Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Phil was reading the paper, still in his pajamas (still in Clint's t-shirt), when Ava got home. "Hey, Dad," she said when she walked in.

"Hi, honey," he said. "How was the sleepover?"

"It was okay," she said, shrugging. "Judith and Michaela got into a fight about Marius and Enjolras again, so they were acting all bitchy to each other. Caitlyn and Emily and I kinda did our own thing. How was your date with Clint?"

"It was great," Phil said, which was certainly true of the way it ended up. "Uh, about that," he added hesitantly.

"What?" Ava said, looking at him. "If you're trying to figure out how to tell me he spent the night, I already know."

"You do?" Phil said, sitting back in surprise. "How did you know?"

"Well, for one thing, that is not your t-shirt," she said, rolling her eyes. "And there are two coffee mugs on the kitchen counter."

"Is that okay?" Phil asked, because he'd never actually talked to her about it, and now Clint was planning on coming back. It was going to suck if he had to text him to tell him not to bother.

"Of course it is," Ava said, throwing her hands up in the air. "I'm not stupid, Dad, and you don't need to shelter me like I'm a little kid. You can have your boyfriend sleep over. I won't be scarred by the experience of seeing him, like, over breakfast or something. Just don't make out in front of me, okay? Because that would be gross."

"Noted," Phil said, relieved. "I'm glad you're okay with it, because I invited him to stay the rest of the weekend. He's coming back in an hour or so, and he's bringing Lucky with him."

"His dog?" Ava said, brightening. "Awesome! Hey, what's for lunch?"

"Lunch?" Phil asked. He glanced at the clock and, what do you know, it was almost noon. "We have sandwich stuff--knock yourself out. I'm gonna take a shower."

Phil was getting undressed when it occurred to him that if Clint were still there, they could have taken a shower together. Maybe they'd do that tomorrow. He carried that thought with him and stood under the spray, musing over what had happened that morning. He didn't consider himself inexperienced--he supposed he'd had another kind of internal checklist where sex was concerned, one where he ticked off the appropriate activities a gay man should experience (blow job, receiving; blow job, giving; etc.). He'd never done anything he'd consider particularly kinky, but he'd also prided himself on avoiding any stereotypical insistence on only topping or bottoming. He didn't get it, really--both were pretty great, although they'd be better with Clint. Everything was better with Clint.

His dick agreed with that thought, but Phil steadfastly ignored it. He was nearly fifty years old, and if he jerked off now, he'd regret it later. That didn't mean he couldn't think about it some more, though--about what they might do later that day, that night, the next day. The next week, the next month. Even the next year, which seemed both impossible to contemplate and impossible not to.

He'd never known sex could be that good, that he could feel so deeply. He guessed people might say he'd been missing out, all these years, but he didn't think there was anything he could have done differently. There certainly hadn't been a line of men beating down the door to be with him; that someone like Clint could remain interested in someone like Phil was astonishing.

Whatever this thing was that he had with Clint--whether he should or could call it love, or being in love, or whatever--he'd never truly believed he'd have it in his life, much as he might have wished for it. He'd never felt like this before; he'd never opened himself up like this. It should have been terrifying, especially given their history, but all Phil could think about was how unbelievably grateful he was that he'd been given this second chance with Clint, that he hadn't let it slip through his fingers like he so easily might have.

He finished his shower, shaved, and got dressed, still contemplating how different his life looked from what it had been twenty-four hours earlier. Clint--incredible, gorgeous, amazing Clint--had spent the night in his bed, and he'd looked at Phil like he was some sort of gift. Clint had laughed with joy after they'd had what by all rights should have been awkward sex but instead was more meaningful than Phil had ever imagined it could be. He wandered into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich, lost in thought. He was standing in front of the fridge, trying to decide between turkey and roast beef, when the doorbell rang.

Once again, Ava beat him to the door; she was on her knees greeting Clint's dog when he joined them. "Hey," Clint said, that warm smile on his face again, the one Phil was quickly becoming addicted to. Clint dropped his duffel on the floor and put his hands on Phil's hips, pulling him in for a kiss.

Phil kept it brief, not wanting to upset Ava, but he kept his arms around Clint for a moment longer, resting his cheek against Clint's. "Hey. Welcome back," he said, his voice stuttering a little when he realized he was about to say "welcome home" instead.

Clint hummed in acknowledgement, tightening his arms around Phil for another moment, then stepped back. "Come meet Pizza Dog," he said.

The dog looked up from his ongoing love fest with Ava when he heard Clint. "Yeah, you," Clint said fondly as the dog came immediately to his side.

Phil held out his hand for the dog to sniff. "Lucky, this is Phil," Clint said. "Phil, this is Lucky, also known as Pizza Dog."

"Hi, Lucky," Phil said, crouching down to his level. His face was immediately and enthusiastically licked.

"Awww, dog," Clint said, but Phil just laughed and buried his hands in Lucky's fur. He dropped onto the floor, and Lucky moved half into his lap, the melting snow on his paws soaking through Phil's jeans.

He knew that Lucky had had a rough life before Clint had rescued him, but the only sign of that abuse was his missing eye. There was none of the fear or aggression Phil had expected, just the affection and enthusiasm of an obviously beloved and well-cared for companion. "Who's a good boy," he said, and Lucky's tail, already in motion, started wagging so hard that the dog's entire rear half got involved. Of course, by that time he was being petted by Clint and Ava as well as Phil, all of them crowded around him on the floor, so Phil supposed he must have been in some sort of doggy heaven.

"He really likes you guys," Clint said, sounding nearly as happy as Lucky appeared.

"He's a sweetheart," Phil said, standing up again. Ava stayed on the floor, her face lit up with an uncomplicated joy Phil hadn't seen much of lately. It seemed like Phil wasn't the only one affected by Clint's presence in their home. "You might have a hard time getting him back--I think Ava's not gonna want to let him go."

Clint put his arm around Phil. "I guess I'll just have to bring him over to visit a lot."

"Good plan," Phil said, a no-doubt goofy smile on his face. "You hungry? I was just about to fix myself a sandwich."

"Right, food," Clint said, looking distracted. "The food's still in the car. You guys still good with spaghetti?"

"Spaghetti sounds great," Phil said. "Right, Ava?" he added when she didn't respond.

"Sure," she said, her attention still focused on Lucky. "Can I take him for a walk? Is that okay, Clint?"

"Of course you can," Clint said, opening up the duffel bag. "Here's his leash, and here's the bags and scooper."

Ava looked at the proffered items, her expression dimming. "Oh, right," she said, taking them from Clint and standing up. "Okay. Come on, Lucky!"

The two of them were gone about thirty seconds later, leaving Phil and Clint alone. "How long of a walk do you think she'll take?" Phil asked, taking Clint back into his arms.

"I have no idea," Clint said. Phil leaned in to kiss him with the thoroughness and attention to detail he prided himself in.

"I'm guessing it's probably not long enough to do what I want to," Phil said a few minutes later, mouthing at Clint's neck.

"Fuck, Phil, what you do to me," Clint said. They were pressed up against each other, close enough that Phil could tell Clint was just as turned on as he was, and Clint had his hands under Phil's sweater and halfway up his back.

Phil wanted to drop to the floor and get another good, long taste of Clint, but there were a number of reasons why that wasn't the best idea at the moment, two of them being his knees. "Mmm, listen, we should talk about this," he said, pulling back reluctantly.

Clint went still. "Talk?" he said, his voice as controlled as his body.

"Hey, no," Phil said, cupping his cheek and meeting his eyes. "Don't go there. I just meant we should talk about the kind of stuff you normally talk about before you have sex with someone. You know, what you like, what you don't like, the last time you got tested, that kind of thing. I know you haven't had a lot of experience with guys, but that doesn't mean you don't have anything specific in mind you want to try. Or not try," he added, studying Clint's face carefully, because there was something complicated going on there.

"Okay," Clint said, but he didn't sound okay.

"Clint, you know I'm in this for the long haul, don't you?" Phil asked. "I mean it. I'm not going anywhere. Unless…is that not what you want?"

"It is what I want," Clint said. "I just--look, can we do this after I bring the stuff in?"

"Of course," Phil said, worried. He followed Clint out to his car--the cold helped him get rid of the last of his erection--then helped put the groceries away. There were a lot of them, including several items you would never put in spaghetti. "You know, I have flour," he said, elbowing Clint. "And eggs, and butter. I even have vanilla and chocolate chips."

"I figured better safe than sorry," Clint said, flushing. "Don't want to have to go out again." He put the butter in the freezer.

"You don't have to make me scones, Clint," Phil said, letting his affection show in his face and his voice.

"I thought maybe we could all make them," Clint mumbled, looking down. "If Ava would be into it. I know it's not Christmas cookies, but…. Never mind--we don't have to do it."

"You want to make scones with me and Ava?" Phil asked, surprised. Clint flinched. "No, no, Clint," he said, reaching for his shoulder, wishing he knew how he could keep Clint from always assuming the worst. "Don't do that. You're amazing. Really, truly--no one's ever…." He trailed off, because it wasn't like he'd ever given anyone else the opportunity, but somehow he doubted Jimmy Woo would have ever been that thoughtful. "It's a great idea, and I'm sure Ava will think so, too."

"It's not a big deal," Clint said, but he was smiling when he said it. "I just thought it might be fun."

"It will be. Now, what'll you have for lunch? I've got ham, roast beef, and turkey in the fridge, or if you want, I could heat up some of the leftover stew from last night."

"Sandwiches are good. What do you like on yours?" Clint asked, opening the fridge. "No, wait, it's roast beef and horseradish, right? With cheddar cheese?"

"I can't believe you remember that," Phil said, getting plates out of the cupboard. He'd told Clint about his favorite sandwich one day during clinical when the hospital cafeteria's offerings had been worse than usual. They'd had a friendly debate about the relative worthiness of mustard versus horseradish. "What do you want to drink?"

Clint waved him away. "I've got it. Sit down already. Hey, has Ava eaten yet? What kind of sandwich does she like?"

"She had something earlier," Phil said. "Here, let me get the chips out, at least."

Turned out that Phil could add sandwiches to the growing list of things to eat that Clint was excellent at preparing. When Clint got up from the table to clear the plates, Phil stopped him. "Let me do one thing, at least," he said, kicking at Clint's ankle as he took the plates from him. "You don't have to prove your usefulness, Clint--I'm just glad you're here."

When he turned back to the table, Clint had a flat expression on his face. "You okay?" he said, but Clint just nodded and smiled.

Phil was about to ask if Clint were ready to have that talk when the front door opened, Ava calling out that she was back, "so you'd better not be making out!" Lucky trotted into the kitchen a moment later, leaving a trail of pawprints behind him.

"Shit--I mean shoot, I'm sorry," Clint said, grabbing Lucky's collar with one hand and a dishtowel with the other. "I should have told Ava to dry his feet when they came in."

"She should have known to do it herself," Phil said, bending to help Clint. "Ava, you're on mop duty," he called out.

"Fine," Ava grumbled, but she soon joined them in the kitchen, looking only mildly disgruntled.

Clint insisted that the butter had to chill before they could start on the scones, so after some discussion and Ava-wrangling, they got comfortable on the couch to watch Farscape. Phil had seen it before, but Clint and Ava hadn't, so once Phil had extracted promises that he could skip certain episodes (he was never, ever going to watch "Jeremiah Crichton" again, at least not without the commentary track), they settled in with the pilot. Ava acted bored at first, but she was hooked once the radiant Aeryn Sun showed up, as Phil had predicted.

"This is great, but if you want dinner any time soon, we're gonna have to stop for a while," Clint said when they'd finished the fourth episode. "I mean, unless you and Ava want to keep watching without me," he added hesitantly.

"Why the hell would we do that?" Ava asked. She'd sworn several times during the evening, apparently on a quest to let Clint know she wasn't some little kid he had to watch his language with. Phil found it pretty adorable and suspected Clint did as well.

"We wouldn't," Phil said firmly. "The next episode is 'PK Tech Girl.' You don't want to miss that one, trust me." He followed Clint into the kitchen, Ava trailing along after him. Something smelled absolutely delicious, and he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed while they were watching television.

"What're we having for dinner, anyway?" she asked. "Please tell me it's not meatloaf. Clint, you don't like meatloaf, do you?"

"I've had some meat loaf that wasn't that great, but there have been plenty of times when it's definitely hit the spot," Clint said carefully. "I'm sure your dad's is excellent, but we're having spaghetti and meatballs tonight, if that's okay with you." Phil saw the way he hunched his shoulders ever so slightly, then took a deep breath and let them back down.

