Archive of Our Own

“Sex pollen is an actual thing. Why couldn’t Stark be smeared with this? Wouldn’t be much different than anything in his playboy past…”

“Barton, try to relax. We’re--”

“Yeah, no. You relax when you have the worst. Priapism. Ever.”

Coulson could not contain a chuckle. “I’m a bit surprised you know that term.”

Clint groaned from his isolation ward bed, twitching away from the nurse’s aide. He was not dealing well with the repeated attempts to take his vital signs. “You know I’m…fuck, stop touching me!” Somewhat uncoordinated, he turned away from the medic to look at Coulson through the Plexiglas separating them. “Ye of little faith in my intelligence, sir.”

“I always have faith in your intelligence. But you said yourself that most of your blood is not supplying your brain.”

“Ohh, classy, sir.”

Coulson allowed a humored sigh through the commlink. “Everyone is working on a translation for Amora’s spell. Until they have something, try to let the medical staff feel like they’re doing their job.”

Clint flopped back onto his pillow. He looked exhausted and completely wound up. “Yes, sir.”

Coulson could not offer much more comfort. He wanted to personally wring the Enchantress’s neck. The sorceress had unfortunately escaped after her encounter with the Avengers, but not before reciting something arcane toward Hawkeye. So far, all they understood was the spell caused extreme arousal and stress on heart rate and breathing. Clint’s body believed it was racing. He said that gratifying himself brought almost no relief. It would be embarrassing, except for the real medical danger.

Coulson’s phone rang. “I’ll keep you informed,” he told Clint as gently as he could.

It was a call to assemble. A translation was ready.

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The basics of the cure were: Clint would remain in his current state, with all of its physical dangers, until he “lay with his true heart.”

Tony almost laughed. “What, he has to fuck his soul mate? Does ‘shameless flirt’ Barton even have a heart?”

Steve scolded Tony while Coulson dismissed the linguistics techs and sat down to think. “Maybe it’s simply someone he trusts,” Steve said. “A friend.” Coulson tried to hope at Steve’s words.

“We get to find Clint’s OTP?” Tony asked. “Wow, that’s. Uh. I’m gonna vote for him and Agent Hill, because hello, hot hatesex.”

Natasha stood abruptly, poker face firmly in place. “Clint and I are close,” she said. “I’ll go.”

Tony gaped a bit. “I could say so many things about ‘taking one for the team’ but even I realize that’s incredibly tacky, so I’ll, um, wish you luck?”

Natasha gave Tony a weird little smirk and left the room. Steve blushed as he watched the door close. Bruce avoided eye contact. Tony fiddled with his phone. If Thor had been back from Asgard, he might have offered bizarre encouragement.

Coulson massaged his temples. All of this was so far over the line of appropriate. But Clint was ill, and there were few options.

“This is…” Tony began, “I mean, we’re really just sitting around, waiting as two of our team members…?”

“Just don’t, okay, Tony,” Steve snapped.

“She’s the most likely option to help,” Bruce muttered.

Tony opened his mouth but quickly closed it before saying any more. Even he was concerned, his usual flippancy running out.

Of course it was logical that Natasha go to Clint. He trusted her. She would be good to him. It was Coulson’s own problem if he was jealous of her. He frowned down at the cuff of his jacket. When were his feelings not out of hand when it involved Clint? The man affected Coulson’s everything. Clint Barton played havoc with Phil Coulson without even knowing.

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Coulson’s phone went off. For once, he felt no shame in startling like everyone else. He recognized the extension for medical. Had it been that much time already? Glancing at the room’s mixture of expressions, he answered, “Talk to me.”

“Phil,” Natasha said, and he knew it had failed.

Coulson swallowed hard. “It…”

“Temporary relief, at best,” Natasha said flatly. “He wouldn’t allow me to do much.”

Coulson let his frustration show in the set of his shoulders. “You tried, Romanoff. Thank you.”

“Thor was here,” she added. “The Bifrost has been fixed. He left again to talk to Frigga about the spell. Said she’ll probably have more knowledge about a fix.”

“Thank you, Romanoff.” He didn’t care much that he was repeating himself. His agent -- his Barton -- was down.

He disconnected the call and leaned back in his seat. “Didn’t work,” he said heavily. “She said Thor arrived, then he went to speak with Queen Frigga about the spell.”

Steve swore and thumped the table with a fist. Tony added to the swearing. Bruce took a few steadying breaths. Phil wanted to bang his head on the table. No one seemed inclined to leave the conference room. They couldn’t do much to help Clint, but they couldn’t go about a mundane routine while he was ill. It wasn’t right to leave him writhing in medical without striving for a fix.

Coulson was proudly impressed with how the Avengers had gathered around each other in the time following the Chitauri invasion of New York. In a world where one did not typically get to choose family, they had chosen each other, and were stronger for it. Director Fury’s ploy to unite them with Coulson’s death had maybe worked too well. Coulson had agreed with the use of an untested prototype Life Model Decoy but had not been prepared for the intensity of its biofeedback. He spent several days with his mind telling his body it was dead. When he had climbed out of that coma, it was to an assemblage of Avengers who had adopted him.

He was their nanny. The Avengers’ representative and liaison. Tony had made it vocally clear that nothing Stark or Iron Man related was going close to Fury without Coulson’s involvement. Thor invoked all of his royal diplomatic training and refused to allow Earth to detain Loki. Thunderous was inadequate to describe his mood. Steve delivered an impressive rant filled with colorful language proving he had actually been in the military. All Natasha needed to do was glare. Bruce, of all people, calmly sucker-punched Fury, explaining with bland promise that you don’t treat people like that, Director, next time you won’t even see him angry.

Clint had been unconscious in medical from exhaustion. Coulson was there when he woke. When Hawkeye requested psych sessions (“I’ll hate it, but I need it”) Coulson let his relief settle. He described for Clint how the LMD mental control worked, and how the neural link fried his brain for a few days. Clint’s resultant swearing would have impressed a Navy veteran.

That was what they did. They supported each other with what wasn’t said. Natasha tried to understand, tried to scold them for being emotionally retarded men, but even she usually let them be. She knew that whatever Clint and Coulson had, it worked, and it was stronger than even her epic bromance with Clint.

Now Clint -- Coulson’s Clint -- was in medical again because he was some sort of ill-fated magnet for things. He was holding up remarkably well, with his sense of humor intact, but the last update on his vital signs showed the physical stress he was enduring. Coulson admitted to himself that he was biased, but the fact that Clint was the most fragile Avenger yet took injury without complaint made him the biggest hero of them all. He didn’t let his humanity stop him, and didn’t allow himself an inferiority complex. He was Hawkeye, and he owned who he was.

“How you holding up, Agent?” Tony asked. His attempt at flippancy was cute. “Barton’s your favorite, after all. You’re not planning a one-man rampage on his behalf?”

Coulson spoke before Steve could deliver a righteous reprimand, with an arched eyebrow at Tony. “I will inform you if the situation reaches levels requiring one-man rampages. You’d want to help, I assume?”

Tony barked out a laugh. “Comments like that remind me what a badass you actually are, Agent.”

Steve grinned a bit morosely. “It’s hard sitting around, is all,” he murmured.

“Aw, can’t manage when there’s nothing you can punch?” Tony mocked.

Steve didn’t take the bait. “Of course I want to punch something,” he said serenely. “Don’t you?”

“Of course I--” Tony stopped himself. “I do, actually. How about that. Maybe I’ll borrow one of your punching bags, Cap.”

“I think we all want to smash something,” Bruce said from his end of the table. He had acquired a tablet, and the others assumed he wouldn’t be focused much on the conversation. He poked at the small screen in front of him. “Clint’s biometric measurements are…they’re completely illogical.” He glanced up at the group. “Is anyone else genre savvy enough to see we really need to do something to help him?”

