beenunmade | (no subject)

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Loyalty.

It was one of the many words that echoed in his mind. Usually it was loyalty to SHIELD. Loyalty to the Avengers. To Natasha. To Phil. He really only had simple loves in his life and things that could be easily pinpointed if someone were to look in the right direction. Even if he wasn't the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. But it was clear in his eyes and the way he carried himself around the others that this wasn't a temporary place for him. He intended to stay and he intended be (somewhat of) a team player. He wasn't chosen for his good looks, after all. Even if he did say so on something of a daily basis. It was all in jest.

He wasn't really in a jesting mood now. Loki hadn't exactly sent him on a mission. There wasn't a failure to utilize the specialist because, to Clint, Loki hardly failed. Acting on his own accord wasn't something Clint did. Acting in the best interest of ensuring Loki, ensuring that they gained some part of an upper hand was. SHIELD was still in shambles in his mind. The helicarrier was a good month or two from being passenger ready and most SHIELD agents had been forced to head for the solid ground of headquarters. Those surviving at least. The unfamiliar faces of new recruits littered the hallway. Out of necessity. There hadn't been a rush on getting more bodies -- the recruits that had been flagged previously but never seen the light of day were just finally getting their time to shine because SHIELD had lost so many. And Clint? When he wasn't usually running around terrorizing the junior agents or pushing the buttons of those that he knew -- he was either with the Avengers, in Medical, or on the range.

Today it wasn't any of those. His clouded blue eyes were shrouded by the sunglasses he hid behind almost daily. Somewhere along the way he had discovered that people found him slightly enigmatic when he was wearing them. After a visit to dictionary dot com; Clint had reasoned it was a good thing in his eyes. Now it was a benefit. He walked with purpose -- the technology he carried wasn't very astounding if somewhere were to compare it to the like that Stark carried. A single drive to save the documents he wanted so he could disappear undetected and offer what he found to Loki. Nothing extravagant. Just something simple. A show of his loyalty and obedience. Clint turned on his heels, around a corner and if someone paid attention it was almost as if he had disappeared. In reality, he had gone up the air ducts that he knew so well. Stealth was, after all, Clint Barton's forte as he moved above everyone before stopping above a room that housed a majority of the personnel files. One singular guard was easily knocked out and dragged off into a corner as Clint bound and gagged him before walking over to the computer interface.

Easy. The man slid his sunglasses to the top of his head as he brought up the files he needed, beginning the tedious upload onto the storage device before taking a step back. With part one in process, part two could begin. One storage device to house the information. Another to plop a virus in the middle of SHIELD's files. It wasn't Clint's typical approach. His approach would be blowing things up. But to do things covertly, without alerting SHIELD to his presence -- it required more espionage than Clint was accustomed too. Once the upload was finished, he just deposited the second part before sliding back on his shades once more before stepping into the hallway, pocketing the device and tossing the other in the hallway trash before starting to walk away.

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Phil rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to kill you." His hand slid over Clint's back to rest on his other shoulder. "I've see you beaten harder. Belarus comes to mind. You pulled through that and you'll pull through this just fine." It was more head trauma than anything now, anyway, and while he probably was sporting a concussion, Phil was pretty confident that Clint hadn't suffered any permanent damage at his hands.

"You can't stop by my office every day and then suddenly stop and expect me not to notice. Noticing things like that is what I do. It's how I keep you alive and if it carries over outside of the field, I'm not going to apologize for it, because you really were missing. I was right. If I hadn't noticed, you would have just walked out of here today and I don't know when I would have found you."

He sighed. "And I won't put a GPS chip in you, but only because someone else could find out the frequency and track you and that's my job." Clint was just lucky that Phil was so paranoid or the chip would be going in yesterday.

"Would you believe me if I said you were doing me a favor if I do?" He scowled, lifting his head up a bit and looking towards Coulson. He didn't want to think about past missions where he got his ass handed to him. At least he had one thing going for him...it was Phil who had done it to him. Clint used one hand to reach into his pocket, feeling a part of his mind feel like he was doing a disservice to something. He ran his finger along the storage disk before pulling his hand back. Leaving the storage device still in his pocket.

Clint grew silent for a brief moment. "You woulda probably found me when I blew up another SHIELD facility. If history likes repeating itself so much." He tried to crack a smile at that but really couldn't manage. He felt like he had doubly been injured. Both with whatever Phil had done and what Loki he had done. The archer almost wanted to lean into Phil, but if he got sick? He didn't want Coulson's impeccably clean suit to become the hapless victim.

"Lucky for me you're paranoid, huh?"

"Then I'm going to be selfish and not do you that favor." Phil was never selfish, especially not when it came to work. He was allowed a few selfish things and if one of them was keeping Clint alive, Clint could just deal with that. Besides, he wasn't entirely sure that he could kill Clint, even if he was in horrible pain and dying. It was Clint. Phil tried not to think about it, but the idea of Clint not being around left a sinking, cold feeling in his stomach. He'd had to face that feeling head-on the last few days. It wasn't as if Clint's life was never in danger, but every scare felt a little worse.

He tightened his arm around Clint's shoulders. He really didn't care if Clint got sick on him. Dry cleaning existed for a reason. "I'm glad I found you before anyone got hurt, including you." Sure, Clint was a little hurt, but he wasn't shot or stabbed or dean. He was just banged up. It was a much better option than any of the others and now Phil had him back.

"Guess I should be glad that you're being selfish for once then, sir." Clint didn't want to die.

