Chapter Text
“Hey Clint, there’s someone up front who wants to see you.”
Clint and his client paused mid-stretch to glance over at his coworker. “Um,” Clint began eloquently, “I’m with a client right now.”
“I told him that,” his coworker said, “but he said it’s urgent. He looks like a lawyer or something, so I guess it’s important.”
Confusion coming over him, Clint traded a look with his client. He had no idea who that was.
His client gave him an equally confused look, but nodded toward where the front of the building, where the front desk was. “Go ahead, Clint. I can stretch without your supervision.”
“I’ll cover for you,” his coworker offered.
Clint stood up. “Okay, I’ll be right back,” he said as he started toward the front desk.
When he got to the front, he stopped dead in his tracks. “Tony?” he blurted in surprise.
Of all the people he had expected to see, Tony Stark certainly wasn’t one of them. The man was dressed in a well-tailored suit with a fancy overcoat over it, sunglasses on and fiddling with his phone. He looked like he belonged on the cover of Forbes, not standing in the lobby of the local gym.
Tony lifted his gaze from his phone and looked at Clint over the rims of his sunglasses. “Oh good, you’re here,” he said. “I need to talk to you. When is your break? Do you get breaks?”
“What are you doing here?” Clint asked, shooting Natasha a look as she came in through the front door with her gym bag. Natasha quirked an eyebrow at him, but slowed her stride in case she was needed.
“I’m here to talk to you, Barton, keep up,” Tony said dismissively. “We…” he trailed off when a trio of men walked past toward the exit, sweaty from a hard work-out and giving Tony an odd look as they passed. As they walked outside, Tony turned back to Clint. “We can’t have this conversation in here. Too busy. Come on.”
As Tony turned on his heel and walked with purpose outside, Clint shot Natasha another look before following. She only shrugged. Clint shrugged back and jogged out the door, braving the cold in his gym clothes. “Did something happen at the university?” Clint asked as he caught up. “Is Bruce okay?”
Tony turned to reply, but he paused again when he saw Clint. Though he was unmoving, Clint had a feeling his eyes were doing a quick scan of his person. “I’m not having a conversation with you dressed like that out here in December,” he said a moment later, gesturing at him.
Clint huffed in frustration, which turned into a cloud against the frigid winter air. “Tony, focus here,” he said, gripping Tony’s shoulders, “did something happen?”
“What? No,” Tony said, gently shooing Clint’s hands from him.
“Then what is this about?” Clint asked. “Cause, to be honest, you’re kind of freaking me out, here.”
Tony drew a breath to respond, but he took another look at Clint and huffed a breath of his own. “It’s thirty degrees out here and you’re wearing shorts,” he complained.
“You’re the one who said we couldn’t talk in the gym,” Clint pointed out. “I’m fine.”
“Bruce will kill me if I’m the reason you get sick,” Tony said before he turned and walked away again.
Clint stared in disbelief before following once more.
They got to a fancy car parked off to the side of the gym and they both climbed inside. Once the doors were shut, Tony pulled off his sunglasses and looked over at Clint. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”
Clint stared at him blankly.
Tony stared back for a long moment before waving his hand in a loose movement. “You know, the plan? For Bruce’s birthday? A man only turns thirty-nine once, and— He didn’t tell you his birthday was coming up. That asshole,” Tony said fondly.
Shaking his head slowly, Clint found his voice. “No, he hasn’t said anything.” He wondered why Bruce had kept that to himself or if he had planned to say anything at all. It hadn’t really come up in their time together, especially in the past week or so. There was more talk about holiday plans and, hell, even the university winter graduation had come up in conversation.
But why not his birthday?
Clint looked back at Tony. “I’m telling him you called him an asshole,” he said, both for the sake of saying something and to cover up the twinge of hurt.
“One,” Tony said, holding up a finger, “no, you’re not saying a word to Bruce about my involvement in any of this. Two: what are you, four? You tattle-tail.” Clint snorted a laugh and looked away as the other man continued. “And three: don’t feel too badly.” When Clint glanced back over, there was a serious look on Tony’s face. “He normally just plain forgets. He’s been doing it for as long as I’ve known him.” He paused as Clint studied him before raising his hands. “Honest to god, man. The guy is brilliant, but he tends to be a little scatterbrained, especially around this time of year, what with finals and the winter graduation ceremony.” He paused again to tilt his head in concession. “Aaaand, if I’m still being completely honest, I’m not one hundred percent sure he’s enjoyed the parties I’ve thrown for him,” he admitted, “so that has probably deterred him from celebrating if he actually remembered.”