Coulson rubbed the bridge of his nose. “He hasn’t expressed any…preferences recently. Our best option is a medical or magical solution.”

Tony did not like that. Loudly. Steve asked, in his outdated tactful way, if preferences meant both gals and guys, to which Coulson had to confirm that Clint was bisexual. Steve took it well; he seemed more embarrassed at discussing Clint’s sexuality without Clint present than at the man’s desires. It doubled the options if a cure meant Clint needed a partner.

Coulson could see the gears in Tony’s mind turning like some steampunk parody. If he so much as hinted that Coulson should misuse Clint’s trust that way, Coulson would drop Tony so fast…

Naturally, a thunder god’s flair for dramatics included timing. Thor strode into the room with purpose in his eyes. Natasha followed like a flame drawn to the Aesir’s charisma. “Son of Coul!” Thor declared. “I bring instructions from Frigga, my queen mother, upon a cure for our fallen Hawkeye.”

“Beautiful entrance as always,” Tony muttered affectionately.

Somewhere along the way, Thor had learned about Tony’s sarcasm. He spared a grin at the billionaire. Coulson mentally shook his head. No one else would want to nanny these people.

Bruce cleared his throat, “Uh, what’s the cure?”

An almost chagrined look took over Thor’s expression. He looked steadily at Coulson. The latter was not so sure he wanted to be here for whatever came next. “Before I am certain how my mother’s instructions may be enacted, I must ask one thing, Son of Coul. Do you care for Clint Barton?”

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Coulson thought his breath might have actually seized in his chest. Thor was going to draw this out of him, in front of the others? He looked at Natasha. She held his gaze flatly. No help from her, then. She had wanted him to confess to Clint for years. He could not, no, he was afraid to look at the others.

It wouldn’t be right. Clint was compromised; he had to trust Coulson to look out for his well-being. Foisting his feelings on a vulnerable Clint was unthinkable.

He felt Tony, Bruce, and Steve waiting. Frightening enough that he might lose Clint’s respect by saying something to the man, but worse to reveal it to the rest of the team. But lying and denial was not an option. Coulson met Thor’s eyes. “Yes.” Such a small word for a much larger thing.

Thor nodded solemnly. “Then you must go to him. Your touch will pull the dangerous burning from him.”

Yeah, let the ground just swallow up him and his mortification now, thank you.

“Wait.” It was Steve; of course it was Steve because Coulson’s bare admission wasn’t bad enough. “Thor, this is all implying that they…they’re soul mates?”

“Indeed.”

Coulson’s vision was starting to whiten around the edges. “No,” he whispered.

“Son of Coul, you must.”

“Agent Coulson,” Steve said, audibly going into Authority Mode, “it will save his life.”

Captain America…his childhood hero…did Steve understand? “Rape him to save his life? He’s in no shape to consent.”

Natasha punched him on the arm. Ow. “Go to him, you idiot,” she growled. “He’s been in love with you for years.” She gripped his chin and made him look at her. “He’ll consent.”

If by some fortune Clint did return feelings and was capable of consent, Phil did not want their first time to be in a medical isolation ward. When he indulged his fantasies, Phil imagined a bit more romance. He knew that Clint’s relationship past was rocky, and Phil vowed to himself that if ever given the chance, he would woo Clint.

“Phil,” Tony said, the word more powerful for being Coulson’s actual name. “Go to him. Don’t let a bastard magic spell take him.”

Phil glanced at Tony, then at the rest of the room. His fear of judgment from the others ended in each earnest expression. The embarrassment was still there, but Phil realized that was also part of being a family.

“We won’t let him hate you, after,” Steve said, “though it sounds like that won’t be a problem.”

“Anthony and Steven are wise,” Thor said. “If he holds your heart, Son of Coul, then you must not leave him suffer.”

Another glance around the room retrieved soft nods. Phil straightened his shoulders. “Okay.”

Natasha smiled. “I had medical prep everything,” she said rather smugly. “Your thumbprint will send the room into lockdown for as long as you -- as long as Clint -- needs. Just…check in with us in a few hours?”

Tony chuckled. Phil flushed. This was ridiculous. Thor made it more absurd by solemnly clasping Phil’s shoulder and offering a hearty blessing of many hours, as he was certain few Midgardians possessed the same virility as the Son of Coul and his intended. Phil almost fled from the room after that.

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Phil’s thumbprint did seal off the room Clint occupied in the isolation ward. Phil took in the sight of the room, rather impressed at Natasha’s thoroughness. It looked more like a hotel than a hospital. A comfortable-looking armchair sat by the side wall, next to an end table with a dorm fridge atop, no doubt well stocked. Lube and condoms prominently covered the bedside table, the visual reminder of why he was here making Phil blush again. The reason he was here dozed fitfully in the bed.

Clint looked unfairly gorgeous. His skin was flushed from the arousal of the spell. Phil reflexively focused on the man’s mouth. He had entertained far too many fantasies about that mouth. Clint’s lips were parted, drawing extra breath to cope with whatever fevered dreams he was having. If Clint let him, Phil was going to kiss that mouth until neither of them could breathe.

He watched Clint’s chest move beneath its thin hospital gown covering. First sight of that chest had ended any of Phil’s resistance to his attraction. How often had Phil caught himself imagining a touch, running a hand over Clint’s sternum, over his pectorals, down his abdomen? It often came with a press of guilt for objectifying his colleague, but Clint’s body was sinful.

Phil felt a fluttering beneath his own sternum. Clint’s prominent arousal tented the thin hospital-standard sheet at his waist. Worst priapism ever, he’d said. Despite empathy for the pain, Phil couldn’t help filthy thoughts.

Clint was suffering, and Phil was the means to stop that. The ache in his chest took on both lust and hope. He took care of Clint; he always took care of his Hawkeye. If Natasha was right, and she was rarely wrong, then Clint might take care of Phil, too.

He approached the bed. “Clint.”

The archer snapped awake. His eyes zeroed in on Phil. His pupils were dilated with arousal, barely a hint of grey-green around the edges. Phil wondered if his own eyes were dilated yet. “Sir?” Clint looked distressed. “You…you shouldn’t be in here.”

Clint’s concern, when Clint was the one sick, pulled at Phil’s heart. “According to Queen Frigga and Thor, I should be.”

Clint’s look of vulnerable confusion was completely endearing. How could a man look both so sexy and so innocent? Phil extended a hand toward the man, and Clint shied away. “Sir…don’t. If you touch me…”

“Thor specified that there should be touch. The spell’s cure requires the touch of someone close to you, someone who…” Phil was amazed at the steadiness of his own voice. “Someone who cares for you.”

“But Tasha was in here before and it didn’t…oh.” Clint stared at his own hand trembling against the sheet. “I -- I can’t. You’d be forced to do it, and I…no, I’ll just ride it out.”

Phil huffed a humorless laugh. “Clint, your vital signs are off the charts. It’ll kill you.”

“Phil.” And oh, it was a blow to the gut to hear Clint say his name. “You don’t know what this…it’s like teenager times a million. If you…I can’t…” He rubbed his eyes.

Phil grasped the man’s wrist. “Clint.”

Clearly not physically weakened, Clint tugged hard, toppling Phil partly onto the bed with him. Determined to prove he wanted this, Phil met Clint’s kiss, licking against those incredible lips. The archer’s groan was another thing of beauty. He gripped the back of Phil’s neck desperately, opening his mouth for more.

Phil had imagined chemistry between them, but not this fire. Clint’s need made his skin hot, his body begging. Phil tried to tell himself that it was only the spell making Clint desire him. Why would someone as gorgeous as Clint want a bland agent like Phil?