He just didn't want to be something used against the only people he knew, maybe even loved. A sentiment he didn't exactly express unless you looked into the undertones of his interactions. The fact that he didn't hide away in his "nest" away from the other Avengers. Or Phil for that matter. Coulson had initially been the first person in the entire world to ever recruit him for anything (that Clint accepted that was). It was the same for Clint in some matter. He'd be selfish in Coulson's shoes, but he had other tools if Coulson were ever the one to become a mind puppet for anyone. He wouldn't be able to shoot to kill, however. Phil...he had been the first person that Clint Barton had called friend and sincerely meant it.

He didn't want to dwell too much on the fact he would ask Phil, out of everyone even Tasha, to be the one to kill him. Even if he knew the other man would never do such a deed. Maybe that was why he would even consider asking him at all as he drew in a deep breath.

That seemed to be the tipping point his body. His breath shook off as the nausea finally got to him before he could really say anything else. He did make the attempt to make sure most of Phil wasn't left with an awesome story to tell Hill or Fury as he vomited to the side of the other man, dirtying Coulson's pants leg which was really the only victim in all of this right now as his body trembled from it. There was no relief from it. The only thing it did was slightly make his headache even worse then it already was. Concussions. Clint had to love them...not so much. Not really. "Fuck, Phil. Sorry..." It just made Clint kick himself a little more. After all, Coulson put up with a lot from the man. He had heard people joke around that Coulson was just a glorified babysitter and this was not helping the point Clint usually tried to argue against.

The sudden need to go to sleep was also something he was fighting but short of turning into a narcoleptic; Clint didn't see that happening in the foreseeable future as he slowly started to reason that perhaps the original destination of medical was something the pair of them should really look into.

Phil didn't want Clint to die, either. He cared about all of his agents, but few got under his skin the way Clint did. Really, no one got that far under his skin. Natasha came close, but it was different. Or maybe it was Clint that was different. Clint had always been different to him, even if he tried to ignore it, it always came back to that. Clint was different. He was special. Phil didn't know why. He just was. It was a fact of life, the same as any other.

You didn't always get to choose who you worked with, but when it came to Clint, he would't even dream of letting another handler take him. It wasn't just that Clint listened to Phil more consistently than anyone, either. It was that Phil knew how well they worked together, how easily they could plug into each other and play off of each other. He couldn't remember ever having a better working relationship with anyone, purple crayon and all.

And then he felt Clint shaking. He started to rub Clint's back just as Clint's stomach emptied itself on his pant leg. It wasn't exactly surprising and while he'd generally prefer to not be covered in vomit, right now it was definitely preferable over being covered in Clint's blood. It wasn't as if he hadn't been covered in worse, anyway. "It's fine. They're just pants. Just focus on yourself right now. You're going to be fine in a little while. I promise."

He really did need to get Clint to medical, but he wasn't even sure if Clint could stand on his own, let alone walk. Phil could only assess so much. He'd feel a lot better if someone from medical looked Clint over and gave him the okay to take Clint back to his room. He would stay with Clint as long as he needed to to be sure that he was going to be fine.

They both seemed cut from similar cloth when it came to things. It was honestly no surprise to most people in SHIELD that Clint was loyal to Coulson. When he had first began working there, most of the time Clint ended up following after Phil. Even when he was supposed to be training with other junior agents. Back then, to him, he was above training with the other junior agents. Now it was the same, but now he could harass them all he wanted too. The one person he harassed with a light-hearted thing in his mind was Phil. Even on his worst days. Clint considered Coulson more like a friend then his boss. More like someone that would affected him profoundly. He didn't have many mentors in his life. He didn't have many people in his life. Clint had been one of those children who were tossed into the system and forgotten. Comically, he'd joined the circus.

Sometimes he wasn't all too happy he had done that. But most of the time he was.

Only because he wouldn't have been recruited by SHIELD if he had just stayed at the orphanage. If he hadn't joined the circus, trained to become the World's Greatest Marksman (and achieved such a goal). If he hadn't gone through the tragedies in his life, the almost one good thing would never have happened. The saying "once you hit rock bottom you can only go up" sprang slightly to mind when he thought about it a lot. He had at some point. When he had first been officially assigned to Phil as his agent. After their first mission that ended with a slight bickering match over the comms and a pat on the back when he achieved the goal he was set out to do. There was a look on Phil's face that day, something that brought it all together. Clint just never pointed it out to him. Out of fear...mostly.

He tried. He was currently trying to keep it all together, trying to force his body from shaking after emptying the contents of his stomach over his friend (by accident). He hadn't honestly meant it. The archer pressed his forehead against Phil's shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'll pay for the dry-cleaning. I will, I promise." He said under his breath as he stayed close to Phil. It was a small comfort really. But a small comfort was better than none at all. "If you wanna help me back to my room I can just pass out for a while...should be okay then." Clint always tried to dodge the infirmary the best he could. Even when he knew he needed to go. Even when he should go.

From the moment Clint was recruited, Phil had regarded him as trouble. He had problems with authority and discipline and generally just seemed to do whatever he wanted. That was far from what Phil expected from a field agent. Then there was the fact that Clint skipped training and seemed to revel in following Phil around and annoying him. Slowly, but surely, the annoying started to become endearing. Clint had grown on him in a way he didn't want to admit. Still, he was dubious about how all of it would translate out in the field.

Clint didn't disappoint. For all his joking and refusals over some things, out in the field he really was the best. He could do things that no other man could come close to and he did them well. Phil almost felt pride in that right away. Dubious as he'd felt, he really had wanted Clint to succeed. Right away, they seemed to work well together and Phil allowed himself to give Clint the positive reinforcement that he'd clearly been lacking for so long. He didn't favor him too much or give him obvious extra treatment. He just told Clint when he was doing well, went a little easy on the regulations that probably shouldn't have mattered anyway. Clint did best without a lot of rules weighing him down. He wouldn't follow half of them, anyway, so why not just focus in on the important ones? Sure, they bickered and sometimes Phil wanted to punch Clint's stupid grin right off of his face, but they worked and Phil was happy with it working.

