The archer seemed to relax... instantaneously. In his mind, the moment was perfect. Clint knew that Phil wasn't exactly there because he wanted to be there -- out of some other emotion other than concern for his agent. It made his heart sink a little at the thought this was never going to be anything more than a boss-employee sort of relationship. Sure, their personal lives were heavily interwoven with each other. Clint relied way too heavily on the fact that he knew Coulson was always there. From the beginning of his career to (hopefully) the end. He couldn't deal with the announcement of Phil's death, but he was sure he could deal with Fury having to tell Phil he had been killed on some mission. Jumping off some impossibly high building or something equally as stupid. He didn't want that to be the case in any matter. But he knew Coulson would probably handle it all better than he had. Phil wouldn't shut himself off from the world and become some recluse that only went on missions and trained until it felt as though his muscles were melting underneath his skin.
Not that Clint told him that was one of the major reasons that contributed to him working on driving himself into the ground. He didn't think Phil would have appreciated the gesture in such a way as he continued to lay next to Coulson. His handler's fingers through his hair sent an unintentional chill through his body whenever they brushed lightly over the place on his head he was sure was bruised. The skin still felt tight right there. But he didn't flinch, it sort of felt nice. Grounding even. He had become a puppet once again but the most important person in his life had brought him back. The first time around, the second most important person in his life had rescued him from a fate of following orders mindlessly and killing innocent people.
He was still happy it never really got that far in both ins--well, the first one did have non-SHIELD personnel casualties by Clint's hands. But it hadn't been something he had thought of in a while. He didn't want to think about it. Not because it made his chest ache in regret, but because there a part of him that was proud of the work he did. He figured it was still the fog that was still clearing up in his head. Last time this happened, it took a while and soft restraints. He figured it was best not to inform Coulson of that. He'd rather be stuck in this moment right here.
Needless to say, Clint had tried to find someone else he had been comfortable enough to sleep with. Tasha. He'd paid Bruce in manual labor and some money for him to take a nap in his lab. Nothing truly worked as well as when he was laying with Phil. The world and his worries melted away and what was left was just fantastic to him.
A chuckle came from the agent as he looked up at Phil with a tired look in his eyes. "I always say I wanna shoot Fury. No one takes it seriously." He hadn't exactly said it recently however. People took the once idle threats seriously as Clint had discovered when Agent Hill had pulled him aside to talk to him about his abuse towards the junior-now upgraded agents and the fact that they thought he truly meant it when he said something towards them. Stupid as it was, he understood the fear they had. A lot of their friends and even some of their mentors had been lost in the helicarrier incident. He didn't blame them at all. He just went back to his business, pretending he didn't notice the look in their eyes. He was sure this wasn't going to do him any favors either. As much as he wished he could put the past behind him. History had a way of repeating itself.
"Good. Glad you like 'em. If anyone asks, you got replacements." He laughed as he laid his head back down, taking in a deep breath and engulfing himself in the irreplaceable smell Phil usually carried. Most people didn't really notice because it had been so ordinary. As Hill had once, proudly, described Phil as the everyman. The one person who was just like everyone else that it was easy to overlook him. Clint didn't. He often wondered why.
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Not that Clint told him that was one of the major reasons that contributed to him working on driving himself into the ground. He didn't think Phil would have appreciated the gesture in such a way as he continued to lay next to Coulson. His handler's fingers through his hair sent an unintentional chill through his body whenever they brushed lightly over the place on his head he was sure was bruised. The skin still felt tight right there. But he didn't flinch, it sort of felt nice. Grounding even. He had become a puppet once again but the most important person in his life had brought him back. The first time around, the second most important person in his life had rescued him from a fate of following orders mindlessly and killing innocent people.
He was still happy it never really got that far in both ins--well, the first one did have non-SHIELD personnel casualties by Clint's hands. But it hadn't been something he had thought of in a while. He didn't want to think about it. Not because it made his chest ache in regret, but because there a part of him that was proud of the work he did. He figured it was still the fog that was still clearing up in his head. Last time this happened, it took a while and soft restraints. He figured it was best not to inform Coulson of that. He'd rather be stuck in this moment right here.
Needless to say, Clint had tried to find someone else he had been comfortable enough to sleep with. Tasha. He'd paid Bruce in manual labor and some money for him to take a nap in his lab. Nothing truly worked as well as when he was laying with Phil. The world and his worries melted away and what was left was just fantastic to him.
A chuckle came from the agent as he looked up at Phil with a tired look in his eyes. "I always say I wanna shoot Fury. No one takes it seriously." He hadn't exactly said it recently however. People took the once idle threats seriously as Clint had discovered when Agent Hill had pulled him aside to talk to him about his abuse towards the junior-now upgraded agents and the fact that they thought he truly meant it when he said something towards them. Stupid as it was, he understood the fear they had. A lot of their friends and even some of their mentors had been lost in the helicarrier incident. He didn't blame them at all. He just went back to his business, pretending he didn't notice the look in their eyes. He was sure this wasn't going to do him any favors either. As much as he wished he could put the past behind him. History had a way of repeating itself.
"Good. Glad you like 'em. If anyone asks, you got replacements." He laughed as he laid his head back down, taking in a deep breath and engulfing himself in the irreplaceable smell Phil usually carried. Most people didn't really notice because it had been so ordinary. As Hill had once, proudly, described Phil as the everyman. The one person who was just like everyone else that it was easy to overlook him. Clint didn't. He often wondered why.