-Flashback-
This mission was the same as the last dozen he'd done. Enter a Hydra base, gather intel without being seen, meet whichever handler was stupid enough to sign on this time, and debrief. It should have been easy, just as the last one was. They were expecting him this time, though. He could hear them talking before he rounded the corner, could hear the guns being loaded, and he cursed under his breath. Radio silence was going to have to be broken this time.
"Nat, I've got a full hallway of men ready to gun me down. Help would be lovely," he hissed into his comms, waiting to hear her snappy reply. Or even something from his handler about how he wasn't supposed to talk on this mission. He got no response. "Great, and now I'm talking to myself. They must have some kind of scrambler. Fine, I've got my combat bow and the layout of this base in my mind. Time to get moving."
He didn't use guns unless it was absolutely necessary, but a bow wasn't good for close-range combat. He needed to get into the vents, like he did at the tower all the time when they were running training exercises. He could pick them off one by one from up there. He didn't take into account that if they were expecting him, they'd be expecting him to try to get to a high point. He probably could have taken out the three men easily if he'd been expecting them. As it was, he'd taken out two before the third managed to land a blow to his head that knocked him out.
As his vision faded to black, a single thought entered his mind: "I never got to say 'I love you'."
-Present-
He woke up in what appeared to be a hospital bed, but he didn't have a clue where he was. He couldn't remember much of anything, come to think of it. He was alone in the room, so he had time to think about what had happened. Based on the throbbing of his temple, he'd managed to hit his head pretty hard. Had he fallen off of something? Been in some kind of fight? He was vaguely sure it wouldn't be the first time.
He slowly took stock of all of his injuries, noting that it felt familiar to do so. He couldn't remember much about his life before waking up, which he'd chosen to ignore for the time being. He knew his name, but that was the only fact he was completely certain of, and it wasn't much. Clint Barton.
"I see you're awake," a woman said from the doorway. Her bright red hair stood out against her all-black outfit. She looked familiar, but Clint couldn't place where he knew her from. He frowned, making sure his back was against the wall. It was instinct, but it made the woman nod in approval.
"Who are you and how do I know you?" he demanded, studying her carefully to find any lies she might give. Her immediate sharp look alarmed him.
"You don't remember," she stated. It wasn't a question, which Clint was glad for. He wasn't in the mood to be interrogated; he wanted answers. "My name is Natasha Romanoff. I'm your... friend. We work together, and you're the closest thing I've got to a friend. I've been waiting for you to wake up for four days now."
"We're friends?" he asked, relaxing slightly. Either she had no tell, or she hadn't been lying. He was choosing to believe that she was telling the truth, because he knew he'd never met anyone who didn't have some form of tell. (He didn't know how he knew. He just did.)
"Yes. Besides your head, what hurts?" she asked, her voice going flat. She was closing herself off to hide any emotions she might be feeling, which he decided not to question for the moment.
"My arm is throbbing from a cut, and my ankle feels broken. It's all manageable. Where are we?" he replied. He was back to watching her.
"SHIELD medical facility. We work for SHIELD, together. We're the best team they've got... when you're not getting yourself injured or breaking radio silence," she informed him, reading through his chart. He felt a pang of... something at her offhanded comment. He'd done that, broken radio silence. But he was fairly certain that nobody had heard him.
"And you're my doctor?" he raised an eyebrow, knowing that she couldn't be. She hadn't said anything about SHIELD being solely medical, and it felt wrong for him to be here. He felt like he should be running away.
"No, but I do know how to read a chart. You should be laying down, Clint. You've got a serious concussion and obvious brain damage. And I don't mean the damage you had before that made you an idiot. I mean memory loss and potential swelling of the brain," she replied, frowning at him. "I'll get Bruce in as soon as I can. He hasn't arrived yet."
"Who is Bruce?" he asked, feeling another pang at the name. Natasha's entire demeanor changed, her face closing off and her posture stiffening. He'd clearly said something wrong.
