Clint/Coulson
What Makes Me Special?
Music: I'm Not an Angel-Halestorm
"Phil?"
Phil Coulson rolled over in bed. Clint Barton was sitting up with his knees pulled to his chest, "Clint, what's wrong?"
"What is this between us?"
Coulson sat up in bed and pulled Clint close, "What are you talking about?"
"This." Clint motioned between the two of them, "What is this? Is this just for missions, or do you want more with me? Do I actually mean something to you?"
Coulson furrowed his brows, "Clint, where is this coming from? You know I care about you."
"I know I just—" Barton groaned and hid his face in Coulson's chest. Phil rocked the young man back and forth.
"Talk to me, Clint."
"I had a dream you were through with me because I wasn't good enough. It scared me—"
"It's just a dream, Clint." Phil cut him off, "I love you; never forget that."
Clint calmed and nodded, "I know. It just bothered me."
Coulson pressed a kiss to the archer's temple, "Good. Now lie down. We have to be in New Mexico tomorrow."
"Alright." The two snuggled back down under the sheets, Clint's head on Phil's chest, "I love you."
"I love you, too, Hawk."