“…what kind of parties have you given him?” Clint risked asking. He could only imagine.
“Rude,” Tony said, leaning back and pressing his fingertips to his chest in faux-hurt. “My parties are great.”
“They often end up on the news,” Clint pointed out. Before Tony could offer another comeback, he pressed on. “When is his birthday?”
“The 18th,” Tony said.
“This weekend?!” Clint exclaimed. He could already begin to feel the anxiety building in his chest. “It’s Wednesday, man.”
Tony, unruffled as ever, shrugged. “Some of the best parties are last minute.”
Clint flopped back against the seat and tipped his head back, closing his eyes. “He’s already made plans for Saturday,” he said. “The graduation is this weekend—which you very well know, since I’m watching the kids.”
“Thanks for that, by the way,” Tony said. Clint could hear the smile in the man’s voice. “That’s just the morning, though. The whole afternoon and evening are free.”
Clint opened his eyes and glanced over. “How about I ask him what else he was planning on doing Saturday instead of you throwing him a gigantic party?” he asked. “Big parties just don’t really seem to be his kind of thing. Nor surprises.”
Tony’s eyes narrowed on him, and for a second, Clint thought he had overstepped his bounds. Tony knew Bruce better than Clint did, even if Clint was certain Bruce wasn’t the type to enjoy big loud parties. But he didn’t want to step on his boyfriend’s best friend’s toes.
Finally, Tony smirked and shrugged. “Alright, that sounds fair. If he already made plans, that sounds fine. Just make sure he doesn’t work. And I demand all of us go out for lunch after the ceremony wraps up.”
Clint blinked at him for a second before he felt himself smile. “Deal.”
==
Saturday morning, Clint woke up with Bruce’s alarm. It was early, since Bruce needed to get to the university to help coordinate the graduation ceremony that was due to start at 9. And even though Bruce was quick to silence the alarm, Clint had been counting on it to wake him up, too.
Still, as he turned his face into the pillow with a sleepy sound (he wanted this, but it was still early), he felt Bruce’s hand trace a soothing path along his upper back. “Go back to sleep,” Bruce whispered in the dark.
Clint felt himself smile into the pillow as Bruce pressed a kiss to the top of his head. He blindly reached out and found Bruce’s other hand. He made a show of keeping his eyes closed as he pulled his face away from the pillow just long enough to brush a quick kiss against Bruce’s knuckles. Bruce gave his hand an affectionate squeeze that sent a burst of warmth through Clint’s chest and he hid his sappy grin in the pillow as Bruce climbed out of bed.
Determined not to fall back asleep, Clint waited and listened for the start of the shower before he rolled out of bed. After pulling on some clothes, Clint snuck down the hall and lightly knocked on Chrissie’s door.
As he suspected, Chrissie was still asleep when he opened the door. It was only something like 5:30 in the morning (who planned a graduation ceremony at 9 in the morning, for real?), so he wasn’t surprised to see her still completely conked out.
But she had made him promise to let her help him with this, so he moved carefully into the room and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. “Chrissie,” he whispered.
The little girl made a sleepy sound and pulled the covers over her head. Clint felt himself smile involuntarily, but he wouldn’t be deterred. “Chrissie,” he whispered again, this time in a sing-song voice.
“It’s still dark,” came Chrissie’s muffled whine, still sounding half-asleep.
“But it’s your dad’s birthday.”
There was a pause, and then Chrissie poked her head out from under her covers. Her eyes were bright and there was a grin on her face. “Is it time to make birthday breakfast?!” she asked eagerly.
Clint nodded and pressed his finger against his lips. “We need to be quiet, though, so it’s a surprise,” he reminded her.
Together, the tip-toed their way down the hall toward the kitchen.
