A/N: This is unbeta'd - a gift fic for a friend. They asked for domestic and I wanted fluff, so here's the result. Total fluff. Clint/Coulson.
"You're really going to keep that?" Clint asked with a huff as he stepped over Phil and carried another box from Phil's closet out to the foyer where they were stacking things.
Phil held up a small porcelain rooster painted in orange and red and bright green and frowned. "I was going to," he said sheepishly.
Clint tried not to glare, he really did. Phil looked disheveled and off-balance as he sat on the floor of his closet in a grey sweatshirt and dark blue jeans covered in streaks of dust, and Clint found disheveled and off-balance Phil one of the most adorable things in his universe on most days.
Today was not most days, and Clint fought against glaring, but he obviously lost when Phil sighed and dropped his chin to his chest.
"Okay. I know. I don't need it and we're not going to want a lot of knick knacks lying around our new place," Phil said, and if dejected had a sound, this was it.
They were moving into the Tower together, into a space that Tony designed for the two of them after finding out about their relationship and Phil's return from the dead (he was only mostly dead, as it turned out, thank god). It was only practical that the team live in one spot when super villains and aliens seemed to have no care for how long the commute was from Phil's apartment or from Clint's mostly-empty bunk at headquarters. After a few months of assembling in a heated rush, Tony threw up his arms and said, "You can live together in luxury, you morons, and we won't have to come pick either of you up."
So now they were moving in together, something they'd considered for years but not gotten around to doing. It should have been a good day.
Clint gritted his teeth and set the box he was carrying to his hip. "Why do you want to keep that silly rooster, Phil? I grabbed it for you as a joke on my first trip to Peru twelve years ago and it's been sitting in this box since then."
He recalled Phil's face when Clint presented it to him back at headquarters after the debrief. Clint was covered in dirt and his clothes were ripped and he hadn't slept in three days, but he still remembered the warmth that Phil's smile sparked in his chest when he handed it over. In the end, though, it was just a stupid rooster.
Phil looked up sharply. "I like it."
The box on Clint's hip was getting heavy and his muscles were aching. "Fine. Keep it, but you're gonna need another box." He lugged the box of books he was carrying out to the hallway as Phil sighed and set the rooster in a box already brimming with who-knew-what. Clint could swear that while he had never gotten used to acquiring much of anything over the years, Phil had acquired double what a man in his position should have. He didn't have any idea that one apartment could hold so much crap.
He made two more trips for books alone and then stopped to grab a beer and sit at the breakfast bar for a minute to catch his breath. He was tired enough that he didn't notice Phil slip up behind him until he felt his strong arms around his chest and his head pressed against Clint's shoulder blade.
"Moving is hard for me," Phil stated, his voice muffled against Clint's sweaty t-shirt.
Clint leaned back a little and sighed. "I can tell. Sorry if I'm being cranky about it. That can't help."
He felt Phil shrug against his back, and they stayed there for a few minutes, just pressing against each other, feeling each other breathe. Finally, Clint moved. "Come on, Tony's guys are coming to start collecting stuff in two hours. That op yesterday set us back on time, so we need to keep moving."
Clint returned to lugging boxes of books and knick-knacks and clothes out to the foyer while Phil taped together another box and started in on the last closet. A couple of hours later there was a knock on the door and two hours after that the apartment was empty. Clint waved the movers off and walked wearily back into the apartment to collect Phil and whatever else had gotten left behind. He stopped when he found Phil sitting cross-legged in the middle of what had been the living room floor.
He walked over and sat down next to him. "You okay?"
Phil leaned in and laid his head on Clint's shoulder with a sigh. "Yeah."
"Liar."
Phil chuckled softly. "I will be." They sat quietly for a minute and Phil said, "This doesn't bother you?"
Clint tried to think of what might bother him, but he drew a blank. "Why would it bother me? We're finally moving in together, and we've got a three-bedroom suite with a master bathroom the size of my quarters, complete with Jacuzzi."
Phil didn't answer.
"Phil? What's wrong?" Clint asked, pulling away and forcing Phil to look up at him. He was startled by the stormy look on Phil's tired face.
Phil looked around the room and shrugged. "This was us for a long time. I know you didn't really move in officially, but this is where we started. SHIELD had my time and my blood and my loyalty, but this place had you. I just think I'm going to miss it, is all."
Clint closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the first time he spent the night here, the way Phil had cocooned him in his bed, had cooked him breakfast (burnt eggs are at least thoughtful), had kept refilling his coffee cup and then sheepishly admitted he just wanted Clint to stay as long as he could keep him.
He looked at Phil now, tired lines around his eyes, a dust smudged cheek, a hole in his jeans from a nail he'd accidently found earlier that day. Clint grinned and said, "I never had a place of my own for longer than a few months at a time, and that wasn't until my stint in the Army. When I started staying here it was the closest I'd ever felt to having a home, thanks to you." He leaned in and captured Phil's lips in a soft kiss and then pulled back. "I know it's cheesy, but places don't mean much to me. You've already stuck by me longer than anyone in my whole life. I just need to be wherever you are."
Phil gave him a heavy sigh and leaned in again. "I kept the rooster," he said quietly.
"Yeah? You're nuts."
"I have every stupid knick-knack you ever got me and they're coming with us," Phil replied, his voice filled with laughter.
"Every one?" Clint asked. It had become a silly game after that rooster, and Clint figured he'd bought Coulson at least forty souvenirs over the years, including some pretty raunchy ones.
"Every one. I can name every trip they're from, you know."
"Every trip?"
"The rooster was from Peru and when you gave it to me and I took it you looked at me like I was the only person in the world who'd accepted something you had to give." Phil leaned in and kissed Clint, pulling on his bottom lip with his teeth. Clint felt a shudder of pleasure run through his body.
"I've never had much to give," Clint whispered into Phil's mouth.
"I beg to differ," Phil replied, pulling Clint closer and wrapping his arms around him, his fingers scraping down Clint's back. "I have two boxes of knick-knacks I'm never letting go, and I have you here, now."
"Hopefully you like me better than the rooster."
"Most days, Barton. Most days," Phil said, and he pulled Clint to the floor of his apartment for the very last time.