Clint’s tongue and teeth were insatiable. Phil leaned over the man as his arms went weak, groaning when Clint gripped the back of his neck tighter. Clint’s other hand worked beneath Phil’s waistband to tug his hips closer.

Abruptly, Clint released the kiss. He stared up at Phil, that beautiful vulnerable expression still in his eyes. “Tell me you want this,” he said, rough voice pressing all the buttons of Phil’s libido. “I can’t stop. It’s like fire…”

“Don’t stop.” Phil struggled to remove his suit jacket. He laid a hand on Clint’s face, thumb pressing over that delectable bottom lip. “I want this. We’ll talk after, but now just…”

Clint flung a leg over Phil’s and pulled him back into a kiss. Their mouths mated, and Phil lost track of who was groaning. He managed to bunch the fabric of Clint’s hospital gown out of the way. Growling, Clint ground his hips against Phil’s leg.

Clint’s cock was beautiful. Flushed golden-red, straining so hard it even looked painful. The cool air made it twitch against his stomach, while Clint’s head arched into the pillow as he shuddered. Phil couldn’t resist tasting the exposed angles of Clint’s neck. He felt the vibration of the archer’s voice beneath his lips.

“Phil! Please, I…touch me.”

He always gave when Clint truly needed. Clint’s cock was heavy in Phil’s hand, almost too dangerously hot with arousal. Mindless groans reverberated close to Phil’s ear as he watched his own fingers touch where he’d merely dreamed of before.

Uncoordinated but determined, Clint somehow removed his gown. His nudity while Phil still wore most of his clothes was beyond erotic. He laid fluttering kisses along Clint’s collarbone and lower while Clint all but rutted into his hand. He wanted to take time and map every inch of Clint’s body with his mouth, but Phil understood the urgency for release. He ran his thumb over the moistened tip of Clint’s cock.

“Fuck, Phil, yes. Please.”

“That’s it, Clint. Let it go. I have you. Let go of the fire.”

Clint’s orgasm hit hard. He yelled as he spent over Phil’s hand. His body was clenched muscular power, a beautiful sight as he moved under his own pleasure. After, he laid bonelessly, his chest heaving for breath. It was the single sexiest thing Phil had seen.

As Clint lay panting, Phil gently cleaned things up with the discarded hospital gown. Then he removed his shoes and tie and sat on the bed next to Clint when the latter groped for Phil’s hand.

“You okay?” Phil asked, rubbing his thumb gently over the back of Clint’s hand.

Loose-boned, Clint shook his head against the pillow. “It’ll come back.”

“Rest while you can. I’ll be here.”

Clint opened his eyes and fixed a disbelieving look at Phil. Clearly he didn’t understand why Phil would want to stay. Why Phil would want him. It made Phil’s ribs ache. He wanted to curl Clint into his arms and tell the man everything wonderful he saw. He resolved that he would, but not when Clint was off-balance like this.

“We’ll have a long discussion about it later,” Phil said, “but…God, Clint, you don’t know, do you.” He kissed Clint softly. “I love you,” he said against the man’s lips.

Clint looked like he had been handed his greatest dream but was afraid to grasp it. Knowing the man’s background, Phil understood, and felt a stab of rage toward what had made Clint afraid to take good things for himself. Phil was going to spend a lot of time showing Clint just how much he could have for himself. He kissed Clint again, gently, trying in part to convince the man of his feelings. The aphrodisiac spell did not seem to permit much actual tenderness, but Phil hoped his long rapport with Clint could compensate. Clint made a soft sort of whimpering sound beneath Phil’s lips. It shot through to Phil’s groin. He would give Clint this, whatever Clint needed, give the man his heart and his strength and his everything.

“Let me save you,” he murmured. “Let me, Clint. You’ve saved me enough times.”

The archer reached his arms around Phil, pulling them together so no hint of distance lay between them on the bed. “You saved me when you offered Hawkeye a job.”

Phil considered thanking Amora for the vulnerability that came with her spell. A vulnerable Clint made Phil want to wrap everything he was around the man, shield him like a physical namesake of the division they worked for.

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They lay on the hospital bed, limbs wrapped around each other. The occasional kiss broke the stillness. “I had wanted to court you,” Phil confessed.

Clint smiled. “Old romantic sap, are you?” He nuzzled his lips against Phil’s. “That woulda been nice…”

“I…could still do that,” Phil suggested in a soft voice.

Clint gasped. “Yes?”

The look Clint gave him -- disbelief but hopeful -- made Phil cradle the man’s face in his hands and kiss him with all the emotion he could manage. Clint made a sound in his throat and pinned Phil back on the bed. His hips pressed against Phil’s, making Phil shudder, imagining the precome that might be there, messing his slacks.

Clint flicked open the buttons of Phil’s shirt. “Wanna fuck you,” he growled.

Phil slid his hands along Clint’s back, holding on the best he could. “Want to test the soundproofing in this room?”

Growling more, Clint yanked the last of Phil’s shirt open. “Gorgeous bastard,” he said against Phil’s collarbone. “Gonna make you come so hard, you see crooked.”

“God, yes.” He hooked a leg behind Clint’s, grinding their hips together even more. He wanted Clint to know how aroused he was.

Clint’s mouth made its way along Phil’s chest. He fixated on Phil’s nipples, touching and licking until Phil felt he had been struck with the sex pollen spell. Maybe he’d intended to be in charge to help Clint through it, but this was a fine change of events.

“Sensitive there, huh?” Clint smirked and slid his teeth slowly over Phil’s hardened nipple.

“Jesus fuck, Clint…I still have my pants on…”

Clint chuckled. “I kinda like the look: you half-dressed and all debauched. Is damn hot, sir.”

Clint calling him sir in this context should not be as hot as it was. Phil arched up to bite at the line of muscle along Clint’s neck, making the man shudder again. “It would be better with my pants off.”

“Mmm, this is all supposed to be for me, isn’t it? Maybe I just want to rub off on the front of your fancy Dolce suit pants. Mess you up good, sir.”

“You do and you’ll pay the dry cleaning bill.”

Clint leaned in to murmur in Phil’s ear, “Might be worth it.”

“Goddamnit, Barton.” Proving he could always handle Hawkeye, Phil flipped them so he pressed on top of Clint. “You need to fuck me right now.”

Clint grinned up filthily. “I think I have a new kink: pushy bottom.”

“You have no idea how pushy.”

Because Phil felt a little thrill when he proved his multitasking competence, he kept a knee pressed to Clint’s cock as he undid his pants. Clint watched with dark eyes, recovering from his apparent daze enough to yank at Phil’s underwear.

“Holy shit, sir, you’ve been packing,” Clint groaned when he freed Phil’s cock.

Shamelessly, Phil pushed unto Clint’s touch. “And your uniform leaves nothing to the imagination.”

Again, Clint’s grin was dirty as sin. He curled his thumb over the head of Phil’s cock, making Phil’s mouth fall open on a pant. He had heard rumors about Clint’s sexual experience. Feeling that expertise almost overloaded Phil’s brain.

Somehow, Phil struggled free of his clothing. He rested on his elbows above Clint for another kiss. The plan to kiss until neither could breathe was well in effect. Clint sucked at Phil’s tongue, swallowing Phil’s groan with a chuckle.

When Clint stroked down and began squeezing Phil’s ass, Phil flailed a hand to reach the lube on the side table. Clint laughed. His fingers teased. “Gonna order me to fuck you, sir?” He slid one long finger lightly in the cleft of Phil’s ass. “C’mon, Phil. Ride me.”

Thank someone for one-handed access lube bottles. Phil shoved the tube into Clint’s hand before pushing a slickened finger into himself. He shuddered at the sensation. “It’s been a while,” Phil shakily confessed.

