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Phillip Green was happy. He was young, he was in love, and today he was going to see his baby for the first time. Mark was already in the car, tapping his fingers against the wheel as he waited with ill concealed impatience.
“Geez, Phil, could you take any longer? We’re gonna be late.”
“I’m sorry, the baby is smushing my bladder. I had to pee, again”
Mark rolled his eyes, and Phil sighed. “This is supposed to be a happy day. We get to see our baby. C’mon, be happy?” Phil batted his eyes, knowing it would pull a laugh out of his husband.
Mark relented and pressed a quick kiss to Phil’s forehead before backing the car down the drive.
~~~
“Alright, see right there? That lighter patch is the placenta, and there...there is your little one, well, wait, little ones. Looks like you’ve got two in there. Did you know about this?”
Phil just shook his head. “No, nothing indicated there was more than one. This is my first pregnancy and my first ultrasound.”
“Well, there’s definitely two. Do twins run in either family?”
“Not mine. Mark?”
“Not as far as I know.”
The technician turns back to the chart, making a few notations and measuring the newly discovered baby. “Right on track as far as measurements go and everything else looks good, so lets see if we can get an idea of what these little ones are going to be.”
“You can tell in utero?”
“We can give you sex, but not orientation. That is generally established right after the birth.”
Both men nodded. Having grown up only children, neither were familiar with babies and how they fit into the family dynamic. Even among their friends, Phil and Mark were the first to get pregnant, so everything was new and unknown.
“Ah, here, I’m seeing a little penis. See? There’s a boy. And here, three lines, a little girl.”
The tech smiled at them. “A perfect set.”
Phil grinned as Mark squeezed his shoulder, both craning their necks to see the screen better.
“And look, perfect, a profile of both for the photo album. Looks like they’re gonna be quite the little charmers.”
The technician hit a few more buttons, storing some images and printing others, before she folded the towel over Phil’s rounded belly, wiping away the gel that had made the pictures possible.
“I’ll let you get cleaned up and once you’re done the doctor will be in to check you over and set up your next appointment. Congratulations again!” And with that, she withdrew from the room leaving the parents alone.
“Oh, my god, Mark, twins!”
Mark smiled, alternating between the pictures and Phil’s face while his hand rested, warm and secure, against Phil’s still bare stomach.
“Yeah, our perfect family.”
~~~
“No, mom, the appointment was fine. We got some-- no his weight gain is normal-- we got some pictures-- yes, his test results came back perfectly healthy-- Mom, we’re having--what? Of course not, he’s young-- Mom! We’re having twins.”
Phil grinned as he watched Mark try to talk over his mother-in-law.
“Yeah mom, the technician was sure, she even gave us a picture of both babies together. Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind. He’s right here. Sure sure.” Mark glanced at Phil, “She wants to talk to you, something about paint and fabric shopping? I dunno.”
Phil smiled, still giddy from the appointment, and took the phone. “Margaret? Yeah, I know. We were surprised too. Yeah, neither of us saw this coming.”
Unfortunately, they didn’t see the Semi pull out in front of them either.
~~~
Phil’s world was pain, bright and jagged, and it cut his thoughts to fragments before he could get them close enough to process. So many times, he swam back to the surface only to be dragged back down. Each time, he fought to stay in the brightness, fought to wake up, fought to see Mark and his family waiting for him, but each time, the demands of his body defeated him, sucking him under once more.
~~~
Phil managed to force his eyes open, squinting against the dull glow of the lamp at his bedside. Everything hurt. He lifted his hands from where they lay at his sides, careful not to pull the IV line loose or jar the brace keeping his wrist immobile.
Slowly, he lowered them to his upper chest. He could feel the bulk of bandages under his fingers and he dragged his hands down further, past his nipples and over his ribs. His hand froze when they hit what should have been the upward swell of his belly and found instead only stretched skin and empty space.
Dropping his hands back to his sides, Phil cried himself back to sleep.
~~~
“Mr. Coulson? Are you awake?”
“Mr. Green.”
“I’m sorry?”
“My name, it’s Mr. Green.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, the hospital records have you listed as Coulson. Should I have someone look into that?”
Phil waved it off. Perhaps his insurance paperwork was still screwed up. He and Mark hadn’t been married that long, so it was probably just that.
“How long?”
“You’ve been with us a week now.”
“My children?”
The nurse’s chipper smile fell and Phil's heart went with it. “Oh, sir, let me go get the doctor.” She turned and left the room coming back quickly with an unfamiliar looking woman. Her name tag said Dr. Groose and Phil wondered if she’d been teased in school.
“Mr. Coulson--”
“Green”
“Sorry, Mr. Green, I’m sorry to have to tell you this,--”
“They didn’t make it.” Phil’s voice was whisper soft when he spoke and the doctor nodded her head solemnly. “Mark? Is he--”
“He’s fine, he was admitted for some stitches and a broken collarbone, but he was largely unharmed. The semi that struck you impacted mainly the passenger side, crushing the dashboard over you. There was a fairly significant degree of internal damage and your children were lost as a result. We had to take a portion of your liver, your gallbladder, and one of your kidneys as they were too damaged to repair.”
She stopped, visibly steeling herself before continuing. “We also had to remove your uterus and the attendant structures. You won’t experience heats any more, but you also won’t be able to have any more children. I’m very sorry that the outcome wasn’t better, but the damage to your systems was extensive.”
Phil didn’t speak. There wasn’t anything to say.
“If you’d like, I can send up one of the hospital’s grief counselors. I realize it’s a lot to take in at once, but--”
“Has my husband been by?”
The nurse answered his question. “Yes. He said he’d be back this evening.”
Phil nodded, “Thank you. I’d really like to be alone for a few moments if you don’t mind.”
“Alright, Mr. Green. If you need anything, page the nurse.”
Phil nodded, but he knew he wouldn’t page. What he needed, they couldn’t give him.
~~~
A light tap at the door woke Phil from his doze. Calling out, he invited the person in, pleased to see Mark come around the curtain. Phil held up a hand for Mark to take, but Mark stopped a few steps from the edge of the bed and just stared.
“Mark, what? Come here. Please.”
