Work Text:
"Hey, have you seen my knife?" Tony asked Clint when he walked in. He didn't stop looking for it where he was on the couch though, tossing another cushion on the floor.
"You have a knife?"
"Of course I have a knife." He hadn't had one until Bucky had given it to him, but he wasn't about to admit that to Clint. He only carried this one around because Bucky insisted on it. Apparently it was bad enough that Clint preferred a bow to a gun, so Bucky kept checking that they had knives. Tony would make fun of him more if he didn't think it was a remnant from his Hydra days.
"I thought your whole thing was repulsors."
"Do you carry a knife?" Tony asked him.
"Of course I carry a knife."
"Right, and your whole thing is arrows. We can have our signature weapon as well as a knife. Shit's wild. Or at least it would be if I could find it."
"How often do you even use it?" Clint asked, walking forward. He wasn't even trying to help, the ass.
"Often enough that Bucky will notice if it's missing." Which is to say that sometimes Bucky would wrap an arm around him, and when he let go, he would have Tony's knife in hand. Tony was pretty sure that he didn't do anything with it; he just liked to know that it was there. Tony bent over to peer at the bottom in case it got caught in an edge somewhere.
"Oh! The knife you normally wear around your waist. I'd always wondered what that was."
"It was a knife," Tony grumbled. Clint knew that he wore that knife, and then he turned around and acted all surprised.
"But that's not your knife, is it? I thought it was Bucky's."
"Bucky gave it to me to carry around, therefore it is mine."
"Okay but I have my knives, and then the ones that are Bucky's."
"Yeah, because you both have knives."
Clint shook his head and helped Tony toss the cushions back on the couch when he turned up empty handed. "No, you're not getting it. My knives are the ones I keep by my ankles. Bucky's knives are the ones on my hips or arms. I'm wearing them all, but half are his."
"You're making this weird," Tony said, pouting up at him. "Just help me find the fucking knife."
Clint took out one of his knives-- one of the Bucky ones of his, since he grabbed one from the small of his back-- and held it out to Tony. "Just use this one for now."
"This isn't the same."
"He won't care," Clint said with a shrug.
"Have we been dating the same person?" Tony asked flatly. "He'll notice."
"He'll notice, but he won't care."
Tony didn't believe that, but he took it anyways. He tucked it away, then got down on the ground and started looking under the furniture. "Seriously, do you know where it is?"
"Where what is?" Bucky asked, tilting his head as if to look where Tony was looking.
"Your knife," Clint said, because he was a traitor.
"You lost it?" Bucky asked. His voice was neutral. Tony couldn't figure out if he was upset or not.
"I didn't lose it; I just can't find it."
"Right, cause that's so much better," Clint said.
Bucky snorted, and there was the sound of a quick kiss being exchanged. "Doll, it's fine. I've got a hundred knives."
"Well now it's personal. Do you have any idea how hard it is to scan the workshop for one specific item?"
"Tony, are you going to come back up?"
"Not until I'm done," Tony said, glaring at the dark floor under the chair.
"Alright," Clint said, coming up behind him and patting his ass, "have fun."