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Certain members of the team were having a difficult time keeping their eyes up and straight ahead.
The Bus was parked on the launch pad, and waiting for the last passenger, to complete his mission briefing with Hand before he returned and gave the team his directive. As was fast becoming the custom, the team stood at the bottom of the ramp, ready to welcome Coulson back home. Soon enough, Coulson emerged from the Hub, and strode across to the Bus with a peculiar gait. There was more undulation of his hips, and his legs swung outwards a touch more before swinging back upon footfall, like as if…he was strutting? That definitely looked like good news, if Coulson was so confident.
However, upon closer approach, it became clear that Coulson was modifying his gait to compensate for something in his pocket. Some sort of heavy, round-ish object sitting in his left pocket-
“Ah-hmm!” Skye exclaimed, sharply clenching her lips together to stop from blurting out something sure to be embarrassing. Beside her, Simmons squeaked, and Fitz let out a broken sound from his throat. May and Ward appeared to be completely oblivious to this unbelievable turn of events, but internal screeching could not be ruled out. Coulson reached his team, and went straight into his usual summary statement.
“There have been civilian reports of a 12 year-old Japanese girl who has successfully lowered the radiation levels of several Japanese prefectures from 250 milliSieverts per year down to 5 milliSieverts, around background levels. Youtube videos have shown the girl simply walking around towns and villages with her hands out wide, followed by closeup shots of Geiger counters and dosimeters with the new readings. The Japanese Government have confirmed the reduction in radiation exposure levels, but we need to be wary of their enthusiasm for a deus ex machina for their ongoing issues, Fitzsimmons, is there a problem?”
“No, sir!” Fitz yelped, flicking his eyes back up to Coulson’s face. Simmons looked sheepish as she also dragged her eyes back upwards. “No problems with me, sir.”
“Well then, let’s get a move on. The girl has already been hounded by the media, any more wasted time and her family will solidify around her, and we won’t get a word in then.” Coulson moved to walk past the others, employing his brand-new stride. As soon as he left the top of the ramp, Skye turned to Simmons.
“I did not just hallucinate that. That was, that was…” Skye rambled, wringing her hands. “Coulson’s junk. Just hanging.”
“And bouncing.” Fitz sounded awestruck.
“It could be some sort of a test, to see whose professionalism would break easiest,” Ward piped up, arms crossed across his chest. “A test that you three failed immediately.”
“Oh, get a grip Ward, it’s OK to crack a smile every once in a while,” Skye retorted. “You ever consider that perhaps the test was to see who was the least humourless? A test that you failed immediately. Agent May excepted.”
“Thank you, Skye,” May replied with a sarcastic smile.
“You know who would probably appreciate this new turn of events?” Simmons grinned smugly. “I. Have. Got. To. Tell. Hawkeye.”
*****************************
Clint Barton was currently sitting on a rickety three-legged stool in a dilapidated office of a dilapidated warehouse, waiting for Natasha, Jessica and Bobbi to complete their intimidation of the Tracksuit Draculas so he can go home and rest, without worrying that the next time he received a stab to the head with an arrow, it would be straight through his brain, and then lights out for ol’ dumb-fuck Hawkeye. How very feminist of him to be copacetic with having his three exes dealing with his problems on his behalf. Well, it would have been very enlightened of him, but the truth was that he was fresh out of coping, consumed by self-hatred, and too depressed to care about putting up a token defence against Bobbi’s insistence on helping. He honestly doesn’t understand why his exes still care enough about him, when he’s been the worst boyfriend and husband to them, but he’s learnt to keep his mouth shut about it. Hey, self-awareness is the first step towards redemption, right?
At least Phil was still alive, and wasn’t that a simultaneous warming of the heart and a kick in the huts. Phil’s revival was proof that dreams can come true, not just nightmares, and when he first saw that cached Youtube video of some super soldier wreaking havoc in L.A. - Nat saved a copy of that video and emailed it to him well before SHIELD took it down - that first glimpse of Phil’s characteristic walk from behind as he talked down the man was a shock to the system. All at once, he began to feel that crushing weight finally, finally, lifting off his chest, only to be replaced by a sharp pang as he immediately realized the implications of Phil’s survival.
He’d been left behind.