Clint’s hand was there, pressing a finger in alongside Phil’s. “You’re gorgeous. You wanna feel me inside?”

“Fuck.” Phil began grinding against the delicious intrusion. “This is supposed to be for you.”

“Oh, it’s all for me, baby.” Clint stroked Phil’s cock with his free hand. “You’re gonna ride my cock and I’m gonna make you scream. This is better than being a teenager.” He urged Phil’s hand away and crooked two fingers inside. “Am gonna completely debauch you, Agent Phil Coulson.”

Phil panted for breath. He straddled Clint’s thighs and rode the man’s hand for a while. Soon, he reached for a condom, but Clint stopped him. The archer said something about knowing the spell cure needed bare skin contact. The same way he knew Natasha was not the cure; he just had this extra sense. Phil considered it. They knew each others’ medical histories better than most. They were both clean; SHIELD made sure of that for all of its employees. Plus, there was something hot about nothing but their skin together. Phil nodded.

It was freeing, this reckless kind of lust. Phil gripped Clint’s cock. Clint was thick. Phil slicked more lube on, reveling in the man’s unrestrained groan. Clint did something with his fingers that had Phil growl out a curse. Carefully he nudged Clint’s fingers away and pressed his hips down.

“Goddamn,” Clint breathed. One hand clutched at Phil’s hip, the other squeezed Phil’s cock.

An experimental roll of his hips caused a shot of electric pleasure to bolt up Phil’s spine. Bracing himself with hands on the bed on either side of Clint’s shoulders, he looked down into the man’s eyes. Clint looked a bit dazed. The word gorgeous applied to him too.

“Is it good?” Phil teased. “Lay back and let me work you. How loudly can you scream?”

Clint’s hips jerked, his fingers tightening involuntarily on Phil’s cock. “Shoulda known you’d be a dominant bottom…”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

Phil began moving. Soon Clint rocked beneath, driving up into Phil in just the right way. As payback, Phil scraped fingers over Clint’s nipples. He enjoyed every sound he pulled from the man. Phil decided it had been too much time wasted since his last time with a man. If Clint let him, this would be the last man Phil was with. The last person. He did not want just a one-time fuck with Clint.

Clint kept stroking Phil’s cock as Phil moved over him. It really was like fire. “Do you know how fucking good you feel?” Phil asked, grinding down until Clint was deep inside and it was impossible to tell where one of them began or ended.

“I know how fucking good you feel.” Clint tugged at Phil’s hip until they shifted and Phil nearly saw stars. “Oh yeah baby, there’s your prostate.” He did the move again, making Phil cry out.

Phil leaned down to catch Clint’s mouth in a messy kiss. His cock pressed between their stomachs, and Phil thought he might be able to come just from that. Clint moved in response, proving he was attentive in sex. His abdomen flexed as their hips rode each other. Phil draped his body over Clint’s and let the man take over.

“You gonna come soon?” Clint asked. “I want to see it. Want you to mark me, want your come on me.”

Phil shuddered. “Then you’re going to fill me up. Want you inside me.”

Clint gripped the back of Phil’s neck and pulled him in for another wicked kiss. He did something more with his hips that made Phil break the kiss and arch against Clint’s chest, shouting as he came. Clint was close behind, hooking a leg over Phil’s and groaning out his climax. Phil felt strangely owned and wonderfully glad for it.

Clint was a bit of an octopus, clinging to Phil and nuzzling breathy kisses into Phil’s neck. His hand was a warm weight over Phil’s shoulder blades. Phil felt himself fall into the cliché of musing over his own good luck. When he could breathe a bit slower, he lifted his head to look down at Clint. That beautiful dazed look? Phil had put it there. A silly thought, but the aphrodisiac spell was almost a magical, cosmic sort of approval.

Clint smiled. “Stay?”

Phil smiled back. “As long as you’ll have me.”

Tugging on Phil’s shoulders, Clint pulled him down for another kiss. “You said we’d talk about that later. Now…need some sleep.”

Phil was glad to curl close to Clint on the bed that was just that bit too small for two grown men. They would be messy later, but the room had its own full bath and shower. Now it was more important to be in each others’ arms.

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Phil roused slowly from sleep because he knew he was safe. His internal sense of time told him it had been a restful couple of hours. Clint draped partly over him, warm and solid and perfect. Overwhelming came the surge of emotions for this man. Clint was an essential part of Phil.

“I love you,” Phil whispered.

Apparently, Clint had not been asleep, because he smiled against Phil’s bare shoulder. He looked up through his eyelashes. “I didn’t tell you before, did I?” He held Phil’s gaze. “I love you right back.”

Phil wondered if his ribcage was supposed to feel so full like this. He touched Clint’s lips, kissing the man with his fingertips. With another beautiful soft smile, Clint shifted an impossible bit closer to add, “You kind of took my heart, you know? Years ago.”

“And neither of us said anything.”

Clint shrugged with his eyebrows. “At first I thought, this is a self-important Man in Black, thinking he can recruit Hawkeye. But you proved yourself, and I thought you at least were a badass worthy of following. The rest sort of sneaked up on me.” His hand covered Phil’s. “Then we were working together, and it was more than just two guys. SHIELD was something I could get behind.” He kissed Phil’s palm. “And if you were there, on the other end of the commlink, then I was home.”

It was a speech worthy of making Phil’s heart jump. He owed the man just as much, but Phil wasn’t sure a speech of his could measure up. “I don’t know if it was ever that clear for me,” he said. “You were just always…here,” he finished, holding Clint’s hand over his heart.

“I’d like to stay there,” Clint said, looking shy.

Phil squeezed Clint’s fingers. “As long as you want.”

Yes, it was sappy. But after what Phil had lost and missed and given up, he was going to keep the sappy sentiment. Judging by Clint’s pleased expression, he was fine with it.

They kissed slowly, feeling the deep burn if not the reckless fire of before. Phil enjoyed the fact that Hawkeye’s pattern of doing nothing partway included Clint’s thorough methods with his mouth. Phil had been the subject of Clint’s sharp focus, but this was the best kind of focus yet. He knew this was a sort of honeymoon, and they would both have issues to work through, but it suddenly wasn’t nearly as impossible. It surely would not be worse than the surmounting of the incredible they did for a living.

“Mmm,” Clint hummed against Phil’s lips, “I think I’ll keep you.”

“Good, because I’m yours.”

Clint pressed Phil to the mattress and kissed him harder. Soon though, he grunted at the stickiness between them. “Nngh. Need to use that big walk-in shower. And look, neither of us is too sick to enjoy it.”

Phil squeezed Clint’s shoulder. “Go. I told Natasha I would call her in a few hours.”

Clint waggled his eyebrows. “Bragging already?”

“Be nice or I won’t join you.”

“Baby, the point is to be the opposite of nice.” Clint nibbled Phil’s earlobe. “Don’t let me get too far without you.”

Then Clint was out of bed, swaying his hips on the way to the bathroom. Mine, Phil thought, resolved to make the call to Natasha as short as possible.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phil saw just enough of the man’s outline through the opaque shower door to know Clint was touching himself. Grinning, he joined Clint, wrapping his arms around the man. Clint leaned into the embrace. Lazily he continued to stroke himself, clearly enjoying the show it made. It struck Phil again just how gorgeous Clint was. For a while, he kept quiet to enjoy the pleasure of a gorgeous Hawkeye naked in his arms, Clint’s back to Phil’s front.

“The others were worried,” Phil finally said. “We all felt helpless. I think the team was ready to put a price on Amora’s head.”

“I think I’m better now,” Clint said. “And I can’t complain all that much about the spell. It got me you.”

“Better, are you?” Phil slid his hand over Clint’s and squeezed. He kissed Clint’s neck when the man groaned. “That might need a second opinion.”