"I think I'll let him explain for himself. I'll be back with him when he arrives. Press the button on your left if you need anything," she said quietly, leaving the room as quickly as she could without looking like she was running away. Clint recognized it for what it was, though. She wouldn't be back for a long time, he was sure.
-flashback-
"Are you serious right now? You're going out on another mission?" Bruce asked, frowning. Clint winced, wishing he'd chosen a better time to share that information.
"Yes? Look, it's not a big deal. It's just gathering information about their latest experiment stuff. The files are going straight to you and Tony. There's no danger to me at all. Nobody will ever know that I was there," he replied quietly, hoping Bruce couldn't see through the lie. If he did his job right, he wouldn't be detected. But there was always at least the risk of danger when he went on a mission.
"That's bullshit and you know it. What aren't you telling me?" Bruce shot back.
"Nothing! I'll be in there for less than an hour. There will be radio silence, which I'll inevitably break out of boredom because there won't be anything to do!" he said calmly. Bruce was studying him to see if he was lying, and he couldn't afford to be caught in the act right now.
"Fine. But you call me as soon as you get back to SHIELD, and I'm coming to pick you up myself. This is the last one for at least a month, okay? I just got you back yesterday, and I miss you," Bruce replied quietly, frowning.
Clint hated seeing Bruce frown like that. It made him feel like a bad boyfriend, which he refused to be. He wasn't ever going to be his father, or anything like Bruce's. He pulled Bruce into a hug, burying his face into the scientist's shoulder and letting himself relax.
"I don't leave until tomorrow. I've got all night to spend with you, Bruce. And I'll be back by tomorrow night. I won't go on another one until you're tired of me. Sound good?" he whispered, keeping his eyes closed as he felt Bruce return the hug.
"I'm never going to get tired of you. You know you're basically promising to never go on another mission, right?" he asked, smiling. Clint nodded into his shoulder.
"I was thinking of resigning anyways, becoming an Avenger full-time. I haven't talked to Nat about it yet though. I know she needs me there, so if she doesn't want to... well, I'll deal with that if she actually disagrees with me," he replied, completely serious.
"You're giving it up... for me?" Bruce asked, shocked. Clint would have laughed if he didn't know Bruce would take it the wrong way.
"Well, yeah. You mean a lot to me, and I know you hate it when I put myself into danger when you can't be there to help me. So yes, I'm giving it up for you," he answered. It was worth the confession to see the look of pure love that Bruce gave him.
-Present-
Clint managed to get some sleep before Bruce showed up. When he woke up, an older man was sitting beside his bed holding his hand. He would have reacted violently if Natasha hadn't told him another person was coming to see him. He took a little time to study Bruce before squeezing his hand to show that he was awake. He didn't recognize him, which was disappointing. He'd thought maybe he would, judging by Natasha's reaction.
Clearly, Bruce was important to him in some way. He wasn't family, because they had no physical similarities. He couldn't just be a friend because of the way Natasha had nearly run away when he admitted to not knowing the man. That just left one thing, and Clint wasn't sure how to feel about it.
"Hey, you're awake. How are you feeling?" Bruce asked quietly, not quite meeting his eyes. So Natasha had told him about the memory trouble.
"Better, actually. My head doesn't hurt as badly, and my arm doesn't hurt at all. The ankle is still broken, of course. When can I leave?" he replied after a few seconds. Bruce almost smiled.
"Good to see that you're still yourself, even when you can't remember who that is. You have to stay in observation for another week at least, but they didn't specify whose observation. We can probably move you back to the tower tomorrow," Bruce told him.
"What's the tower? Sounds sinister," Clint said quietly. Bruce frowned, back to not meeting his eyes.
"We all live at the tower. It was Stark Tower, but it changed to Avengers Tower about a year ago. Natasha is preparing your old room for the hospital equipment right now," Bruce replied, looking down at the sheets on Clint's bed. Clint noticed the use of 'old' immediately.
"I don't use that room anymore, do I?" he asked, watching Bruce's reaction. "Nat wouldn't tell me who you are to me. You're not family, I can tell. You can't just be a friend, because she didn't want to tell me. So who are you to me?"
