Work Text:
“Well, Agent, what do you think?”
Phil looked around the big room. Directly in front of him were huge, floor to ceiling windows, framing the stunning vista of New York City. South-west, he decided, as he could see the Empire State building a little over half a mile away, low sunlight outlining the iconic skyscraper.
The whole room was beautifully decorated in a mix of pale grey and rich ochre yellows, a fat sofa facing a huge flatscreen tv on the wall. To his left was an archway leading through to a sleek modern kitchen, the end of a dining table just visible, and there were three doors to Phil’s right, through two of which he could see a bathroom and a bedroom, with equally large windows. The third door was closed but he’d investigate that later. For now, he turned with a smile.
“It’s really lovely, Tony. Thank you.”
“Well,” Tony looked a little abashed for a moment, before his grin returned. “If you’re going to be playing Supernanny to all of us, it only makes sense that you have your own space here.”
It did make sense, in a weird kind of way. His entire life was the Avengers now, just as it had been SHIELD for the previous twenty years. He had no other life, and he tried not to slip down that particular rabbit hole because what Tony was offering him was something he’d never had before.
Family.
“I’ve put you on the same floor as Romanoff and Barton, and then Rogers, Thor and Banner are on the one above.”
“I know. Thank you.”
Tony opened his mouth, paused, then smiled, albeit a little lopsidedly.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of things to fix, but stuff just keeps cropping up.”
Phil put his hand on Tony’s shoulder.
“It’s fine. We’ll figure it all out.”
Which, Phil knew, was his job. He unpacked the few bits he’d brought with him, making a mental note to go back to his small apartment in Arlington and pick up the rest of his belongings. Then, squaring his shoulders, he got in the elevator and went up two floors to what Tony had cheerfully called ‘the Assembly Lounge’.
It was full of squashy sofas and low glass tables, and on the far side was the biggest damned kitchen Phil had seen outside a restaurant. A long dining table provided enough eating space for twice their number and Phil was under no illusions that the two big double-fronted fridges were full of food as well.
Part of him wanted to ask Tony why he was doing this, but really, Phil already knew. Tony was building himself a family out of the ruins of New York, and Phil was more than happy to be included in that number.
“Son of Coul!” a cheerful voice greeted him, and he turned to see Thor and Banner coming out of the other elevator. “You are indeed a welcome sight!”
“Thanks Thor.” Phil let himself be swept up in a hug, and he patted Thor on the back. “And you can call me Phil,” he added. “Seeing as how we’re all going to be living here, I don’t think we need to stand on formalities any longer.”
“A most excellent idea,” Thor nodded. “We should all be on a level, friends and warriors all.” He turned to Banner. “Bruce, do you not agree?”
“I do.” He held his hand out to Phil. “Glad to have you back with us,” he said.
“Good to be back,” Phil told him.
Everyone else appeared to be of the same view. As the afternoon wore on, more people joined their little group. Maria Hill turned up with Colonel Rhodes, who insisted on being called Rhodey. Captain America himself shook Phil’s hand and then pulled him into a back slapping hug, looking utterly delighted. Even Natasha hugged him fiercely, then pretended she’d never done any such thing.
Only Clint avoided him. Phil tried to tell himself that it didn’t hurt to have one of his specialists act like he wasn’t even in the room, but he was aware enough to notice just how closed off Clint was. As the afternoon slipped into the evening, food appeared, mugs of coffee became bottles of beer, and Clint was a small, grey cloud in the corner of the big, bright living room.
“You know, you’re going to have to do something about that sooner or later,” Natasha said, appearing at Phil’s elbow with a plate of pizza and carrot sticks. She bit into one of the carrots with sharp white teeth and crunched briefly, waiting for his reply.
Phil sighed.
“I know,” he said. “Even if I don’t know where to start.”
“Maybe something along the lines of, hey, look, I’m not dead, stop beating yourself up about it?” she suggested. Another bite, eyes never leaving Phil’s. He winced.
“I can try.”
“Do or do not,” she said with a completely straight face. “There is no try.”
“Did you…” Phil changed his mind as she crunched into another carrot stick. “Yeah, no, you did.” He sighed again. “I will do my best,” he said, and that earned him a nod.
“No time like the present.”
“Pushy much?”
The mischievous light in her eyes faded and it was Natasha’s turn to sigh.
“I’ve never seen him quite like this,” she said softly. “Don’t let him suffer too much longer.”
“Compassion, Romanoff?”
Natasha glanced at Clint then fixed Phil with a look that would have scared most other men.