They were just wrapping up when Bruce walked into the dining room. He was dressed in most of his suit, with his tie slung loosely around his neck. He had shaved and his eyes were focused downward on the task of buttoning his wrist cuffs. Clint couldn’t help but stare, distracted from his task of watching the skillet, but really, could he be blamed?
Bruce looked amazing.
Bruce finally looked up and paused, surveying the scene. He looked from Clint, who was standing at the stove with a spatula in hand, to Chrissie, who was standing on a dining chair next to Clint, and then back to Clint. On the stove in front of them, a pancake was slowly starting to bubble.
He looked like he was about to say something, but was cut short when Chrissie hopped down from the chair she had been standing on and ran across the room for a hug.
“Happy birthday!” she cheered as she latched onto her dad’s legs.
Clint watched as Bruce looked puzzled for a moment before what day it was actually clicked in his head. Tony hadn’t been kidding when he said Bruce had probably forgotten. Part of him wanted to smile at his forgetfulness and another part of him ached that he had forgotten in the first place.
“Huh,” Bruce said at last, drawing Clint from his thoughts, “I guess it is.”
Chrissie pulled back from the hug to look up at her father. “You guess?” she asked.
Bruce put on a sheepish smile for her. “I forgot what day it is,” he admitted.
“You forgot your birthday?!” Chrissie asked, sounding scandalized. When Bruce just smiled again and shrugged, she put her hands on her hips. “Daddy.”
At the stove, Clint snorted a laugh at her scolding tone.
Bruce glanced over at him before he knelt down and gave his daughter a proper hug. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Did you two make breakfast?”
Chrissie immediately perked back up and rushed over to Clint, pulling her father along behind her. “We made birthday breakfast!” she proclaimed. “Clint let me stir the batter and wash the blueberries!”
“That’s so sweet of you,” Bruce said, and he did sound genuinely touched. “Thank you.”
Clint smiled and wrapped his free arm around Bruce’s back as he flipped the pancake. “Happy birthday,” he said, pressing a kiss against Bruce’s cheek. It was delightfully smooth from his shave.
“Thank you,” Bruce replied softly as he also wrapped an arm around Clint, using his other to help Chrissie back up onto the chair. He was quiet for a moment, and Clint could tell he was thinking.
He left him to it and tried to focus more on the stove and less on the solid warmth leaned up against him.
Sure enough, a few moments later, he spoke. “How did you know today was my birthday?” Bruce asked slowly, hesitantly.
Clint grinned. “A little birdie told me,” he replied. “Stopped by the gym and everything.”
“Dear lord, what does he have planned?” Bruce asked, his voice full of both fondness and dread.
“No big parties, I promise,” Clint reassured him.
Bruce still looked understandably skeptical, but he relented. “Can I help with anything?” he asked.
“Absolutely not,” Clint said with a growing smile. “It’s your birthday. Chrissie, distract him.”
Bruce was about to respond, but Chrissie whirled around on her chair. “Daddy! Daddy! Come look at one of the cards I made you!” She hopped off of the chair and snagged her father’s hand, pulling him along behind her.
Clint watched her drag Bruce away. He shot his boyfriend a cheerful grin when Bruce turned and gave him a look that was probably meant to look more betrayed for having his daughter turned against him, but the expression was full of warmth. It made something in Clint’s core flip a little giddily and he felt his face go warm at the burst of affection that overcame him. He returned his attention to the last of the pancakes as Bruce was dragged around the corner, unable to stop smiling.
==
“Please tell me you convinced Tony not to have the staff here sing to me,” Bruce whispered as he sat down next to Clint at the table, and Clint had to bite back a smile at the hint of pleading in his voice.
The restaurant they were in was packed. On top of it being a Saturday, it was also close to the holidays, so there were a number of Christmas shoppers taking a break from their gift gathering to refuel before getting back to it. There were also a number of families gathered to celebrate someone who had graduated that morning from the university. It was loud and chaotic, and over the den of noise, Clint could just barely hear Christmas music being played overhead. There were people coming and going, the wait staff running to and fro to keep up with the chaos.
Clint had felt a little overwhelmed, trying to navigate both Sammie and Chrissie to their table without having them mowed down by passersby, but they had managed to make it to their table unscathed. They were only there for a few minutes before Clint had finally spotted Tony, Pepper, and Bruce. Clint had perked up a little when he spotted Bruce through the throngs of people and when their eyes locked from across the restaurant, a breathless smile had crossed Bruce’s face.