"Sure!" Ava said brightly. "Did you get the turkey meatballs like Dad uses?"

"Uh, I was going to make them with a mixture of beef and pork," Clint said, looking at Phil with no small amount of panic. Phil smiled at him and patted him on the arm.

"You're going to make meatballs?" Ava asked, sounding awed. "I've only ever had the frozen kind."

"My one attempt at home-made was a bit of a disaster," Phil told Clint, only a little defensive. "Frozen's a lot easier not to screw up."

"It's all in the proportions," Clint said with an easy grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. He got an egg and an onion out of the fridge. "Where's your cutting board?"

"Wait, when did you get the sauce started?" Phil asked, just noticing the pot bubbling gently on the stove.

"At home," Clint said. "Didn't you notice the tupperware in with the groceries? I put it on fifteen minutes ago."

"It smells great," Phil said, wandering over with a spoon to taste it.

"It's not done yet," Clint said, taking the spoon away from him. "Cutting board?"

"Here," Phil said, grabbing one from the drawer, wondering why Clint was so protective of his sauce. "I can do the onions."

"I've got it," Clint said quickly. "Where did I put those breadcrumbs?"

"Ava, you want to start getting stuff out for a salad?" Phil said after a moment. "You'll let us do that, at least?" he asked Clint, keeping his tone light and teasing.

"Uh, sure, okay," Clint said, looking down at the cutting board. His shoulders were up again, and he was holding the knife too tightly.

Ava was paying attention for once and left the room, saying she was going to let Lucky out into the backyard.

Clint was still staring at the cutting board. He put the knife and onion down carefully, but he didn't look up.

Phil put his hand on top of Clint's, squeezing gently. "Sorry," Clint said. "I do this sometimes--Bobbi used to call me on it. I guess it's left over from when I was a kid."

Phil studied him. "What do you mean?"

"Can we talk about it later?" Clint asked, finally looking at him. "This and the other thing? Maybe after Ava's gone to bed?"

"Okay," Phil said. Part of him wanted to press the issue, but after everything else, he didn't want to do anything that might make Clint feel less than safe. "Okay," he said again, leaning in to kiss Clint's cheek. He rested his forehead against Clint's temple until Clint took a deep breath and relaxed. "I'm gonna start on that salad."

"Okay," Clint said, the relief in his voice clear as day. "Thanks."

The rest of the evening proceeded much as the afternoon had. Dinner was delicious, 'DNA Mad Scientist' blew Ava and Clint's minds, and Phil spent most of it with his arm around Clint. If he hadn't been worried about what was bothering Clint, it would have been perfect.

Ava finally gave in to the sleepiness she'd been fighting the whole day after 'They've Got a Secret' and got up from the couch to go to bed. She gave them both good night hugs, which was unexpected. Clint gaped at her a moment before he hugged her back and wished her sweet dreams; Phil practically squeezed the breath out of her when she came to him.

"I think she likes you," Phil said once he heard her door close.

"Really?" Clint asked, turning to face him.

"Yes, really," Phil said, swatting him on the arm. "She hardly ever hugs me anymore. Of course, I think Lucky is probably part of it." The dog in question had followed Ava up the stairs and into her room.

"Yeah, he's a great dog," Clint said. "I'm glad you--both of you--like him."

"He easy to like," Phil said sincerely. "So's his owner. Come on, let's get these in the dishwasher," he added, picking up the popcorn bowls.

Clint followed him into the kitchen with the glasses. Once the dishes were loaded, Phil pulled Clint close. "I'm really glad you came back," he said.

He didn't mean just that day. From Clint's expression when he said, "Yeah, me too," he felt the same.

Phil kissed him softly. "You ready to talk?" he asked.

Clint sighed. "I guess now wouldn't be the time to start the scones, huh?"

"I think we can save those for the morning," Phil said, taking him by the hand. "Couch or bed?"

"Uh, couch, if you're sure Ava won't hear," Clint said.

They sat next to each other on the couch, and Phil wondered if he should offer to hold Clint the way he had the night before. That led to other thoughts. "We don't have to talk if you're not ready," he said. "I don't ever want to push you. I want you to feel safe."

"I know," Clint said, moving closer. "I do. Thanks."

"So," Phil said. "I know there were probably times when you didn't get enough to eat when you were a kid."

"Yeah, but that's not--it's not about that," Clint said. "I, uh, it started with my mom, actually," he continued, scratching the back of his neck. "Sometimes--not often, but sometimes--if she made my dad's favorite cookies, or steak and a baked potato, it would calm him down."

"Clint," Phil said, horrified. Surely Clint didn't think he had to appease Phil? "I'm so sorry if I made you feel--"

"No, it's not like that," Clint said quickly. "It's more when I'm feeling…insecure, I guess? I just…we, I mean me and Barney, we got placed a few times before we ran away. A couple times, I thought maybe it might work out, but Barney was a handful. I would try to make up for his, uh, transgressions, try to be a good boy, to make things better. I'd clean up, do his chores as well as mine, and I'd bake cookies or ask them to let me help with the cooking. Once we got to Carson's, I kept doing it, for Barney and the rest of them."

Phil took that in. He wasn't sure what his best response would be, but telling Clint just how much he wanted to beat the shit out of his older brother probably wasn't a good move. "You said something about Bobbi?" he asked after a moment.

"Yeah," Clint said, looking down. "We…You know our relationship didn't exactly have the best foundation, and Bobbi--she's a fucking genius. Like, Tony Stark smart. I never knew what she saw in me that made her think I was worth more than the one night stand we started with. She didn't mind cooking, but she was so busy, and I--I guess I told myself her work was more important. I thought I was just being helpful. But she figured it out after a few months."

"How?" Phil asked, putting his hand on Clint's arm.

"I tried to make my own birthday dinner," Clint answered.

Once again holding back what he really wanted to say, Phil said, "What can I do to help you see there's no reason for you to feel insecure about us?"

Clint grimaced. "That's more related to the other thing."

"The other thing?" Phil said, confused.

"Do you like fucking?" Clint asked abruptly. He was looking at his hands again. "You know, uh, topping, I guess? And bottoming? Because I don't…I don't think I can do that. So if--"

"If the next words out of your mouth were going to be something about how you'd understand if I didn't want to be with you because you wouldn't let me fuck you, you can shut the fuck up right now," Phil said, trying to sound firm rather than angry. "Clint, I want to be with you. There are so many ways we can be together, ways to make each other feel good. I don't give a shit if we never have penetrative sex, as long as I get to have sex with you."

"You sure about that?" Clint asked, looking up. "Because…I mean it, Phil. I don't--I've never done that, and I don't think I ever could. I should have told you before."

"It's okay, Clint, I promise." Phil took a deep breath. "Is it because of the rape?" He kept his voice as gentle as he could.

Clint nodded, looking miserable. "I tried once, with Bobbi. It was a disaster."

"It's not a problem, Clint," Phil said, taking his hand. "I meant what I said. Sex with you will be great, no matter what we're doing."

"You sound awfully sure," Clint said, glancing at him sideways.

"I am," Phil said. "Giving you that blow job this morning was the most erotic experience of my life. I'd never done anything like that before." He flushed a little at the confession.

"What, sex with a deaf guy?" Clint asked, not quite reaching the teasing tone he was reaching for. "Morning sex?"

"No to the former, yes to the latter, but that wasn't what I meant," Phil said, bringing Clint's hand up and kissing it to cover his embarrassment.

"Wait," Clint said, looking at him. "You'd never given a blow job before? I'm sorry, Phil, but I think you've been doing the gay thing all wrong."

Phil laughed, glad to see Clint's returning smile, even if it was brief. "I've given them," he said. "Gotten them, too. But I've always used a condom."

"Really?" Clint asked, his eyes wide. "Why would…oh."

Phil shrugged. "This morning…it never even occurred to me. And I'm glad it didn't," he added, because Clint was looking concerned. "Really glad."

"You don't have to worry," Clint said earnestly. "I, uh, I got tested. Everything was negative."

"Me too," Phil said, squeezing his hand. "And I wasn't worried."

"You seriously never did it without a condom?" Clint asked after a moment. "Because--okay, I get that I've only ever been with women, and I know theoretically there's the whole dental dam thing, but to be honest I never thought to use one. Seems like it would take half the fun out of it."

"I did tell you it was the most erotic experience of my life," Phil said, flushing again.

Clint sat back, smirking a little. "So you liked it, is that what you're saying?" he asked. "Think you might want to do it again?"

"As often as I can," Phil promised. He could see the strain still present on Clint's face, but it seemed best not to mention it. "Although there are other things I'd like to try as well. There are a lot more options than just fucking, you know."

"I know one thing I'd like to try," Clint said, just a little hesitant.

"Oh yeah?" Phil said. "What's that?"

"Returning the favor from this morning," Clint said. "I, uh, I really want to. I…this is kind of embarrassing, but I may have practiced some."

Phil's jeans suddenly felt tight. "You did, huh?"

"On a cucumber," Clint said. "I know, I know, it's stupid," he added over Phil's delighted laughter.

"No, no, it's great," Phil said. "A cucumber makes a lot more sense than what I tried."

"Okay, what did you use?" Clint asked, a glint in his eye.

"I tried taking a popsicle into my room, but my mom caught me--we weren't allowed to bring food into our bedrooms," Phil said, shaking his head at the memory. "So I decided to use my fingers. Except I got a bit too enthusiastic and ended up stimulating my gag reflex. I had to sneak down into the laundry room in the middle of the night to wash the puke out of my bedspread."

This time Clint was the one laughing with delight, and Phil could see nothing but that laughter on his face.

That's when he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was in love with Clint Barton.

"Get over here," he said, pulling at Clint until he was straddling Phil's lap, his thighs around Phil's. He kissed Clint, then kissed him again, and again--long, wet, deep kisses that left them both breathless. "I think I'm done with talking. How about you?" he said eventually, trying unsuccessfully to get Clint's shirt off.

"Mmm, I'm good," Clint said, pushing Phil's sweater up until he had to stop unbuttoning Clint's shirt to get the sweater over his head and toss it to the side. "This is good. I like this."

Phil gasped once their chests met, skin on skin except for a single stubborn button near the bottom of Clint's shirt. It shouldn't have felt like such a shock of pleasure, but, God, it was like it was his first time all over again. Only it was better, because Clint, for all his lack of experience with men, seemed to know just what to do to make Phil stupid with want and pleasure. He seemed to be methodically seeking out each one of Phil's erogenous zones and exploring them fully. It was nothing like the timeless pleasure they'd shared that morning. It didn't feel rushed, but the attention Clint was paying to his body was focused and intent. It was like nothing Phil had ever experienced before, and he still hadn't even managed to get Clint's shirt off.

Clint's tongue was in his ear, and one of Clint's hands was rubbing up and down his back, strong and sure. The other hand was pressing against his fly, outlining his dick and squeezing. "Fuck," Phil said, groaning, "fuck, Clint, we need to be more naked, come on." It wasn't his smoothest line, but it seemed to work--Clint moved enough to help Phil wrestle his shirt down his arms and off. Phil leaned too far to the side, and they overbalanced just enough that Clint's knee landed on the remote, startling them both when the television came on.

"Shit, sorry," Clint said, pushing a few buttons before he managed to get the television off again. It was just a blue screen, no sound, but they both got up without another word and went into the bedroom, pausing just long enough for Phil to hit the switch on the lights in the living room.

Phil closed the door and took the hands that Clint was holding out, allowing Clint to tug him gently towards the bed. Clint stopped just short of it, so Phil stopped with him.

The light was different from what it had been that morning, the glow of lamps rather than snowy dawn. Clint's skin was golden where it wasn't flushed, and there were glints of gold in his hair as well. The darker hair on his chest trailed down his belly to disappear into his jeans, and the bulge in them cast a very appealing shadow.

Phil's breath caught. He made some sort of sound in the back of his throat, and Clint looked up at him with eyes full of the same hunger Phil felt. He reached down and unbuttoned his fly, his eyes never leaving Phil's. "You said something about getting naked," he said as he pulled his jeans and shorts down and off with a smoother motion than Phil could ever manage.

Phil stared at him for a moment, taking in everything in front of him, especially Clint's cock, curved slightly to the left and angling towards his stomach. When he met Clint's eyes again, he could see a hint of uncertainty mixed in with the hunger. Phil took the rest of his clothes off as quickly as he could, and when Clint looked down at his dick, he looked more uncertain, even as he licked his lips. Phil moved immediately into Clint's open arms and kissed him, soft and easy. "We don't have to do anything you're--"

"Phil, just get on the bed," Clint said, pushing him gently.

