om_main | Clint and Tony, Backdated to September 26th

Clint takes Tony up on his invitation to the Stark Building to discuss experiments and, incidentally, dates.

It was the next day before Clint hopped a bus to the city, skipping out on his Friday classes, because why the hell not? He was a little unnerved about going into Manhattan, but there was the promise of new toys and new gear, and he'd never turn down that kind of invitation, so Manhattan it was.

Even still, his foot tapped the neatly paved doorstep as he stood out in front of the building that looked kind of like an apartment block only much, much nicer. Even the landscaping looked nicer. Pretty much everything looked too damn nice for him to be anywhere near it. His tapped again, and he took a deep breath before punching the, what? Intercom? Some kind of button. He figured it was worth punching.

"Good afternoon, Mr Barton," JARVIS said conversationally as the front door swung open without prompting. "If you will please head to the elevator, sir is expecting you."

"JARVIS! Buddy. Hey, I've actually kind of missed you, man," Clint said to the air, tipping his head slightly toward the ceiling as though he were talking to the building itself. Maybe he was. He stepped inside, glancing around before back at the door, to pull it closed behind him. "How's it hanging?"

"Metaphorically well, thank you," was the prim answer as the elevator doors in the hallway slid open.

Clint gave one more look around the bottom floor, then headed into the elevator apprehensively. "This better not take me to some weird ghost room that doesn't exist in this dimension," he warned the AI. "I'll be really annoyed if I have to deal with a talking doll!"

"I'm certain I have no idea what you're talking about," JARVIS told him as the elevator lowered. When it finally reopened, it was to the sprawling madness that was Tony's workroom, bits and pieces of in progress and unfinished projects scattered everywhere.

"Good," Tony called from the back, barely visible behind the next of monitors surrounding him, "you made it."

Seeing the chaos and technology around him, most of which he didn't understand even a little, Clint sighed dramatically. "I told you not to send me to another dimension, JARVIS!"

"Yeah, yeah," Tony cut in before JARVIS could deign to respond. If the AI got snippy it would be an uncomfortable afternoon for everyone. "Get in here, Rod Serling. I hear you have things for me."

"I only wish I was Rod Sterling," Clint grinned. And yeah, most of the time he hadn't been spending at the range lately was spent either with tutors, or staring at the Internet, trying to learn every TV show and movie of the last fifty years. It was slow going, but he definitely had some people pointing him in the right direction.

Flipping out his notebook, Clint ambled across the room toward the mad science genius guy, and yeah, okay, his friend. "Do you ever leave this place, by the way? Because it feels like whenever I talk to you, it's in this crazy uncharted territory that you call your brain."

"Maybe because whenever you talk to me, you're asking for things? Just a thought," Tony said, though he spun his chair around to face him. "And as a matter of fact, yes. I have a whole apartment upstairs." Not that he spend much time in it, but it was the principle of the thing.

"Yeaaaah, that doesn't answer my question," Clint teased, blue eyes glinting with amusement. "But good to know that if you ever do decide to join the land of the living that there's someplace you can crash. You own the whole building?"

"You say that like I don't have a cot set up down here," Tony said with a grin wide enough to show teeth. "And yes. Yes I do. Why, you looking to rent?"

"Oh hell no. I can't afford the bus fare down here without my magic free pass, much less whatever astronomical rent this place charges," the archer snorted, hopping up to sit on a nearby workbench, swinging his legs.

Tony shot him and amused look, though he did flick a quick glance down to make sure Clint hadn't accidentally put himself in the middle of any projects. "Depends on how much of an in with the owner you have. But somehow I doubt you came down here to talk real estate."

"Arrows. You take a blow to the head after we talked last night, Stark?" Clint grinned and passed the battered notebook in his hand over to his friend. Or at least, who was close enough like his friend to count.

"You may have just been missing my sparkling personality," Tony declared, accepting the notebook to flip through it. "I wouldn't blame you. I'd miss me too. What about this thing for your fire girl?"

Clint snorted. "You? It's JARVIS I miss. The school's boring as hell without him. But he can't make a personal handgun for Abby, so I guess you're it, huh?"

"Very kind of you to say so, Mr Barton," JARVIS put in before Tony could say anything, and Tony snorted.