Phil watched the corners of Mark’s mouth draw downward and felt his stomach flip. Reaching behind himself, He pulled a folded manila envelope from his back pocket and flipped it at Phil’s bed.
“Read it and then sign.”
“Sign what?”
Mark sighed, “Just sign the papers.”
Phil opened the flap of the envelope before pouring the contents onto the sheets. Something small fell out as well and Phil scrambled to grab it, hissing as the action tugged his still healing incision. He felt his fingers close around the object and brought his hand in, turning it palm up as he examined it.
“Mark, why is your wedding ring in this envelope?”
“Because I don’t need it anymore.”
~~~
After Mark left, Phil couldn’t stop running his finger over the bare patch of skin on his finger. For the better part of a year, it had been hidden under a solid band that Phil assumed would stay there forever. Now, thanks to a faulty breeder clause, Mark had severed their bond and their marriage to find someone who was still capable of giving him children.
Phil sat, considering his options. He could go home to the parents that barely tolerated him. He could go to the house in the hopes of reclaiming some of his belongings before Mark disposed of them, or he could... well, there weren’t really any other options for him. Buzzing the nurse, he requested discharge papers and his clothing, ready to leave this part of his life and the stupid, trusting, naive boy he’d been behind.
~~~
Once he succeeded in arguing the doctor into giving him a discharge, Phil set out on foot, not really having any destination in mind, but needing to move. For a while he wandered, largely unaware of his surroundings, but eventually, his stomach made its needs known and he looked around, spying a diner sign at the end of the block.
Phil slid into a booth and waited, ordering coffee when the waitress asked what he wanted. For a while he just sat, relishing the warmth of the mug against his chilled fingers. His eyes skipped over the businesses surrounding the diner and eventually his eyes settle on the sign directly across from him. Navy Recruitment. Marines. Coulson shrugs, finishing his coffee and throwing down enough to cover the cup plus a nice tip.
Maybe travel would be nice.
~~~
Twelve years later
~~~
When SHIELD poached him from the Marines, he never imagined he’d reflect fondly on being in combat. He wasn’t completely sure, but he thought that getting shot was probably less stressful than trying to wrangle a half mad agent with a kink for anachronistic weaponry.
“Is there a reason you chose to ignore my orders and take a bow up with you?”
“Pfft. I got the job done, didn’t I?”
“Not really the point, Agent Barton.”
Phil could feel Barton’s hackles rise, nearly able to taste the pheromones pouring off the younger man’s skin. Phil took a deep breath, still enjoying the smell even as he mourned the lack of immediate response. Finally he reached out for the archer, before jabbing two fingers into Clint’s sternum. Hard.
“Don’t pull that posturing bullshit on me. It’ll take a bigger Alpha than you to make me wet. Out here, I am God and you listen to what I say or I’ll strike you down. Ask around when we get back to base. I dare you.”
With one more poke, Phil spun on his heels and walked away, leaving Clint Barton, world renowned marksman, omega’s man, and top of the heap Alpha, staring bemusedly at his back. And had he been able to see the look of intrigue that slid across Clint’s features, he might have been just a little worried. Or not.
~~~
“Hey, Chief.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Whatever you say, Boss.”
Phil looked up to see Barton lounging against the door frame, one hip cocked and a smirk on his lips.
“What?” Phil kept his tone flat and uninterested, trying to convey just how much he didn’t want the younger man lingering.
“I asked around. They say you’re a cyborg. Or an android. Some of them even suggested that you were an Omega pretending to be a Beta.”
Phil narrowed his eyes, “I don’t see how any of that is your business. Who and how I choose to fuck isn’t any of your concern.”
“What if I told you I wanted it to?”
“I’d tell you to get the hell out of my office. And finish your paperwork. I’d hate to see you put at a desk until it was current.”
Phil’s smile was wolfish, and his words carried the weight of his threat so tangibly that the room felt crowded with them.
“I now that you see yourself as some amazing untouchable asset because you have the ability to hit targets on command, but rest assured, I’ve seen better before and I’ll see better after you. If you’re looking for someone to breed, there’s a sports bar two blocks down and one block over. Go get your kicks there. Don’t do it in my office.” Phil dismissed Clint with a wave of his hand. “Now get out of my office before I revoke your range privileges for being obnoxious.”
Clint’s nod went unseen and the archer slipped from the office.
~~~
But Barton didn’t give up. He backed off on the innuendo and the dominance plays and he even started to listen when Phil ordered him around in the field. Around the base, he took to exploring the vent system and spying on the various members of SHIELD that caught his interest.
Phil was one of them. Clint had never struggled to figure someone out like he struggled with Phil. He smelled like an Omega, but carried himself like an Alpha. Rumors had him pegged as a Beta pretender and some were even convinced that he was AI. Clint thought most of it was bullshit.
Phil was hiding something, that much he knew for sure. Most people weren’t that prickly without a pretty good reason. If asked, Clint couldn’t say what t was about him that drew him in, only that he felt almost compelled to figure out his handler, digging at his secrets in an attempt to put everything together in a way that made sense.
So, when he found himself in the vents above the shower room, he had to stop, recognizing Coulson’s back as he stood at his locker, pulling out a towel. He must have been working out, maybe running, as his shirt was soaked from neckline to hem in a V of darkened fabric. When he turned to enter the shower, Clint slumped, resting his chin against forded fingers as he waited.
He didn’t have to wait long, and Coulson left the shower enclosure, wrapped in a towel. Clint let his eyes roam, adding more information to the mental file he kept on Phillip Coulson. He cataloged what he saw quickly: scar across the bicep, dragging through a classic anchor tattoo; another on the dip of his waist, bullet wound new enough to still be pink; an older scar that wrapped around his front and out of sight. Clint thought that one looked like surgery and wondered for a moment. As he tried to figure out why Phil would have a scar like that in that location, Phil turned, buckling his pants, and Clint bit down on a gasp.
Phil’s abdomen was a network of silver scar tissue, one running straight up over his belly button and another cutting across the vertical scar, connecting to the one Clint had seen wrapped around his side. Clint wasn’t sure how far down the vertical scar ran, but it dipped below the waistline of Phil’s pants, leaving Clint to wonder what kind of injury had caused them.