“He saved my life. More than once. Clint has enough compassion for this entire tower and then some. He needs a little in return.”
Phil couldn’t argue with that. He kept a close eye on Clint for the rest of the evening, and as soon as he saw him try to slink away, Phil followed. It said something for Clint’s frame of mind that he didn’t even notice Phil until the elevator doors were closing and Phil slipped through the gap.
“Hey,” Phil said, watching Clint’s eyes go wide then dart away. “Had enough of the crowd?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“How are you doing?”
Clint’s shoulders hitched up a fraction.
“Fine.” He still wasn’t meeting Phil’s eyes. “Shrinks signed me off. Cleared for duty next time something else wants to blow the city up.”
“Good to know.” The elevator stopped and the doors opened. “What’s your apartment like?”
“Messy.” Clint followed Phil out of the elevator, but then paused. He seemed uncertain and that uncertainty was so Not Clint. “I, uh.” He glanced at his door. “Good night.”
“Come in a moment, Clint,” Phil said, tipping his head towards his own door.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Phil raised an eyebrow.
“Humour me,” he said. He put his hand on the doorknob and the tiny light clicked from red to green as it read his palm print. “Just for five minutes.”
Mulishly, Clint shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed, nodding.
“Five minutes.”
Phil flicked the overhead lights on and the view beyond the windows disappeared. He looked at his reflection for a long moment before turning.
“Before you say a word,” Clint said, preempting Phil. “Do not tell me it wasn’t my fault.”
“Why not?”
“Because it absolutely was my fault.” His eyes skittered down Phil’s front, as if he could see through the fabric to the scars beneath. “And as many times as the shrinks got me to say ‘it wasn’t my fault, Loki made me do it’, I am still the one who got him aboard the helicarrier so he could stab you.”
“And I am perfectly fine now.” Phil ran a hand over his tie. “You were compelled. You had no say in it. I think that is the point under which you need to draw a line.”
“A line?”
“What is done is done, Clint. There is no point ascribing guilt or blame to something that is done and dusted. Things have been fixed.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Clint muttered. He looked down at the floor. “You didn’t have to see you hooked up to a dozen machines in a hospital bed.”
“I’ve seen you in hospital more times than I care to remember.”
“Yeah, but you never put me in there.” He glanced off to one side. “Is that everything, sir?”
That ‘sir’ hurt Phil in an obscure way.
“And New Mexico?” he heard himself ask.
Clint flinched. There was a long moment of silence, before Clint turned abruptly and stalked over to the window.
Phil waited. He could be just as patient.
After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, Clint’s shoulders dropped.
“Talk to me, Barton,” Phil said softly.
“We had one night.” Clint stood with his back to Phil, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he stared out over the cityscape. “Eight fucking years of wanting you, and I got finally you. For one god damn night. Then the world went to hell and I haven’t been able to look myself in the eye in the mirror since.”
“It wasn’t that bad a night, was it?” Phil asked and it took every ounce of his self control not to take a step back when Clint rounded on him.
“Bad? Jesus fucking Christ, Coulson. Phil.” His face was drawn, full of the self loathing that had taken Phil years to erase. “That night was the best night of my life. I got everything I wanted. Everything.” Clint’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “And, following the same MO of my entire fucking life, the moment I got it, it was all ripped away again, and it was my fault.”
“Clint…”
“No, stay there.” Clint held up a hand as Phil went to reach for him. “I can’t let myself touch you, because I only just got you back and I’d rather have you like this than not at all.”
“You think if you touch me that I’ll vanish again?”
Clint swallowed, blinked.
“I’m kinda hard to kill,” Phil pointed out. “People keep trying and failing.” He mustered up a smile. “Even a god tried and failed.”
“You think this is funny?” Clint asked, aghast.
“No. No, not at all.” Phil did take a step towards him then, reached out and caught Clint’s fist. He was shaking, Phil realised. “The last time I saw you was just before Loki appeared. So much has happened since then. I keep reading reports and watching footage, talking to people who’ve spoken to you. I’ve not managed to get into the same room at the same time and it’s been driving me insane.” He lifted Clint’s fist and wormed his thumb under the tightly clenched fingers until he could rub tiny circles into the palm. Gradually, Clint began to relax. “I’m not sure if everyone was doing it to keep you away from me in case seeing me brought back bad memories. No one knows about that night,” he added.
“And they’re not going to.” Clint wouldn’t meet Phil’s eyes.
“You… you aren’t ashamed of it, are you?” Phil asked, feeling something cold curl around the ache in his chest.