"Abby, huh?" Tony said with an amused arch of one eyebrow, apparently ignoring the AI's sidetrack. "That's your girl?"

"Name sounds cutesy doesn't it? But she's badass. And hot. Green hair and green eyes that can pierce right through you. Dry wit...you'd probably like her. No, you can't have her, by the way," Clint squinted a threatening look at him.

"As delightful as that would probably be," Tony said, as dry as he could make it, "sorry, sweetheart. I'm taken."

"I'm serious, you-" Clint paused, blinking back at him. "Wait, you what? You are?"

"Try not to look so shocked. People are actually willing to date me, you know."

Clint continued to stare. "Really?"

Tony gave an expansive eyeroll. "Yes, jesus. I have a boyfriend. I doubt that's what you came here to talk about. Moving on."

"No, no moving on," Clint grinned, leaning his arms on his legs as he inspected Tony curiously. He wasn't bad looking, after all, but Tony was...Tony. Manic and obsessed with his work and Clint had a hard time picturing him in any kind of relationship. Except- "Wait, he's not an artificial life form, is he?"

"I dare you to ask him that," Tony said with a snort. "You've seen him around, I'm sure. Giant blond? Most polite human you will ever meet?"

Clint squinted at him. Because, honestly, that description could fit a couple of different guys at their school, which, Clint assumed, was where they'd met.

Tony stared right back at him. "...Steve," he said finally, for the sake of breaking the stalemate if nothing else.

Realization dawned, and Clint's eyebrows inched higher and higher on his forehead. "Steve. As in Patriot Steve. As in the big guy on my squad who could make you feel bad just by pouting in your direction Steve?"

"Oh, you have met him," Tony said, excessively brightly. "That's the one."

"Met him? He's been-" And Clint paused. Tony had mocked him in the past for his reading and writing skills, so bringing up the fact that Steve was tutoring him was likely to just bring back the mocking. "-on my squad," Clint finished, even though he'd already said that, and even though there'd been a clear hesitation in the middle of the sentence.

The pause earned an arch look, but apparently Steve had been a good influence on him, since Tony let it go. "And very, very politely taking control, I'm sure," he said instead with a look that might have been fond. "He does that."

"Yes, yes he does," Clint agreed, still trying to decide how Steve and Tony fit together. Maybe Steve helped keep Tony in line, though he wasn't quite sure anyone could do that - even Mr. America. Maybe Tony loosened Steve up. Either way, it wasn't really his business.

"Congrats then. I never woulda thought someone could stand you," the archer grinned wickedly, his tone purely teasing, "But if anyone has the patience, I'd bet he's it."

"Wow, remind me what you're doing here again? It wasn't looking for favors, was it?" Tony gave him a saccharine smile. "Funny, that."

"Riiiight," Clint laughed. "Maybe I should point out that you're a lucky bastard to score such a specimen? Let's hope he doesn't break you."

"Maybe he's lucky to score me," Tony said with a disdainful sniff. "I'm awesome, as you well know. Considering you're here, and all, sitting in my space and giving me shit. Remind me why I let you in?"

"Technically JARVIS let me in," the archer pointed out with a grin. "He likes me."

"I can only do as my programming dictates," JARVIS put in blandly, and Tony rolled his eyes.

"I already know you're a traitor. Keep it up and I'll make you index Lolcats or something," he said, glancing briefly up at nothing.

"I tremble with fear, sir."

"See, this is why he likes me more," Clint pointed out somberly.

"Because you don't live here? I'm sure," Tony agreed, just as serious. "And would this be the part where you get to the point?"

Clint huffed out a long sigh, the kind that little kids drew out as long as possible when they thought that someone was being obtuse. "The handgun. Can you do it or not? How will it tell the difference between her and other people? Some kind of fingerprint scanner?"

The amusement slowly slid off Tony's face in exchange for something more thoughtful. It had been easy to talk about making a gun in the abstract but...could he actually do it? He was going to have to, presumably, considering he was inheriting a weapons company. Even if the idea did make him kind of twitchy, he had to start somewhere.

"Sure, something like that," he said with a slight, offhand shrug. "I don't know. I'll think of something."

