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 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.

It was Phil's job to send Clint, to send all of his agents, really, into dangerous situations. He had to do his job in a somewhat detached manner when it came to things like that. He had to put the greater good above any one agent and that was difficult. Out of the field, though, the idea of losing Clint was entirely unbearable. He tried not to think about it at all most of the time. He didn't want to accept the fact that Clint could die and that he could be the one who had sent him out there.

The last few days with Clint missing had been terrible. He'd focused himself on finding the man just to stop himself from doing something stupid. Outwardly, he'd seemed mostly fine, if a little distracted. Inside, he was falling apart when he's thought Clint could be dead. Clint was here now, though. Phil kept his hand moving lightly through Clint's hair. Even if this wasn't perfect, Clint as alive and safe and soon he would feel better. In the mean time, Phil would stay here with him until he was sure that Clint was feeling better.

"Yeah and I'm always having to get you out of trouble, so knock it off." He was kidding. Mostly. He did have to get Clint out of trouble, but it wasn't as if that was stopping any time soon. If Clint was in trouble, Phil would be there to try to fix it. It was reflex at this point, even when Clint was actually doing something wrong. Okay, maybe he didn't treat all of his agents equally. He should maybe work on that, but he knows that he won't.

"I won't tell anyone who gave them to me." He smiled at Clint's concern over his image. "If anyone asks who gave me the best present I've ever gotten, I will cite my sister and leave you out of it." It really was the best present he'd ever gotten, too. It was the nicest and most thoughtful one possible, really. Who else would know him well enough to even know what a good present this was?

Clint didn't know. The life-or-death situations he got himself in were merely just reprimanded and he flashed Phil a cocky grin saying he always knew he would walk away alive. Even when he honestly didn't. The archer would have just told Coulson it was all part of the job. Just like he told himself it was all part of the job when Coulson died. But in the end, it was complete and utter bullshit. Clint didn't want to know that Coulson would beat himself over being the one who could possibly send him to his death. That he had been wrecked over the short amount of time that he was missing the last couple of days. He didn't want to think of the missed meals and the lack of sleep on his handler's part because he would have sworn to himself never to miss another drop by in his office ever again. Or phone call when he was bored enough at the range to give the man a head's up that he was stopping by. Email chain letter that he forwarded to Phil because he knew it would make him twitch a little.

He didn't know Coulson got as much out of the experience as he did. Sure, it hadn't been chasing around bad guys. The things they did on their off-time were more memorable than anything else Clint had experienced in SHIELD. He, of course, only had Tasha to talk about it too. Most of the time when they were sparring. Her lips did faintly twitch as an indication of a smile when he mentioned the purple crayon incident. It hadn't been a lot. But he knew she didn't really care what Clint did outside of Avengers or the missions. Just as he didn't when it came to Natasha's exploits. Nothing too big. None that didn't make Clint think the trio put together had as much of a social life as a snail.

"Well, that's what they pay you for isn't it?" He tried not to laugh when he said that. "Get me out of trouble, being my unofficial babysitter, Avenger Wrangler." A badass in a suit. Clint's next gift wasn't going to be as amazing as the replicated set of cards he had hunted down, he decided quickly. A new suit and maybe some Bermuda shorts. He'd see what he could do about getting the guy a vacation. Away from SHIELD. The Avengers. And regretfully, him. But he could deal with a couple days (weeks) without the agent. This, obviously, was a total lie. But if he told it to himself repeatedly he might start to believe it. Might. He'd make the next stuff seem like Pepper had given it to him. They seemed close enough.

The agent didn't truly want to move from this spot as he dug into his pocket again, where the storage device that he'd been sent with was not-so-pleasantly poking him in his leg as a constant reminder that it was still there before sliding it carefully over onto the nightstand. "Can't risk losing my image of being a badass to sentimentality. They'd believe if your sister did it." He balled up his fist in the side of Phil's shirt. He was exhausted. But his mind was starting to go a mile a minute. So he just decided to keep on talking. "Tasha might not though. She sees through us like a window."