A rush of warmth swept through Clint at the sight and his stomach gave a giddy lurch and he couldn’t help but smile back.
Now, as Bruce slid into the booth next to Clint, he couldn’t resist wrapping an arm around him in a side-hug. “I did my best,” he whispered back.
“Hey,” Tony said from the other side of the table as he slid into the booth, “no whispers. Bruce, big guy, birthday boy, I thought there were no secrets between us.”
“Tony,” Pepper said in a faux-warning tone as she took her seat at the end of the bench.
Clint smirked and pulled Bruce a little closer, lightly knocking his temple against Bruce’s. “Who said we were sharing secrets about you?” he asked. “Maybe I just wanted to say hi to my guy.” He then turned and pressed a noisy kiss against Bruce’s cheek, which had Chrissie and Sammie giggling.
“You’ll have plenty of time for that later,” Tony said dismissively. As Bruce snorted a laugh, Tony turned to his daughter and pulled her in for a hug. “Have a good day, squirt?”
“Yes,” Sammie immediately replied as she returned the hug. “We played fantasy and Clint was a dragon.”
“That sounds like fun,” Bruce said as he began loosening his tie. Clint tried not to stare.
“Was he a good dragon or a bad dragon?” Pepper asked.
The girls went into a long explanation of their morning playtime adventures. A harried looking waiter stopped by to take drink orders before rushing off. They paused only long enough to ask for juice before continuing with their story. “So then,” Chrissie wrapped up, “we gave the dragon a tiara and he became a princess too, and we all lived happily ever after!”
“The end!” Sammie added with a bright smile.
“I’m so glad you had fun together,” Pepper replied, smiling gently. Clint noticed a small love-struck smile touch Tony’s lips as he looked over at his wife. Pepper reached behind Tony to run a loving hand over her daughter’s head before glancing over at Clint. “Thank you again for watching her this morning.”
“Yeah, absolutely,” Clint said. “We had fun. How was the graduation?”
“No one tripped when they came up to get their diploma this year,” Tony mused.
“It was a nice ceremony,” Bruce said. “It was a pretty big graduating class this year. They worked hard.” He turned a smile over toward Pepper. “Your guest speech was wonderful.”
“Of course it was,” Tony agreed, wrapping an arm around Pepper’s growing waist and pulling her in for a kiss. “The CEO of Stark Industries needs to be a great public speaker. You inspired a generation of future leaders.”
As he pressed another kiss to her cheek, Pepper smiled delightedly. “Thank you.”
The waiter came back with drinks and began taking everyone’s orders. There was a lull in the conversation after the waiter had walked off. The girls were busy coloring on their kids menus, but they looked up when Tony cleared his throat.
“So, how would you two like to see a movie after lunch?” he asked.
As both girls immediately cheered, Clint saw Bruce’s eyes immediately narrow in suspicion. Clint had to grin; he was so distrusting of Tony right now. For good cause, Clint did have to admit.
Clint laid a hand on Bruce’s knee beneath the table and leaned against him, drawing Bruce’s gaze away from his best friend. “Thank you, Tony,” Clint said generously, like he hadn’t already planned this with Tony. He felt Bruce’s gaze on him turn suspicious and he turned what was hopefully an innocent smile toward his boyfriend. “You and me have plans.”
“Do we, now?” Bruce deadpanned.
Clint gave his knee a squeeze. “Just trust me, babe.”
They watched each other for a moment as Tony and Pepper discussed with the kids which movie they were going to see. There was a note of suspicion still clearly visible on Bruce’s face, but he did look at least a little more at ease after Clint’s reassurance. Bruce took the hand on his knee and laced their fingers together.
“Alright,” Bruce replied softly.
Clint smiled and gave the hand a squeeze.
==
After a quick car swap in the parking lot to avoid having to manhandle car seats, Clint and Bruce slipped into Tony’s car as Pepper, Tony, Chrissie, and Sammie drove off in Bruce’s car.
“That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” Clint asked with a teasing grin as he started Tony’s car.
“There wasn’t singing, so I’ll count that as a good thing,” Bruce admitted and Clint laughed.
