Clint was brooding.

He knew he was brooding, because Natasha was giving him a look, but he couldn't help it. These were exceptional circumstances. These were Captain-America-is-stealing-my-best-friend circumstances.

"Clark." Natasha warned him. Clint grumbled something unintelligible into his beer. It might've been along the lines of "fuck off", but he valued his balls too much to say it with any clarity.

"You seem quieter than usual." Pepper raised an eyebrow at him.

"What do you think of Mr. Perfect over there?" He probably shouldn't open that can of worms, but he was halfway to drunk and his tongue was loose.

"Who, Steve?" Pepper turned to look at the man in question.

Though Steve had protested wildly as per usual, Tony had managed to haul him up on stage, also as per fucking usual, and they were now belting "Livin' On a Prayer" in spite of Steve'splete inability to follow along or keep a tune. Not that Tony was doing much better, considering he probably would've fallen off the stage five minutes ago without the arm Steve had looped around his waist to keep him upright, also per usual.

They both looked disgustingly happy.

"He's very charming, in an earnest, puppy dog sort of way." Pepper tapped a finger against her glass with a shrug. She'd joined them in drinking since Mr. Perfect McAngelface always offered to be designated driver so he'd have an excuse not to drink. "Funny, too, and his students adore him. I like him."

"Of course you do." Clint scowled. "But what about him'n Tony?"

"Are you asking if I'm jealous?"

Pepper seemed more amused than anything else, which made sense. Pepper and Tony had made it clear that they'd tried dating and that it hadn't taken; Clint knew better than anyone. He'd asked Tony about it, and Tony had waved him off. He and Pepper would always be close, but there wasn't anything romantic there anymore.

"Excuse us a moment." Natasha took Clint's arm and hauled him to his feet, no room for argument. "Clark needs some drying out."

"Alright." Pepper seemed a little bewildered, but didn't follow them.

"Get ahold of yourself," Natasha ordered once they'd stepped outside the bar.

"I am ahold'a myself," Clint muttered.

"You've been brooding all night."

"I just…"

He didn't know how to finish that sentence. Tony was…Clint shook his head. It was so fucking stupid. He'd longe to terms with his job. Being a spy, working for SHIELD, it didn't leave him with a whole lot of wiggle room for things like friends. He had his job, he had his team, and that was enough.

But this stupid assignment had messed with his head. He liked Tony and Pepper. He could be flip about it, but he'd honestly enjoyed the time he'd spend undercover with them. They had a good dynamic, the four of them; Tony and Pepper had their previous relationship and Natasha and Clint had theirs, but Clint and Tony were bros and Pepper and Natasha were attached at the hip and together they all just...fit. In spite of all the convoluted reasons they shouldn't have worked, they did.

Tony and Pepper were the only normal friends Clint had. Natasha and Phil were his friends of course, and when he wasn't feeling drunk and jealous so was Steve, but they weren't normal. He trusted Nat and Phil more, naturally, but they weren't normal. They couldn't ever just relax together without it being undercut by SHIELD or a mission or something.

With Tony, he could just hang out. They could play pranks and drink each other stupid every Friday and cheat at Mario Kart until four in the morning. They couldplain about how idiotic teenagers were and Tony could tell him that in her own quiet, terrifying way Nat was totally into him and Clint could reassure Tony that in his own weird, threatening way Phil actually thought Tony was pretty fucking funny.

It worked.

If he was honest with himself, he knew it wasn't Steve that was the problem. Hell, he liked Steve. He'd been working with the guy for almost a year now, capturing bad guys and chasing down supervillains and running missions. He'd even learned to follow Steve's orders in the heat of battle, something Clint didn't do easily. Sure, the guy could be obnoxiously perfect at times, but he was alright.

Not to mention Tony was a grown ass man. He was more than capable of balancing more than one friend, more than capable of balancing whatever flirtationship thing he had going on with Steve—and wasn't that fucking weird, Steve-old-fashioned-40's-man-Rogers clearly reciprocating Tony's advances—with his other friendships. It wasn't that Clint thought he was losing Tony to Steve, though he'd have liked to blame it on that.

His friendship with Tony had always had an expiration date; Steve was just a reminder of how imminent that date was.

"It's a mission." Natasha took him by the shoulders, shaking him from his thoughts, and Clint found himself sobering fast. "In another semester, we leave. We don'te back. We don't talk to them again. We likely never see them again. It's a mission, Clint."