“What?” Clint’s head snapped up.
“Of what happened. Between us.”
Clint’s mouth worked for a moment, soundless. His eyes were wide, looking at Phil as if he were the one who had lost his mind.
He swallowed, tongue flicking out over his plump lower lip.
“How could I be ashamed of something so perfect?” he asked in a whisper. “It was everything I’d wanted, and then I fucked it all up and you died.”
“Temporarily.” Phil lifted his other hand and curled it around the back of Clint’s neck. “It was literally only for forty two seconds, and since then, every spare moment I’ve had, I’ve spent it thinking about you.”
“Phil…”
Fuck it, Phil thought. He was done with being circumspect and self controlled, with denying himself what it was that he wanted the most in the entire world. He drew Clint in, pressed his lips to Clint’s lush mouth and let himself have one blissful moment. He knew that at any second, Clint could pull away, break the connection and that would be that, but Phil fully intended on living in that moment for as long as possible.
Clint gasped at the contact and Phil took ruthless advantage, flicking his tongue along the edge of that plush lower lip. Clint froze. Unwilling to let him pull away, Phil kept his hand on the back of Clint’s neck.
Then Clint gave a broken groan and surged up against Phil, shoving him back against the nearest wall. His free hand clutched at Phil’s waist.
This, Phil thought, this was what had kept him going in the hospital. Memories of Clint’s lush mouth, his broad shoulders, the feel of corded muscle under Phil’s hands. Clint’s mouth was hot - sweet and salt and butter from the popcorn and vanilla coffee he’d had earlier. It was addictive and Phil wanted to taste every inch of Clint.
“Phil,” Clint whispered, breaking the kiss just enough to breathe. “Please, Phil.”
“Anything,” Phil told him. “Anything you want, Clint.”
“I just want you,” was the pleading response. “Phil, please. Don’t be a dream.”
“I’m real.” The implication of Clint’s words hurt Phil’s heart. “I’m here, I’m real, I promise you. And I’m not going anywhere.” He kissed him again, softer this time, deeper, gentler, and Clint just melted against him. He let go of Clint’s hand and slid it around his waist to tug him close, pressing their bodies together from knee to chest and, Christ, that felt so good. One night, Phil thought, feeling Clint’s arousal press into his hip. They’d had one night after nearly a decade of foreplay and now, finally, he had Clint in his arms again.
“Are you sure?’ Clint asked, words murmured against Phil’s lips.
“I’m not letting you go,” Phil told him, hand in Clint’s hair. “You’re mine, you’ve always been mine and you need to believe that.”
“But I’m-“
“Don’t even finish that sentence, specialist,” Phil snapped and Clint’s smile was like the sun coming up. That was the reaction Phil had been trying for.
“So if I’m yours,” Clint said after a moment. “What will you do with me?”
Phil had to stop himself from blurting out a dozen inappropriate things, not least of which was ‘keep you forever’. He let his eyes flick down Clint’s front.
“What I need right now is for you to strip, immediately.”
“Right this second?”
“Unless you have anywhere better to be?”
Still grinning, Clint stepped back and hauled his black t-shirt off over his head, flinging it to one side to land perfectly on the armchair by the window. Phil watched as the tac pants followed, kicked off along with Clint’s shorts.
“I’d lose the socks too,” Phil suggested. His eyes flicked down Clint’s front, looking at the miles of smooth muscle, the white flecks of old scars, the heavy power in the shoulders and arms of someone who could draw eighty pounds with no effort.
“And are you just going to stand there in that suit? Not that I mind the suits,” Clint added, hopping on one foot as he pulled a sock off. “But naked is a good look on you too, Phil.”
Phil couldn’t argue with that. He shrugged his suit jacket off, laid it on top of Clint’s pile of clothing. He undid his cuffs, then his hands went to his tie, but obviously he was taking way more time than Clint was willing to wait.
“Oh god, come here,” Clint made grabby hands at him, brushing Phil’s fingers aside to tug the knot out of Phil’s tie. “Why do you always keep so buttoned up?”
“I like my suits.”
“I like you out of them.” He started on Phil’s shirt, but before he could get the top couple of buttons undone, Phil curled his fingers around Clint’s wrists. “What?”
“The - the scar.” He kept his eyes fixed on Clint’s. “It looks worse than it is. Was.”
Clint swallowed, nodded.
“They had to cut, during the op.” Phil’s hands tightened a moment. “Like, open heart surgery level of cutting.”
“Does it still hurt?” Clint’s voice was steady.
