so long. “Take a picture for me, Jarvis,” Clint whispered. There was no reply, but he knew the AI had taken the photo.
Finally standing and stretching his arms, Clint strutted towards the bed. He was one lucky circus brat.
Phil cracked an eye open and raised a questioning eyebrow at Clint, where he stood in the doorway. The archer had opened the door several minutes ago. The wide, dazed smile on his lover’s face was all he needed to understand. He’d been the one arriving late, after a long op or day at work, many, many times. The sight of his two lovers curled up together in bed was a pleasant one.
Clint strolled towards them, a slight bounce in his step. He looked proud of himself, Phil noted in amusement. His own eyes traced sculpted biceps stretching towards the ceiling as Clint wandered around the bed. No bandages or blood, which was a nice change, though the archer had some interesting bruises. Phil leaned over to give Clint a gentle kiss when he slid into the bed, spooning up against Tony’s other side and draping a hand over the billionaire’s waist.
“Welcome home,” he murmured.
“Good to be back,” Clint hummed, pressing a light kiss to their sleeping third’s forehead and settling into the pillows.
Phil took a moment to admire them as Clint’s breathing evened and Tony shifted slightly in his sleep, his right arm moving to grab the fabric of Clint’s thin tank top. The billionaire rested peacefully between them, dark shadows under his eyes testament to how long he’d gone before sleeping. Or, in this case, tantamount to the number of nightmares Tony had in the last week. The genius would hopefully relax now that Clint was home from Afghanistan safe and sound.
Letting his eyes fall shut, his fingers entwined with Clint’s, Phil let himself drift off. He was one lucky agent.
Tony woke up surrounded by warmth and breath and love. He identified two bodies next to him, where he’d fallen asleep with only one, and a soft smile broke out across his face at the sight of his sleeping lovers, wrapped around him and fingers tangled together. Clint wasn’t even bleeding, as far as Tony could tell, which was nice. Tony couldn’t move, trapped underneath them, but he could care less. He’d never really been loved like Clint and Phil loved him, and he took as much as he could get. He tried to give back as much as he could, and he just hoped that would be enough to keep them here.
“Morning,” he said, knowing his two super-secret-agent lovers would have woken up as soon as his breathing changed. “W’come home, Clint.”
“S good to be home,” Clint replied, leaning over to give him a kiss and opening his eyes.
Phil yawned. “Breakfast,” he asked.
“French toast,” Tony demanded.
“Mmmm,” Clint said, rolling over. “I’ll make it if you make the good coffee.”
Tony beamed, bouncing to his feet when Phil clambered off the other side of the bed. Moving over to the archer, he wrapped his arms around his waist, careful of the odd bruises on his chest. “Sure. Shower first?”
“Breakfast, then shower,” Phil ordered. Tony knew Clint turned a pout on the agent at the same time as him. “Breakfast,” Phil maintained, though his voice had dropped into a lower register, “And then a very long shower.”
Tony perked up. He could live with that, he thought. Following as Clint and Phil bickered good-naturedly over the best syrup flavor, watching the play of light over their faces, Tony smiled softly to himself.
He was one lucky son of a bitch, that was for sure.
“That’s right,” Clint said suddenly, turning back towards Tony. “What’s with the bags, Tony?”
Tony looked at the ground, feeling his cheeks turn a little pink. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“Idiot had nightmares all week,” Phil told Clint. Clint nodded, and proceeded to press Tony up against the nearest wall to kiss him senseless. Tony nearly fell over when Clint let go of him, dazed.
“I’m home, and I’m safe,” Clint said.
Tony felt muscles he hadn’t realized were tense relax in his shoulders. “Yeah,” he said, and let them push and prod him into the kitchen and eating actual food.
Yeah. Luckiest bastard in the world.