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Clint leaned against the wall, watching as the Quinjet landed. The hangar was basically deserted, with only a skeleton crew around to receive the jet, and Clint waited in the shadows, his heartbeat speeding up as the bay door lowered to the ground. It was ridiculous that he’d get nervous over this, but here he was, tugging the brown leather jacket tighter around himself as the mission crew exited the jet.
Clint only had to wait thirty seconds or so before the person he was waiting for walked down the ramp. His heart jumped at the sight of him; even in a wrinkled suit with bags under his eyes, he was still the best fucking thing Clint had seen in weeks. Maria was next to him, the two of them talking as they walked, Maria with her tablet in her hand and Phil with a bag slung over his shoulder. They stopped maybe thirty feet away from Clint, and he took the opportunity to just look at Phil. It was Clint’s first glimpse of him in person in almost two months, and Clint drank him in like a dying man in the desert discovering an oasis.
Fuck, Phil looked good. He had a small smile on his face as he talked to Maria, his blue eyes flashing as he gestured towards her tablet. Even through the exhaustion Clint could see in the slight slump of his shoulders, there was a cheerfulness in his expression that Clint had missed dearly. He was suddenly fiercely glad he’d given in to the impulse to drive out to HQ to see Phil when he landed, instead of waiting to see him the next day. This thing between them was still kind of new, but also not, and he didn’t want to freak Phil out by being too clingy.
He could tell the moment Phil realized he was there; Phil was still talking to Maria, but his gaze darted over to Clint, his eyes brightening as one half of his mouth quirked up. Phil shifted in place, and Maria glanced over her shoulder, a smirk forming on her face as she closed the cover on her tablet. Clint gave her an awkward wave, and she rolled her eyes, saying something to Phil before walking away. She gave Clint a nod as she passed him, which he almost missed because he was pushing off the wall, drawn closer to Phil like a magnet.
He stopped just short of Phil, expecting nothing more than a smile and a fond, ‘Agent Barton,’ because neither one of them was big on PDA in general, but apparently Phil had other plans. He dropped his bag onto the floor and stepped into Clint’s space, pressing a soft kiss right on his mouth. Clint froze for a second, and then he kissed back, one hand coming up to curl around the back of Phil’s neck. A rush of warmth surged through Clint’s body; he’d never understand how every kiss with Phil felt like the first one all over again. Phil let out a small noise of pleasure, and then he pulled back, just a few inches.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Phil’s voice was warm like honey, and Clint’s heart melted. Phil’s gaze moved over Clint’s body, so intently Clint swore he could feel it like a touch, and his smile widened.
“Is that my jacket?”
Clint froze again, because yep, it sure was. Clint had possibly been wearing it since Phil had left, because it was warm and smelled like him, and he had definitely grabbed it out of habit as he’d left his apartment earlier that evening.
“Maybe,” he shrugged, being totally casual. Because there was nothing wrong with wearing your boyfriend’s jacket. Boyfriend. Just thinking the word made Clint want to smile.
Even after six months (Clint was totally counting the past two months, they hadn’t talked much, but it was more than enough for them to count), knowing that the word ‘boyfriend’ was synonymous with ‘Phil Coulson’ still sent little flurries through Clint’s belly.
Phil smiled warmly, leaning into Clint’s space for another quick kiss. “Looks good on you,” he whispered, squeezing Clint’s hip before stepping away. Clint missed his closeness immediately, and he suppressed a huff of disappointment as Phil grabbed his bag and slung it back over his shoulder. They started walking towards the exit, and as if Phil sensed Clint’s thoughts, he stayed close enough that their hands brushed between them.
“I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow,” Phil said. “We were able to leave earlier than anticipated, but by the time I was able to contact you, I thought I’d be waking you.”
“I saw your itinerary update, and—” He did the casual shrug again as they stepped into the hallway; he was really killing this nonchalant air he was going for, “—you know, I was around.”
“At three in the morning?” Clint could hear Phil’s smile in his voice, and before Clint could get embarrassed at his complete lack of chill, Phil tangled his fingers with Clint’s. “I’m glad you’re here.”
A bright warmth spread through Clint’s chest, and he beamed down at Phil. He went to turn right towards Phil’s office, but Phil tugged on Clint’s hand, pulling him to the left. “Take me home?” Phil asked.
Clint was already nodding, because of course he’d take Phil back to his apartment, but he’d figured Phil would want to at least stop by his office. He was always restless after ops until all the paperwork was done, and since this mission was so long and had him undercover, there would be more paperwork than usual. Not to mention that he’d need to get it done before he could start the mandatory leave required after long undercover ops.