Phil would always do everything in his power to make sure that his agents came back alive. He didn't want to admit that he was compromised, but if he had to choose between Clint and someone else, Clint would win out every time. He would feel guilt, but it would be easier than anything he would feel after sending Clint to his death. That just wasn't an option. He would sooner sacrifice himself than let Clint die if he had the option. The missed meals and sleep were nothing compared to how he would have been if he'd gotten confirmation that Clint was dead. The idea that he could never get another call or stupid email from the man made everything seem bleak.

Phil loved his job, though. He couldn't imagine doing anything else. That didn't make Clint any less of a highlight--maybe the highlight. His time spent with Clint was some of the most important and memorable time he had. Even through all the worrying and the yelling, no one made Phil smile the way Clint did. No one. Sometimes Clint did thoughtful things that he tried to pretend weren't and sometimes he wasn't trying at all and Phil would just find himself grinning.

"That's actually not what they pay me for. I do get a bonus for dealing with you, though." He slouched down a little more until his shoulder was on-level with Clint's head.

Clint probably couldn't top the gift. Phil couldn't think of a better gift than that. No material thing was worth what the thought and effort that went into the card collection was. Even a trip wouldn't stand a chance of living up to it unless Clint was going to come with him. A vacation alone with Clint sounded nice, actually, even if it was something he would never get.

He watched Clint toss something on the night table, but he would ask about that later. Right now, he had Clint lying on him, pressed up against his side, and he just wanted to enjoy being this close. "I won't let anyone tarnish your reputation. What else do you have?" Other than everything.

Clint could honestly remember being recruited by Coulson; thinking both "This guy's a yuppie" and "I think I might have a new best friend". All in the same stream of thought. Not that he said anything about it. He joined with a non-committal look in his eyes, saying he'd quit whenever he wanted too. It'd been years since then. Clint hadn't quit yet. SHIELD had a way of hooking it's claws in a person and burying deep inside them. But that wasn't all of it. Phil also had a way of showing up right before any sort of meltdown or anything like that and Clint just sort of rolled with it. He went with the fact that if had ever been given the chance to not go in and see Phil sitting at his desk or standing near the door of the range; SHIELD would lose it's main factor for keeping him around and alive.

As corny as it sounded. Clint mostly fought and trained as hard as he could so he could stay with Coulson. The other part was the pure satisfaction of being a badass and being paid for it. A little additional thing to what they usually had to deal with when it came down to everything like this. Luckily it never came off as that, otherwise Clint would have a lot of explaining to do and he really didn't want to do that.

When Phil moved so his shoulder was by his head, Clint unconsciously just moved to lay his shoulder. Eyes still shut as he just moved himself so he was as comfortable as he wanted to be. The only thing he wasn't doing was draping his leg over Coulson's. Which would have gotten an interesting reaction from him, probably not a good one. He didn't want to risk losing a decent night's sleep because he just wanted to indulge himself a little by thinking it was at all a plausible move for him to do that. "Flattery will get you everywhere, boss." God, Clint was suddenly hoping he didn't talk in his sleep. He didn't need Phil to have front-row tickets to that little show. It would have been embarrassing to say the least.

Clint pursed his lips together, thinking on what else you had. All he thought was Right now I have you, Phil. But he didn't really think that was as true as he wanted it to be. "My bow. My arrow. Tasha. The quinjet's mine too. Fury just doesn't know it yet. You." He paused for a moment, offering him a brief grin. "I'm still trying to talk the Cap into giving me his shield but he seems very attached to it, sadly. Maybe if you asked him he might do it."

On meeting Clint, all Phil remembered thinking was that he knew the man would be trouble. There was no doubt about that. As he'd grown on Phil, he'd only proven to be more trouble than Phil had ever imagined. When Clint wasn't doing everything that he wasn't supposed to, he was doing everything so right that it made Phil want to grab him and kiss him. For a long time, he's thought Clint really might quit some day, but he knew better now. SHIELD wouldn't be quite right without him. Phil wouldn't leave. He'd probably never leave SHIELD, but it would still feel empty without Clint.

No one else had that strange combination of trying hard and appearing effortless. No one else worked as well with Phil. A few came close, but no one surpassed the two of them. It was doubtful that anyone would.