The flap of Phil’s shirt covered the marks and snapped Clint out of his musings. The younger man watched as Phil finished dressing and then sat to tie hi shoes. Once he was completely dressed, he stood, tucked a few things back into the locker and then left, crossing directly under the vent where Clint was hiding.
Clint waited for the thump of the door’s closing before he continued on down the air duct, still mulling over what he had seen.
~~~
Phil couldn’t figure the man out. He kept shrugging off all of Phil’s attempts to keep their interactions strictly professional, dropping by with food just when Phil was considering the nutritional content of paper, keeping a steady supply of chatter running when Phil needed a distraction from his own thoughts while he worked, dragging Phil out into the sunshine when he realized he hadn’t been home in more than week, covering Phil with a blanket when the agent finally sucumbed to exhaustion. In short, slotting himself into Phil’s life as a friend.
And Phil? Phil found himself enjoying it, having someone else in his life, having something he hadn’t had in more than a decade. Phil knew it wasn’t the same. He knew that Clint had stopped being Agent Barton somewhere around his fourth month at SHIELD, but he didn’t know why. And Phil hated not knowing why.
~~~
Clint wanted to ask, felt the words against the back of his teeth every time they were in the same room, but really, how do you ask something like that? ‘Hey, when I was spying on you while you showered, I noticed some pretty intense scars that you’ve never mentioned in the eight months we’ve known each other and I want to know what happened?’
Clint snorted. Even in his head it sounded like something that was more likely to end in a fist to the face than a confession of soul deep secrets. Clint knew about secrets. He certainly had some of his own, but he really wanted to know. As he sat, staring blankly at the report in front of him, he wondered if a bit of tit-for-tat would work.
He wanted to know who Phil Coulson was and if that meant baring a little bit of himself, well, he thought it might be worth it.
~~~
“Drink?”
“No. I’ve got more work to finish before I can slack off like you, Barton. Did you finish your paperwork?”
“Yes. Yes, I did. You wanna explain to me why I have to fill out three different forms saying the same thing every time we go any where?”
“One is for HR, one is for Tactics, and one is for Supply.”
“And I can’t photocopy one form three times, why?”
“Because you can’t.”
“That’s terrible logic.”
Phil smirked, placing his pen neatly in front of him before shuffling papers around. “Your mistake is thinking that logic was a part of it. It has nothing to do with logic, it’s just bureaucracy.”
Clint’s groan is awesomely theatrical, and Phil cracks up, the combination of exhaustion and adrenaline making him punchy. When Phil caught sight of Clint’s face, he loses it again, chuckles devolving into full blown belly laughs that make tears spill down his cheeks.
Finally, he calmed, a few more spurts catching him by surprise as he wiped away moisture. When Phil looked up, Clint was still staring, but he was smiling fondly.
“Your laugh is really nice. You should totally laugh more often.”
“Barton--”
“No, no. I’m not hitting on you, I promise. You just... you should laugh more often. It looks good on you.”
“Alright.”
The room returned to its previous silence but Phil could feel the tension in the air. “Something on your mind, Agent?”
“Can we just be Clint and Phil right now?”
Phil looked up, surprised by the hesitation he can hear in the younger man’s voice. Dropping his pen and pushing the paper to the side, he gestures for Clint to speak.
“If I ask you something, would you answer honestly? I mean, it’s your choice, but I... well. I wanted to know.”
“I suppose it depends on what it is.”
“Are we friends?”
Phil isn’t expecting the question and he sits silent long enough to make Clint’s shoulders droop.
“Never mind, I’ll--”
“No, you just caught me by surprise. Stay. I’ll answer.” Phil leans forward, steepling his fingers. “I think we are. We spend time together outside of work, you make me do things I forget to do, like eating and sleeping, and I keep you alive. I’d say that’s friendship at the very least.”
“Sorta sounds like a relationship when you put it like that.”
“So was that what you wanted to know?”
“No, well, sort of. I mean, it applies, I guess.” Phil nods, waiting for Clint to gather himself and speak.
When he does his voice is quiet and he stares at his fingers, unwilling to make eye contact for fear of chickening out.
“I saw the scars on your stomach. I just--”
“No.” Clint’s head shoots up at Phil’s word. “We are friends and I’ll tell you about almost everything, but not that. That’s mine.”
Clint watches Phil’s face reading the tension and fear that ride him. Taking a deep breath, Clint nods, signaling his agreement to let it go.
Phil slumps back in his chair, letting his head fall back. “You said something about a drink? I think I’ll take you up on that offer if it’s still on the table.”
Clint smiles, not as brightly, but just as honest. “Yeah, yeah it is.”
~~~
Clint leads him two blocks down and one block over and Phil just raises an eyebrow as the grin on Clint’s face.
“Favorite hunting grounds?”
Clint looks affronted at his words, but Phil knows it’s fake. The mirth in his eyes gives him away every time, and Phil wonders if Clint’s tells are as obvious to everyone else as they are to him.
“Sometimes.”
Phil waits.
“OK, well, no. I don’t really like the one night stand thing.” Phil can hear the honesty in Clint’s voice and wonders what led to the change.
“So what changed? You were all about the quick hit when we met.”
And oh my god, did you really just ask that. Phil can feel a blush creep up the back of his neck, realizing he’s far more tired than he thought if uncensored questions like that are just flying out of his mouth.
“Ah, but that’d be telling.” Clint places a warm hand against the small of Phil’s back as he leads him to a booth tucked in the back. “C’mon, lets get a drink and something to eat. They make amazing burgers here.”
When Clint moves his hand. Phil resolutely does not think about how much he misses the warmth.
~~~
After the burgers and a few drinks, Clint gives in to the pressure of the beer in his bladder and leaves the table.
“Right back, just,” and he thumbs over his shoulder, indicating his destination. Phil nods, fighting not to put his face on the table and just fall asleep. He slumps against the back of the booth and lets his eyes trace over the other patrons, meeting the gaze of a bruiser at the bar that apparently takes the eye contact for invitation, pushing away from the bar and swaggering towards him.