“Don’t you have to—”
Phil shook his head. “I was informed my two-week leave starts immediately. I finished the debriefs back in China, and most of the paperwork on the plane home. Maria said she’d take care of the rest.” He punched the button for the elevator down to the garage, his other hand still firmly wrapped around Clint’s.
“Wow,” Clint said, very glad he had the next two days off. “That’s nice of her.”
Phil didn’t say anything, he just pulled Clint into the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, he let out a sigh, listing into Clint’s space. Clint let go of his hand in favor of wrapping an arm around Phil’s shoulder. The movement turned into a hug, with Phil’s arms sliding around Clint’s waist and Clint pushing his hand into Phil’s hair. They stood there for a moment, arms around each other, basking in the warmth of being able to touch for the first time in weeks.
Clint brushed his lips against Phil’s forehead as Phil pressed his nose against Clint’s neck. “Good mission?” Clint whispered. It wasn’t like Phil to be so physically affectionate, at least not at HQ, and while Clint wasn’t complaining one damn bit, it made him wonder if something had gone down that wasn’t on the reports Clint had looked over. The last one he’d managed to get eyes on was from a week ago, and everything had appeared in order for a successful bust.
Phil leaned a little more of his weight against him, and Clint swiped his thumb through the soft hair at the nape of Phil’s neck. “Had a few rough spots,” Phil said through a yawn and yeah, exhaustion probably had something to do with how cuddly he was. “Glad it’s over. Good to be home.”
“Yeah.” Clint’s voice sounded thick in his ears, and the next words were falling out of his mouth before they were fully formed in his brain. “I missed you.”
His brain automatically started to freak out, just like it did anytime there was a loud emotion in his general vicinity, but before it could get too out of hand, Phil tightened his arms around Clint.
“Missed you, too.” He kissed Clint again, and then the doors were opening and Phil was stepping into the garage, Clint following behind him with what he was sure was the dopiest grin on his face.
Clint made the drive to Phil’s apartment with one hand on the wheel and the other on Phil’s thigh. He could see Phil’s eyelids drooping, and they weren’t far from his building when Clint asked, “You want food or sleep or what?”
“Yes,” Phil immediately responded, and Clint smiled. “I haven’t slept in nearly 24 hours, so sleep would be good. But I should eat first. We can pick something up, my place will be bare. There’s a diner—”
“I got you covered,” Clint interrupted.
Phil shot him a curious smile. “Oh, really?”
Clint hummed in response, and Phil squeezed his hand as he turned the car into the parking garage.
After they parked, Clint grabbed Phil’s bag before Phil could, and Phil rolled his eyes but let Clint carry it up to his apartment. Phil disappeared into his bedroom while Clint headed to the kitchen. He’d dropped a casserole off that morning. He’d figured Phil would see it in the refrigerator when he got home, and now that he’d get to enjoy it with Phil, he was giving himself some extra pats on the back for his foresight as he slipped it into the oven to warm up. Then he stepped into the bedroom, where Phil was standing next to the bed, yawning as he unbuttoned his shirt. His socks and shoes were already pulled off and set aside, and Clint could hear the shower running in the bathroom.
“Let me.” Clint batted Phil’s hands away, and Phil smirked as he let his arms fall to his sides. Clint slid Phil’s shirt down his arms, his palms smoothing over Phil’s biceps a little slower than strictly necessary. He could tell that Phil had lost weight, just a couple of pounds, but his muscles were still firm beneath his fingertips, and Clint had to force himself to pull his hands away.
When he tugged Phil’s undershirt up and over his head, Phil grumbled, “I can undress myself, you know.” His expression was much too fond for Clint to take him seriously.
“I know.” Clint tossed aside the shirt, his gaze and fingers drifting over Phil’s chest, down to his abs. “But you know how much I like to do it.”
“I like it when you do it.” Phil’s voice was still all soft and warm, and that decadent rush went through Clint again, surging through his limbs. He wanted to tackle Phil to the bed, and while he was sure Phil would let him, he reminded himself that he needed to take care of Phil first. Plenty of time for that tomorrow.
He made short work of Phil’s belt, and then he shoved Phil’s pants and boxers down his thighs. He couldn’t help it; his gaze went straight to Phil’s cock. It was half-hard now, but Clint was very familiar with it when it was stiff and leaking—gloriously long and thick, the perfect size for pushing into Clint and making him insane with want. Clint had been kind of obsessed with Phil’s dick from the moment he’d first wrapped his fingers around it, and he wanted to put his mouth on it now, feel it plump up against his tongue. He licked his lips almost automatically, and he saw it twitch as Phil stepped out of his clothes.