Phil keeping his resurrection a secret from him only served to remind him that he was just a burden to everyone, and as soon as they could find a way to leave, they would. Fuck, his exes probably just hung around because they couldn’t avoid him on joint missions. Eventually, Clint did work up sufficient bull-headed anger to storm into the Hub and demand he be told the truth about Coulson; though strangely, when he clarified that he had meant that he hadn’t known Phil was alive, Hill had visibly relaxed. He still doesn’t know what that was about. As he turned to storm off, Hill had grabbed his arm and warned ominously, “Barton, he may not be exactly as how you remember him.”
Eventually, Clint did wrangle a set of coordinates from Hill, and headed off to intercept the Bus when it landed, at the edges of a verdant soy plantation in a remote village of Brazil. Clint had waited alone in that field for hours, his nerves cyclically peaking and subsiding with tension; he mulled over Hill’s words, and worked himself up with all manner of nightmarish possibilities - Phil was physically disfigured, he was psychotic, he had lost his memory (for that one Clint felt shameful hope) - but worst of all was the possibility that Phil wanted nothing more to do with a man that had indirectly caused his death. The thought of Phil being forever furious and unforgiving of him, and he’d seen Phil hold terribly long icy-cold grudges, brought Clint to tears at least three times that afternoon, and he had yet to even face it for real.
When the Bus did finally appear over the horizon and landed on the brown dirt road, Clint stood to attention out of habit, and he clasped his hands tightly behind his back, digging his nails into his palm to keep himself within this reality. He just hoped his eyes weren’t puffy. He was an ugly crier from way back, or so he was told.
Phil, no it wasn’t Phil, it was Coulson who strode down that that ramp, his achingly familiar footfalls clacking against metal, heading towards Clint with purpose. Behind him, Clint spotted Fitzsimmons and May, with another agent and a…civilian? Who the fuck knew. This was Phil’s new team? A ragtag bunch of young untested agents, Agent May excepted. Or perhaps Phil thinks you rank lower than a random girl in a button-down shirt picked up off the streets, Clint’s brain chimed in. Simmons was the first to jog up to him and give a hearty hug that took Clint by surprise and had him momentarily off-balance, before he cautiously wrapped his arms around her back.
“Clint! I haven’t seen you in so long, I’m glad you’re here!” Simmons said, her face mushed against his chest. “Are you here for long? Are you here to give us some news? How is everyone? I’m sorry I’m rambling, I’m just so happy to see you.”
The barrage of affection proved to be a touch too much for Clint to handle at the moment - who was he kidding, he couldn’t handle this much affection ever in his life - and he had to use all of his control to give Simmons a gentle warm smile. “Hey Jemma, I’m glad to see you too. Nothing’s wrong, everyone’s fine, and I’m just here to pay a visit. I…didn’t realize you were on Coulson’s team.”
Simmons straightened and stepped out of the hug, brushing down her cardigan with her hands and looking up at Clint under her eyelashes. “Yes, well, it all happened very quickly, and we’re still working out the kinks of being a team, maybe the news hasn’t travelled yet.”
“Yes, maybe,” Clint replied noncommittally. “I also didn’t realize that Coulson was…still in action.”
With that, Simmons froze. Fitz was pale, well, paler than usual, and the civilian girl was openly staring at Phil in open-mouthed shock. Definitely not agent material, Clint thought. May and the other guy were professionally blank-faced stern. That’s the spirit.
And Coulson…still had his sunglasses on.
Well, that really made it clear to Clint just how unwelcome he was. Nevertheless, he had a few things to say and then he’d fuck right off, so he moved past Simmons and walked to Coulson, palms sweaty and faintly trembling. Phil was really alive, here in the flesh, he could be touched and wouldn’t dissolve into the early morning sun when he awoke, he could be touched, but Clint stopped a few feet away instead and looked into Phil’s face.
“Sir, I’m just glad you’re alive.” Clint awaited a response, any response, from that blank wall. A few seconds passed with growing depression, before Phil revealed a small smile. “So am I. Glad that I’m alive, and you’re alive, that is.”
“Look, I just needed to see it for myself, I promise I won’t be in your way, but I just, I just…can we talk inside?”
“Of course, Clint. We aren’t set to begin our mission until tomorrow afternoon, today’s our day off. Let’s head in.”