When he gets close enough, Phil can smell the pheromones and a layer of whiskey sweat that makes his lip curl. The drunk either misses the expression completely or mistakes it for a smile, sliding into Clint’s vacated seat and propping his elbows on the table.
“What’s a lovely little thing like you sitting all alone for?”
“Why does it matter to you?”
“Well, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. Why don’t you come sit with me?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine right where I am.”
“Come on darlin’ don’t be like that. You need someone to keep you safe. Someone like me who can give you what you need.”
“What I need is for you to go away. Now, if you don’t mind--” Phil lets his sentence die off, gesturing toward the bar and the exit just beyond it. The man isn’t taking the rejection well and leans in, wafting the smell of whisky and cigarettes in Phil’s face.
“No little Omega like you is gonna tell me what to do. All your kind is good for is taking it. It’s uppity Omega’s rights people like you who’re wrecking the way things work. Now you heel, or I’ll make you.” The man reached out, grabbing for Phil’s tie with one meaty hand.
Phil pulls back, grabbing the man’s palm and twisting it hard enough to startle a yelp from the inebriated man’s throat. Pulling the larger man off balance, Phil follows him to the floor, adrenaline providing enough of a push to keep him pinned flat to the floor, squirming as he tries to twist free. Phil presses his knee into the man’s back between his shoulder blades and the man goes limp, succumbing to the threatening pressure.
“Man, you gonna help?”
“I don’t know, he looks like he’s doing pretty well to me.”
Phil looks up to see Clint grinning down at him as he stands, arms folded, beside the downed Alpha’s head.
“Fuck. He yours?”
“Nope. He’s his. I just came along for a burger.”
Seeing that he’ll get no help from Clint, the man lets his head thump back against the floor. When he’s still, Phil stands, taking care to grind his knee into the man’s back one more time. Once the weight is off of his back, the man brings his hands under himself, pushing up from the floor.
“If you’re smart, you’ll stay down until we’re gone.” At Phil’s words, the man subsides once more.
“Wouldn’t want to waste my time anyway. Who’d want to risk breeding with someone like that?”
As they walk toward the exit, Clint hears the man’s muttered words and sees Phil’s shoulders tense. He doesn’t stop, filing it away for later review.
~~~
They hit the street and Phil wobbles. The lack of sleep is catching up to him and the combination of a full stomach, a bit of alcohol and the dissipating adrenaline are enough to have Phil flagging down a taxi instead of just walking the six blocks to his loft.
“So what was all that about? He make a nasty remark?”
“He wouldn't take no for an answer.”
“Ah. Well, at least you didn't shoot him. I hear the paperwork is a bitch. Luckily, I'm in good with a guy.”
Clint is slightly concerned when his quip is ignored and he looks over to see Phil slumped, unconscious on the seat beside him. "Phil? Hey, you gotta wake me up. I don't know where we're going."
Catching the driver's eye in the mirror, he grimaces before saying "Change of plans, we're going to mine." After giving the driver his address, Clint slumps back, pleasure at Phil's display of trust waring with worry over what to tell him when he wakes up.
~~~
Clint speaks quietly, rousing Phil when the cab reaches his home.
"C'mon. Last stop."
"Where're we?"
Clint really likes the way Phil looks when he's still soft and befuddled from sleep. He really wants to lean in and kiss the older man but refrains, wanting to keep his internal organs internal even more.
"My place. You fell asleep without giving the driver your address and I didn't know it, so yeah. Here"
Phil is confused for a moment until Clint's words penetrate. When they do, he feels the unwelcome sensation of a blush creeping up his face. Again. Shit. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, was honestly surprised that he had. Generally, he has a hard time falling asleep unless he feels completely safe.
When his thoughts register he can feel the blush burn hotter. Does this mean he trusts Clint like that?
Yes, he realizes, he really does.
~~~
Clint waits, nervously trying to remember the last time he had changed his sheets and whether or not his dirty clothes were still strewn all over the living room. He tends to be pretty tidy, but hey, everyone slips up. Plus he's been busy and gone a lot. And God, does he even have any coffee or breakfast cereal or... and now Phil's staring at him, lips quirked like he can hear the babble of Clint's brain. Nice, Barton.
“So. Coming in or do you want me to call you a cab home?”
“No. I'll come in.”
“Great. Um, I guess I'll take the couch. Give me a sec to grab some sheets and then the bedroom is all yours.”
Phil looks around as they walk into the living room. Its not what he expects, but he didn't expect a house as opposed to an apartment either. The house is small and old but well kept. Large archways between rooms and no hallways make the house feel more spacious than it is and Phil feels comfortable, surrounded by furnishings that are all worn but carefully chosen and arranged to make a warm inviting space. A nest.
The thought catches Phil off guard and he laughs, earning a curious look as Clint walks back into the living room carrying a stack of bedding and clothes. The stack is dropped to the coffee table and Clint offers the clothes, a sheepish look on his face.
“Nothing fancy, but it'll be more comfortable than sleeping in your suit. If you want, I can throw it in the washer so you have something clean to wear in the morning.”
Phil is momentarily appalled at the offer before he recalls that when Clint isn't in uniform he sticks to jeans and tee shirts.
“Thanks, but no. If you wash it it'll end up wrecked.”
Clint looks so crushed at the refusal that Phil feels compelled to explain.
“Its just. Its wool and wool in a washing machine would be a really bad thing. Plus I’d end up with nothing to wear come morning.”
“Oh, well.” And now Clint’s the one blushing and Phil wonders when the hell they turned into thirteen year old girls. Thumbing over his shoulder, Phil speaks.
“Yeah. I’ll go get changed, thanks for these.”
Phil walks to the bathroom and closes the door. Clint hears the water cut on and flops back against the couch. Naked Phil is not something he needs to be dwelling on when the man is less than twenty feet away and soaking wet. Running his hands over soapy skin. Tilting his head back to expose his throat and... Jesus Barton. Hold it together.
Giving himself a good mental slap before deciding to give himself a good physical slap, Clint pushes himself up from the couch and roots around the fridge, pulling out two beers. Yeah, grocery shopping was definitely on the agenda. Aside from four more beer bottles, his fridge had just a sad head of lettuce and a jar of relish he couldn't even remember buying.