Bruce bit his lip, struggling with how much information to give. "I think it would be best if we waited to have that conversation. It might be easier for you if we had some form of proof to back up my statements. I know how your mind works."
"Which implies that you know me at least as well as Nat does," he shot back, giving Bruce a pointed look.
"You're calling her Nat. Is that because it's easier, or is it something you do automatically? If it's automatic, it would mean that the memory loss won't be permanent. You could regain most of your memories at any time, which would be good," Bruce started, changing the subject. Clint decided to let it go for now.
"I didn't even notice I was doing it. That's a good sign?" Clint asked. Bruce nodded immediately, smiling slightly and looking relieved.
"Yes, it's good. I'll go work on the paperwork to move you. I'm sure the others will be happy to have you home, too. I know Steve is worried sick at the very least," he replied, standing. He hesitated, looking as though he'd like to do or say something else before just shaking his head slightly and walking out of the room.
-flashback-
Clint was alone in his room, where he'd been for two days because he didn't want to face anyone. He'd remembered everything from Loki's control, every little thing he'd done. Most of this was his fault, and he didn't want to hear people telling him otherwise. He should have known that Natasha wasn't going to let him have this.
"Locking yourself into a room alone is not going to make you feel any better," Bruce said from the doorway. They'd never officially met, since Clint had disappeared right after the battle and Bruce hadn't recovered enough to seek him out until now.
"It keeps other people from yelling at me or locking me up in a worse place, so I'd call it a win," he shot back, hoping his rudeness would make the doctor leave. No such luck.
"I know how you're feeling right now. I know people like to say things like 'it's not your fault' or 'you weren't in control of your actions', and I know how little it helps. I'm one of the few people who will understand, and you've spent two days shutting me out with the rest of the world. Why?" Bruce asked. Clint frowned.
"Because sometimes I'm stupid. It never occurred to me that any of you might know what I was going through. I'm fairly self-centered. Didn't Nat tell you that?" he asked, trying to keep the malice out of his voice this time. Bruce hadn't done anything to him. Yet.
"Yes, she did. I chose to ignore pretty much everything she's said about you. I like to make my own judgments, after I get to know people for myself." Bruce looked deadly serious, and it confused Clint.
"Why are you being so nice? I caused all of this. I'm the reason aliens got to invade New York," he said quietly, stating for the first time how much he'd had to do with the attack. "Without me, Loki wouldn't have been able to do it. You should know that."
"I know you believe that. The truth is, if Loki had chosen someone else in that room, the result would have been the same. Sure, you caused a lot of the damage. But any of the others down there would have done the same. Can you imagine how much worse it would have been if he'd chosen Fury? I don't think any of us could have stopped that," Bruce shot back, making Clint frown.
"But he didn't. He chose me," he argued, making Bruce snort. Clint thought back to what had happened, and froze. "No... he didn't. I got in his way. He was going for Fury first, and I got in his way."
"See. You may have caused a lot of destruction, but in doing so you saved the planet and everyone on it," Bruce said with a smile. For the first time since waking up from Loki's control, Clint felt himself relaxing.
"Thank you," he whispered, closing his eyes to sleep without nightmares for the first time in a long time.
-Present-
The week of constant watch went very quickly after he was moved back into the tower. He started remembering little things, and he didn't push Bruce for the details of their relationship no matter how badly he wanted to. Instead, he spent his time trying to remember things for himself.
His first memory came out of nowhere; he was just sitting up in his bed when it hit him. He felt pretty sure that it was the first conversation he and Bruce had ever had, and he didn't understand it at all. The second one hit him not long after that, and it featured someone he definitely recognized with a sharp pang. Phil. The man he'd respected above all others, the one he'd helped kill.
-flashback-
Clint was bored, lounging in Phil's office and just waiting for him to come back. He was in some kind of meeting with Fury that would probably result in far too much paperwork, which would mean no time for Clint tonight. His head snapped up when the door opened, and he frowned at the look of amusement that Phil gave him.