“I’m going to take a walk,” May spoke up, glancing meaningfully at the others. “Anyone want to join me?”
The rest of the team assented, and quickly left Clint and Phil alone on the Bus. When they reached Phil’s office, Clint remained standing, while Phil closed the door behind them and walked to the front of the desk, leaving his sunglasses on the top, turning to face Clint and clasping his hands in his lap as he leaned on the edge of the desk. Clint took a few deep breaths, and made a few false starts, before falling silent. He looked down at his hands, fingers entwined and restlessly twisting, and gathered the strength to speak just above a whisper.
“I missed you, sir.”
Phil uttered a cut-off sound of despair and jerked forward a step, halting before tentatively raising a hand to Clint’s shoulder, lifting off immediately when Clint flinched. Phil made that sound again, and slowly lowered his hand again, this time to Clint’s upper arm. The other hand moved to lift Clint’s chin.
“Barton, I’m so sorry I let you think I wasn’t alive,” Phil murmured.
“Dead. You were dead.”
“I’m sorry I let you think I was dead. I was being self-absorbed, and I should have let you in.”
“Don’t you know that I care, that I would do anything to help you? Not that it would have done much, now that you’ve got a new team.”
“Clint, I never thought-“ Phil hesitated, indecision warring on his face. “I made my play, lost to Loki, and was fortunate enough to be revived, but I had accepted that the Avengers would move on.”
“You thought you should have been left behind? That you deserved abandonment? I cannot believe this,” Clint growled. “The Avengers don’t exist, not really. Not without you.”
“Barton, spare me your platitudes-“
“Phil! Shut the fuck up!” Clint interjected. “All the Avengers have amounted to is a few weeks a year staying at Stark’s. Thor’s in Asgard, Cap’s fucking around trying to ‘find himself’, Banner’s six months in some third-world country and the other six months holed up in Stark’s labs, Nat materializes in and out of thin air, and Stark fucking took on the Mandarin and Ten Rings on his own. We’re not a team, we’ve never been, because you fucked off before we even had a chance.”
“And what have you been doing all this time, Clint?”
“I’ve…I’ve got my own battles. I haven’t been alone though. Bobbi, Jess and Nat have been around. Kate, too.” He’s not going to mention Barney. At all.
“Against your strict wishes, I’m sure. And I’ll bet you never asked for help, either,” Phil sighed. “Well, aren’t we a pair?”
Clint squashes down his reaction to those words. “We sure are. Wallowing in our man-pain. Nat would kick our asses, if she wasn’t already busy kicking the asses of other clueless men all day long.”
Phil lets out a little chuckle at that. “I do miss her. Look, I’ll say it again, I’m sorry I let you feel abandoned. No, in fact I did abandon you, I was careless, and I can’t imagine how you’ve been coping these last few years.”
“Well, it’s been OK, really, it’s fine,” Clint mumbled, looking down and sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.
“Clint, listen to me,” Phil shook him lightly. “I can’t deny that things…have changed, since I was brought back.” Phil gave a loud swallow. “There are things I need to find out, about what was done to me-“ Clint lifted his eyes to Phil’s in outrage. “-And what has changed about me. What changes were natural in the face of death, and what changes weren’t. What it means for my career with SHIELD, and what it means for what I want to do with my life. You look confused, and of course you are, so that’s why I promise you that from now on, I will do my utmost to keep you in my life.”
Those last few words hit too close for Clint, the thought of being kept by Phil enough to trigger a pang of longing. He crumbled, and fell into Phil’s arms, clutching at his back while Phil brought one arm around Clint’s waist, and the other arm gently curled around his head, bringing it down to Phil’s shoulder as Clint sobbed.
“I won’t leave again, not if I can help it.” Phil promised.
After that watershed conversation, Phil did do as he promised, though that did only amount to a visit from one party to the other once every two months or so. Which was understandable, as Phil was extremely busy doing whatever the fuck he was doing, Clint didn’t know. Despite assurances that Phil was keeping him in the loop, Clint got the sense that he still wasn’t letting on about the exact details of the changes he was experiencing. Over time, this calcified into the same old dark thoughts of inadequacy, that Clint was too dumb to understand something this significant, or that he was too unprofessional to be trusted with sensitive information. He was a fucking Level 6, but maybe it was an honorary one, given just to justify his inclusion in the Avengers.
