I Thought You Were Different

Stark

"Where are they?!" Tony yelled as he joined Natasha, Bruce and Thor, who had all gathered to try to make a plan on how to go on with this incredibly broken team. "I leave the house for a few minutes and FRIDAY calls me, telling me that the kids have lost their goddamn minds!"

"Tony, calm down," Nat said in a quiet tone, hoping that he would take on her demeanor, "charging in here like that isn't going to fix anything."

"Do I look like I give a shit? I'm not here to fix anything. I'm here to crack some heads together!"

"Steve already tried that," Bruce added, "Barton just got out of the infirmary with a nice hand-shaped bruise around his neck."

Tony closed his eyes and rested his hands on his hips with a deep breath, trying to calm himself with limited success. There was no way in hell that he was going to be expected to just stand by and watch as the team fell apart and as you and Steve ruined something that he believed in his soul was right. "I'm only going to ask this one more time. Where. Are. They?"

~~~

Tony found Clint first, sitting in his car, unable to bring himself to leave. He had his keys in hand for the last thirty minutes, feeling like he couldn't remember how to use them, much less operate a moving vehicle. He was completely stunned at what he had done, admitting to himself that he was acting on impulse and without thought and was in the wrong. If he ever had any chance to be with you, this had definitely sealed his fate of never seeing it happen. When he watched you throw your ring at Steve, he felt a glimmer of hope for himself, but was thrown into the harsh reality that he had been the impetus for this and you might never forgive him.

He coughed with a small sniffle, wiping his eyes and sitting up at attention when Tony opened the passenger door without warning, dropping himself into the seat. "Stark, if you're here to kick my ass too, save it. I think Steve did enough for everyone."

"I'm not here to kick your ass, Barton," Tony replied with anger in his tone. "I'm here to ask you what the hell you were thinking. Were you even thinking?"

"No, I wasn't."

"At least you admit that."

"Love makes us do stupid things," Clint groaned, leaning his head back against the seat rest with his eyes closed, "or at least that's what I've heard."

Tony shifted in his seat so that he was facing Clint, leaning his back against the door. He studied his friend for a few minutes, seeing the anguish in his face and the defeat in his posture; he looked nothing like the confident and good-humored teammate that he was used to seeing. "Okay, so tell me this. Do you really love her?"

Clint finally opened his eyes and looked at Tony in complete shock at what he was hearing, his mouth agape and loud scoff from his throat. "That is a ridiculous question. Did you not hear what just happened?"

"Obviously. But I want you to think about this. I don't need an answer right now, but hear me out." Tony took a deep breath and held his hands up as if to keep Clint from interrupting, "Okay, before all of this started, (Y/N) was your teammate, right? Yes, you were close friends, but just friends. Then something really traumatic happens and you step up as the one person to call her out on her BS. You become so intertwined with her pain and her failures and her successes, that you're closer to her now than you ever have been before. She confides in you. She trusts you like you've never experienced," Tony paused, turning to look out the front window and away from the pain he could see growing in Clint's features as he spoke, "but we know that intense feelings are born of traumatic events. So, I want you to ask yourself this, Barton. When this is done, and she's healed, and when she doesn't need you as much, will you still feel the same? Will you love the fiercely independent, sarcastic, sometimes pushy and, frankly, always a bit scary side of her? When the intensity of this situation dies down, will you still love every part of her like Steve does? Or just the part that needs you?"