Clint and Tony, April 26th
Apr. 26th, 2015 03:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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om_mainTony interrupts one of Clint's solo flights and the two enjoy the skies...while bickering like brothers.
Clint didn't want to admit to anyone how much he was paying for flight lessons, even Tony, so when he'd realized he was running late down in Stark's lab, he'd stumbled over the explanation, waving his friend off. Flight lessons. It's a thing. Running late. Talk to you later.
Then he'd scrambled to catch the right bus.
The thing was, Phil's money (and fuck, it was a lot of money) had gone a long way to paying for the private license, but it hadn't gone far enough. Clint had to work his ass off at the garage just to come up with the cash week to week, and that included throwing his monthly allowance from Xavier's in on top of it.
More than the money, it was also a lot of work. In order to really get shit to stick in his dumb head, he'd decided to set up sessions twice a week with the instructor Philip had found for him; a retired air force lieutenant who apparently knew someone who knew someone who was friends with one of Phil's weirdo uncles. Clint actually liked the guy, a lot, but that didn't make it any easier to get out to the airfield twice a week.
On the other hand, the very first time Clint had gotten in the cockpit, he'd fallen in love.
Four months into the constant instruction he was already allowed to go up solo and despite the fact that the Cessna Skyhawk wasn't the shiniest bird in the sky, it was his first, and he loved it. Didn't hurt that the plane shared his name. And, as soon as he got enough hours in and passed his exams, he could start learning the more complex planes, which was the aim all along.
As soon as Clint was in the air, all the nerves of evading Tony and getting to the airfield and getting in the cockpit melted away. He felt it slough off of him with the thrum of the engine behind him and grinned to himself as he banked out over the water.
Really, how was he supposed to resist? Getting blown off for flight lessons of all things, and without even a chance to make a crack or two about Clint taking is name too seriously. Considering he was a few months off becoming an actual CEO, Tony had been generally trying to pretend to be a little more mature, but come on. Some things just couldn't be helped.
Which was why, once he'd given it enough time to make sure Clint was in the air, he triangulated him via his phone and went ahead and hacked right into his communications. "So," he said easily. "You're where again?"
In his seat, Clint's hands stilled on the controls. He recognized the voice instantly, of course. With Tony, it wasn't hard. His eyes narrowed behind the aviators and pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment before asking, "Are you back at the air strip, or did you hack my radio frequency?"
"It's me," Tony said cheerfully, if sounding just slightly out of breath, "what do you think?"
"Okay, seriously man? Seriously?" Clint asked, then paused. "Okay so yeah, that's cool, I gotta admit."
"Of course it is. So," Tony said as Iron Man rather abruptly leveled himself with the cockpit of Clint's plane, "wanna play tag?"
Clint started in his seat, cursing heavily. "What. The actual fuck, Stark! You know what, no. I don't want to know how you found me. What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Flying," Tony said as he banked lazily. "You thought I was gonna let you have all the fun on your own?"
"Hey, this is higher learning right here, Stark. Proper education. Heeeeyy, where are you going?" Clint glanced off to his left and slowly banked to follow the gleaming red and gold suit.
"Oh, so now you want to play, huh?" He banked again sharply, dipping under the nose of the plane to level back on the other side. "Consider this a learning experience, then."
Clint snorted softly. "Oh, so you're gonna teach me now? How the fuck are you flying that thing anyway? Does it have push pedals?"
"General awesomeness," Tony shot back. "It's not my fault you're stuck in a plane."
"At least the plane is useful for carrying more than just one person," Clint sniffed. "I don't need your stinkin' suit anyway."
"Aw honey, did you want to go flying with me? You should have just said so." Not that Tony was entirely sure it would be an entirely healthy trip for anyone who wasn't otherwise enhanced, but it was the principle of the thing.
"You know, I'm just not the princess carry kind of guy, hot-shot. I think I'll pass. Besides, I figure someone else's got that honor," Clint grinned, checking his course and correcting back onto his flight path. Tony could follow if he wanted company in the sky.