For his part, Clint did spill the details on his problems with the Tracksuit Draculas, and the Clown, and though Phil couldn’t do much to help, he did convince SHIELD to spare a few agents for surveillance and intel gathering. Nevertheless, those intermittent reunions with Phil were beyond his wildest dreams, and Phil hadn’t changed all that much, really. His dry sense of humour remained, as did his paternal instincts towards lost causes - he could he Phil weaving his magic around Skye, though that Ward guy wasn’t responding, and that was a sign of true evil if he ever saw one - and Phil was still as ever his one bright star.
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art-
Though this, this swooning, was a new complication for Clint. The love thing had always been a low level burning in his chest, but now? Now he was desperate. He would eagerly anticipate the next meeting as soon as they said goodbye from the previous one. He kept in touch with Simmons by phone once a week, just to drink in any details about Phil’s day to day existence. And he started reading Keats, for fuck’s sake.
When I behold, upon the night’s starred face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows with the magic hand of chance;
So here he was, still sitting on that stool in the warehouse, and it sounds like the old bro in the wheelchair is coming around to Nat’s suggestion that he take his bros and leave Bed-Stuy, or else she’d sic the Dominicans on them. Staring into the night sky had triggered the memory of those few lines, and he was thoroughly even more depressed than usual about his romantic repression, when his flip phone vibrated with a call from Simmons. Since it looked like he had at least another 20 minutes to spare, he answered.
“Whattup Jemma?”
“Hey Clint, I’ve got some interesting news about our dear leader.” Simmons sounded teasing, and Clint relaxed.
“If it’s about the change to decaf, I’ve heard it,” Clint replied nonchalantly, though when he asked Phil about why he changed, Phil merely shrugged and said that he didn’t need more things to keep him up at night, and Clint mentally filed that away under ‘WTF’ and ‘Consequences of My Betrayal’.
“Nope. Coulson was walking out of the Hub, and we were waiting for him, and he strolled up to us, calm as you like, but he was commando.”
“What, like armed to the teeth and ready to kill?” Clint replied, deftly ignoring the other definition of commando.
“No, dummy, I mean he was commando. The eggs have fallen from the nest. I repeat, the eggs have fallen from the nest. They were good-sized eggs too…”
Clint’s brain short-circuited. Most of the time, his feelings for Phil had remained steadfastly asexual, as if he had placed Phil on a pedestal and did not want to defile that imagery with animal lust. This though, this changed everything. What did it mean that Phil was becoming more openly expressive about his body? Clint was also getting the feeling that the parts of Phil that hadn’t changed were mere surface qualities, and that what had changed were big, significant things from which Clint was being shut out. One thing was for sure: he was going to have to see this for himself.
**********************
A week later, Clint arrived in the city of Motomiya, and met up with Coulson’s team at a tiny izakaya bar. Over a few yakitori skewers and beer, he heard all manner of opinions about Coulson’s new fashion choice.
“It wasn’t just a one-off, he’s been free-balling since.”
“Now every time he walks, all I imagine is thonk-thonk-thonk.”
“It’s like realizing your dad has a penis, and he’s probably used it on people before.”
“Not that I think he’s a sexless saint or anything, it’s just…it’s his peen. I don’t want to think about Coulson peen.”
“It’s his choice, of course. It’s our problem that we can’t stop glancing at it or thinking about it. But…why now? Ward thinks it’s a test. Maybe it is, but shouldn’t the test be over by now? We’ve all failed, well and truly. Fitz even licked his lips once.”
“Hey! No divulging embarrassing bodily responses in front of Hawkeye,” Fitz interjected, blushing readily. “Besides, the reason why we’re here, I mean here at this bar, not the mission, is because we wanted to ask Barton to help us solve this problem before something happens in the field when we’re distracted. If anyone can get to the bottom of this, I mean, let me rephrase, only you can work out what’s going through his mind. And maybe only you can get him to put on some underwear.”
“I still think you should all grow up and have some respect,” May intoned. “If this is all it takes to get you flustered, then shame on you. It’s not like he’s got it flopped out. You shouldn’t be getting carried away, Agent Barton excepted.”