"Do you really have nothing better to do than wait for me to come back here? You have your own office, you know. Fury gave it to you after he caught you using Hill's to watch youtube videos in private. You can't hang around there?" Phil asked, laying a stack of files down on his desk.
"You know that office makes me uncomfortable. Besides, I'm bored. I don't want to be alone," he shot back, grinning.
"You are the bane of my existence," Phil replied, rubbing his temples.
"You love me," Clint reminded him, moving to rub his shoulders. He grinned in triumph when Phil just nodded. "And you were hoping I'd be here, so you'd have an excuse to ignore the papers Fury gave you today for just a while. I know how your mind works."
"When did you manage that? I was certain that you spend all of your time ignoring everything I say to you," Phil teased.
"Oh, I don't listen to what you say to me, I promise. But I'm pretty observant when I want to be. I listen when you talk to other people," Clint replied, grinning. He didn't really mean it, and it was obvious Phil knew that too.
"Sure you do. If we've got any hope of getting home tonight, I've got to finish these though. Go bother the interns for a while, and I'll find you when I'm ready to leave."
-Present-
It wasn't much, but it was enough to start a wave of memories featuring Phil and Nat, everything from his SHIELD days pre-Loki, and the attack itself. He knew who he was, now. He just wasn't sure how he'd ended up living with Tony Stark of all people, or how he'd ended up apparently dating the Hulk after killing his former handler-slash-boyfriend. He needed to talk to Nat.
She was no help. "If I knew how you ended up with him, I'd tell you. But the unfortunate truth is that I wasn't there when you two got together. I was with Steve, running missions for SHIELD after you left. Steve took your place, I think. Fury started sending him with me instead of you, because you told him you didn't want to go on missions anymore. On second thought, maybe you and Bruce were together at that point and I wasn't around enough to notice."
"How is that even possible? You notice every little detail. How could you miss the fact that I was dating someone new so soon after Phil? For that matter, how could you let me date someone so soon after Phil? What the hell was wrong with me?" he demanded angrily. He wasn't angry at her as much as at himself.
"Bruce helped you get over your guilt of what happened in New York. You told me you got that memory back, right? Your first meeting, and he managed to do what I'd been trying to do since you woke up. Maybe I did know and chose to ignore it because I knew he was good for you. That's not important. Phil would have wanted you to move on and be happy, which you know. So why is it a big deal that you did?" she asked.
"Because I can't remember doing it! I remember loving Phil with every fiber of my being, and now everyone seems to think that I should love Bruce in the same way. I have one memory of the guy, Nat, and it's from the first time we ever met. There are no feelings of love or even lust attached to it. Not even friendship, really. Just... relief. Relief that I didn't destroy the world," he said quietly.
"You think that we expect you to pick up where you left off? Oh, Clint. Nobody thinks you should feel comfortable with being in that relationship right now. Have you told Bruce that you remember Phil? He would want to know," she replied, hugging his shoulders. Clint leaned into her, welcoming the comfort.
"No. I haven't talked to him about regaining any memories at all. He doesn't even know I remember our conversation from that first day. I'm worried he'll think I'm ready to jump right back in, and I'm not. I'm still hurting from know that Phil is dead and never coming back," he replied.
"Never say never," she told him, lips twitching. "People have a bad habit of not staying dead when they die."
"What are you talking about? He was stabbed through the heart. There's no recovering from that," Clint argued. She nodded but didn't say anything else.
A few days later, he gained another memory. This time, he was ready for it.
-flashback-
"If you're going to watch me, at least sit where I can see you," he called over his shoulder between shots. The range was completely silent and appeared to be empty at first glance, but he'd heard Bruce walk in a few minutes back.
"I didn't think you knew I was here," was the quiet reply. Bruce moved slowly, and Clint noted that he was sore from something but didn't ask for details as to why.