“I don't know if another beer is a good idea.”
Clint turns at the sound of Phil's voice and nearly swallows his tongue. The faded tee shirt and flannel pants cling to his damp skin and highlight muscles that Clint hadn't seen since spying on the older man all those months ago.
“Right.” Clint's just glad he hadn't taken the caps off. “I’ll just... look I gotta be honest. I really like you and I wasn't just being a jackass when I hit on you before and now you're standing there smelling like my soap and my clothes and me and I really, really wanted to kiss you before and I really want to kiss you now but I'll understand if you don't want that and I’d never do anything to mess up what we have and oh God I totally just--
And Clint realizes that Phil just cut him off by pressing their lips together and It. Is. Awesome. Phil tastes like the beer they had earlier and the sweetness his brain associates with Omega, but there's a darker taste underneath that Clint doesn't quite recognize. He doesn't dwell on the unfamiliar taste for long as his brain jumps to wondering why he hadn't try this before and hey no where are your lips going?
“Goodnight, Barton.”
“Goodnight.”
Clint watches Phil walk away before flopping back on the couch. He’s so hard it hurts and he presses a hand against his crotch, trying to make his erection subside. He’d like nothing better than to just take matters into his own hands, but not with Phil in his bed. He groans at that thought, losing the ground he had just gained in talking himself down. Jesus, fuck. Phil Coulson is in his bed.
Fuck.
~~~
“So I guess we won't be doing this next week?
“Why not?
“Well I mean I haven't seen you take a week off as long as we've known each other and you're only supposed to take suppressants for the length of a gestation before letting your body catch up. It's getting to be about that time right?”
“No. I don't do that.”
“But you'll get sick.”
“I don't.”
“But--”
“Let it go, Agent.”
Fuck. Now Clint knows he's screwed up. He hadn't been called agent outside of the field for a month now and he can't imagine the distancing term is a good thing.
“I'm sorry.”
“Right. I need to go.”
“Oh. Well. I'll see you later?”
Phil only hums a noncommittal reply and Clint feels his stomach turn over.
~~~
Phil locks his office door before he sits carefully upright at his desk. He tries to read through the report under his hands but the unconscious clench of his fingers makes the words jutter and shift as the paper crumples. Finally, he gives in to the frustration, sweeping the file from his desk with a cry.
He should have gone home after their dinner at the bar. He shouldn't have let his exhaustion and attraction convince him stay with Clint. And he definitely shouldn't have kissed him. Phil wonders what Clint will say when he finds out that Phil's Broken. Will it be like Mark- quick and painful- or Thom-confusing and later painful? Either way, Phil's not quite ready for the pain.
Since that night, not much had changed; they still spent time together, Clint still smarted off over the comms, Phil still had to bully him into finishing his paperwork. But there was a new tension to their interactions. An acknowledgement of their attraction to one another that hadn't been there before. :Phil knows that he should just bite the bullet, tell Clint the tut hand pick up the pieces, but he’s really enjoying the feeling of normality he gets from his pseudo relationship with Clint.
But now Phil wanted more and he knew that Clint wanted more, so he found himself contemplating the possible outcome f revealing himself one more time. It had been eleven years since he'd allowed himself to think of his pregnancy and the accident and his decision to run away from his old life. He knew that telling Clint would change things, and he worried that someone as young and strong as Clint wouldn’t want to stay with a older Broken Omega like Phil. He’d only shared his experience with one other person and it had been enough of a disaster that he couldn’t face the thought of it happening again.
~~~
Clint realizes a few weeks later that he hasn’t seen Phil in more than a week. His office was dark and he hasn’t seen him in the halls. Clint isn’t sure why it took him so long to notice but once he had, he couldn’t stop seeing the empty spots that Phil had left behind. It’s strange enough to make Clint seek out the only other person who knows enough about Phil to tell him if he’s just completely ruined everything, but it doesn’t mean that Clint is looking forward to the conversation.
“Sir?”
“What? I’m a little busy.” Clint can’t tell, as Fury has both feet propped up and a mug of coffee cradled in his hands. He bites his lip to keep the smartass comment in before clearing his throat and asking his question.
“I haven’t seen Agent Coulson around. Is he on assignment?”
“No.” Ah, super unhelpful there, Nicky.
Fury’s eyebrow raises as if he heard Clint’s sarcastic though and Clint swallows hard.
“Can you tell me if he’s injured?”
“Legally? No. I can tell you that he’s absent with leave and he’s not in immediate danger if you need your mind set at ease, but I’m pretty sure you already knew that.”
“Um, no. Ph-- Agent Coulson didn’t tell me about his leave. I... He...” Clint stumbles to a stop, unsure of where he’s going or why he wants to confide in the terrifying person that is his boss. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
“Go ahead, agent.”
“Sir, I’m pretty sure I fucked up big.”
Fury sets his mug on the desk and pulls his feet off of the desk, steepling his fingers before he asks, “How so?”
“I may have implied some things that were none of my business, but I swear, I wasn’t trying to do anything. I just wanted a little clarification. And for a while things were normal but it still feels off. I mean, I get all of these vibes from him. Sometimes he seems like he wants to be cared for, a real Omega, you know? And others he’s the total Beta, removed and aloof, totally separate. Sometimes he even reads like an Alpha and I’m as wildly turned on by that as anything else and then I realize I’d be OK with pursuing that type of relationship with him regardless of society’s opinion, and that’s weird too. But there's so much stuff piling up that makes me think that someone really hurt him in the past and I don't want to be just another bad memory for him so I'm trying to play it by his rules. But I totally fail at understanding the rules and he makes me crazy because he refuses to tell me anything and makes me hunt after the clues and I always feel like I’m running a few steps behind and it makes me want to pin him down and--”
A cleared throat snaps Clint from his rambling and he flushes before blanching. The rapid rush of blood in and then out of his face makes his skin sting and he wonders if anyone will ever find his body. Fury’s face is completely blank and Clint fights the urge to turn and run while he still can.
