Title: Eye of the beholder
Rating: 12
Summary: Phil & Clint share a moment after New Mexico
Featuring: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Genre/warnings: fluff, flirting, tickling, newly established relationship, kissing
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters of Marvel Movies. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made.
Notes: Anyway, as always this is unbeta'd so any mistakes you find, please, please, please forgive (I mean it PLEASE!).
"Here," called Phil padding back into the room, holding out one of the bowls he was carrying. Clint twisted on the couch, arching up like a cat to take the offered bowl with all the enthusiasm of a hyper active four-year. By the time Phil had moved around the arm of the couch and sank back into his position – taking time to lift Clint's feet out of the way – Clint had already devoured a quarter of the ice cream treat.
"'ank 'ou" grunted Clint gratefully between mouthfuls.
"Slow down," soothed Phil gently, his spare hand rubbing a soothing circle on Clint's exposed ankle, "No one is going to steal your Sunday, I promise."
"Sorry," mumbled Clint, gingerly lowering his spoon. He licked his lips clean before adding, "Old habits die hard."
Phil didn't comment. He knew all too well how few treats Clint has enjoyed in his life and it broke his heart, that even now after all his years with SHIELD Clint was still so uncertain about certain parts of his life. Not wanting to ruin the relaxed atmosphere, he simply squeezed Clint's ankle and concentrated on eating his own treat and enjoying the old movie Clint had chosen for them to watch. It rare for either of them to have time off, and it was even rarer that they had the time together. But after the mess in New Mexico, Phil had demanded they both got a 48 hours pass, a pass Fury had been only too happy to grant.
As the movie progressed, Clint suddenly gave a little snort and digging his heel into Phil's thigh, he asked cheekily, "How come you didn't let me shot the big guy when he was beating up your men?"
Phil glanced at him sideways, wondering where Clint's question was leading.
"Were you enjoying the show that much?" sniggered Clint, winking suggestively.
"No," replied Phil firmly, "I merely wanted to see what he intended to do and…"
"And it had nothing to do with the fact that a fit, muscle-guy was rolling around having a wrestling match in the rain," interrupted Clint schooling his expression into the most unconvincing innocent face ever seen.
"No," corrected Phil fighting hard to stop himself smiling.
"Liar," chuckled Clint, "You were so enjoying the show."
"Again, wrong," corrected Phil, he held Clint's gaze before adding cryptically, "Although I was enjoying the view."
"Huh?" grunted Clint. He frowned not quite following Phil's logic, "You were enjoying the rain? You were soaked. I know that because I heard you bitching to Sitwell about your suit being ruined..."
"I did not bitch," huffed Phil indignantly.
"Oh no, you did," grinned Clint," You bitched for ages…well ages for you anyway," he added with a fond smile.
"Smart arse."
Clint blew him a kiss, laughing when he got a slap on the calf for his cheek.
They settled into a comfortable silence, both watching the film a little more. It was only as the credits started to roll that Clint sat up and exclaimed, "Okay, its killing me. What view? What were you watching other than Blondilocks rolling around in the mud?"
Phil gave him a slight smile, a smile that only served to deepen Clint's frown, and said nothing. Instead he held his hand out waiting for Clint to hand him the empty bowl. Taking it he gently pushed Clint's feet off his lap and stood up. Without looking back he padded into the kitchen, placed the bowls in the sink, leant on the edge of the counter and started to count under his breath.
He'd only reached five when Clint strode into the kitchen and demanded, "Ok, what did I miss? I had eyes all over that place, I didn't see anything else of note. So what was so damn distracting that you were looking at that, rather than the fight?"
Phil cocked his head asking, "What makes you think I wasn't watching the fight?"
"Cause you said you were enjoying the view but not the wrestling match, so…"
"I was watching the fight and I was watching the operation as well," replied Phil flatly,
"Huh?" grunted Clint, his face crumpling in confusion.
Shaking his head Phil gave a little chuckle musing warmly, "How is it you can grasp an entire op briefing in 3 seconds flat and see variables no one else has thought of, yet you can't work out what I'm saying now."
"Cause you're not making sense!" huffed Clint, pouting with annoyance.
Phil gazed at him with indulgent amusement and instructed gently, "Think it through, Clint. Think about it carefully."
Clint narrowed his eyes and folded his arms over his chest, making a real show of actually thinking about what had happened. In turn Phil leant back against the counter and waited, secretly enjoying the view of Clint's arms.
"No, I don't see it," huffed Clint, the frown deepening even more making his eyes crinkle in a way that affected Phil far more than it should. "You were on the command level, you were watching the screens then you moved out to the walkway. I don't see what else you could have been watching. What am I missing?"
Sighing slightly Phil pushed himself away from the counter and, closing the gap between, them he looked Clint directly in the eye and ordered," Think about my eye line."
