The press conference had been called in reaction to the Avengers’ latest villain, who had revealed himself as a homosexual in the aftermath of his arrest and publicly accused the team of being part of and defending a homophobic, oppressive system. Steve still isn’t sure what your sexual orientation has to do with keeping a madman from detonating bombs in four schools across the city , but from what he’s gathered from Clint’s less than helpful explanation—and Natasha’s only slightly more helpful, sharp remarks—it seems to be a very polarising issue. With the potential of doing serious damage to their reputation.

A damage Tony has apparently decided to diminish by revealing his own bisexuality—a term that has caused Clint to crow in delight, an unholy air of glee lighting up his eyes, Bruce to choke on his herbal tea, Natasha to frown, and Steve to pull out the Starkphone Tony’s been slowly introducing him to to google the word.

As it turns out the internet has quite a lot to say about bisexuality—and Tony Stark’s coming out, for that matter. Most of which has not impressed Steve. At. All.

Frowning Steve turns to Clint. He has spend the last half an hour reading too much about biphobia to tolerate any of it on his team, and while he knows his team mates to be reasonable, fairly open-minded people, he also knows very well that Clint has a tendency to take a joke too far. Especially where Tony is concerned, who can hit back just as cuttingly.

But the look on Tony’s face distracts him. He looks—bad. His cheeks have lost all colour and his eyes suddenly seem far too wide for his face. His lips are slightly parted, but for once he is utterly silent. He doesn’t move either—and Tony always moves—just stands right in the middle of the room, frozen in what appears to be horror.

“So,” Natasha states after a long moment of heavy silence. “I take it the ‘utterly ridiculous, I’m bi myself’ statement was not an intentional, strategic move?”

Tony’s expression says it all.

Before he has a chance to flee—which he would have undoubtedly done—a cursing Clint has walked up to him, grabbed his slack and in an uncompromising grip and starts pulling him towards the sofa. “Bruce, make some tea!” he orders, whilst gently pushing the still unresponsive genius down into the soft cushions. “Nat, get some comfort foot, you know his favourites. Steve, get me a couple of blankets. JARVIS, pull up a movie, something Disney. And block all incoming news unless New York is being overrun by aliens.”

By the time Tony finally begins to recover, proven by the way he starts to wiggle in Clint’s unrelenting hug-slash-hold, the coffee table is covered in a careful assortment of sweets, fruits and salty snacks, Steve has managed to half roll a blanket around Tony and Bruce is walking towards them carrying a fresh cup of tea.

“Stop struggling,” Clint says idly without taking his eyes of the TV where Flynn Rider is being hunted down by an amazing horse. “You’re not leaving this room to lock yourself into your workshop, where you can drive yourself crazy over this, until it’s sunken into that thick skull of yours that none of us give a fuck who you want to fuck.” The hard expression on his face softens into a teasing smirk. “Unless it’s not me. Then we’re going to have a problem.”

Tony snorts, which makes Steve smile, because that’s a lot more like the Tony he knows than the unresponsive puppet act. “Please, I’m far too pretty for you.”

“I can’t speak for everyone but I agree with Clint,” Steve decides to chime in, before those two get lost in their banter. “I’m sorry it came out this way, but you were bi before and you are bi now. I don’t see how or why that should change anyone’s opinion on you.”

And it’s sort of heartbreaking, the way Tony looks at him all wide-eyed disbelief, before he schools his expression into an unimpressed mask, gives him a flirty wink and a, “My, Cap, I never would’ve thought,” that sounds more suggestive than those words have any right to.

Steve very determinedly pretends his ears aren’t burning and tries to focus on the movie instead. He feels the way Tony relaxes next to him though, and that’s more than worth any embarrassment.

Later, when Tony has fallen asleep between them, Clint quietly but with feeling mutters, “This sucks.”

Steve blinks at him. “What are you-”

“You don’t want to ask that,” Natasha interrupts.

Clint glares straight ahead, seemingly completely oblivious to her. “Do you know how many jokes I could have made about this? How many I’ve prepared in case any of you ever came out? But nooo, Tony has to do it in the worst way possible that makes me feel like a jackass when I make fun out of him for it.”

“Clint, you are a jackass,” Natasha counters drily.

“Wait,” Steve stares back and forth between them, “how many of us do you expect to come out as anything?”

“You don’t want to know,” Bruce repeats Natasha’s words from earlier, voice muffled from where his face is pressed into one of the cushions. “They like to plot different PR disasters when they get bored at a function. You’re just lucky all the high society wants to talk with you.”

“So many lines wasted!” Clint whines despairingly. “Fucking Stark.”

Steve decides not to mention that Clint is currently petting Tony’s hair whilst Tony is drooling on his shoulder. He also decides not to ask any more questions. Natasha’s unholy smile will be a source of nightmares for years to come as it is.