"In the Middle of the Meeting"

It was Natasha's fault. And Tony's, but it was mainly Natasha. She and Clint were so in tune with each other that, sometimes, he would find himself copying little movements she made. It might have dated back to when they would practise interrogation on each other, right down to the less painful body-language-centric techniques. So he really couldn't be held responsible for his involuntary actions.

Later, he found out that Tony and Natasha had silently started a contest between the two of them, to try to make Steve snap while he was talking. They were all but performing fellatio on inanimate objects when Clint absently began running the tip of his stylus along his bottom lip.

That was when it happened.

"Damn it, Barton! Take that pen out of your mouth before I bend you over the table right in the middle of this meeting!"

There was silence. Steve's lips were still parted, and his cheeks reddened. It was hard to miss the way his eyes darted towards Phil, who was supposed to be mediating.

"Everyone out," he said softly. They all began to move. "Not you, Clint. You stay, too, Steve."

Once the door was closed, Phil slowly stood up. Steve was still as a statue, and Clint was wondering what to say or do. It was only when Phil was a foot away that Steve snapped out of his trance.

"I-I'm so sorry, Phil," he said. "It was just… it was distracting. I mean, when Tony and Natasha started, that was fine. Well, n-not fine, but I didn't care—"

Phil hushed him, and slid a hand up behind Steve's neck. "We talked about this, Steve. What are you apologising for?"

"I… I thought you'd forgotten. You never said anything else—"

"We've been kind of busy, love. Hey." He pulled Steve's head down until their noses were touching. "It's fine. We just have to ask." And then he kissed the corner of Steve's mouth. Clint blinked rapidly.

"Uh… you guys are together?" he asked. He immediately felt stupid, and could have kicked himself. "Sorry. Forget I said that. It's pretty obvious now."

"We just wanted to be together for awhile, before our relationship went under scrutiny," Steve said, now nuzzling Phil's hair. He rested his cheek on top, and continued to look at Clint, who began to feel uncomfortable.

"Well, I'll just leave you to it, then," he said, and he stood up.

"Wait," Phil said. "Just a minute, Clint. There was something Steve and I discussed a few weeks ago, and it concerns you."

"…Oh?"

"As you heard, we haven't been able to do anything about it, until now."

"We want you to join us," Steve blurted out. Phil rolled his eyes, but he looked at Steve with definite affection.

"I was leading up to that, Steve," he said.

"Meanwhile, we were all dying from the suspense."

They kept talking as Clint sank back into his seat. A three-way relationship with Phil Coulson and Steve Rogers? Holy shit.

"…you up to trying it, Clint? Clint? You don't have to answer right a—"

"Yes."

Steve and Phil looked at each other. "I'm sorry?" Phil asked.

"Yes," Clint said, his voice firmer now. "Yes. Fuck yes. Let's give this a go."

The way Steve smiled so brightly, and Phil's small grin, made Clint's day.

(But he was going to have to have a talk with Natasha and Tony about flirting with Steve.)


This was a fill for a prompt on the Kink Meme, round 17, page 27. This isn't the first time I've written a pre-threesome for this ship. If this is a ship, do you wear a tricorn for it?

I don't even know. Ignore the crazy person.