"I always know when people come in here. This is where I'm most alert. This is my domain," he said with a wink. He was on edge from his last mission. Nat hadn't gone with him, and he'd almost messed up badly. His partner was injured, and Fury was pissed at him. Clint was pretty sure he'd end up on recon for the foreseeable future.
"Good to know," Bruce stated with a smile. "Don't stop on my account. I was enjoying the show."
Clint took a deep breath as he focused back in on the target. He hadn't missed a single shot, though his hands still shook slightly when he aimed. He hadn't been using his bow on that last mission, and he was sure that's why it all went wrong. He could feel the blood on his hands, could see the smoke even though none of it was real anymore. His shot went wild and his arms fell to his sides in defeat.
"What's wrong?" Bruce asked quietly, concerned. Clint just shook his head and dropped into the seat beside him. He wasn't ready to talk yet, and Bruce was going to give him time if he expected any kind of coherent answer. The room was spinning, and he felt sick to his stomach. It all stopped when Bruce's hand landed on his arm gently. "You're having a panic attack. Take deep breaths and focus on my voice." Bruce spoke for five solid minutes, until Clint was meeting his eyes and nodding in reply to some random question. "Better?"
"Yeah. Sorry about that. I just... the last mission didn't go well. I haven't been able to use my bow in the field since... and my aim isn't as great with a gun anymore. I deserve whatever punishment Fury thinks up," he whispered in reply.
"I doubt Fury will punish you," Bruce said calmly. "It's natural for you to have some trouble after what you've been through. Actually, I think it's astounding that Fury has been sending you back into the field already. What is he thinking?"
"We're short on agents right now, in case you forgot. I'm one of the best, so of course I'm going out still. Nat and I have been running short mission on our own. This is the first one I've had a partner for since I got back to it, and it was a disaster. Maybe I've lost the ability to work with others," he answered.
"Not likely. I think you're just too worried about hurting others. Worrying so much will almost guarantee it happening. Fury should know that," Bruce argued.
"Whether he does or not doesn't matter. I don't think I'll be sent back out with anyone else, so we won't have to worry about it again. I don't even want to go out there with Nat, and that's saying a lot. I'll be fine on solo missions from now on," he said quietly, frowning.
"And what happens when we get an Avengers call? You're on the team whether you feel that you deserve it or not. We wouldn't have survived the invasion without you. We're going to need you again someday, probably soon the way everything is going. What happens then?" Bruce asked. Clint just shook his head, unable to answer. "What you need to understand is that you're not alone in this. We're all here for you. And I know it doesn't seem like it, but talking will help you. Right now, since you've told me all of this, how are you feeling?"
He didn't want to admit that he was feeling better, because Bruce would be too smug about it. But... maybe he wouldn't be. This was Bruce, after all. Clint didn't think he'd ever seen him be smug before, or anything even resembling it. And then he actually thought about how he was feeling, and stared at Bruce in surprise. He actually felt better. The room had stopped spinning, and his hands were no longer shaking. He was pretty sure that he could make a perfect shot again without even trying.
"How did you do that? How do you keep helping me?" he demanded, grabbing Bruce's hands without thinking about it. Bruce hid his surprise badly.
"It's just what I'm good at. I've spent most of my life helping people. Why should it be any different when it's someone I care about?" Clint's hands tightened, not bothering to hide his own surprise.
"What do you mean by someone you care about?" he asked, not sure how to feel when Bruce actually blushed.
"Well... I mean... we're friends, right?" Bruce asked, suddenly unsure and awkward. Clint felt the sudden pang of disappointment and hurt and realized that he was in trouble. It was one thing to love Phil, because he knew that had been returned. He had no idea how Bruce felt, and it was beginning to seem like Bruce only wanted friendship. He felt stupid, which made him vaguely angry.
"Yeah. Friends," he agreed, pulling his hands away and starting to stand up. He stopped when Bruce grabbed his arm, turning back to face him when he didn't let go.
"Why does it matter, what I meant?" Bruce asked, completely serious again.