"I'd feel better if medical took a look at you, but I guess I can do it." He sighed. He really wasn't a medical professional, but he was better than nothing. "Come on. I'll stay with you." He didn't care about the dry-cleaning. It didn't matter. That wasn't what he was worried about right now. Right now, he was worried about Clint and only Clint. Everything else could wait.

It was all a level respect when it came to Clint. He respected Phil...he just showed it through all the crap he put him through. At the beginning, at the middle, and presently. The archer didn't respect (or like) a lot of people. When he was younger he had always felt as though the world had given up on him, so he had just given up on the world. It was mostly Phil who had instilled that there was still a little hope out there in the world. It was just his job to make sure that it didn't fade into the darkness. Their jobs to make sure it didn't do that. Clint had felt though his hope in the world had been sucked out the moment someone mentioned that Phil Coulson had been killed in action during the Loki fight.

When he had seen him again. Wounded, yes. But alive. His hope in the world had ignitated once again. Then again with everything that had happened since then, Clint's optimism was fading as he buried his face against Phil's finely pressed suit. He really wanted to just whine about how much his head hurt. But Clint Barton didn't whine. Unless it was to Phil because he found that socially acceptable for him. Phil was a lot of things to him. When Phil sounded like he was ready to get up and go, Clint was slowly moving to his feet. His balance was a little better but it was all affected by his concussed head and the fact...he just thought if he spent a little time with Coulson everything would be better for him. He held out his hand to help Phil to his feet, leaning against the wall just in case his balance gave way again.

"I'll try not to cuddle you this time. But I make no promises whatsoever." He forced a smile to his face as he looked down at his handler.

Phil couldn't remember ever not being an optimist, even if he was an overly-cautious one. He saw the best in things, even when there wasn't much to see. He had to. With all the horrible things they saw in their line of work, it was what kept him sane. It was why he'd always loved the idea of Captain America so much. He was a testament to the idea that everyone could make a difference if they wanted to. Yes, he saw the best in everyone, but especially Clint, who was impossible to completely control but so good at what he did and so ready to take risks for others. Clint was an enigma from the start, but Phil had seen something in him. He'd known there was something about Clint that was special and it wasn't just his ability to shoot.

He knew that Clint tried to hold a lot in. He didn't like to be vulnerable and he held back his feelings and when he was in pain. Phil had some skill when it came to seeing through this, but he wished that he didn't have to, especially because he knew that Clint was more open with him than most others. If something happened to Phil--and it almost had--who was going to make sure that Clint took care of himself?

He stood right after Clint, hovering close. Clint still looked uneasy on his feet and Phil was going to catch him if he fell. That was just a fact. He wrapped an arm around Clint's waist, pulling the man's weight against his side. "I'll let you blame in on the concussion this time."

It was a personality of aspect that Clint loved about Phil. His optimism. Even if he didn't enjoy the sparse conversations about his hero Captain America -- Clint listened because it was fun to listen to the stories. He probably knew just as much about Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos as Coulson did because he had spent time listening to what his handler had to say about him. Asked questions when he was bored enough to want to listen to Coulson drone on about the super soldier. Of course, he made fun of Coulson's vintage card collection. He didn't really laugh that much after he had seen the card collection ruined, covered in Phil's blood. Clint had spent the next week or so hunting down the exact same collection. It was more crisp then before. He made sure they looked exactly the same as they had before.

Down to boxing the edges around the Captain America card.

Not that he had shown Phil that collection just yet. He just hid it under his bed. His life didn't exactly make it so he believe that expressing his emotions was a good thing. Not making himself vulnerable. His occupation was just an extension of himself in that way. Snipers were never the most social people in the world. Holding back emotions and guilt were all part of the grand scheme of things because of the guilt that could come with it. It also helped him not get emotionally connected all that much. Even if the Avengers were trying. Trying to worm their ways into his world. Clint honestly didn't know how he felt about it. All he truly knew was that only one person was capable of that so far. And that was Coulson.

The fact of the matter is that Clint knew he would get by in life without Coulson, if the conversation ever struck up. But he just wouldn't...feel as much. It wasn't exactly the best thing to admit too. Clint leaned into his friend, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. "Or just say I just like it. I sleep better when you're around." Because Clint did. The sniper hadn't really thought about what he had said because, even if he was usually straight-forward with most things? This was not one of them. "You work better than sleeping pills." He figured he should add some kind of joke in there as he started walking alongside Phil.

"I'll let you take me to medical later, does that sound okay?" It was more like offering something to just give Phil something to ease up a little bit. A concussion really wasn't something to brush off. But Clint didn't really want to admit to people that, yes. Once again, he had been taken over by Loki. He didn't want to tell Phil that Loki hadn't honestly ordered him back to the SHIELD offices. He had told him to do what he wished. To work independently in his name and he did so with the intent to bring down SHIELD.

He could have been a really good bad guy if he was given the chance.

More than talking about Captain America, Phil had just liked talking to Clint. He liked that Clint would ask him questions and want to hear what Phil had to say. Not that his excitement for the Captain wasn't strong. He was a huge fan and he loved any excuse to talk about him. Clint just tended to give him the most excuses. Most of the other agents would try to change the subject or make it into a joke. Clint listened. Clint asked questions and even listened with a straight face sometimes. It was like he wanted to hear Phil talk about it. It was nice.