Calm down, he reminded himself, and then Phil was stepping into his space and kissing him. It was another sweet kiss, almost lazy, and then Phil was turning and walking towards the bathroom. Clint let out a noise of appreciation at the view of Phil’s firm ass, and Phil stopped in the doorway.
“Wanna join me?” He was smiling, but Clint could see the exhaustion in his gaze.
“Of course I do,” Clint said, because fuck yeah he wanted to, his cock was already fully on board. “But I don’t know if I should. Don’t want you to pass out.”
Phil chuckled. “Not for that, because you’re right, I probably would pass out. But I—” Phil glanced away, into the bathroom that was starting to fog up from the shower, and Clint got the feeling the pink on his cheeks wasn’t just from the steam, “—just like having you close.”
Clint was toeing off his shoes and pulling his shirt off before the last word was fully out of Phil’s mouth. “Sure.”
Phil had one of those fancy-ass showers, with multiple shower heads and a bench seat they had made very good use of more than once. They ignored it now, the warm water cascading over them as they kissed.
It felt so good, being close to Phil again. They’d talked at least once a week while Phil was away, but sometimes for only a few minutes, whatever Phil could spare when Clint wasn’t working. It wasn’t near enough for Clint, not when he had finally been starting to get used to being Phil’s boyfriend instead of just his friend.
They’d been friends for nearly a decade before they started dating, and Clint had spent most of those years wishing he could be right where he was right now. When it had finally happened, when Phil had kissed him for the first time, the flame that had flared in Clint’s heart could have set the world on fire. The next few months were a whirlwind, and Clint had found himself in the most stable, satisfying, electrifying relationships he’d ever been in. It had already been the happiest time of his life.
He was dismayed when Phil was assigned the undercover op in Macau, but he hadn’t been worried. Even though the romance was new, the foundation they’d spent years building was the strongest thing in Clint’s life. And as he swiped his palms up and down Phil’s slick back, his heart felt so full of love it was close to bursting. I love you, he thought, biting back the words.
They hadn’t said it yet. Clint had thought it, millions of times, but he didn’t want to rush. Not because he wasn’t sure, but because he didn’t want to scare Phil off with getting too intense too soon. But with the way Phil held him close, how he sighed in Clint’s ear, and how there were always those lingering few seconds on the phone after they said good night, Clint was starting to wonder what the hell he was afraid of.
“Missed you,” Phil murmured against his lips, and Clint kissed him again, trying to put every ounce of emotion coursing through his body into it. When he pulled back, Phil was smiling at him, his eyes shining so brightly that Clint was sure he could turn out the light and see perfectly fine.
“I’m here now,” he said, squeezing Phil’s hip and brushing his lips against Phil’s bare shoulder. “Not going anywhere.” He was hard, Phil was almost there, and while he’d love to walk Phil backwards and sit him down on that bench, kneel down at his feet and feel Phil’s dick fatten up against his tongue, he instead dropped a quick kiss on Phil’s mouth and reached for the body wash.
“Come on, let’s wash the Quinjet stink off you.” Phil snorted, but obediently grabbed his shampoo (for a man who complained about how thin his hair was, he sure was picky about the products he put in said thinning hair) as Clint lathered up a loofah.
The rest of the shower was quick, as the warm water seemed to zap most of Phil’s remaining energy. By the time they were scrubbed clean and Clint was playfully fluffing Phil’s hair with a towel, Phil was nearly half-asleep and Clint was starting to feel his energy drain too. It was actually the most settled he’d felt since Phil had left, like his body never let him fully relax until Phil was home and safe.
“You still wanna eat, or straight to bed?” Clint asked after they’d both slipped into old, soft pairs of shorts. Phil pulled on a shirt while Clint opted to walk around without; it was warm enough in the apartment for it.
“I want to sleep,” Phil confessed, blinking his eyes as he padded towards the living room, “but whatever you made smells too good for my stomach to ignore.” As if on cue, Phil’s stomach rumbled and Clint laughed.
“Go sit at the table,” he told Phil. “I’d put you on the couch, but you’d probably fall asleep before I got the food on the plate.”