“And conveniently you’re here. What’s the diagnosis, sir?”

Phil slid his thumb over Clint’s glans. “Erection. Probably brought about by mental and physical stimulation. I might need to test a bit more to be sure.”

Clint stroked himself once, twice. “Whatever you think is best.”

Phil licked the side of Clint’s neck, enjoying the taste of the man’s skin beneath the shower water. His own cock was impatiently hard. He pressed it against the curve of Clint’s ass, making the other man groan again and tilt his head for more of his neck for Phil to nibble.

“Do you know what I think would be best?” Phil asked. “You on your knees in that bed, letting me fuck you until your brain blanks out.” He ended with a light bite to Clint’s shoulder.

“Ffff--” Clint exhaled as he shuddered. “Fuck. Who needs a magic sex spell? Just keep talking.”

“Impatient,” Phil chuckled. “I want to enjoy this.”

“Enjoy it too much now, and you won’t get to fuck me into the mattress.”

Humming as if he was considering those options, Phil leaned his body against Clint’s. The man was so warm and solid. Phil aimed to make him pliant again. He indulged his desire to trace Clint’s chest with his fingers, mentally cataloguing which touches got the best responses. Clint’s abdomen was quite sensitive, as was the light trail of hair to his groin. Clint moaned when Phil barely teased the length of his cock and over his balls.

“You’re incredible,” Phil purred into the curve of Clint’s ear. The man deserved to hear it. “Not just your arms -- which are sinful, by the way -- but all of you.”

“Mmm?” Clint questioned, already on his way to incoherence.

Phil mouthed down from Clint’s ear, along his neck, outward to the man’s deltoid. “I have a confession. I helped design Hawkeye’s costume too.”

Clint chuckled. “So that’s why it shows off my ass so well.” He tilted said ass against Phil’s all-too-agreeable cock.

“Actually, that was Dr. Mandell in R&D. She has a serious fetish. Hill has complained more than once.” The Deputy Director had filed multiple complaints about the impractical fit of field uniforms.

“What part of Hawkeye’s sexilicious uniform did you design, then?”

“The body armor and the color. You should see the purple insanity they started with. It had a mask with the letter H.”

Clint’s laughter vibrated through Phil’s chest where he pressed against the man. “Better to leave the letters to Cap, right?”

Grinning, Phil nudged his lips over Clint’s neck once more. “I can’t blame Mandell for the attention to your ass, though.” He slid one hand over it and squeezed just a bit.

“My ass is spectacular,” Clint agreed. “And you want to fuck it, don’t you?”

Phil pretended to be put out. “Not in the shower, Barton.”

“Mmmhmm,” Clint hummed, wriggling his hips. “The water wouldn’t be good enough lube. ‘Cause you’re big…”

“Damn you. I’m going to need some sex pollen to keep up with that mouth of yours.”

“I would suggest something to occupy my mouth, but that beautiful cock of yours already has a goal.”

With a growl, Phil pressed two fingers into Clint’s mouth. He almost regretted the action as Clint’s tongue immediately curled obscenely over his fingers. If Clint’s body was heated, his mouth was a furnace. Phil slid his other hand harder over Clint’s cock, blatantly grinding behind him. Phil’s own cock rubbed in the groove of Clint’s ass.

Clint scraped his teeth over Phil’s knuckles. Soon he set their pace, rocking bodies slowly against one another in the warm shower spray. They were both past that point in life of fast refraction after needy sex. It was incredibly arousing to draw out the moment, to see how long one could last.

“You probably know how fucking hot you are,” Phil murmured. “The locker room talk I’ve heard about you…” He pressed against Clint’s tongue and shivered when Clint began to suck. “The others might be superhuman, but you’re real, Clint. Sometimes I want to--”

Clint whirled and backed Phil against the slick tiled wall. “You want to pin me down, sometimes,” he growled, “pin me down and take me. Or maybe that’s what I want you to do. Agent badass Coulson, with your damn voice in my commlink, with your perfect suits, and if you think my ass is amazing…”

They crashed together in a kiss. All teeth and tongue, the kiss promised and surpassed what they had suggested to each other. Phil groped for the shower fixtures to turn off the water while Clint pulled them both from the shower stall. They halfheartedly dried off, tossing the towels on the bathroom floor before stumbling to the bed. Their mouths barely left each other.

Phil could not outmatch Clint for physical strength, but he had enough hand-to-hand skill to lever Clint onto his stomach on the bed. Straddling the man’s thighs, he licked a staccato pattern down Clint’s back. The dimples at the base of Clint’s hips garnered special attention.

“Another mistake, sir,” Clint teased. “My mouth is free again.”

Phil responded by trailing his tongue in the cleft of Clint’s buttocks. “I don’t want you silent,” he murmured.

Clint’s groan ended up muffled in the pillow. His legs spread willingly. “Please…”

“So polite.” Phil squeezed Clint’s cheeks, slowly spreading them. He let his breath flow heated and moist over that vulnerable part of Clint. “Don’t bite the pillow yet. I haven’t started.” Then he flicked his tongue over Clint’s hole.

Clint yelled Phil’s name. He rutted beneath Phil’s lapping tongue until Phil had to pin the man’s hips with his hands. Clint’s arms bunched and flexed as he tried to find purchase on the mattress. When Phil pushed the tip of his tongue inside Clint, the obscenities began. It was a raw ego boost, to have the power to reduce Clint to this. If he had lost the chance to actually seduce Clint, this was a worthy tradeoff.

“Goddamn fucking hell, Phil!”

“Mmm.” Phil rested over Clint’s legs, lazily treating the man with unpredictable licks and the occasional fingertip. “Never had a good rimming before?”

Clint actually whimpered. “Never wanted one. Phil, baby, please…”

“Please what?”

“Bastard. Either finish me with your goddamn evil tongue, or give me your cock.” He lifted his hips. “Need it.”

Grinning, Phil resumed licking Clint’s hole slowly. Every sound he coaxed from Clint was gorgeous. Even the swearing. Maybe especially the swearing. He was even beginning to like the endearment “baby.”

He pulled away from a panting Clint, rubbing his lower back. “Now who’s the pushy bottom?”

“Oh, dear God. Are you taunting me into begging for your cock?” Clint grabbed the lube and nearly flung the bottle toward where Phil was still laid out over Clint’s legs. “Because we are so past that. You need to fuck me.”

Teasing time over, then. Phil used the lube and slid two swift fingers inside Clint. The man surged to his hands and knees and gave new meaning to the term hip grinding. Kneeling behind Clint, Phil moved his fingers gently. No matter how pushy and demanding Clint was, Phil would not skip proper preparation. It was part of the fun, after all.

The sight of the muscular arch of Clint’s back made holding off for too long impossible. Phil leaned over and kissed Clint’s shoulder as he slicked himself up. Slowly, earning beautiful sounds with every inch, he pressed into Clint.

“Phil,” Clint groaned, rising to his knees and moving back like he had in the shower. “So fucking good.”

Phil rested on his heels and let Clint ride his lap. He touched Clint everywhere. Words did not do this justice. What Clint had said earlier, about being home as long as Phil was there, Phil understood it now. With the desperation of Amora’s spell gone, they could feel the connection they’d always had.

Clint draped backward over Phil. His head turned so they could kiss as they kept up their uneven rhythm. He gripped Phil’s forearm where it clutched over his stomach. Loosely, Clint gripped his own cock, but he seemed more focused on Phil inside him.

Phil couldn’t help it. He was so hard in love with Clint, he couldn’t stop the sentimental pleas. “Tell me you want more than just this time. Tell me I didn’t take advantage before, when you were affected.”