“Agent, I’m gonna ask you one thing and I want the god's honest truth from you. I’ll know if you lie to me and if you do? They’ll never find all the pieces of your body. Got it?”
Clint can’t speak, totally pinned by Fury’s myopic stare. Instead he nods slowly, careful to keep his eyes down, but he watches Fury surreptitiously from the corner of his eye.
“What are your intentions toward Phillip Coulson?”
Clint can’t help it, snapping his eyes up to lock on Fury. He feels his jaw hanging open and snaps his teeth together, barely missing his tongue.
“Sir?”
“What are your intentions?”
“I... Well, sir, honestly? Most of those depend on Phil. I’d like nothing better than to take him home and keep him there but I'm pretty sure he’d kill me in my sleep if I tried. I though before this we were building toward an honest to god relationship, but now, I’m pretty sure I tanked it by pushing for information he wasn’t ready to share.”
Clint stops, looking to avoid another bout of word vomit and waits for Fury to decide his fate.
“Barton. I’m gonna say this once and then never again, and if you tell anyone what I said, I won’t even have to deny it as no one would believe you anyway.” Fury stops, watching Clint’s face. Clint waits as the silence grows more and more uncomfortable. Finally, he decides to nod, wondering if Fury was just waiting for acknowledgement. At Clint’s nod, Fury continues.
“I’m not gonna tell you things that aren’t mine to tell, but I’ll tell you this much; when I finally wooed Phil over to SHIELD he was completely shut off from any type of personal interaction at all. Something like you what you two have would never have stood a chance. I watched him bury himself in work. He got things done but he was losing himself in the process. If I had been what Phil needed, I would have offered myself up in a heartbeat. But I knew back then and I know now that I’m not who he needs to be happy. If that’s you, good. I’ll support you both all the way.”
Clint can’t contain his surprise at Fury’s words, letting a startled ‘oh’ slip out before reining himself in, listening as Fury continues to speak.
“But, keep in mind that should you prove me wrong, I have the resources and the capability to make sure no one ever finds out exactly what happened to you. I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt that the terrible thing you think you did isn’t as bad as you make it sound because I know you and I know Phil and if any couple is going to take forever and a goddamn day figuring this out it’s you two idiots.”
Fury’s words are harsh, but his tone is kind and Clint thinks that, yeah, no one would ever believe him if he told them about this. Clint watches as Fury scribbles on a piece of paper, and folds it in half before extending it to Clint. “Now get the hell out of my office and go fix what you broke, Agent. I won’t expect you back until Wednesday.”
Clint takes the dismissal to heart and flees, jogging through the corridors until he’s well away from Fury’s office. After several turns, Clint slows and leans against the wall. Unfolding the paper, Clint reads Fury’s note; Here’s his address, don’t fuck this up.
~~~
Clint stands outside of Phil’s apartment building for more than an hour. Every time he raises his hand to press the buzzer, Phil’s blank face rises behind his eyes and Clint drops his hand again, afraid of provoking the same lack of expression. Finally, after the sixth time he’s gone through he raise lower ritual, Clint hears the buzzer sound and Phil’s voice pours from the speaker.
“Come in, Clint. Some of the neighbors are getting nervous.”
Clint rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, but tugs open the door and crosses to the elevator, pressing the seven and watching the golden doors slide shut. Now that he’s in, his nerves are subsiding, but he can feel the excitement rise and he realizes that this is the longest separation they’ve experienced in the nine months they’ve known each other. Clint wonders if that is unusual but before he has enough time to really dwell, the doors slide open and CLint steps forward, leaving the elevator behind and looking around.
The hallway is bland in the same way that really nice hotel hallways are bland and Clint slips the frayed piece of paper out, checking apartment numbers one more time. He folds the paper again and pushes it deep into his pocket as he turns and looks for number plates.
They wind up being pointless as the person he’s come to see is standing outside of an apartment door waiting for him. Clint looks him over, aware that he’s been gone for heat leave but doesn’t look as if he’s experienced one, looking relaxed and comfortable in faded blue jeans and a well washed t-shirt with writing faded to unreadability.
“Hi.”
“Why don’t you come in. I wasn’t kidding about the neighbors.”
Phil ushers Clint into an apartment that is a perfect reflection of the man who lives there. The space is open, clean lines and simple furnishings leaving the space feeling cool and efficient, while surprising flashes of color drew the eye to important bits of what makes Phil. Clint waits, hesitant to examine anything closely for fear of pushing again and ending up back on thestreet.
“Look around if you want. Beer?”
“Nah. Water’d be good though.”
Phil just nods, pushing through a swinging door that must lead to the kitchen.
~~~
When Phil comes back, he finds Clint perched on his sofa, looking uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry. I just... things have been weird since that day I pushed too hard and then you disappeared without telling me you were leaving and I think I might have told Fury I’d go gay for you, so... yeah. How’s your week been?”
Phil is momentarily stunned by Clint’s words, but the mental image of him flailing his hands and confessing his feelings to Fury has him chortling under his breath before they evolve into deep belly laughs that have him tearing up and wheezing. Finally the laughter tapers off and Phil wipes his eyes and straightens up.
“So, is that how you got the address?”
“Yeah. Fury simultaneously gave me his blessing and threatened to disappear me if I mess up.”
“So is that why you’re here now? To keep from being disappeared?”
“No. Well, only a little bit. Mostly, I wanted to make sure that you didn’t leave without telling me because I had done something to make you uncomfortable.”
“I did tell you I was leaving. I left a message in your SHIELD voicemail and I sent you a reminder e-mail the day before I left.”
“Oh. Well that explains it then. I never use the SHIELD stuff.”
“Ah. Well I suppose I should be more surprised."
"But you're not."
Phil bumps him with his shoulder. "No. I'm really not."
“Tell me something.”
“Hmm?”
“Were we dating before?”
“Um, no?”
Clint is surprised at how much hearing that hurts.
“Oh. Well... I'll go then. Let you get back to your vacation.”
“No, wait. Did you want to?”
“Yeah. I thought when you kissed me...”
“Oh. Well I wanted to make you stop babbling and it seemed like a good idea but then you stayed on the couch and I assumed I had made a mistake. Didn't it feel like things got awkward after that night?”