He leaned his head gently against Clint's and let himself really relax. They could probably both use some sleep after the last few days. Phil could usually wake himself up after an hour or two. They should be fine as long as he did that to check on Clint. He couldn't help how comfortable he felt with Clint in his arms. It felt right, like they both belonged here. He could almost let himself believe that that wasn't all in his head.

"None of us are going anywhere." Well, he could really only speak for himself in there, but he was pretty certain that Natasha wasn't going anywhere and the rest of those things were inanimate. "Except the quinjet. That might leave you."

He yawned. "And don't take Rogers' shield. He needs that." He fought back the urge to kiss Clint's forehead. That would be a stupid mistake and he wasn't about to make it.

Clint was trouble. That was for sure. He'd been sneaking around in the air ducts the second week he had been taken on by SHIELD when his faith in the man who would be his handler for the long haul of his career in SHIELD. When he over heard Fury talking about him and how he treated the agents who were assigned to get him on his feet. He talked back. He lashed out. Fury was on Team Barton, but not if he kept up his behavior. Coulson didn't seem fazed by it, he just had a look of amusement in his eyes. Maybe because for that week, Clint had successfully risen his blood pressure to the point where it hadn't been before. Or maybe because Clint wasn't as bad a fit in SHIELD as everyone thought he was going to be. It wasn't until Fury had exited that room that Clint knew he was going to like working for Phil, since his handler's eyes shifted towards the grate in the air ducts. Acknowledging Clint's presence and ordering him to come down.

It was the first order Clint ever carried out.

After that it was them just finding something that clicked for the both of them. Clint liked sitting shotgun whenever they had to go on a mission and someone had to drive. He felt a swell of pride whenever Phil would walk up to him after a successful mission. Almost hoping for the man to come up to him and take him in his arms or something. Something Fury would undoubtedly frown upon. But Clint didn't really care what Fury usually said. Now more than ever. The man had lost respect points after the Coulson-death-fake out. He just hadn't come out and said that he didn't trust Fury as far as he could throw him. He knew they were part of a secret agency, but it still didn't give him the right to do that. As far as Clint was always concerned, SHIELD was nothing without Phil Coulson.

He found himself drifting in and out of sleep. Every time his body was ready to give in he reminded himself of what was waiting for him in the land of being awake. Compared to the land of sleep. When faced with the decision of a sleepy conversation with Coulson and a dream wrecked with guilt and Loki. He'd rather go sleep deprived. "Well, Tasha might sneak away one of these days." He smiled as he slowly opened his eyes, focusing on the world around him once again. "The quinjet isn't going anywhere, boss. She loves me. I'm the only one out of those jokes that could get her to fly as well as she does."

Clint fought back a laugh as he pressed his face against Coulson's shoulder. It did no favors for his pounding headache. "I'll get Rogers something cooler. Like a bow." He offered up as he turned his head, facing Coulson so that he could study his face. He looked tired. Just as tired as he did. "You look like crap, Phil." Clint was always more than happy to say Coulson's first name out loud. Most people didn't have that honor (nor did they know his first name was Phil). Clint had been surprised when he had first heard it on some mission in Russia. But he still remembered repeating it the entire mission as he shifted slightly, dropping his hand above Phil's heart. He didn't need to see or feel the scar to know it was there. The reason why Phil Coulson had been out of the field so long and Clint had torn himself apart for weeks. He remembered promising himself he wouldn't waste another moment if he had a chance until Coulson came waltzing into the range like nothing had ever happened.

Clint Barton was a great many things. But a shy man was definitely not one of them. People could come up with saying he was shy. But it was just because he didn't know how to deal with most social circumstances and when faced with something he wasn't expecting. Like really wasn't expecting (I.E. Coulson coming back from the dead or a certain red headed Russian spy and her history) he didn't know how to deal. When it came to the Russian spy, he just adopted her. When it came to Coulson however. He choked back insecurity like a hard liquor before leaning his head forward, brushing his lips against Phil's cheek for a brief moment and slightly pulling back. Just in case he had to make a wobbly run for it. "Get some sleep, Coulson. You'll need to wake me in like two or so hours."