For all her big words, she did understand. He could see it in her eyes. They'd both fallen in just a step too deep. Not enough that it was irrevocable, not enough that it would stop them from following orders, from leaving like they always did. Just enough to make it painful.

"Yeah."

Clint let himself be led back inside.

"He makes Tony lighter," Pepper said in greeting when they joined her at the table.

She wasn't looking at them, busy watching Tony and Steve on stage. They were stumbling around, laughing too hard at something one of them had said to sing more than every other verse or so.

"Lighter?" Natasha questioned as they sat down.

"You asked what I think of Steve's…thing, with Tony." Pepper waved a hand. "Whatever it is they've been doing these past few weeks. And that's what I think. That business with Afghanistan…he obviously hasn't been the same since. It's understandable, of course, but it still hurt to see him like that. It helped when he started working here. Teaching helped, I think, and he likes it, but you two did the most. He wouldn't be in the place he is without you, and then Steve came along and…he just makes Tony…lighter. Happy in a way I'm not sure he was even before Afghanistan."

Clint glared at his beer. He knew he was being selfish. When he wasn't drunk, he was happy for Tony. For Steve, too, since the same thing held true for him. What Pepper was saying, about Tony being lighter? Clint got that. He'd seen it in Tony, but he'd also seen it in Steve. They'd only met, what, a couple weeks, almost a month ago now, but the change had been incredible.

Steve used to spend all his free time in his quarters, researching Iron Man and waiting on a mission. These days, he was almost never at SHIELD; officially speaking they didn't keep tabs on him off the premises, but Clint would bet every penny he had Steve spent his free time with Tony.

It was a good thing. It was. Clint washed his bitterness about losing this strangely awesome double life down with the rest of his beer, then made his way to the stage.

"Hey dickface." Clint slung an arm over Tony's shoulder. "Got room for one more?"

"Hell yeah, assfuck, get in here." Tony wrapped his free arm around Clint's waist. "Whadda ya thinkin'?"

"A classic." Clint leaned forward enough to change the song with his free hand, flicking through the options until he found what he was looking for. "You sober enough to rock this with me?"

The guitar riff began to filter through the shitty sound system, and Tony whooped loudly, throwing both arms in the air. He unbalanced himself instantly, but when Steve and Clint each moved to catch him, he just pushed their hands away.

"No no no, fuck you guys, I totally got this, no way I'm not rockin' this shit."

"I'll let you guys, uh, rock, I can sit this one out—" Steve started to make excuses, heading off the stage.

"Where d'you think you're going?" Clint took Steve by the arm, pulling him back. "Don't pretend you don't know how to air guitar, no way Stark hasn't taught you."

Steve gave a guilty-as-charged smile, and Clint just grinned as they each began their air guitar solos in time with the music. Sure, his friendship with Tony had an expiration date. He would deal. It wasn't Steve's fault, and in the meantime, there was no reason he couldn't enjoy his time with them both.

Rising up, back on the street / took my time, took my chances / went the distance, now I'm back on my feet / just a man, and his will to survive…

Steve wasn't sure exactly how often most people texted, but he got the feeling that it wasn't quite as often as he texted Tony.

He should probably stop, or at least slow down. Play it cool, right? That's what Bucky would've advised, no question. Not that Bucky would've known what texting was, but he'd always been the smooth one, letting the dames chase circles around him before taking his pick.

Steve…well, he'd never been quite like that. He'd always been a one dame—well, person—kind of guy. Like with everything else in his life, he had a tendency to decide something and stick to ite hell or high water; whether he'd meant to or not, there was no denying he'd chosen Tony.

He just felt better around Tony. Tony was fascinating, intelligent and funny and always ready with some kind of wittyment or obscure reference. In spite of all his charm and charisma, he was goofy, too; he didn't take himself too seriously, at least not all the time, and Steve could use that in his life. Being around Tony made him happier than he'd felt in a long time, even before the ice.

Steve knew full well he had a tendency to get attached long before it was probably proper, but he knew in a way he couldn't quite put to words that he wasn't alone. Tony seemed to feel just as connected as he did, just as interested in Steve as he was in Tony. Tony texted first more often than not, and he seemed more than happy with the fact that for going on a month now, they without discussion and almost without fail spent their free period in ea

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