The cards had been a big blow for him. Yes, they were worth money, but it was the sentimentality that hurt. It was what they represented. Fury had taken that sentimentality and used it to manipulate the Avengers and while he was glad that they had come together, he wasn't so sure that sacrificing the cards had been necessary. He could have at least left out the really rare ones. Truthfully, he'd felt a little down since he'd found out about the cards. They represented something personal to him that he couldn't recapture, even with the real Captain America being around. It just wasn't the same thing, even if Steve was just about every bit as amazing as Phil had hoped he would be. He still inspired Phil, though. Nothing could change that. He was an inspiring man.

Phil could feel heat rising on the back of his neck at Clint's words and he tightened his grip. He didn't mean it like that. He couldn't. It was just that they were friends. They trusted each other in a way that was hard-won and rare and that was just how they were. Of course Clint could relax and sleep with him around. Clint knew that Phil would protect him. It was his job. He had to know that. "It's my boring voice, right? I can tell you more about Captain Rogers than he can."

He smiled. "I'll have to wake you up every few hours, but we can wait until you've rested to go to medical as long as you promise to let me know if it gets worse." He paused. "And lend me pants." Because he was not about to sit around in pants covered in vomit and he was pretty sure that Clint wouldn't want him to, anyway.

Once they got back to Clint's emptied room, he'd have to give him the set he had collected for him. It wouldn't be the same as it had been before. The lack of sentimental value might be associated with it. After all, Fury had ruined the entire first collection to bring the Avengers together. There was a good cause to it all, but it just wasn't executed as well as it could have been in Clint's eyes. Before he had found out that Coulson was still alive. He raised Hell about the trading cards and took them back to his room. He still had those until Phil came back, then he figured that it would be more plausible for Fury or Hill to explain how they got in the condition they did otherwise Clint would have just hovered over them. He had tried to clean them off anyway that he knew how. But it didn't really work as well as he had hoped they would. Hence why he had bought an entirely new set in hopes of replicating it for his friend.

There was a lot Clint wanted to talk to Coulson about. About how Captain America really was everything he described him to be in his stories. That Clint could see why Phil had looked up to him, and sometimes caught himself fanboying over the Star Spangled Man with a Plan. Quietly, but he still did. When the sparred. When the fought side by side. When Clint was listening to Tony trying to get Steve caught up in the media part of the world. But he didn't really think it mattered to Phil, he still wanted his cards. Clint had gotten the Captain America one signed by Steve, hiding the smile on his face because he sort of imagined the happy glint in Coulson's eyes when he saw it. There was nothing really he wouldn't do for him. That was also why they worked so well together. Over the years, Clint liked hearing the feint hint of pride in Phil's voice. The subtle dry humor in his body language. The look in his eyes whenever he was pleased with something. Or displeased. Clint knew Coulson; better then a lot of people thought he actually did.

Clint being one for details wasn't usually something he was famous for. But it was one of Clint's little talents. Noticing the little things about people. He just didn't acknowledge them as much as he acknowledged the things about Phil. He knew his favorite dry-cleaner. How he liked his coffee every morning. How he had to remind him to have something to eat with his coffee every morning otherwise he wouldn't have eaten. He liked being present in fights rather than commanding from HQ. He wore Captain America boxers. Clint had seen the pair when he was being a snoop early on in his career.

He almost considered getting Steve to sign them instead.

He did mean it like that. But Phil was an fairly intelligent man. Clint figured he could come up to the conclusion himself. Clint usually wasn't so brash when it came to things like that. When it was just him and Nat, things just fell together because they both were caught up enough. It didn't seal together a relationship with them. It just sealed together their bond as partners. Phil was different. Clint never admitted his feelings for the man until he thought the man was gone forever. He still hadn't said anything about them. There was a slight fear of ruining the relationship they had built over the years. "Yeah, you're boring voice. Droning on and on." Clint chuckled, wrinkling his nose when he offered to tell him more about Steve. "Or you can tell me more about someone else. Not yourself. I know you like you know Rogers, boss." He didn't feel like it was awkward to admit that. He figured it was the same way when it came to Coulson as well. Coulson, who could tell after a couple missing sessions of Clint harassing him in his office -- that something was horribly wrong.

Clint wrinkled his nose at the aspect of being woken up every couple of hours. He felt like he hadn't slept in days. He was sure he hadn't slept in days. The good thing about being under Loki's control was sleep was not a necessity. The first round he couldn't even remember if he had ever slept. He just knew he had worked through it all for the sake of completing the mission. "Or just check if I'm breathing and not wake me up? Just tossing that idea around, sir."

Phil was well-aware that Rogers had, surprisingly, really lived up to Phil's idea of him. He was a great man, a great American hero, but he wasn't the only one. As far as Phil was concerned, every single one of the Avengers had lived up to that ideal. He wasn't surprised about Clint or Natasha or Rogers. He hadn't even been all that surprised about Stark. He'd known that there was a good man hiding under all of that alcohol and ego. Just because he wasn't surprised didn't mean he wasn't proud, though. He was proud of all of them, but he was most proud of Clint. Clint had come so far. He had been through so much. Phil had always known that he could do great things, but to see that happen? It filled him with an indescribable amount of pride. He was so damn proud of Clint, of the fact that that was someone that he'd had a hand in recruiting and training.

