avengers fic: back against the wall: part 3 (Clint/Coulson, rated G)
Previously, Phil took Clint's photo
And then he had time to think about it
Now they're finally talking...
"You know, if you really wanted a photo of me you could have just asked."
"You say that now,"
Clint lifts his head from where it was resting on Phil's chest to look him in the eye. "I'm serious."
"I know you are. That's the scary thing."
"So…?" Clint ventures.
"So, what?"
Clint growls low in the back of his throat and resists the urge to smack him. He isn't sure if Phil is being deliberately obtuse or if he really does believe that Clint would not willingly give him anything he asked for.
"If I hadn't found it the photo…"
"Stole it from my wallet," Phil counters testily.
"Found it in a wallet that I was given," Clint reminds him.
"And don't think I won't be having words with Fury about that."
"Would you have ever said anything?" Clint asks again, a little more forcefully this time.
Phil shrugs, a tiny undetermined movement. "Yes, I would have. Eventually."
"But not then?"
"No," Phil agrees. "Not then. It was too soon. And it seemed inappropriate."
"Yeah, 'cause taking a photo of someone is always inappropriate."
"Depends on the photo," Phil points out dryly. "And the motivation for taking it."
"You had feelings," Clint says softly, and it isn't an accusation or anything, just a simple statement of fact.
"I had feelings," Phil whispers and Clint cannot even begin to describe the flood emotion that courses through him whenever Phil opens up to him like this. "But I didn't think I could do anything about it."
"Because you were my handler?"
"I didn't want to compromise you."
Clint shifts a little, resting his cheek on Phil's chest again as he slides his hand down over Phil's shoulder to come to rest on his bicep.
"Phil," he says, giving his arm a squeeze.
"Mmm?"
"That's a lame excuse and you know it."
Phil's chest rumbles beneath Clint's cheek as he chuffs a quiet laugh. "I know that now. Back then I wasn't so sure. I'd never…"
And there's a vague hint of uncertainty in Phil's voice that makes Clint pause. Phil Coulson is never uncertain, about anything. That Clint has somehow made him second guess himself is concerning.
"Phil" Clint says again, quiet and low as he presses a kiss into his chest. And then he waits because Phil will eventually tell him what he needs to know, but only when he's ready to.
"The right time never seemed to present its self," Phil finally says. "I took the photo and then…"
"And then you wouldn't talk about it," Clint says, poking him in the side.
"I wasn't sure if I could talk about it," Phil counters as he swats Clint's hand away. "And then you were sent to Beirut that afternoon and then I was in Malibu when you got back. And then there was Belfast and after that New Mexico and then Stark, again, and then…"
"And then, and then, and then," Clint mutters against Phil's throat before leaning it to suck a bruising kiss against it.
"Oh, god, Clint!" Phil gasps as he tightens his hold on Clint and tugs him up to kiss him properly.
"I refuse to believe that we didn’t get together any sooner due to bad timing," Clint mutters as he starts trailing kisses down Phil's neck and shoulders.
"Timing did have a lot to do with it."
"And the fact that you were too chicken shit to actually come out and say something."
Phil's entire body goes still and Clint whacks himself mentally on the head for being such a dumbass. Because of course only a dumbass says something like that to the one person they cared about above all others when they were naked and in bed together for the very first time.
"Phil, I…" Clint starts, but before he can get any further with his apology he is silenced with a kiss.
"No, you're right," Phil says when they eventually pull apart. "I used the fact that you are – were - my subordinate as an excuse to not do or say anything because when it comes right down to it, apparently I'm not very brave after all."
"You're also kind of stupid if you think any of that really matters," Clint whispers, leaning forward to bracket Phil's face with his hands.
"Not doing yourself any favors, Barton," Phil mutters against his lips before drawing him in for another kiss.
Clint leans into the kiss, giving him self over to it completely and utterly. It still hasn't properly registered with him that he can have this, that Phil Coulson wants him and all his quirks and foibles.
"You're the bravest man I know, Phil Coulson," Clint tells him as he burrows his face into the crook of Phil's neck. "Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise."
Phil's arms tighten around his back, drawing him down and into a beautiful, comforting warmth.
"Not even you?"
Clint shakes his head, feeling the scratch of Phil's stubble against his cheek. "Especially not me."
"Oh. Okay then."
"I'm glad you kept the photo."
Phil kisses his temple, running his fingers through the hair on the back of Clint's head and says, "Yeah, me too."
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