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When Tony told them about the conference, they both complained.
“Are you sure you’re ready to leave?” Bruce asked over the dinner table.
“Yeah,” Tony said, shrugging, “it’ll be fine, it’s just a couple of days, shmooze some people, talk about some stuff I did five years ago, I’ll be home before you know it.”
“It’s not us he’s worried about,” Clint said, not looking up from his plate.
“I’ll be fine,” Tony said, “I’d ask you to come but-”
Clint suddenly looked up and Tony looked alarmed. “It’ll be boring as fuck.”
“We don’t have to go to the conference itself,” Clint said, “we’ll just be there in the morning when you wake up, and we could have dinner.”
“We’d be there at night, when you go to bed...” Bruce continued.
Tony looked between them. “If that’s what you really want...”
“Yes!” Clint said, grinning, “room service, hotel food, huge vents-”
“You’re so weird,” Tony said.
“But you love me anyway,” Clint said, digging into his food with a new fervour.
Tony turned to Bruce, but Bruce just smiled at him. Tony couldn't help but smile back.
***
The conference was, as Tony said it would be, very boring. When they started to get boring and wrong Bruce decided to leave.
He went up to the room, hoping to find Clint but he wasn’t there, so Bruce decided to take a book and read on the balcony for a while. He was so immersed that when he looked up again, it was almost time for Tony’s lecture, so he wandered down, giving Clint a call on his way.
“I hope you haven’t settled in a new nest,” he said when Clint picked up.
“It’s only temporary,” Clint replied, his voice echoing strangely, “good vantage point for Mr. Stark’s closing lecture.”
“You’re not going to join me?” Bruce said, opening the door to the lecture hall.
“Nah,” Clint said, “all those people in fancy clothes, not really my thing.”
Bruce smiled and knew Clint could see him. “Don’t hang up, it’s not really my thing either.”
“Not going anywhere,” Clint said, and Bruce could hear him smiling too, “shh it’s starting.”
It was amazing to see how Tony changed in front of an audience, and it wasn’t like his appearances for Stark Expo, or some publicity thing. This was Tony in his element, talking a thousand miles a minute about something he actually cared about.
“Beautiful every time, isn’t it?” Clint said in his ear. Bruce smiled and looked up at the air vent just above him. He saw a flash of white and knew Clint was grinning down at him. “Pay attention, he might quiz us later.”
“I’m sure we can convince him to go easy on us,” Bruce whispered, and Clint’s soft chuckle made him wish Tony wasn't separated from them by hundreds of people.
Bruce tried to follow as best as he could but this was Tony in his own field and, by the mad scratching and typing of the people around him, they had a hard time following Tony too.
Tony was inundated in the question part of the lecture, and then afterwards as well. Bruce watched him all but elbow people out of his way as he made his way to Bruce and then he was being pulled along with the current that was Tony Stark.
“Tell Clint to meet us upstairs,” he said simply, put on his sunglasses and made his way out.
“I heard,” Clint said, sounding much too eager, “I’ll see you soon,” and he hung up.
Bruce had every intention of taking Tony out for dinner, a small restaurant maybe, discreet and quiet, but when they arrived to the hotel room, Tony was changing into new clothes.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
Before Tony could reply, the door opened and Clint walked in. He took one look at Tony and sighed.
“This is the schmoozing part?” he asked.
Tony nodded. “It’s a dinner party,” he said, “I won’t stay long but I have to make an appearance.” He pecked Bruce on the lips, and was about to do the same to Clint when Clint grabbed him and kissed him properly, so that when they parted Tony looked a little dazed.
“Hurry back,” Clint said.
Tony squeezed Clint’s ass before pulling away. “I will.”
***
Even with the promise of a speedy return it took two hours, three phone calls and a very subtle Hawkeye kidnapping before Tony made it back to the hotel room.
He collapsed onto the couch, pulled his legs up and layed down on it. “I’m starving, do we have any real food?” he asked, pillowing his head on his hands, “we should order pizza.”
“Pizza isn’t real food, Tony,” Bruce said.
“It’s more real than that finger food they had downstairs,” Tony said, his eyes closed, “we should get pepperoni, or barbecue something or other.”
“Do pizza places even deliver to hotel rooms?” Clint asked.
“Sure,” Tony said, “I’ve had them do it before.”
“That’s because your Tony Stark,” Bruce said, eyebrow raised.
“Just use my phone,” Tony muttered, “they’ll know what to do.”
Clint made the call and Bruce bit the inside of his cheek trying not to laugh at the side of the conversation he could hear.
"No, this isn’t Mr. Stark. Yes, this is Mr. Stark's phone.”
Clint listened for a while, nodding along, then, “The usual, yeah, and do you deliver to, yeah, a hotel, satellite, of course.” He rolled his eyes at Bruce and Bruce grinned back.
“Great, thank you.” He hung up and looked at Bruce then turned to Tony. “You give the pizza place satellite access to your phone?”
“Yeah,” Tony mumbled sleepily, “easier.”
“More dangerous,” Clint said.
Tony sighed, but didn’t reply, and by the time the pizza arrived he’d already fallen asleep.
They tried to wake him but despite how much he hated going to sleep, once he was down, he was out like a light.
Clint looked at the pizza longingly then turned to Bruce. “Bed?”
“Bed,” Bruce agreed, and together they managed to cajole and half carry Tony to the king-sized bed Tony had insisted on.
They ended up with Clint in the middle, on his back and one arm thrown over his head.
“Cold pizza tastes better anyway,” Bruce said from his right.
Clint smirked and turned to look at him, but before he could so much as suggest something, Tony turned and wrapped his arms Clint’s waist.
He nuzzled the back of Clint’s neck and his fingers dug into Clint’s sweater. “Don’t go,” he mumbled.
Clint put a hand over Tony's. “Not going anywhere.”
Bruce looked at them both and then got to work, slowly taking off Tony's shoes, then his belt, and with Clint’s help they managed to get him down to a singlet and his boxer shorts.
“You guys are great,” Tony muttered and Bruce was sure he was still sleeping.
“We're the best,” he said, planting a soft kiss to Tony's temple before slipping back into bed.
“We could go out tomorrow,” Clint said, “I know how you wanted to see the city.”
“Maybe we don't have to,” Bruce said, “what has the city got to offer that's better than this?”
Clint let out a soft laugh. “You're such a sap.”
“You love it.” Bruce said, smiling in spite of himself.
“Shhh,” Tony whispered, his fingers on one hand unclenching from Clint’s sweater to reach out for Bruce. Bruce tangled his fingers in Tony’s and met Clint’s eyes again.
“I love it.”