Chapter Text
Oddly enough, it was Day 8 of captivity that found Tony trembling and teetering on the edge of a panic attack. Theories have been made and tried when it comes to being stuck in close quarters with anyone but for Tony, that magic number was either 8 or 11 and one of those two days was the day that everything came to a head before falling back into place. Rather like a kettle set to boil, the steam builds until it is forced out of a small opening before being poured out, relieving the pressure. Day 8 was the steam building and trying to force itself out in some way.
Clint and Phil had been calm and acting in a professional manner throughout the entire ordeal but Tony had been handling it in the best way he could – keeping busy and making sarcastic comments. On Day 8, after their captors left when they had completed their daily routine of mild torture, looking for any information they could get. They had given up on Clint and Phil after day 3 when they realized the two agents had been trained in how to survive torture and remain sane. Instead they had turned their focus on Tony, a civilian. Tony had done reasonably well, focusing his mind on equations and lines of code for a new AI to keep the pain at bay but by Day 8 he was mentally and physically exhausted and they had turned to a different technique, moving from general beating to a mix of water torture and burning to bottom of his foot at the same time. The mixed forms combined broke through the mental wall and Tony held on just long enough for the captors to leave before collapsing forward, the only thing keeping him off the ground the ropes around his wrists.
Phil and Clint moved forward from where they had been help at gunpoint. Clint, the stronger of the two, wrapped his arms around Tony’s chest and supported the billionaire, taking the pressure off his wrists while Phil worked on loosening the knots
“We’ve got you,” said Clint softly. “Just relax as much as you can, don’t struggle. Let Phil and me do the hard work.”
“I’m going to release the bonds now,” said Phil. “Tony, I need you to try not to put any pressure on that foot. I don’t want it to get infected and this floor is disgusting.”
“I’ve got him,” said Clint to Phil, adjusting his hold so that when the ropes were no longer keeping Tony up the genius wouldn’t accidently place his foot on the ground.
With the ease of people who had worked together for years, Phil and Clint got Tony situated on what they had deemed the sleeping section of their prison. The cell itself was like a mix between a cave and a dungeon, as if their captors couldn’t decide which way to go and had settled on both.
“Next time I’m going to attend that Advanced Interrogation seminar,” panted Tony, shaking and trying to ignore the fact that he was about to have a panic attack.
“I’ll train you personally,” said Phil, inspecting the burned right foot. “I won’t let Fury make you sit with all the agents.”
“Good. I hate socializing.”
Clint got Tony out of his soaked shirt and into Clint’s own shirt, the archer well aware that Tony didn’t like water from his past experiences in caves and coupled with how long they had been there, Clint knew they were walking a fine line between a sort of calm Tony and a full on PTSD attack Tony.
“One time I tried to teach Natasha how to do laundry,” said Clint. “It was a horrible idea. I’m pretty sure she shrunk everything on purpose but I can’t prove it. I’m stuck doing laundry on all our missions. It sucks.”
“Oh complain all you want but you know you secretly like folding the clothes,” said Phil, knowing that Clint was trying to distract Tony and jumping on the train. “Do you know Clint actually refolds everything if I try to fold it?”
“Weird,” said Tony, closing his eyes, breathing hard through his nose as Phil did his best to bind his foot.
“How do you think all of your clothes get folded?” demanded Clint.
“Magic.”
“It bothers Clint on a personal level when he knows your clothes are just sitting in the basket, unfolded and wrinkled,” said Phil. “He sneaks into your room and folds all of them.”
“That’s borderline stalking,” grunted Tony.
“Stalking, crush, same thing,” muttered Clint.
“You can’t say shit like that in front of your boyfriend,” said Tony, leaning himself against the wall, keeping his eyes closed so he missed the exchange of looks between the partners.
“Honey, we’ve sorta been trying to date you for like four months,” said Clint, not unkindly.
“Wait, really?” said Tony, blinking his eyes open, pushing the other cave back to where it lived, in that dark corner of his mind that he never visited if he could help it.
“Yeah,” said Clint. “Bringing you food, coffee, sitting next to you at movie night, taking you on dates. I honestly thought you knew.”
“Now’s not really the time to talk about it,” said Phil. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“Right, because we have such pressing business to attend to now,” snapped Tony. “I mean, I’m pretty booked right now with the whole being kidnapped and such.”
“I guess we could escape,” said Clint with a shrug. “But quite frankly we don’t have a lot to go off of. Also since it’s past the four day mark and neither Phil or I have checked in they’ll be looking for us. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one getting fucking drowned,” said Tony. It had started off strong but ended in a tiny sob.
Tony bit the inside of his lip, hands clenching and unclenching. Clint curled around Tony.
“Tony, it’s okay,” said Phil. “We’ll get out of this.”
“I can’t do this,” panted Tony.
The door burst open.