“Well, yeah but... gah. I think Fury had a point. We might both be too stupid to figure it out on our own.”
“No, but a few nudges didn't hurt.”
“So are we...”
“Yes, Clint.”
“So can we...”
“What kind of Omega do you take me for?”
Phil looks so affronted that Clint backpedals. Hard. “No, I meant... It’s just... I’d never... you're so... I'm... oh god someone make me stop.”
When Clint finally looks up from his unsuccessful attempt to smother himself with his palm, Phil has chewed his lip bright red in an attempt not to laugh at him. Growling, Clint lunges, bearing the man backwards onto the couch cushions. Phil smiles before bucking his hips and dumping Clint onto the floor.
“Oh baby, oh baby. I love it when you get all aggressive like that,” Phil deadpans.
“First: Ow. And second: Well then what do you like?”
“Kissing. Kissing is good. Cuddling is even better and doing both while ignoring a cheesy movie is the best. Got a couple of hours to kill? I’ll even count it as a date.”
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah, c’mon.”
~~~
Clint never leaves and by the time Wednesday rolls around, Phil's given him credit for six dates. Six because apparently when you make pasta from scratch it counts double. Clint doesn't understand the scoring but he lets it slide, enjoying the kiss Phil presses on him before they separate for the day.
He’s never been as frustrated in his life but he wouldn’t trade it for anything, happily recalling the nights he spent curled up beside Phil to sleep. Clint’s learned that Phil can sleep flat on his back without snoring, is absolutely not a morning person without at least half a pot of coffee in him and looks amazing in pajamas, even if the fact that they’re Captain America pajamas is totally tease worthy.
Shaking free of the memory, Clint strides down the hallway, looking forward to some time on the range after his impromptu vacation.
~~~
Fury nods at him as they pass in the hall but says nothing, reading what he needs in the relaxed slope of Clint's shoulders and the flourish of Coulson's handwritten report on his desk this morning.
He's glad he won't have to break anyone but resolves to make sure things continue to be copacetic. He's meeting a marine liaison in an hour and he wants a chance to check Phil over with his own eye before that happens.
~~~
“Col. Wester, glad you could make it.”
Clint sees Phil tense and his mind snaps back to the night at the bar. He's not sure why his brain is putting those two things together, but he'd be a piss poor assassin if he ignored his gut all together. Folding his hands on the table in front of him, he watches the Colonel as he rounds the table. Clint nods in response to the other man's gesture and watches curiously as he freezes upon catching sight of Phil.
“Phil.” And Clint hates how warm his voice sounds, letting a rumble sit in his throat. “It’s good to see you. You look like you're doing well.”
“Fine. If you're ready?” Phil's voice is cool and Clint relaxes, relieved that he doesn't have to defend his position as Phil's prospective Alpha since Phil expressed absolutely no interest in the new man.
~~~
Phil plays it straight, fighting not to show just how rattled he is . He hasn't seen Thom since the night Phil got his transfer orders out and he refused to tell Phil why. That conversation and its repercussions are why he ended up at SHIELD and a big part of how he met Clint so he can't make himself wish it hadn't happened but it was uncomfortable sharing a table with a man who wanted him but wasn't right for him, a man who didn't want him and wasn't right for him and a man that wanted him but didn't know why he shouldn't.
When the meeting ended, Thom approached him.
“Hey, I just wanted to apologize for how things went down before. I never meant to out you.”
“Yeah well, water under the bridge.”
“Yeah. Did you want to maybe go grab a drink? Catch up?”
“Thom, you called me Broken, reported me, and got me tossed out of the best intelligence unit in the Marines. I'm willing to be civil and I'll work with you , but I don't see us becoming friends. Sorry, no.”
Thom looks crushed at Phil's refusal and he sighs "Fine. But I'm bringing someone."
Thom’s face brightened as he nodded his head. “Oh sure. Whatever you need.”
“Yeah. Meet us in the lobby in an hour.”
~~~
Phil finds Clint in the employee lounge, tucked on top of one of the vending machines. He lifts his foot to step into the room but stops, just out of sight, at the sound of voices.
“I mean, its just perverse. He’s getting up there and he’s still working. Why he hasn't found an Alpha and settled down I don't know. He could be a working parent after the baby arrives, lots of people do it. My brother and sister both did. But it's like he’s one of those anti-breeder people.”
“Right? Now the rumor is that he and Barton are officially an item.” Phil grimaces at the confirmation of just how swiftly the rumor mill churns but keeps listening.
“Tragic. That poor man stuck with someone who won't give him children. Its just wrong.” At least it’s still won’t and not can’t.
Phil hears a thump and a squeal and then the sound of Clint’s voice.
"You know, even if I wasn't head over heels for that brilliant man you are so happily bashing, I still wouldn't hook up with you. I've heard that stupid and mean spirited breed true and I wouldn't want to pass that burden down to my children. Or any child really. So why don't you do everyone a favor and not breed at all, 'Kay?"
Phil hears the crinkle of plastic and the tread of soft feet before he sees Clint walk out of the room holding half a raspberry zinger. Ignoring the bits of coconut and raspberry crumbs still clinging to his lips, Phil pulls him in for a kiss, trying to express just how much Clint’s support means. Finally pulling back when breathing becomes an issue, he raises a hand to wipe away the last few crumbs clinging to Clint’s mouth before wiping his face as well.
“Wanna go to our bar?”
“Uh, sure.”
“There’s a Marine here that I served with and he wanted to go out so we could catch up. Do you mind? If you don’t want to go, it’s fine, but I’d like you to go with me.”
Clint isn’t sure why Phil is trying so hard to convince him since his original question was enough to secure his cooperation, so he shrugs and takes Phil’s hand in his. “If you want me there, I’m there. You don’t have to justify anything to me. Ever. OK?”
He waits for Phil to look at him and repeats. “You never have to justify anything.”
“Oh. Um, then we should probably go since I told him we’d meet him in an hour. Especially if you want to shower first.”
“Are you telling me I stink?”
“No? Well a little.”