Phil got on the bed. Before he could open his mouth to ask what Clint wanted, Clint was there, covering him, kissing him, rolling his hips against Phil's, and all Phil could do was hold on and try not to moan too loudly. He tried to give back as good as he got. Clint certainly seemed to be into it; he was breathing as quickly as Phil was, and he was just as hard. Phil pulled Clint as close as he could, grasping at his back, his shoulders, and his ass, only to back off in horror when he realized what he'd done.

Clint dropped his head onto Phil's chest. "Damn it," he muttered. Then he looked up again and grabbed Phil's chin. "I'm just gonna say this once. My asshole is what's off limits--the rest of me is all yours. Got it?" He let go of Phil's face to reach for one of Phil's hands, which he firmly placed on his ass.

"Got it," Phil said, getting a handful and squeezing. Fuck, it felt even better than it looked, and that was saying something. "Your ass is spectacular," he said, using both hands to encourage Clint to get moving again.

"I know," Clint said, flexing under Phil's hands and smirking. "Now, where was I? Oh, that's right," he said, and bent his head to gently bite just above Phil's left nipple. He ran his fingers appreciatively through the hair on Phil's chest, making happy sounds in between licks and kisses. "You are so fucking hot, Phil. Jesus."

Phil had never found his nipples particularly sensitive, but Clint's obvious enjoyment was making him reconsider. Still, he didn't mind when Clint moved up to his shoulder, his neck, back to his ear--good God that felt amazing. He tried to give back as good as he got, putting his mouth and tongue on any bit of open skin he could reach, but it wasn't until he pulled two of Clint's fingers into his mouth and started sucking that Clint stopped what he was doing and let out a long moan, his cock stiffening noticeably against Phil's.

"Fuck, Phil, you don't play fair," Clint said.

Phil sucked harder, rolling his tongue around, and Clint moaned again. Then he pulled his fingers out of Phil's mouth and kissed him forcefully.

"Okay, so, tell me if I do anything wrong," he said and moved down on the bed, gently pushing Phil's thighs apart.

Phil gasped as Clint kissed a line up his inner thigh. "Pretty sure you won't," he said. "What with it being your mouth and my dick. At least, I assume that's where this is headed?" he added as Clint made another happy sound and nuzzled his balls. Fuck, that felt good.

"Eventually," Clint said and took one of Phil's balls into his mouth.

It skirted the edge of being too much. Phil shivered; he gasped; he moaned as Clint continued to gently lick and suck at first one side, then the other. Finally, when Phil thought he was about to die from a combination of over- and under-stimulation, Clint moved on to the base of his dick.

"For someone," Phil panted, "who's never done--fuck," panted again, "this before, you're awfully good at it."

Clint lifted his head. "I know what women like," he said, his face flushed, lips wet and pink. "And I know what I like. Just trying to apply my knowledge to some new skills, that's all."

"Well, don't let me stop you," Phil said, trying to regain his breath. "You know I'm always in favor of learning new skills."

Clint grinned up at him and wrapped his lips around the head of Phil's dick.

He seemed to have given up on the idea of teasing or finesse and was just using his mouth and his hand to give Phil the pressure and suction he was craving. Phil didn't need finesse; he just needed Clint. It didn't take long at all before he was gasping again, his balls tightening, his body bowing in. He was barely able to get, "Close, I'm close," out in time for Clint to pull off and turn his head as Phil came. He made more noise than he was comfortable making with Ava upstairs, but he couldn't manage to stop.

Clint surged up to kiss him before he was done coming, somehow still coordinated enough to finish things for Phil with his hand. Phil brought his hand down to join Clint's, catching some of the mess. He wriggled and repositioned himself until he could more easily get his hand around Clint. Clint rested his forehead on Phil's shoulder and moaned, thrusting desperately into Phil's grip until he, too, was coming.

Clint considerately threw himself onto his side after he was done--Phil loved having Clint on top of him, but he was sweaty, and Clint was heavy--and they both lay there panting. Phil considered himself to be in excellent shape for a man his age, but he might need to up his cardio in the future if he was going to get to have such amazing sex with any regularity.

"That went well," Clint said happily a few minutes later, his fingers idly moving on Phil's chest.

"I'd venture to say we're sexually compatible," Phil said, turning his head and grinning at Clint.

"Extremely sexually compatible," Clint said, grinning back at him. "It helps that you're, like, the hottest person I've ever met."

"Me?" Phil said, gaping. "Clint, are you forgetting that I've seen Bobbi?" Then he grimaced, because what the fuck was wrong with him? Now was not the time to bring up Clint's ex-wife.

A line appeared between Clint's eyes. "You don't…Phil. Come on. How can you not know how attractive you are? Half the students in my class had a crush on you!"

"They did not," Phil said, appalled.

"They did so," Clint said firmly. "You're gorgeous, Phil. Your smile, your eyes, your body--the whole package. It doesn't hurt that you're scary smart, funny, compassionate--"

"Okay, okay," Phil said, flushing. "We can debate which one of us is more attractive some other time. Can we get back to the part where we discuss how sexually compatible we are?"

Clint looked at him, smiling softly. He reached up to caress Phil's face. "We're a lot more than that, I hope," he said. He bent and kissed Phil, his mouth warm and tender. Phil tried to put all the love he felt but couldn't yet articulate into kissing Clint back, and for a moment they were back in that timeless space they'd shared that morning.

Then Phil felt something sticky in Clint's hair and pulled back, confused. "What?" Clint murmured, kissing him again.

Phil started laughing.

"What?" Clint said again, a little sharply. "I thought we were having a moment here, Phil. It was a nice moment."

"You--" Phil made an inhuman effort and got his voice under control. "The moment was in fact ruined by the unfortunate presence of dried semen in your hair," he informed Clint with all the professorial authority he could muster.

"Really?" Clint said, checking for himself. "Yep, there it is." He shook his head and grinned. "That is a first. Definitely worth it."

"Come on," Phil said, getting off the bed and offering Clint a hand. "In the shower."

"You have the best ideas," Clint said, plastering himself against Phil's back. He stayed like that all the way into the bathroom, and even though he was sweaty and sticky and hot, Phil didn't mind a bit.

 

***
The rest of the weekend, and then the next few weeks, went by in a blur of work, happiness, and fantastic sex. Both he and Clint were busy, but they found as much time as they could to be together. When Ava was home, Clint stayed with Phil, but she spent a few nights with Phil's mother, and Phil spent that time at Clint's place.

Ava continued to be thrilled whenever Lucky was in the house, as did Lucky himself. Clint grumbled good-naturedly about Lucky's preference for girls, but neither he nor Phil minded that Lucky tended to sleep with Ava when Clint stayed over.

Ava's feelings about Clint were a little harder to suss out. She professed to be happy that Phil was happy, but every so often she whined that she wanted more time with him. It seemed to happen more frequently when she stayed over at her grandmother's, so maybe it was just that she missed being in her own bed. When he mentioned it to Clint, Clint shrugged and said he was fine staying at Phil's.

Phil almost told Clint he loved him about a hundred times. It just seemed like it would be better to wait. He was sure; Clint was without a doubt the man he intended to spend the rest of his life with, but he didn't want Clint to feel rushed, not after everything that had happened with Bobbi. Phil would tell him when the time was right.

Meanwhile, he had a lot of planning to do. He was trying to figure out how to get Henry down for Ava's birthday without him missing too many classes, and he had to get out to California for a SHIELD conference before that, so the rest of that spring was going to leave him with even less free time than usual. Clint was about to start working off shifts to get to know all of his staff, so he wasn't going to be around as much either. It sucked.

Phil told himself he just had to get through the rest of the semester. Once he got through May, he'd be able to relax. Clint would hopefully be done with his off shifts, and Phil wouldn't have any more traveling to do after the weekend at the cottage. Then Henry would be coming home, so he could look after Ava if Phil wanted to spend the night at Clint's again. He'd plan some sort of romantic dinner or something, maybe for Clint's birthday, and he'd tell Clint how he felt.

Meanwhile, he had to get through the next couple of months. First up was the SHIELD meeting in DC over spring break, then Ava's birthday, followed by a visit from John Garrett, which promised to be entertaining as well as exhausting. Phil hadn't managed to narrow down the timing other than "probably in April or May," but that was par for the course. John would arrive when he wanted to. John was larger than life, and he didn't pay much attention to social conventions unless he felt like it, which he rarely did.

Phil hadn't seen him in a few years, but one of John's former students worked in Sinai's ICU. Phil had met Grant for coffee a few times, and between that and the occasional email, Phil kept fairly up to date on what John was doing and where. Sometimes he wondered if he'd enjoy that kind of life, alternating between working with NGOs in disaster areas and travel nursing all over the country. The way Grant talked had about John, Phil expected he'd be taking off to join John once he'd finished his MSN, but instead he approached Phil about working as an adjunct for City Colleges.

They were always looking for qualified adjuncts, and Grant was (mostly) an exemplary nurse, if lacking a bit when it came to people skills. The college took Phil's recommendation to have Grant work with Phil and his current clinical group for the rest of the semester, as both an orientation and a way to see how he was with students. It seemed to be working out well--Grant had thawed noticeably from the first week he'd been with Phil, and he seemed to have formed a bond with Jemma and Leo, as well as their friend Skye, who was in Lorraine's clinical group.

"There's something off about that guy," Clint said. It was Thursday night, and Clint was over to watch Dog Cops with Phil and Ava, which had ended an hour earlier. Clint had met Grant when they'd all eaten lunch together in the cafeteria during clinical on Tuesday.

"He's a bit of a cold fish," Phil conceded. "I think he's got potential, though."

"You think everyone has potential, Phil," Clint said, looking at him fondly. "You're pretty damned spectacular at getting it out of people, though. I hope Grant knows how lucky he is to get to work with you."

"I'm the lucky one, and not because of Grant Ward," Phil said, brushing his lips over Clint's knuckles. Clint smiled at him, and Phil smiled back. It was a good thing Ava wasn't in the room, because she would have made her disgust at their "mushy, sappy, grossitude" clear. "What time do you have to get to work tomorrow?"

"Early," Clint said apologetically. "You've got me for another hour or so, but then I should probably go. There's a big meeting for all the unit managers tomorrow at 7:30, and I've got some reports to pull together before then."

"In that case, you'd better come with me," Phil said, standing up. "I've got some ideas about how to best spend that time." Clint grinned and followed him into the bedroom.

***
Clint worked that weekend, and they barely saw each other until the following Thursday. It wasn't the best night--Ava was in full petulant teenager mode, going on and on about the parties she wanted to have for her sixteenth birthday. Henry had never been anywhere near this difficult.

It was beginning to look like Henry wasn't going to be able to make it down from school for Ava's birthday, but Phil hadn't given up hope yet. If he came, he'd want to spend some time with his sister, not with his sister's mob of adolescent friends. Phil was getting a lot of pressure from his mother for some family time as well; she didn't seem to understand that he had some additional priorities in his life now.

"I told you, Ava, you have a choice of two options," Phil said for what had to have been the twentieth time that evening. "You can either have a party during the day on Saturday, or you can have a slumber party on Saturday night. You can't have both."

"That's not fair," Ava said, her arms crossed in front of her chest. "Jeannie had three parties, and do you remember what a big deal Marisol's birthday was last year?"

"That was her quinceanera," Phil said with what he felt was admirable patience. "If you wanted one of those, you picked the wrong family to be born into."

Clint wisely stayed out of it, eventually disappearing for long enough that Phil had to go looking for him. He turned out to be in the kitchen, making scones.

Phil always had some butter in his freezer these days; he and Ava were getting spoiled.

He waited until they were getting ready for bed until he asked if Clint was okay. "I know that was a lot more drama than usual," he said. "I hope it didn't make you uncomfortable."

"You hope it didn't drive me into a baking frenzy," Clint said, his mouth going up at the corner. "It didn't, not really. But I have been wondering about Ava's birthday. I have an idea for her present, but I wanted to run it by you."

"You don't have to get her anything," Phil said. After that night, Phil wasn't sure she deserved gifts at all.

"I want to," Clint said. "Is that okay?"

"Of course it's okay," Phil said, coming up behind Clint and putting his arms around Clint's waist. "But maybe you can tell me about your idea a little later? I've been waiting all week to get you naked, and I'm getting a little impatient."