A normal person might think that Clint knowing that much about them was weird, but Phil wasn't normal and he thought that putting a GPS chip in his friends was a possible way to protect them. He knew just as much about Clint as Clint knew about him. Maybe more. He knew when Clint wasn't getting enough sleep or when he was having regular sex. He knew what toppings he preferred on his pizza and what deodorant he wore and that he would unfailingly put himself in the most dangerous situations, but that he could always get out of most of them (and Phil would get him out of the rest. He would always get Clint out.)

Phil wasn't sure quite when he'd started thinking of Clint as more than a friend. Somewhere between feeling like he was babysitting an unruly college student and dragging Clint out of a burning building in Kandahar, he'd just started to notice things and by Kandahar, it was too late. He'd fallen for the idiot. He never let it affect the way they worked in the field. He didn't even plan to ever tell Clint. He didn't need to know. Phil knew that Clint wouldn't be interested in him for a myriad of reasons and he accepted that. He just wanted to keep being Clint's friend, to work with him. The rest would pass.

He took on as much of Clint's weight as Clint would allow him to, grip tight and strong. "Who do you want to hear about, then? No one too exciting or you won't sleep." He offered a small smile. He'd gladly let Clint sleep, but if he had a concussion, Phil really did need to at least do that. "And I do have to wake you up, but I'll make sure you get back to sleep every time."

The problem with Phil being proud of him for being the hero that he was; both to the public and to SHIELD, was that Clint didn't see himself as a hero. He hardly envisioned himself someone who fought in the name of truth, justice, and that bullshit about the American Way. The Avengers were still the mismatched group of heroes, but they all seemed to accept their role as Earth's defenders. Clint hardly felt like he belonged amongst any of them, not because of the things he did under Loki's control (though that was a contribution to his insecurity). It was the fact that when he compared himself to the others (except Tasha) they all had better lives leading up to their heroic debut. Clint had been that kid who dropped out of school, he never even finished elementary school. He knew the basics to get him by but his only strength was the fact that he was quick to think on his feet and he would always make the shot when they needed him too. When it compared to Stark's wealth and fame. Rogers' strength and integrity. Banners's intelligence and resources. Tasha even had things that compared to Clint, he fell short of no matter what. They all seemed to have some strength when Clint fell short.

His insecurity about being part of the team made him look at Phil's pride like he was coming from a place Clint didn't know existed. But he decided somewhere along the way that when Phil was actually proud; he should really just roll with it. Clint appreciated the faith Coulson had in him more than anyone else. If Fury had said he was proud of him, it would have never be the same if Phil had come out and said it to his face.

The fact that they knew each other much more than they would let themselves say was almost eerie. Clint could remember on more than one occasion when he would answer a question in similar fashion to how Phil would. Whenever some stupid junior agent would go to Coulson's office door to say something, Clint would stand resilient by his door to scare them off. Sure, he knew it was Phil's job to mentor. But Clint felt as though it was his job to lighten his load a little. Help him anyway he could even if it meant walking in every morning, afternoon, and evening with things as easy as food. Or even going so far (fairly recently) to do some paperwork for him. Even paperwork that didn't honestly involve him.

Even if he came off as a rather smooth operator. He flirted with plenty of his women co-workers and junior agents. When it came to thinking of talking to Phil about how he felt. He always choked on the words and came up with something else to say. He often wished he would. Just to know instead of just stare like a dumbass.

Clint started walking with Coulson, trying to relieve a little of his weight on the other man. "I dunno. You can make shit up about Stark or Thor." He didn't find either as exciting as Coulson was, to be honest. "Or you can just talk about yourself...I could go for that now that I think about it." Clint could say he was usually bored if Phil ever spoke of himself, which happened rarely; but he was always listening to whatever the man had to say that it was a little embarrassing for him. The archer's brow arched a bit when he mentioned that he wasn't going to get out of being woken up every couple of hours.

"I'm sure you'd succeed, sir." He noted quietly. "Like I said, I sleep better when you're around. I won't talk to my doctor about it. They might just put in an order for me to move in with you...and I'm, pretty sure I snore." He teased briefly, knowing that it might actually be something his psychologist would do if she knew Clint had spent a couple nights in the past couple weeks (before he went missing) -- sleeping fairly regularly and restful. He was actually looking forward a little to pressing against Coulson's side and drifting off to sleep.

Edited 2012-06-03 08:07 (UTC)

The way Phil saw it, Clint was just as big a hero as any of the other Avengers. He's stepped up along with them, no powers or impressive suits. He'd just had his bow and his brain and he's risked his life to stop those things. Clint was a hero, no doubt about it. Phil would never not see him that way. Clint belonged on the team. Phil couldn't picture the team without Clint. It was why he wished that Clint would let himself really become part of the team.

Phil usually liked to know more about others than they knew about him. It was a paranoid habit, a way for him to stay one step ahead of everyone. Very few people escaped it. Most of them were above his pay grade. That or they were Clint. He was hardly an open book, but he took less care to hide things from Clint than anyone else. He trusted Clint completely to look out for him. He knew that Clint would pick up the slack when Phil was running behind, no matter how lazy he liked to pretend to be. Clint had his back in ways that no other agent did and he trusted Clint more than anyone else at SHIELD, even Hill or Fury.

Phil was well-aware of the flirting. It was why he was so sure that Clint would never want anything with him. Clint could have his share of young, female agents and he certainly put his interest out there. The best Phil could hope for was an awkward rejection and an end to their working relationship. It wasn't worth losing Clint.

He continued leading Clint down the hall towards his room. "I'll tell you about anything you want." He would, too. After the scare Clint had given him, there wasn't much he was going to hold back from Clint right now. He just wanted to change his pants and lie down with Clint where he could listen to the man breath and be reminded that he really was okay.