“Yes, sir,” Phil said with a grin, stepping towards the small dining table, and Clint could feel Phil’s gaze on him as he opened the oven and pulled out the baking dish. The hot air from the oven was almost too much against his bare skin, but he still made sure to bend over at the waist a little more than really necessary, knowing his ass looked damn good, if he said so himself. When he straightened up and glanced back at Phil, he could tell from the appreciative gleam in his eye that Phil knew exactly what Clint was up to. And he didn’t mind one bit.
“So did you plan all this?” Phil asked as Clint spooned up some of the casserole for them. “Picking me up, having dinner waiting?”
“Um. Not really?” Clint grabbed silverware and then headed to the table. “I did drop off the food earlier today for you, but meeting you when you landed was a bit of an impulse decision.”
“Sometimes those are the best kinds of decisions.”
Clint snorted. “I’m going to remind you that you said that next time you bitch at me for my ‘impulse decisions’ in the field.” He set both of their plates on the table and then went back to the kitchen to get glasses of water. He should probably put on a shirt, but whatever, it was nearly four in the morning, he could eat in his underwear if he wanted to.
When he got back, Phil was staring down at his plate, his fork in one hand. He hadn’t taken a bite yet, and Clint was hit with a bolt of uncertainty—he’d been sure Phil had said this was one of his favorite dishes from when he was a kid, but maybe Clint had remembered wrong.
“Everything look okay? This is only the second time I’ve ever made it, but the test run I did tasted decent.” He took the seat next to Phil, his bare foot automatically sliding over to press against Phil’s.
Phil looked up at Clint, his expression so full of affection it took Clint’s breath away. “Is this tater tot hotdish?”
“Sure is,” Clint nodded.
“With hot dogs?”
Clint nodded again; he preferred it with sausage, but Phil had told him that it was his favorite dish from home, at least the way his aunt made it—with hot dogs and a crapton of cheese.
“You told me about how your aunt used to make it, and it was your favorite—”
“I told you that years ago.” Phil was still looking at him, with that soft look in his eye, and Clint could only shrug, feeling a little embarrassed as he looked down at his own plate. Was it weird? Shit, it was weird; he’d plucked out some offhand remark Phil had said years ago, and now things were gonna be awkward—
Phil let out a soft moan, and Clint looked up to see that he’d taken a bite. “God,” he mumbled as he chewed. “This is so good. Tastes like home.” He took another bite, catching Clint’s eye as he said, his words muffled, “I love you.”
Clint’s mouth dropped open as that rush surged through him again, but this time it was so hot and intense he was sure he could drown in it. Had Phil just—?
Phil’s eyes suddenly widened, and he swallowed, his fork falling onto his plate with a clatter. “I—” he chuckled nervously, glancing away, and before Clint could get his shit together because holy shit Phil had just said he loved him, Phil was reaching over and grabbing Clint’s hand.
“I didn’t know I was going to say that. Especially over something as amazingly horrible as tater tot hotdish.” He glanced at the plate, chuckling again, but his smile faded as he turned back to Clint, his expression growing more serious. “But I mean it. I’ve wanted to say it for a while now. Which I know is kind of fast, since we’ve only been doing this a few months—”
“Six months.” Clint had finally found his voice, though it was hard to speak through the huge smile that he couldn’t wipe off his face if he tried.
“—but we were friends for years before that,” Phil continued, pushing forward in that way he had, “and how much I missed you these past two months—”
Clint pushed up on his feet and leaned forward, silencing Phil with a kiss. Phil seemed frozen at first, but then he was wrapping his free hand around the back of Clint’s head, holding him close as he kissed him for all he was worth. It was the kind of kiss Clint had spent years dreaming about, but just like he’d been doing since the day Clint met him, Phil blew all of Clint’s fantasies out of the water.
“I love you, too,” Clint said when he pulled away, just enough to look into Phil’s eyes. The rush hit him again, not as intense but just as warm, and he knew there was nothing else in his life that would ever make him feel so comforted and so safe.
Phil’s eyes crinkled at the corners, his mouth pulling up into an almost dazed smile, and Clint had to kiss him again. Then he sat back into his chair, picking up his fork with the hand that wasn’t still firmly wrapped around Phil’s.
“Eat before you fall asleep on your plate.” Clint took a bite of his food, squeezing Phil’s hand. Phil pressed his foot more firmly against Clint’s, moaning around another bite.
“So good,” he said. “I hate that I love it so much.”
“It’s a little richer than your usual tastes,” Clint said, “but I’ll make it for you every week if you keep making noises like that when you eat it.”
“Please don’t,” Phil said, his eyes sparkling. “I’ll never keep my girlish figure.”
Clint laughed, shoving another bite into his mouth.