With an exaggerated eyeroll despite the fact that no one was going to see it, Tony curved around to follow, though he did position himself just above the plane. Mostly because he felt like it. "Well if you think you're not string enough to hang on, I guess," he said as offhandedly as he could make it.
"Hey genius, I need visual. I mean, unless you want me to inadvertently collide with your magical flying suit," Clint pointed out, craning his head to try and see where Tony'd gone.
"Relax," Tony said, though he did level out evenly with the cockpit again. "I've got a hell of a lot more maneuverability than you do."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you have a hell of a lot more maneuverability than anything else in the air at the moment," Clint agreed. And the Cessna was the basic of the basic, built for teaching newbie pilots like him. Someday, maybe he'd get his hands on something sleeker.
"That's the idea," Tony agreed lazily. "No point in having tech if it's not the shiniest around."
"Throttle it back, there, Da Vinci. Your ego's gonna block out the horizon. You wanna tell me what was going on back there in Times Square? You know, that thing I risked my ass for?" Clint asked, leading Tony northeast over open farmland.
"Got the wrong guy for artist comparisons." The sarcasm was a reflex to cover the spike of irritation. Time hadn't made him any happier to talk about the whole thing again. "Exactly what it looked like. Some assholes I don't know jumped me and some assholes I do know decided to invite themselves to the party."
"Your boyfriend was on his way out the door," Clint pointed out easily. "I mean, if you woulda rather I didn't cover him, then I'll be sure to sit at home with popcorn next time."
"You make your own choices," Tony said a bit shortly.
Clint narrowed his eyes slightly at the window separating him and Stark. "Yeah. Well. I chose to have my friend's back, even though he's sometimes an obnoxious dick."
Tony twisted to face the plane in favor of making a face he knew Clint wouldn't be able to see. "Then I'm not sure what you're bitching at me for."
Careful on the stick, Clint stared at him. "I'm not bitching, you jackass. I was asking for more info. But, hey. Clearly, touchy subject."
"You try getting eight lectures in a row and see how much you feel like talking afterwards." But Tony leveled back out with a sigh. "What's done is done."
"Gonna happen again?" Clint asked, and made sure this time to phrase it precisely as a question and not a judgement.
"I'll try to fit the people who don't like me into my schedule better, if that's what you're getting at."
Clint rolled his eyes. "And you call me cranky."
"Hey, I'm just hear for the view," Tony said with as much of a shrug as he could manage.
"Well, then we're gonna need a hell of a lot better view," the archer told him, banking off to the east and trusting Stark to follow him. If the conversation was a dud, then at least they could both enjoy the time in the air.
Tony snorted and twisted to follow, adding a few barrel rolls just for the hell of it. "So why the plane? Other than that flying is awesome."
"What makes you think I have any other motive?" Clint grinned.
"Most people don't bother to take lessons just for that. There's always skydiving," Tony said a little too innocently.
"Yeah well. Maybe I figure I'll need it someday?" the archer mumbled. "You know, one of those life skills."
"I guess." It wasn't anything Tony felt necessary, but then again who needed planes? "If you're good, maybe I'll build you one when you're done."
"You know, I never know if you're joking when you say that," Clint smirked.
Tony did a lazy loop in the air, but his tone of voice never changed. "Who's joking? I'm already designing one for Betsy."
"What, just, as a birthday present? Hey, here you go, here's a plane?" the archer snorted.
"Christmas," Tony drawled as a correction. "And she asked."
"Well, count me out. I'll test hers out for you if you need me to, but I already feel like I owe you too much already. The last thing I need is for you to give me something worth a couple billion dollars," Clint told him, shaking his head a little in the cockpit. He never in his life would have guessed that he'd be turning down really expensive shit from a billionaire when he was younger.
"Whatever." There was no real way to shrug easily in the armor, so Tony let his voice do the implying. "You don't owe me shit, but you haven't listened so far so I don't know why I'm bothering."
"Seriously though, you're building her a plane? Do you even know how to- nope. No. Forget I asked," Clint laughed. Clearly, Tony had mastered propulsion.
"Birdman," Tony said in as pompous a voice as he could manage, "when are you going to learn that I can do anything?"