"You do snore, but it's light. I've slept through worse." He would let Clint move in if he thought Clint really wanted to. It would be worth it just to know where he is and make sure that he was sleeping. It might sound crazy, but it was true.

Clint could see them work well without him there. Not as well, but he was sure Stark or SHIELD could find somewhere to accommodate the position of sniper in some way. But it truly wasn't something Clint was going to say anything against regardless. He had become part of the team without truly realizing it. After the Manhattan incident, when the Avengers were called to deal with something else entirely. He was more than surprised to see that they sent someone to bring him into the briefing room to go over a game plan. He honestly wanted to tell Phil there was no other feeling in the world then having Captain America look dead in your eyes and tell you to suit up. Because it was a little embarrassing to admit to the fact that he was sort of looking up to him in some way. Clint respected Rogers. But he respected Phil more. Sure, Steve was an American hero. Nationally acclaimed and looked on upon as someone who would always come to save the day when it needed to be done. Clint always looked towards Phil as the true hero of the story.

The flirting was more of a front. Dates didn't last longer then two before he stopped answering text messages (he hated texts) or phone calls. Most of the time just going out right to break their hearts by saying he just wasn't interested in a relationship. He had done himself a disservice by dating someone who was working to become one of the base's shrinks who psycho-analyzed him as he was breaking up with her. 'We need to see other people' meant 'You need to see other people while I continue serial-dating because I'm too afraid to commit'. 'I just don't feel that way about you' apparently had meant 'I'm in love with someone else'. She was right about the second one. Dead on. When she'd asked him about it later on, he didn't really known what to say other than 'You're right.' But he didn't exactly say who. She assumed by how he and Nat were -- it was the other lone assassin. The one most men in SHIELD feared because they didn't know if she took "Black Widow" to heart or not when it came to relationships.

He only knew that Tasha was the suspected person the shrink thought he was in love with because Nat walked up to him the next day with a knowing look on her face. Clint was pretty sure she knew who he meant. Separated between Phil and Nat, Clint had no secrets. If they ever decided to get together one day and talk about him -- nothing would be sacred anymore. But luckily, they didn't. Clint was sure their conversations were more like morse code via blinking. Or Tasha's side of the conversation anyway. "Mmm...that sounds good." He sounded content at the thought of just listening to Coulson's voice echo throughout his room. "You pick the subject, Phil. I'll just listen."

Clint was almost always glad Coulson wasn't truly aware of the effect he had on him. If he was, he did a fine job in making sure Clint didn't know he knew. The SHIELD agent kept on allowing his handler to lead him to the apartments assigned to the agents of SHIELD. He was almost glad that it had been Phil and Phil's paranoia that had caught him trying to escaped headquarters. If it had been Fury or Hill, they wouldn't have tried to knock some sense into him. Probably even use him to try to find Loki and lock him in a cell. The sudden idea of him being locked in a cell after this event was slightly very real to him. He almost wanted to ask Coulson not to inform Fury of what had happened. But after making his way in the way he had. Security feeds, the injured security guards. There was absolutely no way Fury wouldn't know unless he would think Barton had switched sides finally.

He blinked as Phil's final words registered with him, turning his head towards his handler. "I do not snore. Nat never told me I snored. I wheeze." If Clint had known the option of moving in with Phil was acceptable. They'd be going over to his place. By morning, his things would already be over there. "Sometimes talk in my sleep. But never snore."

Oh, Phil knew that Clint had commitment issues. There were plenty of reasons why he might, so Phil didn't prod it. If Clint wanted to talk about it, he could come to Phil. Phil wouldn't enjoy it, but he would listen, because that was what friends did. They listened and they were supportive and they didn't force the subject. He would suck it up if Clint did want to talk, but thankfully he didn't.

Phil had had his share of short-lived relationships. Perhaps not as short as Clints, but no one lived up to Clint. The closest he'd managed was that cellist he'd told Pepper about, the one who'd broken up with him for working too much. It was just as well. Phil had liked him, but it wasn't right. There were too many lies, too much work. He hadn't been Clint.

He sometimes wondered if anyone had noticed. He tried his best to treat Clint and the other agents equally, but it was hard at times. If anyone had noticed, it would have been Natasha and whether she would say anything to either of them or just ignore the whole thing, he was unsure. He hoped that she didn't know at all. He hoped that if she did, she wouldn't confront him or, worse, tell Clint.

When they finally reached Clint's door, Phil keyed in his door code. Of course he knew it. "Let's get you on the bed and then I'll look for some pants." Phil wasn't letting anyone take Clint anywhere. Clint should have known that. Phil wouldn't leave his side until he was sure that Clint was feeling better and he wouldn't leave him if there was any danger of Fury wanting to lock him up. Clint wasn't a tool. He was Phil's friend and while Phil could send him on dangerous missions in the field, he would let anyone use him without his permission.

"Fine. You wheeze." He helped Clint over to the bed with a weak smile.

Seeing as "I have a big hunking crush on my handler" was the primary reason behind his so-called commitment issues. It didn't exactly make coming to Coulson a reasonable option for Clint. He didn't want that to be the way he told Phil that he felt something for him. By saying every kiss with a woman lately just felt stale. The sex was just boring but if he didn't feel like gaining a reputation or keeping up with his past relationships -- then he would have just foregoed it altogether. After all, there had been a lot of moments on "dates" where he just had to think about Phil and it made things a little more better for him. Easier to get along with them even though their conversation skills (to Clint) were lacking in his mind. When it came to Phil, there was no awkward conversations about anything. They didn't need to dance around each other when it came to getting down to either business or just to pass the time. A little thing Clint had discovered after the years of working with him, talking to him over comms when he was hiding up in his nest because there honestly was nothing better for him to do and the only person he was usually allowed to be in contact with was Coulson himself.