Of course, Phil remembered that day. That was the day he'd realized that Clint might just be the good kind of trouble. He could be the kind of trouble that accomplished impossible things and took the missions that no one else could hope to do. Fury hadn't even seen Clint. Hell, Phil barely had. He was impressed. He never stopped being impressed and he never questioned what Clint was capable of. If a human being could do it and Clint was reasonably physically able to do it, Phil knew that Clint would do it and do it well.

The more they worked together, the more things clicked. They had habits and systems that worked for both of them, both in the field and the office. He found that they both bent to each other's habits and quirks easily and without really having to try. Everything between them just fell together and worked and Phil liked it that way. In the field, other agents would remark on the fact that it was like they could read each other's minds, but that was just how they were. Phil could give abbreviated orders, half in code that only Clint understood and Clint could follow everything thought, throwing back equally-coded information. He knew people who'd worked together longer and still hadn't worked up a rapport like the one they had. It was why Phil was able to keep Clint for so long. They were a proven team that worked and no matter what other things Phil might be doing, he'd been pulled from the field many times to go on a mission with Clint.

When Phil noticed Clint fighting sleep, he started to stroke his back, trying to lull him to sleep as he listened to Clint talk. Natasha wasn't going anywhere without telling Clint unless she thought she was protecting him. She was outwardly cold, but she wasn't unfeeling. Phil would be surprised to be wrong about that. Clint is the best pilot when it comes to the quinjet, though. Phil couldn't argue with that.

The kiss on his cheek surprised him. He hoped that he wasn't turning red at all, because his face was definitely heating up. He was trying not to read too much into what Clint did, but it was hard to not read into this. It was hard not to turn his head and follow those lips with his own. The urge tugged at him.

After a moment, Phil smiled. "You just want to give him a bow so that you'll look better than him when he misses everything. And glass houses, Clint. You don't look so great yourself." He sighed. "I've been running around all week looking for you."

Finally, he gave in and tightened his arm around Clint before leaning down to kiss Clint's temple. "We both need sleep."

Being on Phil's wave-length had become second nature to him. It was also the reason, he was sure, why Fury hadn't reassigned him or passed him off. Maybe even started taking on agents of his own even if he had been there for several years, aiding in the training of many agents when it came to field combat or training to fly. It was because when Clint wasn't around Phil, he just didn't feel like he performed as well. He performed exceptionally during the fight against the Chitauri and on several different missions. He just came back to base a little off. He'd hurt himself in some stupid way or he'd feel like his aim was an inch off target. When he was on missions with Phil, they continued conversations from miles apart over their comms. They didn't even need to be in the same area to know what the other was doing when they were in a work-state of mind. Even to Clint it was a little weird. But he liked the weird little talent he had. It made for one thing to become clear...Fury wouldn't pull them apart.

And Clint really didn't do that well with change. The idea of getting another handler was stressful even if he would have told everyone to "bring it on". He knew it was a lie...and so would everyone else, he was sure.

"You're cheating," he yawned when Phil started running his hand up and down his back. He could get used to this and quietly wanted to. Clint knew his level importance in the Avengers, just as he knew the major staples of his life were unlikely to go away. After all, one had already tried and here he was again. The archer was a bit put down by the lack of a reaction from his handler. He was close enough that he could feel any awkward tension in his body if the kiss had been something to make him feel awkward. Uncomfortable. Clint watched as a feint pink came across his handler's face and he almost tried not to toss his head back and laugh. It was a good sign, he was amusing.

Clint tried to look as if he had been offended when Coulson accused him of wanting to see Steve at his worst. "No. Jeez, I just think I'd look better in the blue spandex, sir." He joked with a wink. His smile quickly disappeared when Phil had said he was looking for him for a week. Had it really been that long? "Let me guess. Hill had to harass you to sleep and eat when I wasn't around. At least I have an excuse for not sleeping the entire time, Phil." Which was...Loki didn't see a point in ordering them to do either. He could have acted on his own but he didn't really see a point when he could have just worked through it all.