"Because maybe I wanted you to mean something else," Clint admitted without thinking. Damn, his mouth had a mind of it's own! And it was only six months after Phil had died... he was moving on too fast. But didn't he deserve to be happy?
"Then maybe I was lying about just being friends. Maybe I want to be more than that," Bruce whispered, leaning in closer. Clint couldn't help it; he leaned in and kissed him.
-Present-
The memories rushed back after that. In less than a day, he remembered everything he'd forgotten. Unfortunately, that included the disaster of a mission that had made him lose his memories to begin with. Instead of going to tell everyone, he sat down at the desk he'd placed in his old room (Phil's old desk) to fill out the full report for the mission to turn into Fury. Phil would be proud of him, hopefully for more than just doing his paperwork. He'd never know.
The first person he ran into when he left his room with the papers was Nat, which was lucky for him. He passed her the file wordlessly, waiting for her to put the pieces together. He was taken by surprise when she pulled him into a tight hug.
"That took far too long. I was beginning to think you'd never remember. Next time you do something stupid like that, I'm going to kill you myself," she informed him when she released him. "Now go find your boyfriend and put him out of his misery!"
Of course, Bruce was the last person he managed to find in the tower. All of the others took their time congratulating him on remembering, but he only felt annoyance at having to wait to kiss his boyfriend and finally (finally) tell him how he really felt. Bruce had said it before he'd been dragged away on that stupid mission, but Clint never got to say it back. It was the last memory to come back, the morning he'd left for the mission.
-flashback-
He made Bruce breakfast that morning, hoping it would take away some of the pain and anger in his expression when he left. He knew better of course, because he'd tried it before and failed. He always felt horrible when he had to leave Bruce behind, because he knew they were both worse when they were apart. He'd meant what he'd said the night before. He wasn't going on any more missions after this. He'd already spoken to Fury when he woke up.
Bruce walked into the kitchen as he poured the last of the pancake batter onto the frying pan. He sat at the table and drank the waiting orange juice silently, accepting the plate of pancakes when Clint handed it to him. Clint sat across from him with his own plate, already feeling the guilt.
"Remember what I told you last night?" he asked. Bruce just nodded, not looking up at him. "I called Fury this morning and spoke with him about it. I decided not to wait on talking to Nat. I'm officially no longer a field agent after this mission. He's talking about having me train the new recruits, which is some action at least."
Bruce looked up at him finally, eyes shining with something. (Clint seriously hoped they weren't tears, because he couldn't handle seeing Bruce cry.) "Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me," he said quietly.
"You're forgetting how well I know you. I know how much it means to you, and that's why I did it," Clint replied, equally quietly.
"I love you," Bruce told him, expression serious and loving at the same time. Clint froze, staring at him in shock. He could tell that he meant it, and it made his heart melt. He'd been feeling the love for a long time, but he hadn't been able to express it.
Unfortunately, he still wasn't able to. At the exact moment he opened his mouth to say the words, Nat burst into their apartment and grabbed his arm urgently.
"You're over an hour late and Fury is pissed. You're lucky he sent me and didn't come himself. Sorry Bruce, he'll be back tonight," she stated calmly, dragging Clint out as soon as she finished talking. Clint swore to himself that he'd say it as soon as he saw Bruce that night.
-Present-
Now he was staring at him through the glass door of the lab and wondering if Bruce still felt the same way after everything. Would he still love him after losing him like that? There was only one way to find out, so Clint pushed the door open and walked inside.
"Clint, what are you doing down here? You're supposed to be resting!" Bruce exclaimed, setting down whatever chemical he'd been holding in a vial. Clint took the three steps forward and pulled him into a kiss instead of answering. He only broke the kiss when it became absolutely necessary to breathe.
"I love you too," he whispered, hugging Bruce tightly. "I'm sorry I didn't say it weeks ago. I was just... scared. But it's true. I love you."
Bruce didn't reply for a while, but Clint was okay with that because he had his arms around him and wasn't letting go or shoving him away.
"You remembered," Bruce said quietly.