"Later works," Clint agreed, hopping up on the bathroom counter and wrapping his legs around Phil.

Neither one of them had to be to work until the next afternoon, so Clint stuck around after Ava went to school. They were pleasantly post-coital, lazing around in bed, when Clint spoke up. "Cirque du Soleil is coming to town," he said. "Have you ever been?"

Phil shook his head. "Always sounded like it would be fun, but I never made the time."

"A couple guys I know from back at Carson's work with them," Clint said. "I thought maybe I could get us tickets for Ava's birthday. You know, if you think she'd like it."

"I'm sure she'd love it," Phil said, watching Clint's face closely. "So would I. It wouldn't bother you, being back?"

"Nah," Clint said, too casually. "It's completely different from what I grew up with--a lot classier, for one thing. But I could probably get us backstage, maybe meet some of the artists."

"I think it's a wonderful idea," Phil said and pulled Clint in for a kiss.

"Okay, good," Clint said. "I'll take that weekend off--is it okay if I stay here? I mean, if Ava has a slumber party?"

"It's fine," Phil said. "I wouldn't have it any other way, although you might want to keep your shirt on if you don't want to be ogled by a bunch of teenagers."

"Only person I want ogling me is you, babe," Clint said.

"Is that so?" Phil asked, trying to hide how bowled over he felt from Clint's casual endearment.

"Mmm-hmm," Clint said. Phil dropped a kiss on the top of his head. "No one but me gets to ogle you, either."

"I don't think that'll be a problem." Phil repositioned his arm and closed his eyes. He'd have to go into work eventually, but he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity for a nap with Clint.

***
Phil thought about inviting Clint to come along to DC, but he knew Clint wouldn't want to miss that much work so early in his tenure at the hospital. Besides, it's not like he'd have much free time--they had too much to do. Nick apparently had some sort of overall plan for the next several years that he wanted to get ironed out, on top of their usual heavy schedule; Phil was running several break-outs either by himself or with someone else, plus a luncheon for all the educational partners. He wasn't even bringing Ava with him this time; she was spending spring break with Susannah's family instead.

They all met for dinner the first night, as they always did. Pepper was there with Tony, Bucky with Steve, Jane with Thor, and Betty with Bruce, which was also familiar. Something bothered Phil about it. He was nursing a cocktail hour scotch when figured out that this was the first year that he could have had his--whatever he should call Clint--with him. His significant other? His partner? His boyfriend probably worked. But the point remained. He had Clint in his life, and even if it hadn't been good timing this time, he could and would have the chance to introduce Clint to more of his friends than the few he'd met in Chicago.

He told himself not to worry about it; it wasn't like this was the last opportunity he was going to have. He had plenty of time. His phone buzzed in his pocket--a reply to the text he'd sent Clint earlier. Glad you're there okay. Tell Tony hi. He was about to type a response when it buzzed again. I miss you.

Miss you too, he replied, and that's when Tony came up beside him.

"Who's got you all smiley all of a sudden?" Tony asked, peering over his shoulder. "It's creeping me out."

"My boyfriend," Phil said, because why the hell not. "My incredibly hot, awesome boyfriend," he added. It was possible he was a little drunk--he hadn't had scotch since before Clint had moved to Chicago, and Tony's scotch went down very smoothly. "He says hi."

"Holy shit," Tony said, grinning in that manic way he had. "I am actually impressed. You and Biceps finally got it on?"

"We did," Phil confirmed, preening just a little.

Tony, being Tony, immediately called for everyone's attention. "I have an announcement," he announced. (Phil was definitely a little drunk.) "Our own Professor Phillip My Middle Name is Repression Coulson finally got some! Let's drink to Phil and Nurse Clinton This is My Resting Face Barton; they're registered at Chicago's finest medical supply shop."

Everyone cheered, and for the rest of the evening, people came by with congratulations and questions. Phil asked Clint take a photo (He refused to call it a "selfie." He had to preserve at least some dignity, even if he was drunk.) and send it to him when he realized he didn't have any pictures to show people. Clint sent a series of photos throughout the evening. Some were of his office; some were obviously taken by his co-workers. After he got home, he sent some more. Those were photos Phil did not share with anyone, although he did show Steve and Bucky one Clint took standing in front of his bathroom mirror, shirtless.

"I don't know, Buck; I might have to leave you for Phil's guy," Steve said, raising his eyebrows and grinning.

"Don't be so hasty, punk--maybe he'll share," Bucky said, leering. He started to flip to the next picture, but Phil snatched his phone back.

"That's never gonna happen, guys," he said. "Don't make me regret showing you this."

As he walked away, he heard Bucky saying something to Steve about Bobbi being single. Steve laughed and told him to shut up.

He saved the rest of the pictures for his room. Their experiment with phone sex wasn't completely satisfying, but they'd get some more practice in the next night.

He texted or talked to Clint every night. They all got on Skype when he ate at Natasha and Melinda's place, which helped a little, but it was still more difficult being apart than Phil had expected. Tony and Bucky continued to tease him, Steve was quietly supportive, and Natasha threatened to take out an ad in the City Colleges newspaper detailing Phil's love of Supernanny if he so much as thought about hurting Clint. Phil kissed her on the cheek and promised he wouldn't.

Thor told Phil he was happy for them both that first night and never brought it up again, which was probably for the best. Intellectually, Phil knew there was no reason to blame Thor for what his brother had done or for the fact that Loki had been released after far too short a time in prison--if there was blame to share, Odin Odinson bore the brunt of it--but it had taken years for them to rebuild their friendship. Neither one of them wanted to do anything that would reopen old wounds.

Phil was surprised and pleased to see Darcy, who arrived halfway through the week. "Surprise!" she said, hugging him enthusiastically. They didn't get much time together, but he managed to wrangle a promise to come visit that summer out of her.

By the time the week was over, he was exhausted. Then his flight was delayed. They had to switch to a smaller plane, and he ended up in a middle seat. He was lucky his mother had been available to pick Ava up, but she wasn't comfortable driving after dark. He wasn't looking forward to taking a taxi home.

As it turned out, he didn't need a taxi--as he came towards the security exit, he saw Clint standing there.

"I thought I told you I didn't need a ride," he said once he got closer, feeling better than he had all day.

"I thought I told you I didn't care," Clint said brusquely, reaching for his computer bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Phil, I haven't seen you in over a week. I didn't want to wait until tomorrow night. So do me a favor and just say thanks." He walked away without waiting for Phil to follow.

"Hold up a minute," Phil said, stopping Clint before he could get on the escalator.

"What is it?" Clint asked. He was scowling a little. God, Phil had even missed Clint's scowl.

"Just get over here," Phil said. Not caring that they were blocking the middle of the aisle, he grabbed the strap of the computer bag and pulled Clint close enough for a brief but heartfelt kiss. "Thank you," he said after he stepped back. "I'm really happy to see you."

"Soon's we get back to your place, you can show me just how happy you are," Clint said. He was smiling. Phil had definitely missed that smile.

Phil did his best to show Clint how happy he was. Based on the sleepy, contented look Clint gave him before he shut off the light, he was pretty sure he succeeded.

The alarm on Clint's watch, set to vibrate in conjunction with his phone, went off only a few hours later, waking them both. "Sorry," Clint said, lifting his arm away from where it was resting on Phil's chest.

Phil waited until Clint turned the light on before he said, "It's okay. What's going on?" It was at least two hours before Clint needed to get up.

Clint checked his phone with one hand while putting his hearing aids in with the other. "Hospital texted me. Some big fender-bender; they're calling me in."

"Shit," Phil said.

"Yeah," Clint said, frowning. "It sounds bad--freezing rain. I'd better get going."

"Be safe, okay?" Phil said. "Let me know you got there all right?"

Clint nodded. "At least it's the weekend. Course, if it wasn't, you'd probably get a day off work."

"It wouldn't be much fun without you," Phil said, flushing a little.

Clint leaned over and kissed him. "I'll be back tonight."

***
Clint didn't make it back that night or the next--too many of his staff couldn't get to the hospital, thanks to the weather, which didn't improve until Monday morning. Ava went back to school, and Phil went back to work.

Between work, Ava's various extracurricular activities, and Clint's off-shift schedule, they barely saw each other for the next three weeks. Phil knew that Clint was planning on taking the weekend of Ava's birthday off, and he held on to that knowledge as tightly as he could.

He was in his office a few days before Ava's birthday when Clint came by. After making sure the door was locked and kissing Clint, he reluctantly sat back down. "You caught me in between students, but I've got another one coming in twenty minutes," he said.

"That gives you twenty minutes to eat," Clint said, opening his messenger bag and producing sandwiches, coffee in a travel mug, and brownies.

"You didn't have to do this," Phil said, but he was already biting into the sandwich.

"Maybe I like feeding you," Clint said, shrugging. Phil wasn't sure what was going on, but he could tell there was something making Clint nervous.

"I like being fed," Phil said. "Thank you. Is this one of those times that I should be concerned as well as thankful?"

Clint shrugged again. "I was just wondering about Ava's birthday. I know I said I'd take the weekend off, but you haven't said anything about what the plans are. I have the tickets for the Sunday matinee, and I was thinking maybe I could make her a birthday cake on Friday. That's her birthday, right?"

Phil sat back, his sandwich forgotten. "My mom always makes the birthday cake," he said carefully. "It's a secret family recipe."

"Oh," Clint said, looking down. "I guess she's coming over, huh."

"We're actually having dinner at her place," Phil said, wincing internally. "It's a tradition. I wanted to invite you, but, uh, I don't think my mom's ready to meet you."

The truth was, he'd tried to talk to her about it, but she'd cut him off before he could finish. He could still see the slightly pinched look she'd given him when she said she'd never met "one of your men" before. "I think I preferred it when you never talked about whom you were seeing," she'd said, adding that her granddaughter's birthday was hardly an appropriate occasion.

Phil had acquiesced quickly after that, knowing he was beat. "What about if you make scones on Saturday morning?" he asked Clint. "Ava loves the cinnamon chocolate chip ones."

"Sure, I could do that," Clint said, too quietly. "What time do you want me to get there?"

"After we get back from dinner, if that's not too late for you," Phil said. "I want to spend as much time with you as I can."

"Okay," Clint said. "I guess text me when you're leaving, or something?"

"I'll do that," Phil promised. "Clint--"

"I'd better get out of your hair," Clint said, standing up. "I'll see you Friday night."

"Clint, wait," Phil said, but Clint was already out the door. "Damn it," Phil muttered. He needed to do something special for Clint, something to let him know how much Phil cared about him. He'd have to come up with something by Friday.

Unfortunately, he never had time to think of the perfect thing to show Clint how important he was. He was just too busy; he barely had time to wrap Ava's presents, and it was still up in the air whether Henry was going to make it or not. To top it all off, there was something going on with Ava that he'd yet to figure out. She'd grown even more irritable, and she'd frowned when he'd reminded her Clint was coming for the weekend.

Henry didn't confirm he was coming until Thursday night; he made it to the house on Friday with only a few minutes to spare before they had to leave to go to Phil's mother's. Phil wisely didn't say anything about the elaborate mustache Henry had grown, knowing his mother would say more than enough for both of them. Ava was too excited by Henry's surprise arrival to comment on his facial hair until they were well into dinner.

He was paying more attention to Ava than his mother or even Henry as they ate. When he went into the kitchen with his mother to get the cake ready, she asked him about Clint.

That was unexpected. "He's fine," Phil said after he took a breath.

"Ava tells me he's going to be around this weekend," his mother said. "She tells me it's serious, this thing with you and him. Is that why you told me about this one?"

"It is," Phil said uncertainly. He had no idea where this conversation was going. "And yes, he's coming over tonight and spending the weekend."

"And that's okay with Ava and Henry?" his mom asked.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Phil said, confused and frustrated.

"I just thought maybe they'd want some time alone with you," she said. "Just family. Like tonight."

She finished with the candles before Phil could respond. Later, after cake, when they were getting their coats to leave, she said, "I suppose I should meet him sometime."

Phil stared at her a moment. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with him. When I asked about tonight--"

"Tonight was my granddaughter's birthday," she said. "That's family time, son. It wouldn't have been appropriate to bring a guest."

"All right," Phil said. "I'll talk to you later. We'll figure out a time; maybe we can have lunch." Lunch was non-threatening. His mother liked having lunch.

***
It had been a long day. Phil was tired by the time they got home, but he perked up when Clint rang the bell. As usual, Ava let him in, immediately crouching down to give Lucky some love.