“No.” A little lie. It ached more than anything, Phil thought, but it definitely didn’t actively hurt. “It’s kinda impressive, actually.”
The snort of laughter seemed to take Clint by surprise as much as Phil, and he grinned.
“So can I strip you?” Clint asked.
Phil nodded, albeit it a little slowly, and watched Clint’s eyes focus on where his fingers were on the buttons. Clint’s expression didn’t change as he pushed the shirt off Phil’s shoulders and tossed both shirt and tie negligently over his shoulder onto the chair. He tugged Phil’s undershirt out of his suit pants and that sailed through the air to join the rest of the clothing.
“Wow,” Clint breathed. There was the faintest tremor in his jaw as his eyes travelled down the scar. It was a little pink still, but that would fade in time, Phil knew. “I, uh…”
“Hey.” Phil put a finger under Clint’s chin and tilted his head up. “Don’t get sidetracked. Finish the job.”
It was a ridiculous thing to say, but for some reason, it worked. Clint huffed a laugh and moved his hands to the front of Phil’s suit pants. As he was so close, Phil just had to lean in and kiss him again. Soft, this time, slow sweet deep kisses that made Clint shiver, hands stalling on Phil’s hips.
“Lose your focus?” Phil teased lightly, drawing back a fraction. Clint blinked.
“You’re a menace, Coulson,” he muttered, but there was a flush high on his cheeks and a glance down showed just how much Clint liked being kissed. With a final shove, Clint pushed Phil’s pants and shorts down until they pooled around his ankles and he had to step out of them. To his surprise, Clint bent down and picked them up.
“Really?” he asked.
Clint folded the suit pants and laid them carefully over the back of the nearest chair.
“Can’t have you looking wrinkled tomorrow, can we?”
Phil laughed and reached down to tug his own socks off.
“I knew you had a thing for my suits.”
“Only what’s underneath them.”
Once in the bedroom though, Clint’s face turned serious. He nudged the door shut behind them and looked searchingly at Phil.
“I’m not going to hurt you, am I?”
“Clint, it’s okay.” Phil had to step forward and take both his hands. “I’m fully healed. I’ve been cleared for duty, too.”
“But have you been cleared for this?”
“I should think this classes as active duty, don’t you?”
There was that smile again, Phil thought with satisfaction. It was such a whimsical, hopeful little thing that he had to kiss it again, swallow down Clint’s surprised little sounds at the contact, pull him in close and press them together, every inch of skin he could touch. He wrapped his arms around Clint, held him close and felt the moment that Clint accepted this was real.
“I want you,” Phil said, smoothing his hands down Clint’s muscular back. “What we had in New Mexico was just a brief taste of what we can have.” Flashes of that night, of Clint’s hot mouth, the way Clint’s hands had felt, the heat which had spiralled up between them at the slightest of touches.
“I want you to fuck me,” Clint said. “Please.”
“God, yes.” He hauled Clint close, kissed him deeply, chasing that elusive taste that was pure Clint. “I want you in any way I can have you.”
“Really?”
Phil had the sudden urge to track down everyone who had ever made Clint feel like he wasn’t worth the world, and beat them to a pulp. How Clint could doubt himself was beyond belief.
“You are the most incredible man I’ve ever known,” Phil said softly. He brushed a stray lock of sandy blond hair back off Clint’s forehead and touched his cheek. “I never imagined I’d end up here, with you in my arms and a big bed right there, the door between us and the rest of the world locked.” Phil swallowed and then gave up the fight to keep the words in. “I want you,” he admitted. “You mean the world to me. The last couple of months have been just one long slog to get back to this point. The thought of you kept me going, when I was in that damned hospital.”
Clint looked at the long scar.
“How bad was it?” he asked. Phil wanted to brush the question aside, kiss him until he forgot he’d ever asked such a thing, but he owed Clint this.
“The spear missed my heart by millimetres. The power in it disrupted my heart beat though, and between that, a punctured lung and blood loss, it very nearly finished me off. But our medics are good. I heal fast.”
Clint nodded, looking thoughtful.
“Active duty, you say?” he mused, and Phil squashed down a giddy urge to laugh.
“So active, you have no idea.”
Clint looked at him, nodded, then bent forward and kissed the scar. Phil’s breath stuttered at the touch of his lips, the intimacy of the act taking him by surprise.
“Then maybe we should move this to the bed.”
Their night in New Mexico had been a blur of passion, of grasping hands and needy mouths, of two people who’d danced around one another for years finally taking that step which they’d both wanted for so god damn long.
Now, however, Phil had Clint to himself, in his own bedroom, and he fully intended to make the absolute most of every single second.