"About an hour ago. I would have been down here right away, but I managed to run into everyone else on the team first because that's just how my luck works," he replied, grinning.
"I was starting to think you'd never remember," Bruce admitted. "Remembering most of your life was impressive, and I was pretty sure that if you hadn't remembered by the end of the month, you never would. I can't... I love you. I loved you the whole time, and I was trying to think of ways to help you remember. I don't think I can lose you without losing myself too."
"We'll never have to find out," Clint assured him.
"You can't promise that, in our line of work," Bruce argued. Clint shook his head, smiling slightly.
"In our line of work, people tend not to stay dead when they die. Trust me on that," he replied. He thoroughly enjoyed the confused look that Bruce gave him in return, deciding not to tell him about Phil's resurrection just yet. They'd been through enough this month, and there was plenty of time to let him in on the secret later. Besides, it wasn't going to change anything. Clint would always love Phil, but he had Bruce now. And he was 100 percent certain that he loved Bruce more.
-flashback-
"It wouldn't be such a big deal that he wants us to debrief if he'd let us do it with the rest of the team instead of coming in separately," he grumbled to Nat, slumping forward to rest his forehead on the table. Nat rolled her eyes.
"We're agents first and foremost. He trusts us to tell him the things Steve wants us to omit, like the fact that Thor caused the most destruction, or that it was Hydra behind it and not Loki like they all thought. You know that. You're just sulking because you can't make out with your boyfriend if he's not here," she shot back, annoyed.
"That's... scarily true. Have you developed the ability to read minds?" he asked, raising his head to study her with narrowed eyes.
"You're just easy to read," she assured him. Then her entire stance stiffened and he spun to see what had her so ruffled. He was pretty sure his heart stopped when he saw Phil Coulson standing in the doorway.
"He always has been. I used to find it endearing," Phil said calmly. "And point of fact, Fury wanted you to debrief separately so that I could tell you I survived without the rest of your team finding out. We don't want this information getting out, as I'm not going to announce myself to the rest of the world just yet."
"How the fuck did you survive?" Clint demanded angrily. "And why the hell wouldn't you tell me?!"
"Technically I was dead for a while. The exact amount of time is classified. I've only just fully recovered, which is why we waited to tell you," he replied, still completely calm and unaffected.
"Why are you acting like that?" Nat asked, her face blank.
"Like what?" Phil asked. He looked confused, but Clint could see right through the act. Phil was tired, and he wasn't hiding his emotions as well. He looked almost bored.
"Like you don't care at all. About anything," Clint said quietly, the anger fading. He was pretty sure he knew.
"The honest answer? I don't. We've noticed some subtle differences since I woke up. My emotions seem to work differently. I remember how I used to feel, and I know how I should be feeling, but the emotions just aren't there anymore," Phil admitted, frowning slightly. Clint closed his eyes, taking deep breaths.
This was a good thing, right? He was with Bruce now; he had actual feelings for Bruce, the kind he used to have for Phil. Anything he was feeling now was just residual, and he knew it. Especially since it was clear Phil didn't feel anything for him besides possibly pity. He didn't want any part of that.
"I'm glad you're alive and all, but I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to see you, or hear about how you're doing. I'm going to keep on pretending you died, because I think that will be easier than knowing you're alive and don't care about me at all," Clint whispered, looking down at the table. Nat stayed silent beside him.
"Clint... of course I care," Phil tried, but Clint shook his head.
"Just go. We're done here. Your secret is safe with us." He didn't look up as Phil left the room, staying silent until Nat spoke.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
"Yeah. Yeah, I think I am. I think I stopped loving him a long time ago, when I... when I fell for Bruce. I think I'll be just fine," he said quietly, offering a small smile at the end. She smiled back, hugging him loosely.
"Good. It's good to hear you finally say it. When will you tell him?" she asked.
"Soon. Definitely soon," he replied, grinning. "I don't think I can wait much longer." He had no idea how wrong he was.
Though thinking back on it, he knew the wait was worth it in the end.