If anyone had noticed that Phil favored Clint in anyway. Coulson was just lucky that the observant "hawk" was oblivious to everything. A part of him had truly hoped that Coulson had found someone in the cellist because he believed Phil needed someone way more than he did. Needless to say, he was jealous of the man. Unknown to Phil, Clint had shadowed the man and even once had a drink with him at the bar just to learn more about the person who Coulson was dating. After one conversation, he had decided Phil was too good for him.

But he wasn't following him out to his car to beat him up or anything. Coulson might get a little suspicious.

Of course, Tasha had been the one to calmly tell him it truly wasn't his place to follow Phil's significant others around. God bless that woman, Clint usually thought. She put up with so much from him when it came to the stupid things he would do, down to the fact that he was harboring these feelings like some school girl.

Clint stepped in, away from using Coulson as a crutch as he walked slowly over to his bed. "Bottom drawer has some track pants. I burned everything I had that resembled a suit. I should get another one soon...just in case. Hill mentioned something about sending me on some stuff separate from the Initiative." Not that was entirely something he was truly looking forward too. Clint had the full intent to go down to security and try to find a way to destroy the videos of the past couple of hours. Not that he was going to tell Phil. He was sure the man wouldn't agree with that little course of action as Clint moved to lay down on his bed before rolling over and reaching blindly underneath it.

"Thank you," he flashed a grin over in Phil's direction as he continued searching for the box that held the set of cards he'd tracked down for his handler. "You snore though. When we're on this subject. I should really invest in ear-plugs if I keep on dragging you off to my room." His hand finally found the intended target before pulling it out from underneath the bed, pushing it across the floor so it hit Phil's foot.

Phil knew that he was competent. He was more than competent, really, and he was confident in himself. He was not, however, interesting. Aside from his job, he had pretty ordinary hobbies in what little of his free time remained. Even growing up, he'd been more interested in pursuits like Dungeons and Dragons or reading a good book than in anything that would be popularly described as fun. As such, he knew that outside of work, he didn't have much he could say that would interest most people. He honestly treasured those times that they were forced to spend talking only to each other. How else could he spend so much time talking to Clint at all? That the man even listened to him talk about Captain America or whatever else meant a lot to him.

He was sure that Clint was unaware of everything. How could he not be? The man wasn't always the most subtle. Phil knew that he would say something the moment that he found out if he did and that was the only reason Phil knew that Clint hadn't noticed.

Phil would probably be bothered to know that Clint had followed his ex and spoken to him, but Phil was a hypocrite, because more than once, he found himself looking into people that Clint dated. He never treated them differently, but he did read their background checks and personnel files. It might have been crossing a line, but Phil couldn't bring himself to feel bad about that.

He dug into Clint's drawer to pull out a pair of track pants and went for his own belt. Of course Clint had burned his suits. That was just to be expected, wasn't it? He toed off his shoes and carefully stepped out of his pants so that he didn't contaminate anything else. He left them in a pile in a corner out of the way and pulled on the track pants quickly. "I don't snore. Someone would have told me before now if I did."

He looked down at the box that had his his foot. "What's this?" He bent to pick it up, opening it carefully. He almost dropped it when he saw what was inside. He could feel his heart starting to beat faster as he looked up at Clint. He couldn't imagine how much time and money had gone into this. No, that was wrong. He could imagine exactly how much. And there it was. That was why he was utterly, disgustingly in love with Clint. He didn't even have words. He just kept staring.

If Clint wasn't at all in his perfect comfort zone when he was around Phil; he'd be all ears when Coulson talked about himself. Phil seemed to have the childhood he never had and enjoyed listening to stories about his family life. The fact that he was one of those kids who played Dungeons and Dragons or read instead of choosing to do anything else would have bored most people. But Clint was never bored. He even asked questions about it when he was slowly drifting off to sleep or when his mouth was full (if Clint had struck up conversation when they were having a meal together). The books that Phil raved about when it came to "his favorite books in high school" were on top of Clint's dresser because he felt as though if he knew what Phil liked -- he'd understand him even more than he did now. Answer questions and get more involved in conversations that didn't involve weapons or a mission. Not that; that was the majority of their conversations together. They honestly talked about anything that was on their mind when they were around each other.

He wouldn't have been surprised if Phil had told him he spied on his dates. It just seemed like a Coulson thing to do. When it came to Clint doing the same, it was unfamiliar territory. He had been one to think that people had a right to their privacy and it wasn't his job to step on that. He did it when it came to Phil. The cellist in question wasn't truly a threat in the end. He had been pleasantly...normal. Clint was almost jealous. The dates he went on involved people from SHIELD and were, most of the time, far from normal. He figured that was what Coulson wanted. Someone who wasn't involved in all of this. Someone who didn't know the reason why he was five minutes late to a date was because he had just orchestrated a hit on one of the world's highest ranking terrorists and was still jet lagged. It might be a relief for Phil.

Clint wanted Phil to have normal and be happy.

A part of him was very glad his handler's back was to him when his face heated up the moment Coulson's hands moved towards his belt. It was really the reason why he went digging for the cards. The other reason was the preoccupy himself by staring at the ceiling instead of Coulson. "They're just too kind to say anything. If you want brutal honesty you come to me first, sir." He laughed, taking one more glance in Phil's direction to see the flash of Captain America boxers and propping his chin up on his fist with an amused grin on his face. "How many pairs of those do you actually own, Phil?" Clint was sure...that gave something away in the fact that he knew what kind of underwear his boss wore. But he was sure twelve-year-olds wore the same kind of boxers.