“Before?” Clint echoed. “When I was horny out of my mind and the very person I wanted locked himself in isolation with me? Sorry, I don’t consider fulfillment of my filthiest dreams as taking advantage.”

“Clint…”

“Phil.” Clint reached an arm up to caress Phil’s neck. “Hawks mate for life.”

Wrapping his arms around Clint, Phil surged forward, pushing the other man onto knees and one hand. He thrust hard. “I love you. And you love me back…”

“Yes.” Clint went pliant. “Fucking take me. Been yours for years.”

Phil had belonged to Clint since he couldn’t remember. He sucked a light mark into the skin of Clint’s neck. Urgency built again. Clint growled at Phil’s thrusts, groaned when Phil took his cock in hand again.

“Harder, baby. Fucking ride me, Phil. C’mon, you wouldn’t do me in the shower, make up for it now. Make me -- aah!”

“There’s your prostate.”

“Evil man. That’s my move. You don’t get -- nnngh…” Clint fell forward onto his elbows, ass gloriously arched up and clenching around Phil.

“I’ll just have to expect payback,” Phil chuckled, and squeezed the head of Clint’s cock. He rolled his hips, again aiming for the sweet spot.

“Fucking sex ninja!”

“Shut up and take it, Barton.”

Clint followed and met Phil’s thrusts. The less verbal Clint became, the more vocal he was. Phil fully approved. He bit the line between Clint’s shoulder and neck, squeezed Clint’s balls and felt them tighten. He pressed against Clint’s back and felt when the man began to come. Clint’s shout of pleasure was enough to tilt Phil over the edge. He came hard after Clint, vaguely aware of his own scream.

Clint took their weight for a while, clearly enjoying the aftershocks. Phil wondered if his heart had actually stuttered for a moment.

Clint made a deep sound of satisfaction. “Can we just tell everyone that the spell hasn’t worn off yet? Wanna keep you to myself for days…”

Phil reluctantly moved but didn’t go far. He nudged them both until they lay face to face. “Sounds like the best vacation ever.”

Clint smirked. “Tahiti two years ago wasn’t the best vacation ever?”

Phil rolled his eyes. “Tahiti was a clusterfuck.”

Clint laughed before kissing Phil lightly. “This was a clusterfuck of the good kind.”

Phil sighed. “That so-called humor of yours is not going to change, is it?”

“Nope!”

“And why am I always the straight man in this comedy duo?”

“Phil, baby, after the past few hours, you’re not a straight anything.”

“Neither are you.”

Clint snorted. “I kind of like being bent, thank you.”

Another eye roll from the Coulson repertoire. “I must love you, if I’m still here after that.”

“Hey.” Clint pushed Phil’s shoulder until the man relented and the archer could sprawl on top for a kiss while Phil’s fingers found themselves tangled in Clint’s hair. “I think you’ll love me bent over the furniture, and such.”

“Only if you return the favor.”

Clint grinned. “Over and over again.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They napped again. Showered again. Phil changed the sheets with the linens stocked in the room. They raided the small fridge and softly nibbled each other as much as they snacked on actual food. They piled together on the bed, cherishing the feel of each others’ skin.

“Can we stay like this when we go back outside?” Clint asked quietly.

Phil halted his hand where he’d been tracing the glorious lines of muscle on Clint’s arm. “Why would we not?”

Clint’s shrug failed to come off as very casual. “It’s different, in here. Will we go back to Coulson and Barton?”

Phil looked at Clint for a moment. “I don’t want to return to that,” he finally said.

That almost fearful hope flickered in Clint’s eyes again. Obviously, the man wanted a relationship. It was, Phil supposed, understandable for Clint to have his insecurities.

“Clint.” Phil took the man’s hand and kissed the knuckles. “You said hawks mate for life.” At Clint’s blush, Phil added, “You’ve been my life for longer than I probably realized. I really don’t want you just for the sex. If anything, I’m confused as to why you want me.”

It was Clint’s turn to kiss Phil’s knuckles. “Because you’re some bland pencil-pusher? Yeah, the same way Natasha is a bimbo. So neither of us can explain why we want the other? The heart wants what it wants, Phil. That’s all I can explain.”

“So we chose each other without thinking the choice would be returned?” Phil laughed a bit. “Romanoff was right about us being idiot men.”

“She threatened me,” Clint said. “I can’t count how many times. But I couldn’t confess to you and take the rejection.”

“Because it mattered too much.”

“It mattered everything,” Clint whispered.

Phil thought back over the years. Them working together had always…worked. He wondered if maybe fate was real, and things could be inevitable. Every mission, they seemed to grow closer. Nobody questioned that they were the best when they were together. If rumors flew about them fucking, or secretly married, nobody really seemed surprised. Not even Nick Fury was fool enough to suggest that Barton and Coulson was a bad thing.

“Everything,” Phil echoed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“So, what did everyone say about you curing me?” Clint asked. “And before you say it, yes I do want to know. Even what Stark said.”

“Stark said not to let a bastard magic spell take you down. They were all worried, Clint.” He held the man close for a moment. “We all became a family somehow, and family cares.”

“What member of the family am I, sleeping with the hot babysitter?”

“I’m not dignifying that with an answer.”

“Oh! Let me be the naughty cousin that comes to visit and can’t help seducing the sexy nanny.”

“Your life is not a porno cliché, Barton.”

Clint laughed. “It felt like one for the past several hours. You know you liked it.”

Phil kissed Clint. “The best sex I’ve had in maybe ever,” he admitted. “How many bland office drones can say they’ve scored with an Avenger?”

“Damn right. Except I’ve scored, too. Agent Coulson is the stuff of legend.” Clint trailed a finger over Phil’s pectoral. “The best thing is, most of the office rumors are true.”

“What rumors?”

“Three words, Phil: bag of flour.”

He was still a bit embarrassed about that. “I made use of an available opportunity…”

“Oh no, no modesty, mister. You are a ninja.” Clint spread his palm, warm over Phil’s chest. “My ninja.”

“Yours,” Phil agreed easily. He touched the side of Clint’s face. “Mine.”

Clint kissed the inside of Phil’s wrist. “Been yours since you requisitioned that first bow for me.”

Phil scoffed. “You are not that easy.”

“Okay, maybe it was when you refused to leave me behind in Palestine.”

Wincing at the memory, Phil laid a finger over the small scar below Clint’s ear that remained of that mission. It was the first time Clint had been captured under Phil’s responsibility as handler. As he proved, Agent Coulson believed in SHIELD’s policy of leaving no people behind. He remembered Clint saying something about thinking it was just a party line. Phil had proved him wrong by systematically tearing apart the kidnappers’ hideout. It was also the first time Phil had been there when Clint woke up in medical.

“I don’t leave people behind,” Phil said simply.

“That’s part of what makes you legendary. It made me feel like I mattered.”

“You do matter.” Phil kissed Clint briefly. “Someone should show you, after your fucked up younger life.”

“That’s why I was yours then,” Clint said.

“So that’s why you aren’t good with other handlers.”

Clint’s expression tightened. “They haven’t earned it.”

“You’re decent with Sitwell, but he hasn’t earned your trust.”

“Sitwell is good because he’s so honest. He can be an idiot, but he’s genuine.”

Phil chuckled. “You said he was naïve.”

“He is. But he means what he says, and if he isn’t as skilled as you or Hill or Fury, he will keep his promises.”

Phil knew that was important to Clint. People should keep their word. When first working with Hawkeye, Phil had had to prove his promises. Once Clint believed that the legendary Agent Coulson was real, he stopped trying to resist Phil on every issue. Coulson’s actual staying power after other handlers had given up early, that made an impression on Clint. So maybe it was the SNAFU in Palestine that cemented Clint to Phil’s side.