“Hey, what? I was just visiting you guys,” Clint said. The others simply looked at him in disbelief. “Ok, so maybe I was curious. But still, I’m just here to understand how Phil has changed, and whether this is a change to be concerned about, or just a change in preference.”
“Don’t worry, Clint,” Skye smirked, patting Clint on the shoulder. “He hasn’t changed his preference in you.”
Clint didn’t have anything to say in response to that, that wouldn’t be completely revealing of his infatuation. Nevertheless, all conversation as cut off as Coulson walked in through the entry curtain, wearing grey slacks and a light sky blue silk shirt, rolled up at the sleeves and tie-less. And there, he saw it.
It was resting there, on Phil’s thigh.
It was heavy and thick, shifting as Phil walked towards him, the material of the pant leg stretching over the mass and creasing around it.
It was mouth-watering.
Clint had to suppress the desire to stare and point at the thing in horror, eyes bugged out and screeching from a gaping mouth, Invasion of the Body Snatchers-style, because he could not process the idea of Coulson and his cock, right here in front of him, separated from his face by a thin layer of fabric. Clint now knew that he had a kink for clothed penises, because all he could think about was getting on his knees and mouthing around the solid mass as it lay there under the pants; the mere thought of making Phil lose control, while he was still wearing his suit, was enough to trigger an erection of his own. Clint knew he was being obvious, but apparently he was as much of a dog as the rest of Coulson’s team and he couldn’t help it right now.
“Clint, good to see you. Enjoying the chicken?” Phil smiled, and there was a glint of playfulness in his eyes. May rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, uh, the chicken’s good. Tasty.” Clint stuttered. May rolled her eyes even harder.
“Well, don’t stuff yourself, there’s more to eat later.” Phil replied. May was unable to roll her eyes any further, and settled instead for a headshake.
“Let’s head back,” Phil continued. “We’ve got some things to talk about.”
**********************
Clint was feeling pretty unstable by the time they returned to Phil’s office, having had to endure thoughts of Coulson’s cock rubbing across his left thigh as they walked side by side. He sat heavily on the sofa, and Coulson sat next to him, folding one leg up on the cushion and facing Clint.
“Clint,” he began, taking a pause. “Months ago, I made a promise to you. To keep you in my life.”
Clint clenched his hands around his knees, anticipating the worst. Where Phil took back his words, and cut this tenuous link between them once and for all.
“I have been irreparably changed since my…return,” Phil continued. “What I’ve learned about it has shaken my faith in SHIELD, and I can’t deny that it’s made me think about the things I’ve pushed aside out of loyalty to the organisation.
“And perhaps in that revelation, I’ve begun to take a few liberties here and there, small acts of rebellion to remind myself that I am my own person, that though I am a representative of SHIELD, underneath the uniform I am a man.”
“That’s what the freeballing’s about?” Clint blurted out, having been knocked off his axis by Phil’s very serious, existential reasons for not wearing underwear.
“Yes, in part. I know you know I haven’t exactly been forthcoming with details about what I’ve been learning about what was done to me, and please believe me when I say it’s because I wasn’t ready to talk about it, wasn’t ready to face any kind of disbelief from those I care about, especially you. I was afraid that you would scoff at my thoughts, but every time we’ve caught up with each other you’ve been nothing but supportive, and I began to believe.
“I also can’t deny that I noticed your behaviour towards me had changed.”
Clint was gripped with panic. He hadn’t been able to keep the lovestruck look off his face, and Phil’s had to endure it all this time, probably wondering whether Clint’s change also had anything to do with SHIELD. Well, it did, only in the sense that they had brought Phil back somehow, and now that Clint knew what it was like to live in a world without him, he could no longer bear to be apart from Phil, even if it had to be a purely platonic friendship. Had he somehow fucked it all up by hovering, or being too aggressively affectionate? He wouldn’t be surprised if he did. No matter how severe the consequence, whether it be a punch in the head or abandonment, he had never learnt how to completely hide his feelings, though he should have known better from the age of five.
“Clint! Calm down, please,” Phil said. “I only meant to say that I had noticed you had become more, what’s the word…affectionate, with me, and it gave me hope. So when I decided to change the way I dressed, it was also with the hope of kickstarting something. I needed a reason to get you to come here sooner rather than later, and your reaction to me at the izakaya confirmed one thing for me.”