He felt Phil's lips against his temple and he didn't really have the same self-control as the other agent, allowing his face to follow his and stopping himself before doing anything that would have the situation get incredibly awkward as he looked him in the eyes. His face only inches away from Phil's. "Sounds like a plan, sir."

What Clint didn't know was that more than a few times early on, Fury had tried to have Clint work with other handlers. Phil refused it, citing reasons that ranged from the fact that they had the highest success rate together to the fact that Clint just wouldn't listen to most people. Eventually, Fury stopped trying to separate them at all. Phil didn't trust other handlers with Clint and he didn't trust Clint to trust the other handlers. His trust in Phil had been hard-won and Phil knew that. Clint would never even try as much with another handler. If being his handler kept Clint alive, Phil would gladly always do it.

Phil wasn't tense, but the air around them was. Clint was so close and he was afraid to speak too loudly. He was afraid to moved closer or further away. He just didn't want to break the moment, so he spoke softly. "I don't cheat. I've only cheated once in my life." It was a Dungeons and Dragons game when he was college. It really didn't count.

"Agent Hill might have brought me a few meals. I had more important things to worry about." It was a testament to how tired he was that he admitted that. He valued their friendship greatly and was generally open about that fact, but that statement might have gone a little too far. At least he managed to stop himself from agreeing that Clint would look better in the spandex. It wasn't that Rogers wasn't an attractive man, but Phil was far more interested in seeing Clint in spandex. Not that he thought Clint's current outfit wasn't attractive, because it was. Very much so.

Clint was right there. He was right there and he'd kissed Phil's cheek and he'd gotten Phil those cards and Phil wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them and kiss him like he was the only thing in the world, but the problem was that sometimes it seemed like he really was and if Phil miscalculated this, he could lose Clint entirely.

That was one thing Clint was not aware of. Phil's battle to keep him as his agent rather than allowing him to go off to work with another handler and gaining some ease in his life. It would have been easier for the man, in the early years, if he had just given Clint to another handler. But then again, most handlers would have passed him off when they had the chance. It wasn't something that Clint would have looked forward to but the largest act of betrayal would have come if Phil had done it. He hadn't trusted anyone in the world as much as he trusted Coulson. When the world continuously passed him off because he was too difficult to handle. Phil had kept him with him. There was the idle threat that if he had the chance he would find Clint a new handler. But he was sure, one time, when Clint had taken the threaten all too serious the threats stopped shortly thereafter. It wasn't that he wouldn't have left SHIELD if he had gotten a new handler, it was that he probably would perform with a bigger death wish then he had before.

Clint was lucky to have Coulson. He just never told him that if he didn't have him; working for SHIELD wouldn't be the experience it usually was. The archer tried not to smile when Phil defended the fact that he'd only cheated once, his brow perking up with curiosity. "This feels like cheating to me, Phil." Not that he minded. When Coulson's hand was going up and down his back, it was the easiest way to lull Clint into sleep. He was a simple sort of guy when it came to things like this.

"Like what? C'mon Coulson, what would I do if something happened to you? Only one of us is allowed to drive themselves into the ground. You're the reasonable one." He was sure he would have found him eventually. He wasn't sure if Phil knew that however. Clint didn't like the idea of being out there, off the grid, and his friend would be beating himself back at home because he couldn't find him. He made the mental note to always have the intention to return back to SHIELD and to Phil now. Or put more effort into it, just to make sure Phil was going to be eating and things like that. Not that Clint usually didn't call anyway. A day with even a small conversation with Phil was a day wasted in Clint's opinion.

The distance between them was nice, Clint could feel Phil's breath on his face. Study the tired lines in his face. All the while thinking Please don't leave me repeatedly. Silently he moved to close the distance between them both, pressing his lips against Phil's. He was waiting. Waiting for Coulson to push him away and hoping he wouldn't.

At first, it had been about giving Clint something consistent. Phil could see that Clint needed that more than anything and he wanted to give him as stable a groundwork as SHIELD could offer. After that, it was more about the way they worked together, the fact that their success rate was so high and that he knew Clint wouldn't do as well if he was given to another handler. Then it had become selfish. He wanted Clint around. Even if the other reasons weren't there, he would have fought to keep him because he liked working with him and he liked being with him.