"The day you learn humility," the archer snorted, banking back toward the airfield. "Come on, Tinman. This bird needs to land."
Clint didn't want to admit to anyone how much he was paying for flight lessons, even Tony, so when he'd realized he was running late down in Stark's lab, he'd stumbled over the explanation, waving his friend off. Flight lessons. It's a thing. Running late. Talk to you later.
Then he'd scrambled to catch the right bus.
The thing was, Phil's money (and fuck, it was a lot of money) had gone a long way to paying for the private license, but it hadn't gone far enough. Clint had to work his ass off at the garage just to come up with the cash week to week, and that included throwing his monthly allowance from Xavier's in on top of it.
More than the money, it was also a lot of work. In order to really get shit to stick in his dumb head, he'd decided to set up sessions twice a week with the instructor Philip had found for him; a retired air force lieutenant who apparently knew someone who knew someone who was friends with one of Phil's weirdo uncles. Clint actually liked the guy, a lot, but that didn't make it any easier to get out to the airfield twice a week.
On the other hand, the very first time Clint had gotten in the cockpit, he'd fallen in love.
Four months into the constant instruction he was already allowed to go up solo and despite the fact that the Cessna Skyhawk wasn't the shiniest bird in the sky, it was his first, and he loved it. Didn't hurt that the plane shared his name. And, as soon as he got enough hours in and passed his exams, he could start learning the more complex planes, which was the aim all along.
As soon as Clint was in the air, all the nerves of evading Tony and getting to the airfield and getting in the cockpit melted away. He felt it slough off of him with the thrum of the engine behind him and grinned to himself as he banked out over the water.
Really, how was he supposed to resist? Getting blown off for flight lessons of all things, and without even a chance to make a crack or two about Clint taking is name too seriously. Considering he was a few months off becoming an actual CEO, Tony had been generally trying to pretend to be a little more mature, but come on. Some things just couldn't be helped.
Which was why, once he'd given it enough time to make sure Clint was in the air, he triangulated him via his phone and went ahead and hacked right into his communications. "So," he said easily. "You're where again?"
In his seat, Clint's hands stilled on the controls. He recognized the voice instantly, of course. With Tony, it wasn't hard. His eyes narrowed behind the aviators and pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment before asking, "Are you back at the air strip, or did you hack my radio frequency?"
"It's me," Tony said cheerfully, if sounding just slightly out of breath, "what do you think?"
"Okay, seriously man? Seriously?" Clint asked, then paused. "Okay so yeah, that's cool, I gotta admit."
"Of course it is. So," Tony said as Iron Man rather abruptly leveled himself with the cockpit of Clint's plane, "wanna play tag?"
Clint started in his seat, cursing heavily. "What. The actual fuck, Stark! You know what, no. I don't want to know how you found me. What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Flying," Tony said as he banked lazily. "You thought I was gonna let you have all the fun on your own?"
"Hey, this is higher learning right here, Stark. Proper education. Heeeeyy, where are you going?" Clint glanced off to his left and slowly banked to follow the gleaming red and gold suit.
"Oh, so now you want to play, huh?" He banked again sharply, dipping under the nose of the plane to level back on the other side. "Consider this a learning experience, then."
Clint snorted softly. "Oh, so you're gonna teach me now? How the fuck are you flying that thing anyway? Does it have push pedals?"
"General awesomeness," Tony shot back. "It's not my fault you're stuck in a plane."
"At least the plane is useful for carrying more than just one person," Clint sniffed. "I don't need your stinkin' suit anyway."
"Aw honey, did you want to go flying with me? You should have just said so." Not that Tony was entirely sure it would be an entirely healthy trip for anyone who wasn't otherwise enhanced, but it was the principle of the thing.
"You know, I'm just not the princess carry kind of guy, hot-shot. I think I'll pass. Besides, I figure someone else's got that honor," Clint grinned, checking his course and correcting back onto his flight path. Tony could follow if he wanted company in the sky.
With an exaggerated eyeroll despite the fact that no one was going to see it, Tony curved around to follow, though he did position himself just above the plane. Mostly because he felt like it. "Well if you think you're not string enough to hang on, I guess," he said as offhandedly as he could make it.