When Phil saw the way Clint had his usual duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he had to repress a touch of annoyance he couldn't quite figure out. A moment later he realized there was a part of him that resented the fact that Clint had to bring anything with him, that he still rang the bell and waited to be invited inside. It wasn't the first time the idea of Clint moving in had occurred to Phil, but they'd only been together a couple of months. It was too early to even think about such things; he hadn't even managed to tell Clint he loved him yet. He thought--he hoped--that Clint felt the same, but he didn't know.

Maybe he doesn’t, Phil thought. Maybe that's why you haven't told him yet.

"Phil?"

He looked up into Clint's concerned face and shook his head. "It's nothing," he said. "Here, let me take that." He transferred the duffel from Clint's shoulder to his own and leaned in for a quick kiss.

Henry had come up behind him, and he stepped forward as Clint hung his coat on the rack. "Clint, you remember Henry," Phil said awkwardly as Clint toed off his boots.

"Of course," Clint said smoothly, shaking Henry's hand. "Last time I saw you, you were a bit shorter, though." It took Phil aback to realize that not only was Henry taller than he was, he was taller than Clint. It made sense--he and Clint were the same height--but it still struck Phil as kind of amazing that his son was taller than his boyfriend.

Phil worried Henry might take umbrage at Clint's remark, but fortunately he just chuckled. "Yeah, well, last time you weren't dating my dad," he said, and Clint's face went blank. He relaxed when Henry added, "It's about time he had more in his life than work and me and my sister."

"You got that right," Clint said, nudging Phil with his shoulder. That seemed to be all that was needed for Clint and Henry to take each other's measure and find it satisfactory.

As soon as Ava was finished fussing over Lucky, she gave Clint a hug and puppy dog eyes that put Lucky's to shame. "Happy birthday, kiddo," Clint said, handing her an envelope.

"Oooh, Cirque du Soleil!" Ava said after she got the envelope open. Phil didn't think she'd even read the card. Then she frowned a little.

"I'm sorry there are only three tickets," Clint said, a line appearing between his eyes. "I didn't know Henry was going to be here; I thought your dad could go with you and me."

"But then Henry won't be able to come," Ava said.

There was a hint of a whine in her voice that Phil was determined to shut down immediately. "I'm sure Henry will understand," he said firmly, giving Ava a look to let her know he was onto her.

"It's cool," Henry said, shrugging. "I have a ton of reading to do."

Ava frowned again, but she didn't say anything beyond thanking Clint. She and Henry went up to their rooms a short while later.

"You want to watch some Farscape?" Phil offered, because it was only 9:30. The offer was kind of ruined when he yawned, though.

Clint patted his cheek and pulled him up off the couch. "Time for bed, I think."

Phil didn't protest as Clint led him into the bathroom, kissed his temple, told Phil he'd see him in a minute, and left him there. He brushed his teeth and put on a t-shirt and pajama pants, then realized he'd gone through his usual bedtime routine without remembering Clint was there. Considering his options, he decided to leave everything on, figuring it would be added fun for both of them when it all came off.

He got into bed and waited for Clint to finish his turn in the bathroom, thinking back to the first time they'd done this, more than two months earlier. Clint hadn't slept over enough times that it felt ordinary to have him here, but it was familiar enough to be comfortable. It was a nice feeling.

He figured he knew what would happen next--Clint would get into bed, they would have sex, and they would go to sleep--but instead Clint just took his hearing aids out, slipped under the covers, and flicked off the light. Phil turned towards him, unsure, and ended up resting his head on Clint's chest. Clint kissed his temple again and said, "Go to sleep, babe."

With the lights off and Clint's hearing aids out, there wasn't anything Phil could say that Clint would understand, so Phil just settled himself into Clint's embrace. He fell asleep to the sound of Clint's heartbeat.

The next day started out perfectly--he and Clint shared hand jobs in the soft morning light, and Henry made a surprisingly good vegan breakfast casserole with tofu and a bunch of vegetables.

Ava complained that there wasn't any bacon, and Clint promised he'd make BLTs for lunch. The three of them sat around reading and listening to NPR until they were hungry again.

The sandwiches were delicious, like everything else Clint cooked. Henry dug in with the rest of them, saying, "I'm trying to eat as mindfully as I can, but it's not like I'm married to being a vegan or anything."

Phil stifled a smile at the earnestness in his expression, clear as day despite the unfortunate facial hair.

"You have gunk in your mustache," Ava said. "It's gross. You'd better clean up before my friends get here. Or you could just shave it off--it looks stupid."

"I didn't grow it for you, Zsa Zsa," Henry said, making a show of wiping his face with his napkin. He'd called her that ever since Tony Stark greeted Ava as "Zsa Zsa, Darling" at Phil's annual SHIELD barbeque years ago, and Phil saw Clint smile when he heard it.

Dinner was a collaborative project from Phil and Clint involving pasta, salad, and homemade rolls. Phil mostly served as prep cook, but Clint gave him sole ownership of the salad, as he usually did.

While they were eating, Ava said, "I've been thinking, and since it's my birthday present, I really want to go to Cirque du Soleil with Dad and Henry. We don't get enough time together for just us. That's okay, isn't it, Clint?"

"Ava," Phil started, but Clint spoke before he could figure out what else to say.

"I was hoping to go with you so I could take you backstage, but it's your birthday present. If that's what you want, that's what you should do." Phil hated the resigned tone in his voice, and he reached for Clint's hand automatically.

"You should go with Dad and Clint," Henry said. "I need to start on my Gender Studies paper anyway."

"But I hardly ever get to see you," Ava whined, sounding more like she did when she was ten than someone who'd just turned sixteen. "And I can't remember the last time the three of us did something together."

"We did a bunch of things at Christmas," Phil pointed out with what he felt was admirable patience. After all, these days he hardly ever got to see Clint. "We went to the movies, we went to a concert--"

"That was months ago!" Ava said. "Seriously, Dad, maybe I really want some family time! Maybe I want to be able to talk to the two of you without anyone else there!"

"I'm gonna take Lucky for a walk," Clint said, getting up from the table. "Let me know what you decide. I'm fine either way."

"Clint, wait," Phil said, but Clint was already snapping Lucky's leash on and grabbing his coat.

Phil tried not to yell at his kids, but Ava had pushed him past his breaking point. "What the hell was that?" he said. "I thought you liked Clint!"

"I do," Ava said. "I just want time with you and Henry. Like we had last night with Grandma--family time. Most dads of teenagers would be happy if their kids voluntarily spent time with them, you know."

The sheer petulance in her voice made Phil want to scream. There were times when Phil really, truly wished Ellie were here, not because he missed her (although he did), but because being a single parent sometimes sucked. "What's this really about, Ava?"

"I want to spend time with you and Henry," Ava said, frowning. "That's what it's about. It's not rocket science, Dad, geez."

"Look, Clint has to work Sunday night," Phil said, pinching his nose. "Henry, I know you were planning on heading back then, but how would you feel about staying until Monday?"

Henry shook his head. "I'm leading the discussion in my Political Movements of the Twentieth Century class Monday afternoon. I can't miss that."

They went around a few more times without getting anywhere. Phil was about to bang his head on the table in frustration when Clint and Lucky got back. The conversation about the circus was set aside by mutual unspoken agreement.

Ava's friends started arriving while Phil and Clint were still dealing with the dishes from dinner. Phil sent them all down to the basement, where they were audible even over the Blackhawks game Henry was watching--for a value of "watching" that included more attention paid to his phone and laptop than the television--in the living room.

Phil and Clint joined Henry on the couch, which resulted in Henry moving to one of the oversized armchairs so that he could spread out his various accoutrement unimpeded by other human beings. The three of them made a few attempts at conversation. Henry and Clint were a touch more awkward with each other than Phil might hope for, but he could tell Henry was making an effort, at least in the moments he could tear himself away from his various electronic devices.

Oh my God, I sound like my mother, he thought, horrified. He looked over at the game just in time to see the Hawks score a goal. They were playing the Penguins, so it was probably important that they win, especially with the short season, but Phil's father had been the hockey fan. Phil had always preferred basketball, although the long, baggy shorts now in fashion took something away from his enjoyment. Wishing that they still wore uniforms like they'd had when he was a kid was probably another sign he was turning into a crotchety old man.

Ava came pounding up the stairs with Susannah on a quest for popcorn. When Phil came back to the couch, the television was off, and Henry and his accoutrement were missing.

"Henry go up to bed?" he asked, sitting close to Clint and putting his arm around him.

"Yeah," Clint said. He was holding himself more stiffly than usual.

Phil moved enough to the side to dig his thumbs into Clint's shoulders. "I'll talk to Ava again tomorrow," he said. "I'm sorry she's being so inconsiderate."

Clint shrugged, looking away. "Like I said, it's her birthday. The tickets were a gift; she can do what she wants with them. I'll just head into work tomorrow afternoon."

Phil didn't know what he was supposed to do. It seemed like any option he chose would cause problems. "I was looking forward to going with you," he said. "How long are they in town? Maybe we can go another night, just the two of us."

"I got the tickets over a month ago," Clint said, looking at him. "I called this morning to see if there was any way I could get an extra, but they're completely sold out."

"Shit," Phil said. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I know," Clint said.

"I think I know a way I can make it up to you," Phil said, changing from massaging Clint's shoulders to stroking lightly down his chest.

"You do, huh?" Clint said with a hint of a smile. There was a touch of sadness in it that Phil wanted to wipe away.

"I do," he confirmed before kissing Clint.

"I dunno; I think I'm gonna need more than that," Clint said.

"Oh, I've got more," Phil promised. "Come on, let's go."

He did his best to show Clint how much he cared that night, and again the following morning, but nothing dispelled the faint unease he felt when Clint loaded Lucky into his car and kissed him goodbye just after lunch.

***
If you'd asked Phil for his impressions of Cirque du Soleil after the performance, he'd have had a hard time coming up with anything substantial. He spent most of the time imagining what it must have been like to see Clint perform and feeling guilty for not forcing the issue with Ava. Clint had agreed to give up his ticket so easily--maybe too easily.

Phil thought it was probably because the birthdays of Clint's childhood were terrible. Who knew if his brother had even bought him anything; Clint had let it slip once that he'd pretty much never celebrated Christmas until after he met Natasha. Phil was such an idiot; of course Clint would go along with anything Ava wanted.

He really needed to think of some way to show Clint how much he cared, but it would have to wait, because he had to get through dinner with Henry and Ava first.

Ava's favorite restaurant had been Michael Jordan's Steakhouse since it opened. Phil couldn't complain--they had great steaks, and he lived in hope that he might actually see MJ himself at some point. He would never forget the '91 finals when he and Jasper went down to LA and scored nosebleed seats for game four. He sometimes wished he could go back in time and have known Tony back then, because nowadays he used Tony's box a couple of times a year. Tony would probably buy him season tickets if he allowed it. Which he wouldn't.

The Bulls weren't the same without Jordan. It was just too bad Phil hadn't met Tony until after Jordan's second retirement. MJ might not have succeeded at baseball or golf, but as far as Phil's family was concerned, he was great at restaurants. Maybe he should bring Clint here soon--buy him a huge steak to show him how he felt. Except that was boring and clichéd and not nearly enough; he needed some sort of grand gesture.

"Okay, so, I have something I wanted to talk to you guys about," Ava announced, pulling Phil away from his thoughts of showering Clint with gifts.

Phil racked his brain to try to figure out what bit of conversation had preceded Ava's statement. Something about one of Henry's friends, maybe. "What would that be?" he asked mildly, hoping neither of them had noticed him woolgathering.

Ava paused, biting her lip. Whatever this was, she took it seriously, and Phil figured it had something to do with how she'd been acting lately. Please dear God let it not be about Clint, he thought desperately.

It wasn't about Clint--it was worse. Ava wanted to talk about Justin Fucking Hammer.

"There was this interview--I read it in People--and he said his biggest regret is not staying in his kids' lives," Ava said earnestly. Phil was wishing he'd ordered a smaller steak, or that he'd stayed away from the bleu cheese fondue.

"Did he?" Phil asked faintly. "Well, he signed away that right when he went to prison. For crimes he was tried and convicted for."

"I don't remember much about him, but I remember enough to know he was a dick," Henry said, scowling almost as impressively as Clint at his worst. "Seriously, kiddo, you don't want to have anything to do with him."

"In the New York Times he said he couldn't believe he'd never even laid eyes on me," Ava said. "He said he'd regret that for the rest of his life. I've never even met him, and he's my real father!"