“I’m going to give you a promise right now, Clint,” Phil said, in the tone he used for the most serious things. “You will have me for as long as you want. We may work as handler and asset again, but we will never be just Barton and Coulson again.”

Silently, Clint searched Phil’s eyes. The hawk had an uncanny way of seeing through peoples’ eyes and seeing something more. Phil let him. He would let Clint see his soul if the man wanted to look that deeply.

“I don’t really feel worthy of it,” Clint admitted, “but thank you.”

Phil expected that. “I always take care of you, don’t I?”

Clint’s fingers pressed slightly into Phil’s chest. “I stopped being just another asset a long time ago,” he murmured, apparently realizing it for the first time.

Phil smiled. “I think we were already a couple a long time ago.”

“Reminds me of something the old fortune teller at the circus said.” Clint glanced away, processing the memory. “She said people could be married in their minds and in their hearts without needing to involve their bodies.” He met Phil’s eyes, letting Phil see the soul there. “We’ve been kind of married for a long time, if you think about it.”

Phil smiled, not caring a damn about sentimentality. “I couldn’t have a better other half.”

The love apparent in Clint’s expression was radiant. “Of course we had to go about soul bonding the wrong way, all sideways.”

Gathering Clint in his arms, Phil guided the man to lay over him. Their bodies fit together in the best slide of skin on skin. “If we ever did anything the typical way,” he said, “that would be abnormal.”

Clint laughed. “I love you, my weirdo.” He kissed Phil, and Phil felt a jagged edge of his life he had not been aware of before, felt it smooth into place.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Natasha was the one to greet them when they emerged from isolation. She murmured something about the staff choosing her to inform Phil and Clint that the remote room sensors judged that Clint was out of medical danger. Clint smirked and asked if he could get a copy of the remote sensor data. He claimed he would be able to pinpoint each orgasm based on the vital signs readings. Phil shook his head, new affection blooming at Clint’s incorrigible self. He placed a hand on the small of Clint’s back, fully knowing what little effect it would have curbing Clint’s nature.

Natasha fixed them a look from narrowed eyes. Phil swore he felt the moment she approved. He could relax now. “So you two finally understand what the rest of us have seen for ages?” Natasha asked.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve been married ~in our hearts~ for years,” Clint said.

“Good,” Natasha said. “It wasn’t all--”

“You stop right there,” Clint said, “because nothing you can say will actually describe the hotness of the sex.”

Natasha looked torn about whether to be disgusted. She met Phil’s gaze and they shared an eye roll. None of them would say so, but Natasha’s approval was important. She was Clint’s everything short of soul mate. That privilege was Phil’s.

Naturally, it took very little time for Tony Stark to find them. He glanced between them, noting the possessive gesture of Phil’s hand on Clint’s back. Oddly, Phil caught himself waiting for Tony’s approval. His relationship with the billionaire was one of uniquely contentious respect.

“So, the OTP thing worked out, then?” Tony asked, weird in how happy he seemed for them.

“Could you refrain from using internet jargon to describe us?” Phil asked.

Tony grinned his patent manic grin. “But at heart we’re teenage girls when it comes to romance.”

“Well darn, all my pink and purple Trapper Keepers must have burned up when the tower was attacked,” Clint said. “I’ll have to buy all new ones so I can doodle mine and Phil’s names surrounded by hearts in them.” He leaned against Phil. “Will I ever be ‘Mr. Clint Coulson,’ except in my dreams?” he asked with an overdramatic flutter of his eyelashes. Beside Tony, Natasha smirked.

“Only if you buy me something ten carats or more. And no cubic zirconium,” Phil said.

“Wow, high-maintenance already. Can I talk you down to white gold with your birthstone?”

“You don’t know my birthstone, Barton.”

Clint simply bumped himself a tiny bit closer somehow. The man was happy, Phil noted, then realized Clint was happy because of him. That was a heady concept. Phil remembered an old saying: love means someone’s well-being is essential to your own. No truer concept. It was what locking himself in medical isolation was about, what the mind-blowing sex and the sappy promises and everything in between was about. He looked at Natasha then, seeing in her eyes that she knew the feeling. She and Clint were closer than siblings were.

Tony was still watching them. “Guys,” he said in that serious way he rarely got, “I see this is a good thing. Cling to that. People don’t get that good thing much; superheroes and secret agents get it even less. I’m lucky as fuck to have Pepper, and if you two are anything like that for each other, you don’t fucking let that go, okay?” He paused, maybe realizing what he was saying was too heartfelt. “I just--”

“I know, Stark,” Phil said softly.

Tony met eyes with Phil for a moment. They had been through some raw things, and Phil saw he had Tony’s respect. Phil was beginning to see what worth Pepper saw in Tony Stark.

The billionaire poked a finger at Clint. “If you hurt him…”

“Stark, if I hurt him, you can put on the Mark VIII and lead the smack down on me.” Clint leaned into Phil’s hand on his back and spread his own hand over the side of Phil’s thigh.

“Stark,” Natasha said, “one’s happiness means the other is happy. Clint will be the first to smack down on himself.” She obviously startled Tony and smirked when he jumped. “Come along, Stark. You have a company to run, or so I hear.” She poked him in the elbow to guide him off down the hallway.

In the quiet, Clint leaned in and kissed the soft spot below Phil’s ear. “It’s true,” he murmured. “My happiness needs your happiness.”

Phil turned slightly and pressed his lips to Clint’s. “That’s some peoples’ definition of love.”

“Then I guess I love you, Phil Coulson.”

“Imagine me loving you back, Clint Barton.”

They spent a long time there in the hallway, simply nudging together in soft touches and warm kisses.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Clint submitted to a once-over checkup by the medical staff. He didn’t like the infirmary, but he could comply if it was important. He murmured something about needing to be declared fit for future activities, and Phil resolutely did not blush.

Nick Fury had done his own sort of magic and arranged time off for the new couple. The rest of the team, and Pepper, and anyone else who would have learned about Amora’s spell by now was bound to find them, so neither actively avoided the inevitable. The drive to Stark Tower was oddly comfortable. It was familiar: Phil driving and Clint a warm presence in the passenger seat. It touched Phil that they had fallen into this new status so easily.

“I knew there was nothing to that Portland story,” was Pepper’s greeting when they arrived.

Clint took Phil’s hand when the older man blushed. “That story is way too old,” Clint said, “and Phil is not using it again.”

Pepper laughed, clear and high. It was a relief to have her approval. She and Phil had formed a fast bond of friendship when Phil had been assigned to watch over Tony Stark, and her acceptance of Clint was nearly as important as Natasha’s was.

“Of course you’re moving in now,” Pepper told Phil, as if there was no question of him and Clint as a couple. Phil had been considering the move for a while anyway. The separation between liaison and Avengers was already nonexistent. Phil did not actually want to hold himself separate from his hodgepodge family anymore.

Pepper steered them to the common room lounge and procured drinks for them. One benefit of Phil’s new spot in life was the fine food and drink. Anything edible in Stark Tower was tongue-meltingly good quality. Clint handed Phil his glass in a rather possessive gesture that kind of endeared Phil. The man hadn’t left Phil’s personal space any more than necessary. Phil had no problem with that.

Maybe Clint distractingly in his personal space was why Phil was unprepared for Pepper’s next sly question, “How long were you boys pining before now? I think that spell did you a favor.”

Clint burst into that unrestrained laugh that Phil loved. “Wow, everyone else really did see it before we did.” He leaned against Phil’s shoulder where they sat together and grinned at Pepper. “I don’t know how long it was. Years.” He tilted his head to look at Phil. “We talked about some of that, but it really kind of was…there.”

Pepper had a mixture of happiness and melancholy in her expression. “I can relate,” she said. “I’m glad you could help him, Phil.”