It wasn’t until they were on the road that Bruce spoke up again. “You all really didn’t need to do all of that, you know,” he said softly. When Clint glanced over, he saw Bruce was looking steadfastly out the windshield at the cold December day. His expression was difficult to read. “The breakfast, the group lunch, whatever this is…”
Clint continued to watch him for a lingering moment before he had to refocus on the road. He reached over and took one of Bruce’s hands. “I know we didn’t need to do it, but we wanted to,” Clint said quietly. He gave the hand in his a gentle squeeze. “You’ve been so busy with the end of the semester and exams and preparing for the graduation. You deserve a nice day. We wanted to give you a nice day.”
“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” Bruce hastened to say, turning toward him.
“You don’t,” Clint cut in easily. “You’re having a good day so far, though, yeah?”
“Of course,” Bruce immediately replied. “I… It’s been really nice. Lunch with everyone is always a treat, and you and Chrissie working together to make breakfast this morning was just…such a delightful surprise.” Clint looked over to see an adorable little smile on Bruce’s face as he thought back to the morning. As he was watching, though, he saw a note of what might have been guilt touch Bruce’s features. “You just…didn’t need to do all of this. I do appreciate it, I really do, I just…” He trailed off and Clint looked back out the windshield.
He almost sounded like he wasn’t sure what to do with the knowledge that people wanted to just do nice things for him for the sake of being nice, and it made something in Clint ache.
“Can I ask something?” Clint asked softly before he could stop himself.
“Sure,” Bruce replied.
They pulled up to a red light and Clint glanced over. “Did you really forget it was your birthday?”
For a second, Bruce was silent, but then he exhaled a long breath through his nose. “Yes,” he answered after another moment. “Birthdays… birthdays—or holidays in general, really—never really meant much when I was young, and by the time they did, midterms and exams always took precedence in my mind. With everything being so busy toward the end of the year, it just tends to slip my mind.”
There was a beat where they were both quiet. Clint felt himself wondering about the kind of life Bruce had led before his aunt, before the group home, that could instill that kind of thinking. Birthdays hadn’t meant a whole lot for him growing up, either, but at least he had had his brother there to celebrate with him. It hurt to think that there hadn’t been anything like that for Bruce when he was young.
He was drawn from his thoughts when Bruce gave his hand a squeeze. When he glanced over, he saw Bruce giving him a soft smile. “Tony never seems to forget, though, so I never forget for long on the actual day.”
Clint let out a bark of laughter at that. “I’m just thankful he looped me in,” he admitted, “otherwise you would have probably had some crazy party or something.”
“Thank you for talking him out of whatever ideas he had originally had,” Bruce said, and he sounded genuinely thankful. “So, can I ask what plans you did end up coming up with?”
Clint turned a secretive smile over at Bruce, who sighed in defeat before looking back out the windshield. There was still no denying the small smile on Bruce’s face, though, so Clint wasn’t worried.
It wasn’t a secret for long, as Clint pulled into the grocery store parking lot. The place was packed with folks who were probably planning on doing some of the same sort of activities Clint had planned for the evening. He found a parking spot that was a fair distance away from the store just to avoid any possible dangers that could befall Tony’s fancy car.
As he turned off the car, Clint turned to look over at Bruce. “So, and you can tell me if you’d rather do something else before we brave this place, but uh…” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a shopping list, looking over the different ingredients he had added over the past few days. “Well, I know you had been wanting to try that curry recipe lately, and you also mentioned wanting to bake some Christmas cookies with Chrissie this weekend…”
He trailed off as he glanced back at Bruce and saw the look on his face. Bruce was staring at him in a way that took him back to that morning at the stove. He looked genuinely touched, his expression this open thing that Clint so rarely ever saw.
Only a moment later, a smile touched Bruce’s lips. “That sounds perfect, Clint,” he said softly.
Clint found himself unable to look away. The look of adoration in the man’s eyes was enrapturing. A breathless smile crossed his face when Bruce’s words sunk in. “Yeah, cool,” he said a little dreamily. When Bruce raised an eyebrow, Clint cleared his throat and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Great, sounds like a plan, then. Let’s do it,” he said more steadily even though he felt his face flushing.