"Bullshit," Henry said, loud enough that the people at the table next to them turned around to look. "First of all, our real father is sitting right here, and don't you ever forget it."

Phil shot Henry a quick, grateful look--because, oh, that had hurt, even though he knew Ava hadn't meant it to--and Henry nodded in acknowledgment.

"Well, yeah, but--" Ava started, but Henry interrupted her.

"No buts, Ava," Henry said, still too loud for the restaurant.

"Let's not do this here," Phil said, hanging on to his serious parental voice by the skin of his teeth. "I think we should go. We've got leftover cake at home for dessert."

"But I want the twenty-three layer cake! It's my favorite!" Ava complained. "And it's not like there's anything left to talk about. I want to meet my father. I'm sixteen. I'm old enough."

Phil breathed in and out carefully and tried to loosen his jaw. "We'll get the cake to go," he said, nodding at the waiter who was openly watching their table. "And we'll finish this discussion when we get home."

The drive home was silent and awkward, but at least Ava had better sense than to try to argue her case in the car.

***
The quiet in the car turned out to be the proverbial calm before the storm. Phil barely got the door open before Ava said, "Okay, we're home. Do you want to see the interviews I was talking about? I saved them; I can pull them up on my phone."

"That won't be necessary," Phil said, hanging his coat up. When he turned around, Henry was scowling again.

"I'd like to see them," he said.

Ava winced at the tone of his voice, but she said, "Great!" like Henry shared her enthusiasm. She wandered over to the couch, tapping away on her phone until she'd found what she was looking for and handed it over to Henry with a small but triumphant smile.

Henry's expression only grew grimmer as he read. Phil stood and watched, bracing his hip against the recliner, focused on Henry's face as much as Ava was.

"Like I said, this is bullshit," Henry said, throwing the phone onto the couch. "Fucking fact-checkers didn't do their fucking job."

"What do you mean?" Ava asked, the first signs of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

"Well, for starters, this crap about him never seeing you is wrong," Henry answered.

"What are you talking about?" Phil asked, stepping forward.

"Mom took us to see him in jail," Henry said. "Didn't she tell you?"

"No, she didn't," Phil said, his heart hammering in his chest. "When did this happen?"

"It must have been right after her diagnosis," Henry said. "You were still in San Francisco. Ava wasn't even walking yet, so she can't remember, but I do."

"How old were you?" Ava asked. "You're not that much older than I am. Are you sure it really happened?"

"He was four," Phil said quietly. He could remember the day Ellie called him to tell him she had ovarian cancer like it was yesterday. His earliest clear memory was the Apollo 11 moon landing, and that was just after his fifth birthday. He guessed that seeing your father for the last time while he was in jail was as monumental an event in a young boy's life, sad as it was.

"I was four," Henry agreed. "Old enough to remember Justin Hammer signing away his parental rights, even if I wasn't completely sure what it meant at the time."

"Ellie brought you and Ava with her?" Phil asked. "Why would she do that?" It was a stupid idea. Ellie should have known better; she'd probably been too ashamed to tell Phil about it.

"I don't know," Henry answered, his shoulders so high and tight that Phil wanted to pull him into a hug and not let go for a long time. "Maybe she thought seeing his daughter at least once was something she should make sure of. Maybe she was hoping it would change his mind, or change him, somehow. I don't know. She never said."

"That doesn't mean anything," Ava said, a desperate stubborn edge in her voice. "He's changed. He's different now. He wants to see me; he said so."

"Even if he does, he's not going to," Phil said. "There's a restraining order preventing him from getting within fifty feet of you or your brother." He'd talked to Henry about it once, but he'd never mentioned it to Ava, figuring there was no need.

"You can't keep me from seeing him," Ava insisted. "I'll wait until I'm eighteen if I have to, but I shouldn't have to. You can be there, Dad. You can be there. Nothing will happen. Please."

"You're not going to see him, Ava," Phil said. "If you want to when you're eighteen, I guess I can't stop you, but I hope you won't. Your…Justin Hammer was involved with some extremely dangerous people, and I doubt very much they've lost touch."

"Oh, come on," Ava said, waving her hand dismissively. "He's not involved with the Russian mob; that's ridiculous. He probably testified against them, and that's why they let him out early; that's what it sounds like in the USA Today article."

"Jesus, Ava," Henry said, disgusted. "Are you being deliberately stupid?"

"I think we've talked about this enough," Phil said firmly. The last thing he wanted to do was get into a detailed discussion of everything Hammer had done that they knew for sure, much less the stuff they only suspected but couldn't prove. It was enough that he'd managed to piss someone off enough to send goons to threaten Ellie and Henry when Ellie was pregnant with Ava. As far as he knew Henry didn't remember that, but Phil would never forget the way Ellie had sounded on the phone when she'd gotten home from the police station.

He massaged his forehead, but his headache only got worse. "I'm going to bed," he said, "and I suggest you do the same soon, Ava. It's been a long day." He gave them both a stern look, meeting their eyes in turn. "You're both old enough to have strong opinions, but I think you're also old enough to know when to put them away."

"I've got to take off soon," Henry said after a beat. "Dad?"

"Yeah?" Phil asked.

He was startled when Henry came over and enveloped him in a tight hug. "I love you."

Phil dropped a brief kiss against Henry's cheek. "Love you too, son," he said softly. "Always have, always will. Drive safe, and text me when you get in."

"I will," Henry promised.

Henry turned to Ava after he let go, pulling his sister close and kissing her cheek. "Love you too, Zsa Zsa Darling," he said. "Even when you're being an idiot."

"Yeah, I guess I still love you, even if you are being over-protective," Ava said. "You want some cake?"

"Sure," Henry said, following her into the kitchen. Phil went into his bedroom and shut the door. It took him a long time to get to sleep.

***
The next morning Phil and Ava got up and went through their morning routines like normal, but there was a fragility to it that neither one of them acknowledged. Phil was relieved she didn't bring up Hammer again. He knew she would at some point; he just hoped it wouldn't be any time soon.

He lasted all of ten minutes in his office before he made the phone call he'd spent the drive in telling himself not to make. "Sorry if you're getting bored with Nurse Biceps, Phil, but I am taken," Tony said when he picked up the phone.

"I'll never be that bored, Tony," Phil answered smoothly. "Ever."

"Your loss," Tony said. "What can I do you for, Professor Coulson?"

"I need a favor," Phil said, maintaining as much calm as he could.

"Name it," Tony said.

Phil knew he meant it. That's why it was so dangerous having the friendship--having the trust--of a man like Tony Stark. Not that there were any other men like Tony Stark out there. "Ava asked to meet Justin Hammer," he said bluntly.

"What do you need?" Tony asked, all business. "Lawyers? I got lawyers coming out my ears. Say the word and he'll be so tied up in lawsuits he won't have two seconds where he's not being deposed."

"I was thinking more along the lines of law enforcement," Phil said. "Maybe a private investigator. Hammer's saying things that aren't true, and some of them are about my kids. I want proof he's lying. Proof he's still in with his old friends would be even better, especially if he ended up back in prison where he belongs."

"I'll see what I can do," Tony said. They talked for a few minutes longer, catching up, and then Phil went back to his day feeling just a little lighter than he had that morning.

The feeling lasted until he checked his phone. It was dead, and when he plugged it into the charger, he found he'd missed several text messages from Clint.

Shit. He was a terrible boyfriend.

Clint was probably asleep, but he texted him immediately anyway. Really sorry--phone died & drama c Ava last night; didn't see msgs until now. Come by the house before work? Miss you.

He didn't hear back. He told himself not to be nervous. Clint was sleeping. He'd get the message when he woke up.

Finally, as he was getting ready to leave for the day, a text came through.

Need to go for a run before work. Might stop by after.

Phil responded immediately. We could run together. You can shower at the house, if you want.

The response came while he was nearly home; he read it before he got out of the car. You don't fool me with that shower crap, Coulson. See you in half an hour.

Phil wasn't sure what he was supposed to make of that, so he put it away and changed into his running gear. It was a nice day for a run--the sun was shining brightly, and the spring flowers were blooming all over the place. He waited outside for Clint, stretching lazily and enjoying the warmth of the sun.

Ava got home before Clint arrived. She was standing outside, backpack dropped at her feet, bugging him about Justin Hammer again, when Clint pulled into the driveway. She shut her mouth abruptly, only to hiss, "Don't tell Clint," as the man in question got out of the car.

"What?" Phil said. "Why not?" He'd been looking forward to getting Clint's take on the situation, although he thought he'd have to broach the subject with care, given Clint's past.

"Because," Ava whispered. "Just promise me, Dad--don't tell Clint."

"Don't tell me what?" Clint asked, coming up next to Phil and putting his arm around Phil's waist. "You want me not to know something, you gotta remember I read lips," he added when Ava looked confused.

"You can't tell Clint," Ava said, looking away from Clint, but speaking loudly enough that it wouldn't make any difference. "I don't want anyone but family to know. Clint's not family, so you can't tell him."

Clint flinched, just a little, and Phil was suddenly furious again. He stared at Ava for a moment. "I give up," he said, throwing his hands up. "I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, Ava. Go inside and do your homework; you're grounded until you learn to be more polite."

"Dad, come on!" Ava whined, but Phil turned his back and started running, trusting Clint to follow him.

When they'd run together before, they'd easily settled into a comfortable stride. Phil always suspected that Clint was taking it easy on him, but he enjoyed having a running partner--especially one as gorgeous as Clint--too much to say anything. Today, however, Phil took off quickly, nearly going all out. Clint kept up with him without a problem, giving him occasional concerned glances but not saying a word.

They'd gone nearly two miles when Phil got a stitch and had to slow to a walk. "Sorry," he said when he got his breath back enough to speak. "I don't know why Ava's acting like that."

Clint nodded. "Is it--I know you can't tell me exactly, but is it about me?"

Phil knew that voice; it was the voice Clint used when he was close to shutting down. He hated that voice. "No," he said, taking Clint's arm and meeting his eyes. "I promise you, Clint, it has absolutely nothing to do with you. It's…well, the closest I can say is, it's a family thing, like she said."

"And I'm not family," Clint said, looking away.

Not yet, anyway, Phil thought, then boggled internally as he realized the implications of that thought. "I want to tell you," he said. "I want to talk to you about it--you more than anyone. But it does involve Ava, and I've got to respect her privacy. I'll keep talking to her, and as soon as she's okay with it, believe me, I'll be ready to tell you all about it. You'll probably get sick of hearing about it."

"I doubt that," Clint said, one corner of his mouth lifting. "You ready to walk again?"

"Sure," Phil said. He'd fucked up again; he could tell. He wished he knew what to do to fix things.

They walked in silence for a few minutes before Clint spoke again. "I was thinking," he said.

"About?" Phil prompted after a moment.

"I thought maybe you and I could get away somewhere," Clint continued, glancing at him. "You know, take a weekend. Maybe your mother could watch Ava, or, I don't know, how soon does Henry get out of school?"

"That's a great idea," Phil said, turning towards Clint and smiling. "Henry doesn't get out until June 10th, but I'm sure my mother would be happy to keep an eye on Ava. I'll be done in another couple of weeks--pick a weekend after that and let me know, okay?"

"I'll do that," Clint said, giving Phil the first genuine smile he'd seen in a while. "Come on, let's go."

They took off at a reasonable pace and headed back to the house, where they shared a shower and a brief nap before Clint left for work. Phil's mood was so improved that he negotiated a tentative peace with Ava, rescinding the grounding in favor of extra chores and the promise of an apology to Clint the next time she saw him. It was only as he was about to sleep that night that he remembered he had plans for at least one weekend in May already, and those weren't plans he could change. Clint would understand; they'd just have to go a different weekend.

***
They were gearing up for the end of the school year, and Phil was so busy he felt like he barely saw Ava, much less Clint. Besides the usual throng of students who had apparently just noticed they were failing, he had to pick up two of Lorraine's lectures when first her kids, then she and her husband got norovirus. His attempt to eat dinner with Clint at the hospital during clinical was interrupted by not one but three student phone calls, and the day Clint stopped by with lunch, Phil had yet another student crying about her grades in his office. Clint waited as long as he could, but by the time the student left, Phil only had ten minutes before class.

I'll be off for the summer soon, I promise, he texted Clint that evening.

I'll be done with nights & weekends soon, I promise, Clint texted back. Just gotta get one more orientee settled.

Just gotta give the final & get the grades in, Phil responded.