“What’s that?” Clint whispered.
Phil brought his hands up to Clint’s face. “The world can keep changing, the ground under our feet can keep shifting, but we’re done circling around the truth, and we deserve each other.” Clint practically fell into Phil at that, and proceeded to desperately kiss the hell out of him. Clint took off his SHIELD-issued black t-shirt, pants, combat boots, and underwear; once naked, he unbuttoned Phil’s shirt, leaving his suit jacket on. When Phil moved to remove his slacks, Clint clamped his hand down on Phil’s wrist.
“Don’t. I want to make you fall apart like this. Like you’ve got me at your service.” Phil groaned and dropped his head back onto the sofa. Clint dropped to his knees between Phil’s legs, and moved straight in to nuzzle his crotch. He inhaled deeply, and moaned.
“Fuck, you smell so good, Phil.” Clint began to mouth at the outline of Phil’s dick, moistening the fabric with his hot breath and moaning again, letting the vibrations travel upwards like a spark though Phil’s spine. After a while, Clint’s mouth dried up, and he lifted his head for a few seconds to gather more saliva before moving back in to lightly suck at the tip of Phil’s dick. Clint tasted a bitterness through the material, and finally unzipped the pants to free Phil’s cock from its confines. He sat back on his calves and took a moment to drink in the sight of Phil, chest flushed and heaving, his eyes closed and mouth loosely open in abandon, his hair slightly tousled, sweat gathering at his brow and above pinkish red swollen lips. His cock was flushed, thick and fully erect, bobbing intermittently. Clint was awestruck with the realization that he was given the privilege to see both sides of the same coin at once - the professional suit of armour on top, and the sensual, very human, man underneath.
“If I had known that all it would take to get you on your knees was to stop wearing briefs, Clint…” Phil murmured.
“I’m only this easy for you,” Clint replied, and took the tip of Phil’s dick into his mouth, suckling slowly and gently, with the occasional swipe of the slit with his tongue. Phil brought his hand down to the side of Clint’s head, and made involuntary hip jerks but generally kept still. Gradually, Clint took more and more of Phil in, until he was pressed nose to abdomen, throat clenching, whereupon Clint stopped to let saliva gather and drip down his dick, before sliding off and gasping for breath. From then on, Clint went full speed ahead, sucking dick as hard as he could with hollowed-out cheeks, palming his own leaking cock while relishing the sound of Phil’s breathy little moans and his squirming under Clint’s attention. Soon enough, Clint tasted the first few spurts of come as Phil froze, emitting a cry that turned into a quiet whine, his hand clenched into a fist in Clint’s hair. Clint swallowed, and let go of Phil’s rapidly softening dick, resting his head on the inside of Phil’s thigh as he gathered his breath. Phil came back to himself not long afterwards, and made a little sound of sadness.
“Clint, let me-“
“Uh, no need for that, turns out I have a thing for cock worship,” Clint replied sheepishly, having already come like a horny teenager. Phil pulled Clint up anyway, and they engaged in deep, wet kisses for a minute, Clint naked and rubbing himself against Phil’s suit-clad body. Eventually, they stopped kissing and simply held each other for a while, in comfortable silence, listening to the sound of their combined breaths. Clint laid a palm to the raised scar tissue on Phil’s chest, and felt the heart beat strongly underneath.
“You died. SHIELD brought you back, but for two years, for all intents and purposes you were dead and gone. You know how insane this all is. You got a second chance, and as it happens so did I. I also made a promise to you, months ago, that I would not let you go this time, that I would stand by your side, whether it be as a friend or just a loyal soldier, I didn’t care how. I intend to keep that promise.”
“Clint, you oblivious idiot, I’m in love with you.”
“Oh! Um, I guess I was just-“
“Utterly convinced that you were unlovable? Trust me, your lack of self-worth is clear. Unfortunately for you, I am resolved to rectify this situation with as much affection as possible. Face it, Clint, we’re going to be stuck together for a long time.”
Clint hummed. Maybe this time around, he would believe that a person genuinely cared for him without needing a practical reason for it. Perhaps that would make sure he wouldn’t go off half-cocked and put himself in reckless danger so often. He might even learn to love Phil back unselfishly, and free of insecurity.
For the first time in his life, Clint could admit that change wasn’t always a bad thing.