Clint glared at him then suddenly his eyes opened wide and his mouth fell open as he murmured under his breath, "No way."
Phil didn't react, he simply held Clint's gaze and waited.
"You…you were watching the cradle. You were watching…me?"
He sounded surprised it took all of Phil's considerable will power not to cuff him around the back of the head for being dense.
"You were watching me watching him," grinned Clint, the surprise melting into a smug smirk.
"Of course I was watching you," chuckled Phil dryly, "You were in a metal cradle a hundred feet above the ground in a thunderstorms. Last thing I needed was my eyes-in-the-sky crashing to ground, having been electrocuted."
"So you were just watching out for your asset then?" asked Clint the smug grin flickering slightly.
"No," soothed Phil stepping closer and leaning against Clint's body, "I was watching one of the most competent snipers I know take aim at a moving target and hold still, ready waiting for my orders."
Clint managed to keep a straight face for a moment before giving in. Shaking his head, he teased affectionately, "You have such a competency kink."
"Only for you," corrected Phil now openly grinning. It was rare sight and as always it was enough to reduce the infamous Hawkeye to a sighing love-struck teenager – a fact that Phil secretly adored.
Letting his hands fall to Phil's hip, Clint caressed the worn jeans and asked eagerly, "Did you like what you saw?"
"What do you think?" replied Phil, his voice far huskier than he intended it to be.
"Well you didn't bark at me for the back chat over the comms," smirked Clint, "and you didn't reprimand me for taking my bow instead of the rifle like you ordered so I would say you liked what you saw."
"You're right," agreed Phil, moving his head slightly so he nudged Clint's with his cheek, "I did like what I saw."
"Yeah?" murmured Clint, leaning into the embrace, "How much did you like it?"
"A lot," sighed Phil, his eyes closing slightly as he breathed in Clint's scent. He leant in even closer, pressing his body against Clint's, loving the strength he could feel hidden under the worn t-shirt and faded jean.
They enjoyed the embrace for a moment, then as Phil shifted his weight and pressed against Clint even more, the younger man gave a low groan and warned impatiently, "You keep doing that I am so going to break your rule about no sex in the kitchen."
"Behave," chuckled Phil pulling back slightly. He bought his arms up and resting them on Clint's shoulder, he gazed fondly at the man he had known for so many years as a friend but who recently had become so much more than that.
Clint stared back at him, the all-seeing eyes focused solely on Phil's face. The silence dragged on then, as Clint moved again, very unsubtly rolling his hips to press against Phil's, Phil chuckled and diving forward he pressed a kiss to the tip of Clint's nose teasing, "You know you were so cute when you were trying to work out what I meant."
"You did not just call me cute!" exclaimed Clint tightening his grip on Phil's hips and pulled him in closer, holding him flush against his own body.
"I did mean it," countered Phil laughing out loud at the playful glare Clint threw him, "You were almost as cute in your confusion as Thor was when Darcy was trying to explain how to operate the toaster to heat up his pop tarts."
"Oh that's it," declared Clint, a massive grin splitting his face, "You are so going to pay for that comment." Then before Phil could even think to counter him, Clint tackled him to the floor, tickling the senior agent, making Phil yell and holler for mercy. After several minutes Clint finally relented and settled into potion, straddling Phil's hips. Resting his hands on Phil's chest, he smirked down at him and ordered fondly, "Say sorry."
"Never," chuckled Phil, his hands running up and down Clint's' jean-clad thighs.
"I can do this all night," warned Clint, winking down at Phil.
"So can I," counted Phil, "I've been trained to resist all torture techniques and…" he was silenced by Clint lunging forward and kissing the hell out his.
The kiss lasted for ages and by the time they broke apart, they were both slightly breathless and red in the face. Bumping noses Phil ran a hand around the back of Clint's neck, playing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. Gazing up into the storm-blue eyes, he murmured wistfully, "I never could resist that though."
Clint grinned at him and stealing a second kiss, he murmured, "So you wanna take this somewhere more comfortable?"
Phil nodded and, as Clint helped him to his feet, he kept hold of Clint's hand. Glancing down at their joined fingers Clint gave a happy sigh, bit his lower lip. When Phil squeezed his hand, a silent invitation to speak, Clint queried softly," You were really watching me instead?"
"Yes," confirmed Phil. He caught Clint's cheek and forcing the younger agent to look him he added firmly, "I will always look for you no matter what happened or where we are. You're mine, Clint, and that means I take care of you. Both on and off the job."
Clint held his gaze a moment then with a near blindingly smug smile he nodded and murmured, "Yeah. I am your's."
Phil nodded and without further ado he untangled himself from the embrace and headed towards their bedroom, leading a very enthusiastic Clint with him.
FIN x