Phil would look for any missing agent. He would, but not with the level of obsessiveness that he would throw into finding Clint. Maybe he couldn't pass that off as friendship and that was fine. Scared as he was of losing Clint's friendship, he was more scared of losing Clint entirely. If something really did happen to Clint, he probably would run on empty for a long time and there was nothing he could do about that. He would do his best, but he couldn't even promise that his field work wouldn't suffer for it.

Suddenly, it was like Clint had read his mind and he was leaning up to kiss Phil. For a moment, Phil was frozen. He was surprised and unsure of where this had even come from on Clint's side. Then, he was closing his eyes and kissing back, arm tightening around Clint. He moved his lips over Clint's, slow but sure. If this was a mistake, he was going to enjoy it, at least.

Clint thought he was the reasonable one, but he was far from reasonable where Clint was concerned. He probably always would be. Clint was special. He was important to Phil in a way that very few people were.

Phil pulled back slowly, just enough to speak. "Tell me you don't kiss everyone who gives you head trauma like that."

Their successes weren't usually something that ended up in the news, plastered on front pages like the successes of the Avengers. It just felt more for themselves than for the public who wouldn't really know they were in danger if it was a SHIELD mission that Clint and Phil had been told to perform -- they would have. If they didn't succeed they would get some back up but they usually got things done. It was that fact, Clint always was glad when people said they were starting reassignments of handlers that he was glad when he wasn't. He always held his breath though for the new paperwork that would come with it or some suit to walk over to him in the range to tell him that they were his new handler. He was almost waiting for someone to tell him he didn't need one anymore but none of that ever happened and he breathed a sigh of relief whenever those times passed and he was still with the same person. Still with Phil and still more than happy to hear his voice over the comms whenever they were out working.

Everything seemed to Phil return the kiss, when he felt his arm tighten around him. It really shouldn't rank in the top kisses Clint had experienced in his life, but it was better than any of the ones he really had shared with anyone else. Minus the raging headache, this moment was perfect. He wasn't even thinking too much about the headache, all his thoughts were on Phil around him. He almost followed after Phil when he pulled back, drawing his head back a little when the agent spoke. "Only the ones who look good in a suit." He joked in return, laying his head so he could look Coulson in the eyes. "You've got no idea how long I wanted to do that."

After all, once the can of worms was open. Clint felt comfortable sharing that interesting piece of information with his handler. It was like it always was when he was in an uncertain situation. First he tip-toes around it until he's found something familiar then he moves in. Since Coulson had kissed him back, he figured everything was open game right now.

Phil had never gotten into this game for the glory. He'd joined the army to pay for college and he'd started government work because he had the right skill set and he wanted to help people. Media attention or not, he was proud of his job and happy with it. Moreso, he was proud of the Avengers. People needed heroes to believe in in the same way that Phil had believed in Captain America. He was glad that they'd gotten the spotlight. They were all extraordinary. They had saved Manhattan. Hell, they had saved the world. Phil was just happy to have been part of it, even in the background.

As for another handler for Clint, no other handler exactly wanted to work with him. He had a reputation for being difficult and Phil had a reputation for being Phil. It worked out nicely in Phil's favor. Most people who worked for SHIELD long enough knew that there was a lot more muscle under the suit than anyone expected and they found that out by watching him do something unexpected and somewhat crazy. Phil was reserved and friendly, but he was also a capable fighter and notoriously dangerous when he was pissed off.

He looked down at Clint, hand going back to petting his back. "Good to know that wasn't brought on by head trauma. I might have been insulted." He would have been hurt. It would honestly have torn him apart. Whatever this was, it was a terrible idea. He was being selfish, but he'd rather have a terrible idea than have Clint not return any of his feelings. He'd kissed Phil. That had to mean something.

He let himself smile. "I've wanted to do that for a while, too." If Clint could put himself out there, Phil could, too, even if it was only a little bit. He wasn't throwing everything out there, but he could give what he got.