Bruce huffed an affectionate laugh, but didn’t reply.
==
After dinner was finished and leftovers were packed away and the dishes were cleaned, they busted out the baking materials. Chrissie was intrigued as the mixer was set up and her eyes went over each of the different ingredients currently taking up counter space, but as soon as Bruce showed her one of the recipes, she immediately grew excited.
With Chrissie reading off the ingredient measurements and helping measure the dry ingredients, they got to work. There were three different cookie recipes that Bruce had been eyeing for the three of them to make for the holiday season. They started with the gingerbread, since they would need to be cooled by the time they started decorating them. As the neat little rows of gingerbread people and stars were cooling, they baked up a batch of chocolate chip cookies and peanut butter blossoms.
Once the last batch of peanut butter blossoms were in the oven to bake, Clint started cleaning up the dishes while Bruce and Chrissie set up the dinner table with all of the decorations they had purchased earlier that day. They had different color frostings, gumdrops, the leftover chocolate chips from their second batch of cookies, a small bag of chocolate candies, and a vast assortment of sprinkles. Some of them were sure to become an explosion of sugary colors.
Clint made it to the table after pulling the last batch of cookies out of the oven and setting them on the racks to cool. Chrissie was already working on one of the gingerbread people—there was a sloppy smiley face across the head and crooked buttons down their front. Clint sat down just as she dumped sprinkles across their face.
She grinned triumphantly before handing the paper plate it was resting on over to Bruce. “Here you go, Daddy,” she said with a bright smile.
“Is this for me?” Bruce asked with a little smile of his own as he took the paper plate. There were more sprinkles across the plate than there were on the cookie.
“Yes,” she said as she reached for the next cookie to decorate. “You and Clint need to color a cookie, too.”
“Alright, permission granted,” Clint said with a grin as he reached out and picked up one of the stars.
He saw Bruce bite back a laugh as he reached for a gingerbread person of his own to decorate.
They worked through the rest of the gingerbread cookies, letting Chrissie decorate the majority of them. She demanded help from both Clint and Bruce at different intervals, and no one cookie looked like another. Between the three of them, they got all of the cookies decorated with only a mild mess. Clint was sure they’d be finding sprinkles well past the New Year, but Bruce didn’t seem too concerned.
The cookies were put aside to allow the icing to set and Chrissie looked over the collections of different cookies with wonder in her eyes. “Daddy, can I have one, please?” she asked, only looking away for a moment.
Before Bruce could reply, Clint laid his hand atop her head. “But what about birthday cake?” he asked. He tried not to smile at how Chrissie and Bruce turned to him in unison, though their expressions were vastly different.
“You didn’t have to—” Bruce started to say, raising his hands.
“Birthday cake!” Chrissie exclaimed, pumping her fists. She grabbed her dad’s hands and pulled him back to the table. “Birthday cake! Birthday cake!” she chanted, forcing him to sit down.
Bruce sent a helpless look over to Clint, but Clint just grinned and opened the fridge, digging for the little store-bought cake he had hidden in the back behind Tupperware containers and different condiment bottles. He heard Chrissie gasp and peeked over the top of the door to see Chrissie suddenly rush out of the dining room.
“Presents!” she called back.
Bruce just stared after her for a moment before he glanced over at Clint.
Clint grinned and pulled the little box from the fridge, closing the door. “We wanted to,” he reminded Bruce softly.
For a moment, Bruce just blinked at him and Clint could almost see him tumbling those words around in his head. For a guy as smart as he was, he really did seem to have trouble understanding this.
Unable to help himself, Clint set the cake down on the counter and walked over to stand behind Bruce. He let his hands rest on his shoulders and kissed the top of his head. “We wanted to, Bruce,” he said again, softer, a whisper into his hair.
Bruce reached up and let one of his hands rest over Clint’s.
They didn’t have long to stay like that, for Chrissie erupted back into the dining room. “Stop kissing! It’s time for presents and birthday cake!” she declared. She set down a small collection of wrapped gifts in front of Bruce.
They both laughed and Clint stepped back to stick the candles in the cake. As he was lighting the candles, he glanced up to see Chrissie—on her knees in the chair next to her father—sorting through the presents and getting them into a pile. He could see the small present he had contributed all on his own in the pile and he swallowed down his nerves.