They got another run in more than a week after the last one. They were on their way back to the house when Clint said, "So, I was thinking--how's the weekend after next?"

"What's the date?" Phil asked absently, watching out for the uneven patch on the road where he'd sprained his ankle a few years earlier.

"The 25th is Saturday," Clint said. "It's Memorial Day that Monday, so I thought we could make it a three-day weekend."

God damn it, Phil thought. He slowed to a walk. "I can't that weekend. I'll be out of town."

"I didn't know you had something for SHIELD coming up that soon," Clint said, glancing at him curiously.

"I don't," Phil said. "It's a family thing. We go up to the cottage in Michigan every year around then."

"A family thing," Clint said, his voice flat. "You and Ava and Henry?"

"And my mom," Phil said. "We do it every year, just the family." He'd never told Clint about Ellie's death, not in any detail. It didn't seem right to talk about it then, on the street, out in public.

Clint was silent for a few strides. They were almost at the house when he said, "Look, I think I'm just gonna go. I should check in on Lucky before work; last time Simone almost forgot to feed him."

"Clint, I'm sorry," Phil said, putting his hand on Clint's arm. "What about the next weekend?"

"Katie's got that archery tournament that weekend," Clint said. "Just…don't worry about it. It's no big deal."

"We'll find a time that works," Phil said. Clint shrugged.

They walked up the driveway, and Clint stopped at his car. "Clint, please don't go," Phil said. "Not yet."

Clint looked at him for a long moment before he finally nodded. "Okay," he said.

Once they crossed the threshold, Phil took Clint's hand, intending to lead him towards the bathroom, but Clint stopped them just inside the bedroom. "Ava gonna be home soon?"

Phil shook his head. "She's over at Susannah's for dinner."

Clint nodded once and stripped off his shirt. "You okay with messing up the sheets? We're both pretty sweaty."

"Absolutely," Phil said eagerly. "But I don't sweat--I glisten." That got him a smile, even if it looked a little forced.

Sex with Clint was always good, but Phil had to admit it'd been a while since he'd taken the time to savor it, to feel the joy of making Clint sigh and moan with pleasure. Clint seemed to be on the same page, his hands and mouth and body moving in concert with Phil's, slowly, with intention, with what Phil was beginning to believe might be the same love that Phil felt when he looked into Clint's eyes.

They finished within seconds of each other. Afterwards, Clint clung tightly to Phil, and Phil held on until, too soon, Clint pulled away with an apologetic smile. "I do have to work tonight," he said.

"Yeah," Phil said, a little hoarsely. "I know."

He should have told Clint then. Instead, he let the moment pass, as he had so many others.

They showered together. Then Clint dressed in his scrubs, put his workout gear into his duffel, and left.

***
The last review session before the final exam was the following afternoon, and it wasn't until Phil got home that night that he realized he hadn't heard from Clint all day.

Everything okay? he texted.

An hour passed before he got a response: Fine, just busy.

Phil blinked at his phone. He almost called Clint to ask him if something was wrong, but then Ava started up about Hammer again. He pushed it to the back of his mind, where it stayed until the following morning. He couldn't call Clint then; he'd be asleep. He texted again instead: Come by for dinner if you can, or just to say hi. Anytime.

When the doorbell rang a few days later, he rushed to the door, but it wasn't Clint. He smiled to hide his disappointment, accepting John's typical backslap--as always, just a touch too hard--and loud greeting.

John had two people with him--Grant Ward and someone Phil didn't recognize, who introduced himself as "Antoine Triplett, call me Trip."

Phil stood aside, knowing John wouldn't wait for an invitation in any case. Within five minutes they were sitting out on the deck with the beer that Trip had produced, and Grant was calling for pizza and wings. Phil had Ava call her grandmother to pick her up; he had never been completely comfortable having her around John, who was crude on his best days and completely inappropriate on his worst.

They moved inside when the food arrived, and that's where they were--sprawled over the furniture, replete with pizza and beer; it had been a long time since Phil had had pizza and beer--when Clint showed up.

"Hey, you're here," Phil said, kissing him enthusiastically. "Come in and meet everyone. I think there's still some pizza if you want some."

"Trip just ate the last piece," Grant yelled.

Clint licked his lips. "Are you--are you drunk?" he asked. He had a canvas shopping bag.

"Maybe a little," Phil admitted, flushing. "They brought a lot of beer."

"Your boyfriend's turned into a lightweight," John called out. "Used to take more than a couple drinks to get you all floppy, Coulson!"

"Three is more than a couple," Phil said, frowning. He pulled at Clint's arm until he followed Phil into the house. "Everyone, this is Clint. Clint, this is John, Grant--wait, you know Grant already--and Antoine 'Call me Trip' Triplett."

"Nice to meet you," Clint said, nodding politely. "Listen, Phil, I can't stay long--"

"What's in the bag?" John asked, taking it from Clint and opening it. "Coulson, I take back everything I said about your boy here, because these look delicious."

Phil saw Clint draw in his shoulders. "I'm sorry," he said, and Clint shook his head.

John had the lid open and his mouth full and was offering what looked like Clint's amazing Nutella scones to Grant. "Holy shit, these are amazing; between that ass and these whatever the hell they are, it's no wonder you're fucking him."

"Jesus, Garrett!" Trip said, snatching the container away from him. "Do me a favor and try not to be such a dick. Sorry, man," he continued, handing the scones over to Phil. "You know what he's like."

"I'm just--I'm gonna go," Clint said, turning abruptly and walking out, the screen door slamming behind him.

It took Phil a few seconds to register what had happened, and by the time he made it out to the driveway, Clint was already pulling away.

"I think you'd better go," he said when he came back inside.

"Aww, come on, Coulson, don't get your panties in a wad--we just got here!" John said, spreading his arms wide.

Why the hell had he ever thought John Garrett was worth his attention was beyond Phil, who now felt both sober and furious. "I mean it, John. I want you to leave."

There was something cold in John's expression when he stood up, and for a moment Phil had the crazy feeling John might do something--what, he wasn't sure, but it scared him a little, as did the matching expression on Grant's face.

The stand-off was broken when Trip put his hand on John's arm and said, "You heard the man, John. Let's go." He mouthed "sorry" to Phil as he led John out.

Phil moved automatically to clean up the pizza boxes, beer bottles, and other detritus. When he went to pick up the shopping bag, he saw there was something else inside. It turned out to be a giant-sized bag of peanut M & M's--Ava's favorite candy--and some of the convenience store packaged donuts Phil kept hidden away in his desk at school.

He sat on the couch, his head in his hands, feeling like the worst kind of heel. He had to find some way to apologize, to let Clint know how much he was appreciated.

Over the following week, he tried everything he could think of. He texted, he called, he arranged for Clint's favorite pizza to be delivered during the night. Clint answered his texts and sent a Thanks for the pizza, but he ignored Phil's invitations to come to the house.

Phil set his alarm for two in the morning and went to the hospital carrying a dozen roses. Clint laughed when he saw them, and for a little while Phil thought everything was going to be fine. Then one of Clint's nurses came by, someone Phil had worked with before. She asked them what they were planning on doing for the upcoming holiday weekend. Phil mumbled something about a family obligation, the nurse gave him a puzzled smile, and Clint shut down. The page for the rapid response team a few minutes later came as a bit of a relief, as Clint had turned monosyllabic.

Then Clint completely stopped answering his texts and emails. Things had gone horribly wrong somewhere. Phil knew it was his fault, but he didn't know how to fix it. He had to find a way, or he was going to lose the best thing that had ever happened to him.

In the middle of all of it, he was trying to organize the annual trip to the cabin. He called Henry to find out whether he was planning on driving to Chicago and going with the rest of them or just flying into Traverse City. "I'll meet you there," Henry said. "I'm looking forward to seeing Clint again--how's he doing?"

"Clint?" Phil said faintly.

"Clint," Henry said. "You know, the guy you're head over heels for. He's coming, right? Or does he have to work?"

"He…things aren't too great with us right now," Phil said, swallowing hard.

"What happened?" Henry asked, sounding as gentle as Phil had ever heard him.

Phil started to tell him, but Henry interrupted before he got very far. "Wait a minute," he said. "Are you telling me you didn't ask Clint to come this weekend? Jesus, Dad, no wonder you've been single for so long."

"What do you mean?" Phil asked defensively. "You know how your grandmother is; do you really think this would be the best way for her to meet Clint?"

He could hear Henry blow out a breath. "I'm gonna propose a thought experiment for you, Dad. Are you ready?"

"Sure," Phil lied.

"It's a few years from now. I'm in grad school, and I've met this woman, and I love her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. You haven't met her yet, because you haven't seen me in a few months, but Mom's weekend is coming up, and I ask you if it's okay if I bring this girl, this love of my life, with me. What would you say?"

"…I'd say of course it's okay," Phil said. "But I'm not your grandmother, and you're talking about a woman, not a man."

Henry snorted. "Let me ask you this, then," he said. "Do you love Clint?"

"Yes," Phil answered, because that was easy.

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life with him?"

"Yes, I do," Phil said, which was a little harder to say, but just as true.

"Can you see yourself, at some point in the future, asking him to move in? Maybe getting married?"

"Yes," Phil said, although the admission terrified him. He never lied to his kids, and he wasn't going to start now.

"Then forget about Grandma," Henry said. "This is about you, Dad. You're allowed to have a life, and you're allowed to have the man you love with you at the important moments in that life."

"Who taught you this stuff?" Phil asked, rubbing his forehead. "Because I sure didn't. You've definitely outpaced me on this, son. I'd say you were a prodigy, but I think it's more likely that I'm just an idiot."

"It's just love, Dad," Henry said, and Phil could hear the smile in his voice. "You taught me plenty about that. Oh, shit--Dad, please tell me you've at least told Clint how you feel about him. Because if you haven't done that, I take it back--you are an idiot."

"I'm an idiot," Phil said, dropping his chin to his chest. "I am a goddamned idiot."

"So go tell him now," Henry said. He sounded remarkably like Phil did when he was talking to a particularly recalcitrant student.

"I can't," Phil protested weakly. "He's at work, and he's not answering my texts."

"Sounds like it's time for a grand gesture, something like in one of those eighties movies you like. The one with John Cusack and the guitar," Henry suggested.

"Say Anything," Phil said. "And it was a boombox. I don't think they even make those anymore."

"Don't be so literal, Dad," Henry said. "I'm gonna hang up now and give you some time to plan the appropriate gesture. Let me know how it works out, okay?"

"I will," Phil promised. "Thanks. Love you."

"See, it's not that hard to say. Love you too."

***
Phil looked at his watch again. Ten-thirty. He'd been sitting on the couch feeling paralyzed for the last two hours. Like every other time he'd thought about telling Clint how he felt, he was stuck on finding the best way to do so.

If Clint was working a twelve, he'd have been at the hospital a few hours already, but if he was only working 11-7 he'd just be getting there.

If Phil were a better person, better at communicating, he'd know when Clint was working, because Clint would still be talking to him. This was put up or shut up time, his last chance to fix things.

Phil could head to the hospital now and confess his feelings in front of everyone. It might make the gesture more grand, but Phil wasn't sure that was the best move, eighties movies notwithstanding. There was a lot that Phil wanted to say, and he didn't want to say it in front of an audience, especially not one full of people they both worked with. He didn't think Clint would want that either.

The best thing, he decided, would be to see Clint when he got home after work. He'd wait at Clint's door if he had to.

He didn't expect to sleep, but maybe getting to this point was a relief in some way, because he got several hours before his alarm went off. He knocked on Ava's door to tell her she'd have to get herself ready for school, and he headed for Clint's apartment building in plenty of time to get there by 7:30. He decided that he would rather be early and have to wait than risk missing Clint. He'd even take Ashland to avoid any problems on the freeway.

It would have worked out just fine if there hadn't been an accident on Ashland. He finally arrived at Clint's building a little after eight, but when he rang the bell, there was no answer. Maybe Clint was already asleep, and he'd missed his chance. Then he realized that he should have heard Lucky barking instead of silence. Hoping Lucky wasn't just staying with Kate, Phil decided to wait.

He'd been sitting on the floor outside Clint's door for nearly fifteen minutes when he heard Lucky's tags jingling as he ran up the stairs. Seconds later he had a lap full of enthusiastic dog with a side of dog slobber. He didn't mind, though. "Hey, boy, I missed you too," he said into Lucky's fur. It gave him a few extra seconds to breathe before he had to stand. By the time he got up, Clint had already disappeared into his apartment, leaving the door ajar, presumably for both Phil and Lucky.