His smile didn't drop from his face however as he watched Phil open up the boxer he'd collected. He collected it even when he thought Coulson was gone forever. When he thought he was just doing it to appease some ghost that he had a lengthy conversation about never telling how he truly felt. That if he had been given another chance he wouldn't take it for granted. Now they were in his room...and he still hadn't said anything about it. "A present. The moment I saw Fury's idea of bringing the team together I decided to build it up again." He waved his free hand haphazardly towards the box. It had cost him nearly three months pay to get everything. Hassling some old man who know continuously called him for a chance to meet both Captain America and Iron Man in exchange for one of the cards.

"You wouldn't believe the shit I had to do to get the entire set. I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to talk Rogers into showing at someone's birthday party." It was a joke. But still. Clint had gone through amazing lengths to hunt them down and gather them altogether.

"Clint..." Phil hadn't planned to rebuild his collection. It had been sentimental and he hadn't thought that a new set would mean as much. He was wrong. This set, it just meant something different. Phil couldn't remember ever having a friend do something like this for him. It was too much. He smiled down at the box and placed it on Clint's dresser before turning to him.

"I can't believe you did this for me." He shook his head, moving closer to the bed. He would probably do the same for Clint. He would do a lot of stupid things for Clint. It wasn't as if he hadn't done plenty of them already and he was sure that there were stupid things he'd do for Clint that he hadn't even thought of yet.

Normal wasn't something Phil wanted. He didn't not want it, but when he thought about being happy with someone, where they worked didn't factor in, though it did actually seem easier to date inside of SHIELD where he didn't have to lie. He struggled with that, though. He struggled with the idea of dating someone who might notice that he was in love with someone else. If they didn't work at SHIELD, then they wouldn't see him and Clint. They couldn't see that he was the person Phil really wanted to be with.

He came to sit on the edge of Clint's bed. "Thank you." He smiled. "It means a lot to me, Clint." It meant a lot that it was Clint who had done it more than anything. It always surprised him when Clint did things that showed him how much their friendship was valued. It almost didn't matter that they were always going to be just friends. Their friendship was special. It was important to both of them.

He shrugged out of his coat jacket and loosened his tie, tossing them both on a chair so that he was just in his dress shirt and Clint's track pants. "Let's see about you getting some sleep." He sat back against Clint's headboard, slouching down uncharacteristically and setting his legs in front of him. If he was going to be a pillow, he could at least relax.

Clint didn't even feel like he had to say it at all when Phil told him he didn't have to do that for him. Yes, he did. The archer was probably just as angry at the usage of the trading cards as Phil was when he found out. Clint didn't know...he wasn't there when Fury told him. He didn't exactly see the point in having them be a martyr as well. If Phil had truly been dead, Clint would have wanted to keep the cards in mint condition somewhere in his room. The ruined cards were, however, given back to Phil once he came back to the fold. He paused for a moment before shrugging as he watched his handler walk towards the bed. "Yeah, I did." He took in a deep breath as he scooted over on the bed to make some room for Phil to lay down. "I know they're not the same as before. I tried to get as close as the old set as before..." He didn't want to point out he was a complete loser when it came to making sure they were also in the same state as the others. He was sure Clint would notice somewhere down the line.

He hoped at least.

It was lucky that Clint didn't know Coulson's reasoning for not dating within SHIELD. Even the undisclosed reason that it was because he would rather date him than anyone else. SHIELD agents, a majority of them, were gossips. The good ones weren't, yes. But the majority of the ones Clint had met were. He had been lucky enough to date people who were either too idiotic to see he pined after Phil or saw it and took mercy on him because he was too much of a wimpass to say anything to the other man. He just didn't want to ruin this.

It was those words that made Clint's heart race. A success. He felt a little stupid for letting that the reason why he was happy in that moment but he wasn't going to say anything as he waited until he was fully sat back before laying his head on Coulson, draping his arm around him as he sighed in relief almost. "No problem, Phil. Fury was just lucky I didn't shoot him in the face the moment I saw he ruined those cards." He chuckled lightly as he made himself comfortable. It felt stupid, laying there. Pretending this was something Coulson wanted too. But it got him by.

Phil wrapped an arm loosely around Clint's shoulder, hand brushing through his hair. He'd just hit Clint in the head with his gun. The least he could do was be comforting in the aftermath. Not that he didn't want to be here, because he did. There were few things he wanted more than to just lie here with Clint and pretend that there was something more to it. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that Clint really wanted him here and not just because of the trust between them, but because he was the person Clint most wanted in his bed for any reason.

He knew that SHIELD was full of gossips, just like any other workplace. He'd heard plenty of gossip about all of his agents, Clint included. A large portion of it was untrue, of course, but he never bothered to tell anyone that. If they wanted to have their fun, he would let them. Unlike a lot of junior agents, Phil could tell what was true and what wasn't and the few times he wasn't sure, he could find out. He didn't get where he was just by sitting on his hands.

"Don't let anyone else hear you talking about shooting Fury in the face." That was the last kind of trouble he wanted to have to get Clint out of. He would, though, just like how he was going to keep Clint out of trouble for anything he might have done today. He would always keep Clint out of trouble. He was Clint's handler and it was his job to keep the man safe and if he went a little above and beyond sometimes, was anyone really going to hold that again him?

Still, he couldn't help smiling. "The cards are perfect, Clint." They really were, too. He hadn't inspected the condition yet, didn't know that Clint had matched it. They were perfect because Clint had gotten them.

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.