Clint seemed to register something on the guy's face and shrugged easily, hopping down from the workbench to wander around the area aimlessly, picking at bits of things here and there, somehow always keeping Tony partially in view. "Doesn't have to be a gun. Could be something else. What would Phil like if you were making something for him? They seem like they were cut from similar stuff. I guess they were friends as kids or something."

"Well that's terrifying," Tony said instantly, then waved a hand like he was brushing the concern away. "For Coulson it would probably be something ridiculous like a shoe phone. I don't know your girl well enough for that. Gun's doable, but I'll have to get it fabricated through the company."

The blond teen looked over, pulling a small face. "That's going to cost more, isn't it?"

Tony cocked an eyebrow at him. "Cost who?"

"Listen, I may not have enough for a bus pass right now, but I'm working, and I've been keeping track. I'm going to pay you back for all this stuff someday," Clint told him, turning around to meet his gaze dead on, completely earnest.

"Well, if you put it like that." Tony was learning not to fight people on these things. Slowly, but it was happening. "But for the record, no. It won't make a difference."

Clint tilted his head for a moment, trying to see if he was trying to pull one on him or not, but in the end it didn't matter. Yeah, he wanted to pay Tony back, but he was pretty sure it wasn't going to all be in money. He'd find something he could do for the guy someday, and if he said the gun was the same either way, well, he could accept that. "How long?"

"Dunno," Tony said with a thoughtful frown. "Couple weeks, maybe? More if I have to come up with something from scratch. I'll let you know."

The archer nodded, twitching a smile. "Thanks."

Tony gave him an easy smirk in return. "I'm sure you'll make it up to me."

"So," Clint had a hard time sitting still, especially when he had nothing to do with his hands. And yeah, he could have walked out right then and it would have been okay, but he also knew that Tony had just lost his parents, and while he'd kept his tongue when it happened, a few months had passed, so he just asked easily as he paced the workshop, "How's it goin'?"

It earned a completely baffled look, even as Tony tried to follow his movements. "Uh. Fine? I guess?"

Clint looked at him, amused, but didn't push it. It wasn't really as if he wanted to start comparing their parents' deaths or anything. And if Tony said he was okay, then he was okay. Rogers probably had something to do with that. "Good. Cause I have one last question for ya. It doesn't have anything to do with tech, but...you know a lot more about pop culture than me."

"O-kay," Tony said slowly, and gestured for him to continue. A starter like that could only go to interesting places. "Anything I don't JARVIS probably will. Lay it on me."

Clint cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together nervously. "I don't know what kind of costume to wear for this Halloween thing coming up. I'd ask Coulson, but you know him. He's not exactly a costume kind of guy. And after I kind of fucked up with what to wear to that Masquerade thing, I figured I needed a shove in the right direction. I'm not asking for ideas, but...give me a place to start? Where do people usually get their costume ideas?"

Tony's eyebrows rose a little, but he gave it due consideration. "Media, usually," he said finally. "Shows, movies, books. Things like that. Or historical figures, if you want to go slightly more advanced. Pretty much anything can be a costume if you're clever enough about it."

Shows. Shows Clint could do. He didn't know as many movies or books, but he'd been soaking up TV shows like a sponge. Maybe he could do a two-fer. TV show and history, and go as one of those norsemen from Vikings. "Where do people usually get their costumes?" he asked.

"Uh. Anywhere? There's usually a place that will sell Halloween shit to you every five feet," Tony said with a snort. "Or just grab stuff out of your closet that looks close enough. No one will care, I guarantee you. Last year I wore my regular clothes and some LED lights."

Clint smirked, since that sounded like Tony. "Yeah? You going this year?"

"I guess? I mean, presumably I have to actually be invited since I'm not at the school anymore." Not that he thought Steve wouldn't, but it was still a technicality.

"Want me t'shame him 'til he does?" Clint grinned pointedly.

Tony just gave him a look. "It's Steve. You really think he won't?"

"I'm just saying. Shame is on the table," the archer sing-songed as he headed toward the elevator. "Just say the word!"

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om_agent

Coulson says he does not want a shoe gun. That would be silly. Something that'd go up a sleeve would be much more practical.

(also he is afeared of what the two of them will get up to)