"Hey genius, I need visual. I mean, unless you want me to inadvertently collide with your magical flying suit," Clint pointed out, craning his head to try and see where Tony'd gone.
"Relax," Tony said, though he did level out evenly with the cockpit again. "I've got a hell of a lot more maneuverability than you do."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you have a hell of a lot more maneuverability than anything else in the air at the moment," Clint agreed. And the Cessna was the basic of the basic, built for teaching newbie pilots like him. Someday, maybe he'd get his hands on something sleeker.
"That's the idea," Tony agreed lazily. "No point in having tech if it's not the shiniest around."
"Throttle it back, there, Da Vinci. Your ego's gonna block out the horizon. You wanna tell me what was going on back there in Times Square? You know, that thing I risked my ass for?" Clint asked, leading Tony northeast over open farmland.
"Got the wrong guy for artist comparisons." The sarcasm was a reflex to cover the spike of irritation. Time hadn't made him any happier to talk about the whole thing again. "Exactly what it looked like. Some assholes I don't know jumped me and some assholes I do know decided to invite themselves to the party."
"Your boyfriend was on his way out the door," Clint pointed out easily. "I mean, if you woulda rather I didn't cover him, then I'll be sure to sit at home with popcorn next time."
"You make your own choices," Tony said a bit shortly.
Clint narrowed his eyes slightly at the window separating him and Stark. "Yeah. Well. I chose to have my friend's back, even though he's sometimes an obnoxious dick."
Tony twisted to face the plane in favor of making a face he knew Clint wouldn't be able to see. "Then I'm not sure what you're bitching at me for."
Careful on the stick, Clint stared at him. "I'm not bitching, you jackass. I was asking for more info. But, hey. Clearly, touchy subject."
"You try getting eight lectures in a row and see how much you feel like talking afterwards." But Tony leveled back out with a sigh. "What's done is done."
"Gonna happen again?" Clint asked, and made sure this time to phrase it precisely as a question and not a judgement.
"I'll try to fit the people who don't like me into my schedule better, if that's what you're getting at."
Clint rolled his eyes. "And you call me cranky."
"Hey, I'm just hear for the view," Tony said with as much of a shrug as he could manage.
"Well, then we're gonna need a hell of a lot better view," the archer told him, banking off to the east and trusting Stark to follow him. If the conversation was a dud, then at least they could both enjoy the time in the air.
Tony snorted and twisted to follow, adding a few barrel rolls just for the hell of it. "So why the plane? Other than that flying is awesome."
"What makes you think I have any other motive?" Clint grinned.
"Most people don't bother to take lessons just for that. There's always skydiving," Tony said a little too innocently.
"Yeah well. Maybe I figure I'll need it someday?" the archer mumbled. "You know, one of those life skills."
"I guess." It wasn't anything Tony felt necessary, but then again who needed planes? "If you're good, maybe I'll build you one when you're done."
"You know, I never know if you're joking when you say that," Clint smirked.
Tony did a lazy loop in the air, but his tone of voice never changed. "Who's joking? I'm already designing one for Betsy."
"What, just, as a birthday present? Hey, here you go, here's a plane?" the archer snorted.
"Christmas," Tony drawled as a correction. "And she asked."
"Well, count me out. I'll test hers out for you if you need me to, but I already feel like I owe you too much already. The last thing I need is for you to give me something worth a couple billion dollars," Clint told him, shaking his head a little in the cockpit. He never in his life would have guessed that he'd be turning down really expensive shit from a billionaire when he was younger.
"Whatever." There was no real way to shrug easily in the armor, so Tony let his voice do the implying. "You don't owe me shit, but you haven't listened so far so I don't know why I'm bothering."
"Seriously though, you're building her a plane? Do you even know how to- nope. No. Forget I asked," Clint laughed. Clearly, Tony had mastered propulsion.
"Birdman," Tony said in as pompous a voice as he could manage, "when are you going to learn that I can do anything?"
"The day you learn humility," the archer snorted, banking back toward the airfield. "Come on, Tinman. This bird needs to land."