Bruce sat through them singing him Happy Birthday, but he did have a little smile on his face that only grew when Chrissie shouted the last few lines.
Once the cake was set in front of Bruce, Chrissie scrutinized the candles. Clint, feeling merciful, hadn’t put thirty-nine actual candles on the cake, but instead used two candles shaped like a three and shaped like a nine.
Noticing her focus, Bruce glanced over at his daughter. “What number is that?” he asked.
Chrissie squinted at the candles and tip her head a little in thought. “That’s a three and that’s a nine,” she said.
“And what are they together?” Bruce pressed gently.
The little girl stared for a moment more before she looked hopefully over at Bruce.
“Those numbers together are thirty-nine,” Bruce answered.
“Thirty-nine,” Chrissie repeated with a smile as she looked back at the candles, but then she looked back at her father. “Daddy, you’re old.”
Clint snorted into his drink and Bruce laughed. “Want to help an old man out by helping me blow out these candles?” he asked with a loving smile.
Chrissie immediately got back up onto her knees on the chair and leaned over onto the table. “Make a wish!”
Bruce stared down at the dancing flames above the candles for a moment and another little smile touched his lips. “Okay, I’ve got one. Ready?”
“One two three!” Chrissie hastily said before leaning in with her father to blow out the candles.
Clint felt himself smile and rose to get the plates and utensils to cut the cake. He wondered what kind of thing Bruce would wish for.
As he was bringing everything over to the table, Chrissie grabbed a construction paper card from the pile and gave it to Bruce. “Here, open this first!” she said eagerly, still on her knees with her hands propping her up on the table.
“I will,” Bruce said, taking the card, “but please sit all the way down, okay?”
Chrissie immediately sat down properly in the chair, though she was fidgeting in her excitement.
“Thank you,” Bruce said and he looked at the card. It was a collection of different marker drawings with glitter glue as well as Chrissie’s own writing spelling out Happy Birthday Daddy! in clumsy letters. There were what looked like three stick figures on the front, each riding what looked like unicorns. The smallest of the stick figures had long dark hair, so Clint guessed it was a self-portrait of Chrissie. The second was taller and had a mess of swirls atop their head—a child’s rendition of curly hair—and glasses. Clearly, this was a drawing of Bruce. The third stick figure was the same height as the second and had an odd flip at the front of their head that looked vaguely like a pompadour. There was a yellow animal of some kind riding the unicorn with this third person.
It took Clint all of another second for him to realize that third figure was himself, with Lucky riding on the unicorn with him. He felt a wave of warmth rush through his chest and he stared at the card, touched and a little surprised that Chrissie had included him.
He blinked when he felt a gentle hand touch his hip. When he glanced down, he saw that Bruce had subtly reached over. He looked up at Bruce’s face, but Bruce was turned toward Chrissie and he was marveling over her drawings.
But as Chrissie started going into detail about which unicorn was which, Bruce glanced up at Clint. There was a warm look on his face, but also a hint of curiosity. You okay? his eyes seemed to ask.
Clint felt another breathless smile come to him. It never failed to stop him dead in his tracks, just how welcoming and loving this small little family was to him.
Bruce must have seen something of his thoughts appear on his face, for his smile grew impossibly warmer before he gave Clint’s hip a gentle squeeze before turning his attention back to his daughter.
After Clint plated the slices of cake for each of them, Bruce opened the various gifts Chrissie and Clint had stockpiled. There was a coffee mug with something physics-related on it that was from both of them, and Chrissie had compiled quite the stack of artwork and arts and crafts projects for him from preschool and daycare.
And then it came to Clint’s solitary gift. He wrapped his hands around his drinking glass as Bruce picked up the small box, wrapped in some leftover tissue paper from holidays in the past. Bruce carefully pulled back the paper and revealed a small elongated box. He could hear what was inside shifting around as Bruce turned it right-side up.
Bruce opened the lid off of the box and inside was a key on a keyring.
Bruce got really still.
“What is it?” Chrissie asked, getting up on her knees to lean over the table to look in the box. “A key?”