Clint spoke before either of them could. “Me too,” he said fondly.

And it was that simple. It didn’t require much of a shift except in Phil’s mind. He knew it would be a while before he stopped wondering at Clint actually wanting him, but the way they had always fit together made this nuance only an extension. That acceptance and the natural lack of personal space between them now was more assurance than any romantic declaration.

“We did talk about it,” Phil confirmed. “It feels like…an extension after so long. Almost inevitable.”

“Good!” Pepper said, her smile now beaming. “Phil…I can tell you that a few times…well, I noticed something wasn’t setting right. It’s so obvious now.” She patted Clint’s knee. “Maybe it’s silly, but it certainly looks like you’re the right one to fix that.”

Clint looked uncharacteristically bashful. “It still kind of hasn’t hit home yet. Like it’s not real. It might be inevitable, but half of me hasn’t quite internalized it yet.”

“We will have issues,” Phil agreed.

“Also something I can relate to,” Pepper said. “But! I’m glad the spell’s cure worked. When I heard, I all but demanded to help with the vengeance if things didn’t turn out so well.” She let them see the steel in her eyes.

Clint seemed impressed. “Thank you. It’s pretty great to know how awesome the vengeance for my sake would be.”

“Only because you would deserve it,” Pepper promised, and Phil saw the moment Clint was taken by the woman’s charisma.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It wasn’t until the following day that anyone else added his or her opinion. Clint and Phil spent a thoroughly indulgent night in Clint’s rooms at the Tower: making out in the generous bath, making love in the giant bed, and actually sleeping in. Whatever strings Fury had pulled meant Phil was gratefully indebted to the Director. This was after all their version of a honeymoon.

“Son of Coul! Eye of Hawk!” came Thor’s greeting when the pair arrived in the living room on the communal floor. Thor and Steve were the only people there, in the middle of a game of Monopoly set up on the large coffee table.

Steve’s greeting was more subdued. He sent Clint a questioning look, which was apparently answered to Steve’s satisfaction with a nod. “Glad you’re back again, Clint.”

“Aye!” Thor stood and clasped a hand on each of their shoulders. “A most foul thing to have been cursed upon you, Hawkeye, but it appears fortune had brought about the best of outcomes.” The thunder god’s speech was still overly epic after his months spent back home on Asgard since taking a shackled Loki home.

Phil was thankful people were being relatively tactful. The curse and the outcome could be the subject of so much innuendo and teasing. Maybe Clint would not be the only one to struggle accepting how easy it all was.

Clint slid an arm around Phil’s waist. “I hear your mother is the one to thank for figuring out the cure. Thank her for me?”

Thor nodded. “Certainly. She will be pleased; very few Midgardians have ever been known to survive such a spell.” He glanced between them, squeezing their shoulders for emphasis. “It means you are true soul mates. That is a precious thing, friends.”

Phil nodded. “I think we’re beginning to accept that.”

“We were scared,” Steve said. He rose to stand with the small group, still watching Clint. “I promised we wouldn’t let you be angry, if Agent Coulson was taking advantage. He was worried about your consent.”

Clint smiled, but it was soft for the seriousness of the subject. “No, I pretty much got more than my best dream,” he said.

“Bruce and Tony are working on a way to track down Amora,” Steve told them. “They found some kind of energy signature from Iron Man’s suit sensors, and that’s as much jargon as I feel safe describing.”

“Good work,” Phil said. This time, he leaned against Clint. “I do have to thank her now, after all, when we locate her.”

Thor smirked. Steve blushed when he thought out what Phil had to be thankful for. Clint laughed and kissed Phil gently on the cheek.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“It was frightening,” Bruce told them when they went to check on the progress of finding Amora. “I tapped a tablet into the medical database and the readouts of your vital signs,” he said to Clint. “Your blood pressure--”

“I know. I kinda was there.”

Better men than Bruce Banner had tried the “please don’t joke about this” look on Clint Barton and failed. Bruce rubbed his cheek and sighed. “Natasha said you tried to resist.”

Clint looked both resentful and bashful. “It wasn’t right. She wasn’t right. I just knew.”

“You tried to turn me down too,” Phil pointed out.

Clint looking sheepish should really not be so cute. “Yeah, but when you touched me, it was different. I--” he broke off, remembering Bruce was in the room. “I just had this clarity.”

The scientist only hummed to himself. “I’ll have to ask the translation specialists if there was anything about that in the wording of the spell.”

“Did Thor say anything more after I, um, left?” Phil asked.

Bruce nodded. “He said…” Was Bruce blushing? “He said he was sure that you were the best person for helping Clint.”

Phil could see Clint’s ostentatious grin from the corner of his eye. “Oh, did he?” Clint asked. “He said Phil was the best man for the job?”

Bruce shared a small grin. “There might have been a ‘verily’ in there, for good measure.”

“Oh my god! Sorry you missed that,” Clint laughed, leaning into Phil.

Phil could be self-deprecating. “He reassured me that I was virile enough for the job,” he admitted.

Clint’s eyes fairly sparkled. “You were,” he murmured in that unfair bedroom voice.

Damn the man. It took far too much of Phil’s discipline to not lay Clint out on the stainless steel lab table right then.

Bruce cleared his throat awkwardly. “So, according to Thor and Queen Frigga, you really are soul mates. That’s good, because I don’t think anyone would want ‘magical priapism’ as their cause of death.”

“Agent Phil Coulson saves the day yet again,” Clint proclaimed with an affectionate touch to Phil’s arm.

Bruce smiled at them. “I don’t know either of you all that well, but I saw a few, um, moments. When Director Fury told us you were alive, Agent Coulson, I saw a lot more than professional relief in Clint. And not to embarrass you, Clint, but I have noticed the way you looked at each other sometimes. I’m a bit surprised it took you guys this long to get together.”

Clint blinked at Bruce. “That is a serious weapon, right there,” he told the scientist. “You seem all quiet and like you’re hiding, but you see things. SHIELD is a bunch of idiots if they only want the other guy.” Phil could see the epic friendship forming.

Bruce accepted this with good graces. “The Other Guy -- and I’ve been trying to communicate with him more -- he’s going to try hugging you the next time he sees you. Something about ‘Cupid’ needing hugs. I wish I knew when he became such a kid…”

Clint chuckled. “As long as he knows how carefully to squeeze, I would love a Hulk hug.”

Phil would be there with a camera.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Full of his Director-of-SHIELD aura, Nick Fury regarded them from where he sat behind his desk. Phil had insisted on reporting the results from Amora’s spell in person rather than filing paperwork, and Clint had insisted on coming along. The mutual support meant all the more now.

“You know I don’t give a goddamn about fraternization,” Fury finally said, “and it’s about time, agents. I was ready to stage an intervention the last time I saw you two fools angsting over each other in the infirmary.”

Fury was still one of the handful of people who could completely surprise Phil. He gaped at the Director. “You--”

“There’s an old Chinese belief,” Fury interrupted, “about an invisible red string of fate. Each end is tied around the hand of two people who are destined to meet. It can tangle or stretch, but it will not break.” He fixed his eye on Phil and Clint. “Sometimes, in the right circumstances, one might catch a glimpse of that red string. I don’t claim to be any kind of metahuman, but I swear there have been times when the two of you have made me spiritual enough to wonder about fate.”

Clint tilted his head, reminding Phil of nothing else but an inquisitive bird. “You are not saying you’ve seen this invisible thread, sir?”

“I’m keeping that classified.”

“Only you would give your blessing in such an epic way,” Phil muttered.

“You deserve a lifetime achievement award for tolerating Hawkeye,” Fury said. “But loving him? That has to be fate.”

How could either of them deny Nick Fury the last word?