Clint was hanging up his coat and Lucky's leash when Phil came in. He didn't look at Phil. "Not doing this without coffee," he muttered, turning towards the kitchen.

Phil closed the door and stood in front of it, unsure whether he should follow Clint or stay where he was. He glanced down and noticed an open box on the floor next to the closet. He could see a faded, stretched out UIC t-shirt on top. He must have made some sort of sound, because Lucky licked at his hand and leaned against his leg.

Phil didn't look to see what was under the shirt, but he figured it included the copy of The Emperor of Maladies he'd loaned Clint, the sweatshirt he'd left there one morning, maybe a pair of pajama pants or some socks. It wasn't much. Maybe that was part of the problem. Phil just hoped he hadn't missed his chance to fix things.

He could see Clint standing in front of the coffee pot, staring at it like he could speed up the process with his mind. It was so familiar, and Phil loved seeing it so much--loved Clint so much--that he was moving towards him without consciously deciding to.

Once he got close, Clint looked at him for the first time. It was only then that Phil noticed the dark circles under Clint's eyes and a sallow tint to his skin. He looked worse than he had the night Loki assaulted him.

"What are you doing here, Phil?" Clint asked, sounding like he'd been working for sixteen or even twenty-four hours instead of eight or twelve.

"I need to talk to you. Please don't break up with me," Phil said, his voice breaking before he got it back under control. "I came here to talk; can we do that?"

Clint looked down. "I think you have to actually be in a relationship to break up."

"What?" Phil was pretty sure his mouth must be hanging open.

Clint met his eyes. "I'm not gonna be your fuckbuddy, Phil. That's not what I want. I thought you knew that."

"Fuckbuddy? That's not what I want either," Phil said desperately. "Please, Clint--I know I fucked up, I took you for granted, I didn't let you know…I'm sorry. There are things I need to tell you. I don't want to lose you again. Please."

Clint dropped his chin to his chest and sighed. Neither one of them spoke for a few seconds, which gave the coffee time to finish brewing. That's when Phil noticed that Clint had two mugs on the counter--the purple one that was Clint's favorite and the Superman mug that Phil had used when he'd stayed over. Clint poured the coffee into that first and handed it to Phil. "What things?" he asked.

"Three--no, four. Four things," Phil said, then took a sip of his coffee to try to focus. Clint was willing to listen to him, but that didn't mean he was in the clear. "Could we maybe sit down?"

Once they'd settled themselves onto stools, Clint gulped half his coffee, put his mug onto the counter. "What things?" he asked again.

"Okay, first, I'm sorry," Phil said, shifting uncomfortably on the stool. "I never should have let things get like this. I know I've hurt you, and I'm so sorry. It's never been about the sex for me--that's never been all I wanted. I know I didn't do a good job of communicating that. I hope you can give me another chance to let you know how much you mean to me."

He looked at Clint to see how he was responding, but he was keeping his face carefully blank. Phil wasn't sure exactly how he should proceed, but he knew he had to keep talking. "The second thing is, I want you to come to Michigan with me this weekend. I know it's short notice--we're leaving in the morning; I'd delay that if I could, but I can't--but I really want you to come."

"I thought that was a family thing," Clint said. The slight frown he wore wasn't the most hopeful expression, but it was better by far than what had preceded it.

"It is," Phil said. "It's definitely a family thing. That's why I want you there with me."

Clint studied him closely, and Phil reminded himself to breathe. "What about your mom?" Clint asked after a moment.

"My mom needs to get over herself," Phil said, waving his hand. "You're important to me, and I want you there. If she doesn't like it, she can fuck off."

The corner of Clint's mouth went up, and Phil started to breathe just a little easier. "She can, huh? What about Ava?"

"I told Ava last night that I wasn't going to keep any more secrets from you, and that included the fact that she is bound and determined to see her asswipe of a biological father," Phil said.

"She wants to see Hammer? You're not going to let her, are you?" Clint asked, clearly alarmed by the prospect.

Phil shook his head. "Over my dead body. Legally, he's not allowed within fifty feet of her, and that's the way it's gonna stay."

"Good," Clint said decisively. "That guy gives me the creeps, and I've never even met him. What else?"

Phil took a deep breath and said it. "I love you. I should have told you weeks ago, or months, but I was too chickenshit. I'm so in love with you it fucking terrifies me, Clint. I was so scared I was going to lose you again that I--"

Clint cut him off with a kiss. It was over almost as soon as it began, but it was enough that Phil's heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. "Clint?" he said, reaching out to touch Clint's cheek.

"You fucking jackass," Clint said, pointing at him. "You idiot! You asshole, what the fuck is your problem? Tell me something, Phil--why the hell do you think I moved to Chicago in the first place?"

"Because you wanted to see what happened with us?" Phil tried.

Clint shook his head and threw his arms up in the air. "You are so stupid sometimes, Phil, I swear. I moved here because I was in love with you, which you would have realized if you'd thought about it for five minutes instead of letting yourself get caught up in your stupid, stupid insecurities."

"Was?" Phil asked.

"See, that's what I mean," Clint said, pointing at him again. "Stupid. Was, am, probably always will be--"

This time it was Phil who cut Clint off with a kiss. It went a little longer, and it was a little softer, than the last one. Phil would have loved to kiss Clint forever, but there was more to discuss, and he wasn't going to let himself get distracted.

When he pulled back, Clint was smiling at him. "Okay, so maybe you're capable of learning," he said.

"I love you," Phil said, and this time there was nothing but certainty in his voice.

"I love you, too," Clint said, "but that's not the solution to everything."

"I know," Phil said. "I want to explain--not making any excuses, but there are things I still need to tell you."

"Okay," Clint said, looking at him seriously. "I'm listening."

Phil stood up and offered Clint his hand. "Could we go over to the couch?"

Clint nodded and went with him into the living room. When they sat down, Phil fussed at Clint until he was nestled in Phil's arms. "So, number four, huh?" Clint asked once they were comfortably settled together.

"Yeah," Phil said. He paused to kiss Clint's temple. "Number four. This weekend--I need to tell you what it's about."

"Okay," Clint said. "What is it about?" He put his hand on top of Phil's, stilling the fidgeting Phil hadn't even realized he'd been doing.

"The cottage has been in my family since my grandfather built it, and when we were growing up, we'd go there every summer for at least a week or two," he said after a moment. "Ellie and I loved it, and so did my dad; my mom tolerated it because she knew how much it meant to the rest of us. I didn't go for years, because of my dad, but when Ellie was dying, she really wanted to go back. I drove her up there that May, thirteen years ago. I wasn't sure she'd even survive the trip, but she did, long enough that my parents came up to see her on her birthday, May 22nd. She died the next day."

"Shit, Phil, why didn't you tell me?" Clint said, squeezing his hands.

"I thought we covered that already," Phil said, giving him a smile that was only a little watery. "Ever since then, we've gone up, all of us, for at least a weekend, as close to this time as we can."

"So she died thirteen years ago today," Clint said, and Phil nodded. "How old was she?"

"Forty-two," Phil said, blinking against the burning in his eyes.

Clint turned in his arms. "I'm sorry, babe."

"Yeah, me too," Phil said, resting his head against Clint's.

"I don't have to go," Clint said, running his fingers through Phil's hair. "I get it."

"No, you don't," Phil said, taking his hand and kissing it. "I love you, and I want you with me, pretty much always. You're as much a part of me as Henry and Ava are. Maybe I shouldn't be saying that this soon, but I'm sick of holding it all in, sick of being afraid to say it. As far as I'm concerned, this is it for me--you're it, and I want you with me for as long as you'll have me."

"For the record, that's most likely forever," Clint said. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't exhibit any more monumental stupidity, though," he added fondly.

"I promise to try my best," Phil said. "So, will you come?"

"When are you leaving?" Clint asked. "I'm working again tonight."

"The plan is tomorrow around nine," Phil said. "I could probably push it to ten, although Mom won't like it."

"No, nine works, as long as you don't mind me sleeping in the car on the way up there," Clint said. "Hey, what about Lucky?"

"Bring him," Phil said. "You could bring him tonight before work, if you want. Ava's missed him, although I doubt she'd admit it at the moment."

"You sure she's gonna be all right with all of this?" Clint asked, looking worried.

"She's sixteen," Phil said with a shrug. "I wish I could predict how she'll react to things, but I can't. What I can do is make sure she knows when she's behaving in an unacceptable manner, and that's what I'm going to do."

"Okay," Clint said. "Let me make sure I've got this straight. You want me to come over tonight and drop off this guy, and then come back in the morning, when I will meet your mother before making a five hour drive to your family cabin to commemorate the loss of your sister."

"Yep, although you'll probably meet my mom tonight," Phil said. "Darcy will be there, too, once we get up to the cottage. She--she was with us, that whole time Ellie was sick, and she stayed to help with the kids for years after that, you know?"

Clint nodded in understanding, his face open and accepting. Phil was so grateful he buried his face in Clint's neck for a moment. "I hope you'll be there for the years after this," he added. "But you don't have to come if you don't want to. I mean, I want you to, but only if you're okay with it."

"Don't be stupid again," Clint said. "I'll be there." His nose wrinkled up and his jaw opened in a prodigious yawn. "Sorry."

"I should go so you can get some sleep," Phil said, although it was the last thing he wanted.

"Don't," Clint said. "Come to bed with me, at least for a little while. You don't have to go to work today, do you?"

Phil shook his head. "I can stay." Clint smiled, and when he got up from the couch, he went to the door and picked up the box of Phil's things and carried them into the bedroom, wordlessly taking the UIC t-shirt and offering Phil the pajama pants that were underneath it.

Neither one of them brought up sex, and for the first time Phil realized how Clint might have felt that it was all he cared about. So before Clint took his hearing aids out, Phil cupped his cheek in his hand and said, "I love you." Then he kissed Clint's forehead and slipped under the covers.

"Yeah, me too," Clint said softly.

The shades were down, but they weren't enough to keep the room dark. Clint closed his eyes and fell asleep almost immediately, but Phil watched him in the morning light for a few minutes before he, too, fell asleep.

***
The chime of his cell phone woke him up, although it took him a moment to realize what it was. He got out of bed as carefully as he could, managing not to wake Clint, although he snuffled into the pillow and twitched a little. It was a text from a student requesting a reference, nothing he needed to respond to immediately. According to his phone it was 11:43. As tempting as it was to get back into bed, he had things he needed to do.

He retrieved his clothes, watching Clint sleep as he got dressed, feeling more happiness than he knew what to do with. He stood there for a few minutes, soaking it all in, before going out to the living room to find his shoes.

He left a note on the counter next to the spare key he'd brought with him.

Thought it was about time I gave you this. You already know the code for the alarm, and I'll get the garage door opener to you either tonight or tomorrow. You don't need to ever ring the bell again--you will always be welcome, even if no one's home. I hope you'll come for dinner, but I understand if you don't have time before work. Whenever you get off, please come right over, even if it's three in the morning. I'll be waiting for you. I love you.

"Guess Clint's asleep," Kate said, key in hand, as he opened the door.

"He is," Phil said, smiling at her.

"Good," she said. "Now get out of my way--it's time for Lucky's walk."

"Of course," Phil said. "Would you like some company?"

Kate looked at him. "You fix things with him? For real?"

"Does telling him I'm in love with him count as real?" Phil asked, his smile widening. "I mean, he seemed pretty satisfied, but I don't know what your standards are--"

"God, shut up," Kate said, snapping Lucky's leash onto his collar. "You're practically glowing. Come on--there's a Sumatran dark roast and a turkey and brie on brioche waiting for me down the street, and you're buying."

"Sounds great," Phil said, gesturing for her to lead the way. After lunch, he went shopping (for the trip, although he also picked up Clint's favorite soap, shampoo, and other toiletries), packed, emptied a couple of drawers of his dresser, emptied and then filled one in his bathroom, and made dinner. Clint stopped by in time to meet Phil's mom and get a surprisingly tight hug from Ava, although he didn't stay for dinner.

"Earlier I get to work, the earlier I'll be able to leave," he explained, fiddling with his keychain. Phil smiled when he saw that the key he'd left for Clint was there. Before Clint left, he took the extra garage door opener out of Lola and gave it to him.

When he went to bed that night, he had to force himself to stop smiling, close his eyes, and go to sleep. Clint slipped into bed beside him sometime before sunrise. Phil turned toward him, pulled him close, and went back to sleep.

END