They stretched out on the ridiculously comfortable bed and Phil pulled Clint up close against him. This way, they were pressed together down the length of their bodies, and Phil could kiss Clint at his leisure. Those slick plush lips that just begged to be tasted and, god, Phil felt like he could do this all day.
“Please, Phil.” Clint had other ideas, however. “Will you just fuck me before you make me come like this?”
The surge of god, yes left Phil almost breathless.
“One day I’ll do that,” he promised.
“Phil…” It wasn’t quite a whine, but it was close enough to make Phil grin. He gave Clint a quick kiss.
“Stay there.”
It only took him a few seconds to find the bottle of lube then he was back on the bed, batting Clint’s hands away from his erection. Clint was incredibly responsive, arching into Phil’s touch, swearing and begging as Phil opened him up, slow and sure. He took his time, learning how to make Clint gasp and bluster and whine with each twist of his hand.
“You ready?” Phil asked and laughed as Clint honest-to-god growled at him.
“I was ready ten minutes ago, oh my god, you and your over achieving… fuck.” His complaining tailed off into a low groan as Phil pulled his fingers free and moved so his cock was nudged up against him instead.
“You’re so good for me,” Phil said, pushing slowly in. Clint’s body was hot and tight and welcoming and it seemed like no time at all before Phil’s hips were pressed up against Clint’s ass. “So good.”
“Only for you,” Clint told him. He pulled Phil down to kiss him. “Please,” he whispered against Phil’s lips. “Please, Phil, move.”
Phil moved. He drew slowly out until only the tip of his cock was keeping Clint open, waiting until Clint’s legs tightened around his hips before snapping back in.
“God, yes,” Clint gasped. “More.”
“As much as you want,” Phil promised him. He kept it slow and steady to start with, testing each angle to find out what made Clint swear and beg, and then repeatedly nailing that exact spot until Clint was reduced to half formed syllables and breathless moans.
“Please, please, Phil.” Clint tried to get his hand between them but Phil caught him by the wrist, held his hands level with his head. “God, I… now, please…”
“Not yet,” Phil told him, his measured thrusts speeding up. “You’re going to come like this.”
“Can’t.” Clint’s head thrashed from side to side but he didn’t try to dislodge Phil’s hands.
“You can.” He ignored his own approaching orgasm, focussing on Clint’s face, the feel of him, the way he moved, the hot-tight grasp of his body on each thrust. “You’re so good, Clint. So perfect.”
“Phil,” Clint gasped, and came. His entire body locked up as he convulsed and that was it for Phil too.
He shuddered through his orgasm, feeling like there was no join between their bodies, that they were one seamless whole. Clint managed to tug his hands free and wrapped both arms around Phil as Phil found Clint’s mouth and they kissed, a desperate needy contact which softened as they relaxed, turned soft and slow and sweet as their breathing evened out.
Phil could feel Clint’s hands stroking up and down his back as he lifted his head.
“Hey,” he said with a smile. “You okay?”
Clint nodded, arms tightening.
“I don’t want to let you go,” he whispered.
“I promise you I’m not going to vanish.”
Clint drew a shuddering breath and nodded.
“I know, but…”
“I love you.”
Clint’s eyes went wide and Phil replayed what he’d just said. Ah, yes, well. He looked at Clint and had to smile. What the hell.
“I probably should have told you a while back,” he said. “Things got a little busy though.”
“Understatement.” Clint reached up, stroked a finger over the laughter lines next to Phil’s eye. “I’ve been in love with you since Nat joined us.”
Phil turned his head quickly and kissed Clint’s fingertips, tongue flicking out to taste the skin.
“Maybe we need to work on our communication a little more.”
“Mmm.” A glance down, and Clint grinned. “Shall we start with a shower?”
The idea of getting Clint under the hot water, of all that slick wet skin that he could now touch, was too good to resist.
“That’s definitely one of your better ideas.”
What was even better, however, was getting Clint back into his bed. Once clean and dry, they curled up together under the blankets, Clint’s warm back to Phil’s front.
“How did Tony know?” Clint mused, voice sleepy.
“Know what?”
“About us.”
Phil frowned, pressing a gentle kiss to the nape of Clint’s neck. He could smell his own body wash there, and it sent a warm pulse of possessiveness through him.
“I didn’t think he did.”
Clint huffed, hugged Phil’s arm close to his chest.
“Then why do we have a connecting door between our apartments?”
The third door, Phil thought. Sneaky damn Stark. He'd have to thank him tomorrow.