Clint turned the glass in his hands, just for something to do. He stared at his hands just so he didn’t have to look at Bruce. “If you, you know…ever wanted to get away from campus for a little bit, but don’t have enough time to get back here… I mean,” he shrugged self-consciously and knew he was blushing, “you could always swing by my apartment, even if I’m not there… I mean, it’s within walking distance from the campus, so if you, you know…ever wanted to stop by for a quiet moment or something, you, you know…”
He knew this would hold a lot of meaning. Giving him the keys to his place was a big deal. He hoped he hadn’t jumped the gun and pushed them forward too fast. He was originally going to wait for Christmas, but then Tony had told him about his birthday and it just seemed…right.
His hands came to a pause when Bruce reached over and stilled them. He risked looking up.
Bruce wasn’t smiling, but his expression was open. Bruce knew this was a big deal, a big step for them. There was a certain level of trust that came with giving someone access to your privacy.
He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes seemed to say a thousand times over thank you. Thank you for trusting me with this. Thank you for opening yourself up to me.
Clint stared at him for a moment before he let go of the glass and interlaced his fingers with Bruce’s. He took a deep breath in and out and let the nervousness and anxiety out, settling into that feeling of relief.
It was then that Bruce smiled and gave his hand a squeeze. “Thank you, Clint,” he said softly.
Clint smiled back. “Happy birthday, Bruce.”
“Why a key?” Chrissie asked, sounding confused. “What’s it for?”
Bruce smiled again and looked over at Chrissie. “It’s so I can go visit Lucky on my breaks at work,” he explained.
A look of betrayal immediately appeared on the little girl’s face. “Aww, that’s no fair! I wanna play with Lucky, too!”
Clint laughed. “Maybe I’ll get you a key for your birthday, too,” he said.
Chrissie immediately whipped her focus to him. “Really?” she asked eagerly. “My birthday is in April. Don’t forget, okay?”
“April 18th,” Bruce provided helpfully.
“I won’t forget,” Clint promised.
Chrissie beamed at that and sat down properly in her chair again.
Bruce looked around the table at the collection of artwork and gifts, as well as the empty dishes from their cake. “Thank you both,” he said softly, “for everything. It’s been a really nice birthday.”
“You’re welcome! Happy birthday!” Chrissie said with a happy smile. “Daddy, what’s your favorite gift?” she asked.
Bruce thought for a moment. “I think my favorite gift was you and Clint making breakfast together,” he answered.
Chrissie made a face. “But that wasn’t a gift.”
“It was,” Bruce replied, smiling softly to himself. There was such a look of fondness and affection on his face that Clint couldn’t help but give the hand in his a gentle squeeze, and it only made that expression grow more tender. “Thank you.”
==
It was later that night. Bruce had read Chrissie a story to fall asleep to while Clint took care of the last dishes. The dishwasher was a distant hum from the kitchen, hardly audible from the master bedroom. It had been an early morning for all of them and the excitement of the day pretty much ensured it was going to be an early night.
Clint was propped up against the headboard, texting Natasha an update of the day, when Bruce came into the room and started getting ready for bed. He wrapped up and plugged his phone into the charger, setting it aside on the nightstand as Bruce climbed into bed with him.
Bruce curled up right next to him and Clint wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him there. “Was it a nice birthday?” he started to ask, but he paused when Bruce held out a little box wrapped in holiday wrapping paper. “What’s this?” he asked, even as he took it.
Bruce only smiled and settled his head down on Clint’s shoulder.
Clint unwrapped the small gift. It looked like a box that had held a watch at some point. He lifted the lid off of the box and immediately felt himself grin like a fool.
Inside was a house key.
“I was waiting until Christmas,” Bruce explained softly without lifting his head from Clint’s shoulder.
Clint laughed and lifted the key from the box. “I’m glad we were both on the same wavelength,” he said, still smiling. He tipped his chin and pressed a kiss against Bruce’s head, and then pressed a proper one to his lips when Bruce sat up. “Thank you,” he said softly once they had broken apart.
“Thank you, Clint,” Bruce replied. “This… Today was really nice. Thank you.”
They kissed again before the lights were turned off and they curled up against each other. They shared one more kiss before settling in for a night’s rest.
“Happy birthday, Bruce,” Clint whispered into the darkness.