Clint just laughs, tugging Phil against him and kissing his breathless.
~~~
Clint finds himself liking Col. Thom Wester. He tries not to, but the man is clever and likeable so Clint gives him the benefit of the doubt. Phil is stiff at first, wearing his agent mask, but the burgers and beer work their magic and after a while, Phil’s unbent enough to tell a funny story about him and Thom, an MP and half the staff’s laundry ending up inside of their tent while Thom was sleeping. The laughter has Phil groaning as he excuses himself to clear away some of the beer he’s drunk and Clint and Thom both watch him go as they wipe tears from their eyes. Clearing his throat, Thom turns to Clint.
“So, you two. How’s that going?”
“Uh, it’s still pretty new, but it’s been good.” Clint blames the atmosphere and the alcohol for loosening his lips even that much, knowing Phil probably won’t appreciate him airing all their personal information, even if Thom is an old friend.
“Yeah, he seems happy. Happier than he ever was with me, anyway.”
“What?”
“Yeah, during advanced training, we dated. It... didn’t really work out.”
“Oh.” Clint’s not sure that crowing about finders keepers is smart or mature so he sits quietly, fiddling with one of the cardboard beer mats that litter the table top.
“Does it ever bother you? The way he is?”
He knows that Phil can be a bit of a workaholic and tends to sink all of his focus into whatever has his attention at the moment, but Clint’s pretty sure the attitude applies to every facet of Phil’s life and, honestly, he can’t wait to see it in the bedroom. Clint shifts, subtly adjusting himself and he acknowledges, if only to himself, that dealing with an erection is way more awkward when you’re sitting across from your boyfriend's ex. Clearing his throat, he asks, “No, should it?”
“I guess not, I mean, I just think it would put a strain on things. It’s a pretty big factor in a relationship, right?”
“Well, it can be, but if you want it to work, you figure out ways to make it happen.”
Thom looks confused, waving his hand through the air as he speaks. “It’s not something that you can just handwave away. I mean, it’s forever. Permanent. How do you cope?”
Clint wipes one hand over his face. “I don’t really know. To be honest, I just let him do what he needs to and I’m there when he stumbles in. Do I wish he made better use of others to help with his burden? You bet, but Phil is Phil and he does things his way. I think it’s a big part of what I lo--” Clint stops speaking, clears his throat and tries again. “Love about him. He makes it all worth it.”
“But never having kids...”
“Whoa, there. Kids are way, way, wwwaaayyy down the road. Right now, we’re happy with what we have. I think adding kids to the mix too soon is just a recipe for disaster.”
“Well, yeah, I suppose, but it cost him his marriage, and in a way, it’s what pulled us apart. I just, I don’t think he’d survive losing someone over it again.”
“I can’t sit here and reassure you. I don’t know the details of any of it and quite frankly, until Phil chooses to share it with me, it’s none of my business. I know that right now, I’m enjoying what we’re doing. His ability to work for sixteen hours straight isn’t the insurmountable obstacle you seem to think it is and even if it was, he’d never neglect his child. I just don’t think he has it in him.”
Thom shoots Clint a look and narrows his eyes. Clint isn’t sure what just happened, but he feels like they may have just had to completely separate conversations and the realization catches him flat footed.
“He hasn’t told you?”
“He’s told me lots of things. What are you talking about?”
Thom laughs, a surprised bark of sound, and speaks. “So he never told you he’s Broken?”
Clint feels all the pieces snap together- the attitude, the scars, his tension over the drunk's remark, Fury's words, all the little hints coalescing in an instant as Clint stares at Thom.
“No, Thom, we hadn’t gotten that far in our relationship yet.”
Both men turn to see Phil standing at the edge of the table, arms crossed and lips thin as he watches them. Thom opens his mouth but Phil holds out a palm, silencing Thom where he sits.
“I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I guess you’re still that stupid bastard that got me kicked out of training when you found out I wasn’t the perfect little Omega trophy. Well, I’m not. I’m Phillip Coulson, high ranking agent of SHIELD and handler to some of the top assets in the country. I’m so much better than you, so much better than you could ever hope to be. Goodbye, Thom. I’ll send the request for a new liaison in the morning since you’re obviously unable to separate me from your perception of what you think I should be.”
Phil turns on his heels and walks away, never once making eye contact with Clint, and Clint panics, slamming out of the booth and chasing Phil through the door where the cooler air of the outside hits him like a slap. He spins around and sees Phil already nearly a block away and moving fast. Clint curses and jogs to catch up to him, knowing that if he doesn’t fix this now, he’ll never get another chance.
“Phil! Phil, damnit, stop.” Clint catches the back of Phil’s jacket and tugs, careful not to tear the fabric. Phil stops but makes no move to face Clint. When he speaks, he speaks to the sidewalk.
“I’ll understand if you don’t want to keep seeing me now that you know. I won’t let it interfere with our professional relationship, but i would have to transfer you to a different handler. I think it would just be easier for both of us.”
Clint waits, letting Phil get it all out at once.
“No.”
The single word is enough and Phil raises his head slowly, watching Clint’s face and trying to judge what he means.
“I don’t want a new handler and I don’t want to break up. I’ve chased you long and hard, I’ve busted my ass to build a friendship that would support a relationship, I’ve even confided in the most terrifying human being I’ve ever met in my entire life when I thought I messed it up. I wouldn’t care if you were missing both legs and half your internal organs. I didn’t fall in love with your liver or your pancreas or even your uterus. I fell in love with you. You, you idiot. If you can’t have kids, then so what? There are plenty of kids out there that need parents. I was one of them and I would have killed for parents as cool as we are. When we’re ready, we’ll figure it out. But for now, I kind of like the thought of being able to have lots of loud dirty sex as often as we want without worrying about daycare or dirty diapers or the last time we got to sleep longer than three hours in a row.”
Slowly Clint raises his hands, drawing Phil against him and pressing a soft kiss against his lips. The contact is chaste, but Clint can feel how hard Phil’s heart is pumping against him and he knows his own is beating just as frantically. Pulling back from his lips, Clint speaks softly, feeling the puffs of air as they bounce back and hit his face.
“You, idiot. Just you.”