WARNING: male on male oral sex in this chapter. It is rated M, while the rest of the story is rated T. Please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable This one contains explicit oral sex, and genital shaving. I'm never sure about writing sex scenes, so feedback would be good :)

Thanks to Blessed 24 7 for catching an inconsistency in this one.

It was their anniversary. Clint was standing by the stove in Phil's (their) apartment, making all of Phil's favourites. Phil was weird about food, so Clint had spent ages learning the different meals he liked and would happily eat. He was cooking a three course meal tonight. His gift to Phil was sitting in the middle of the table. Clint peeled potatoes and frowned. He was thrumming with nervous energy. What if Phil hadn't remembered? Or what if he didn't want any sort of celebration? Clint had had a boyfriend once who'd laughed at him when he'd wanted to celebrate their anniversary. "You're just a fuck, kid. I've got a girlfriend back home. We aren't in a 'relationship'."

He didn't think Phil would do that, of course he didn't. But he was still worried about it.

The apartment was small, but warm. It was decorated in earth tones and was as much about texture as it was about colour. There were thick rugs on the floor and throws and cushions on the couches. It felt like a home and Clint didn't want to lose that. He wasn't going to lose it. This was their home, and it was their anniversary not a trial.

The front door opened. A few minutes later, Phil was there, wrapping his arms around Clint, pressing up against his back.

"Hey,"

"Hey." Clint turned to claim a kiss.

"Happy Anniversary."

"You remembered."

"Of course I remembered," Phil pecked at Clint's lips. "I love you."

"I love you too."

They sat and ate, both finishing everything on their plates (which Clint felt was a real achievement, Phil really was weird about food). Then, gifts. Clint nervously pushed the box across the table towards Phil.

"What's this?" He smiled.

"It's a pony. What do you think it is, Phil?"

"Thank you. I've always wanted a pony." Clint laughed at the deadpan expression on Phil's face. He watched Phil's hands gently pull away the sellotape. He was one of those people who never ripped open a present. It used to annoy Clint (who was of the fast and messy persuasion), but now he enjoyed watching the process. The paper was peeled back and the box was opened.

"Clint... is this..?"

"The guy who sold it me said it was mint condition."

"It's brilliant. Thank you." Phil stroked the front cover of the comic book through the acetate folder. It was a Captain America comic, the first appearance of Bucky Barnes. He lifted it out of the shallow box carefully. Then he laughed. Underneath the comic book was a t shirt, one of the ones Stark Industries had rushed out (along with action figures and other merchandise) after Tony had exposed himself as Iron Man.

It said 'I am Iron Man' and had a cartoon of the armour on it. It was really cool.

"You like it?"

"You realise I can never wear it? Stark will never let me hear the end of it if I do." Clint laughed and Phil leaned in and kissed him. "It's perfect, thank you." He pulled a box out from under the table and Clint frowned. He'd been home all day, and he could have sworn there was nothing under the table.

"Where did that come from?" he asked, but Phil just smiled.

"Here," he said. Clint took it and shook it up next to his ear. It was heavy, so he only shook it very gently. Phil rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling, so Clint smiled back. He tore into the paper as though he was in a race to get the thing unwrapped. Inside the paper, there was a box. Inside the box, there were several things. The first thing Clint's hands fell on was a book. It was information on how different cultures designed and carved their own weapons, from slingshots to longbows.

"Oh wow. This is great," he beamed.

"Good. I wasn't sure if you would have read it."

"I haven't."

"Good."

He put it aside, stroking the cover, and then pulled out the next item. It was a thick hoodie with the Captain America logo on. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Phil. His partner shifted slightly in his seat and his ears turned pink at the tips.

"This is... nice."

"Yeah. Sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"What are you apologising for? I said it was nice."

"Because I got it for me as much as I did for you."

"You want to see me wear it?"

"Maybe."

"Okay. I can do that." The material was soft and thick, made for comfort rather than looks, but the Shield was huge across the front and the cut of the sweater meant that it would fit quite tightly against his body. He put that aside too.

"There's one more thing," Phil said and he looked down at the floor. "I'm not sure if you'd want it. And I'd understand if you don't. I got it so you could have the choice. They were going to throw it out."

"Okay, you're worrying me now."

"Sorry."

Clint frowned and reached into the box for a third time. This time he hit a smooth glass surface. He felt around until he got a hold of the edges of a frame. He pulled it out carefully.

It was one of his posters.

An A3 poster in a frame saying The Amazing Hawkeye across the top. There was a picture of him in his embarrassing old uniform.

"This is me."

"Yes. It is. Like I said, you don't have to-"

"I love it."

"You do?"

"Yeah. it's... I have nothing from back then. They just left me behind." He stroked the face of the kid in the picture, so young, so naive. "Well, except..."

"What?"

"The blanket, but that's Miranda's. It makes me think of her, not them."

"You looked good in that outfit," Phil said, breaking the moment. Clint laughed.

"You know it!" Phil leaned in across the table and kissed him.

"There's something else I want to do for you," Phil said when he pulled away, breathless.

"What?"

"I want to suck you." Clint's breath froze in his throat and he looked at Phil, eyes wide.

"You don't have to," he said at once. "I don't want you to if you don't want to."

"I want to. I know I haven't yet... and it is a little outside my comfort zone, so don't expect it too often. But it is something I want to try."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Okay." Phil smiled. "Do you mind if we shower first? And I..." his ears pinked up again. "I'd like to shave you, if that's okay."

Clint nodded. He'd done that before. One of his previous boyfriends had insisted on Clint always being clean and hair free. Clint trimmed a little now, but he didn't normally shave anymore. It was fine. Phil took his hand and pulled him to his feet. He led him to the bathroom.

They kissed, their hands exploring slowly. Clothes were shed, and they pressed up against each other. Clint always found it gratifying how much Phil always wanted this. How eager he always was to touch and kiss and explore. Phil reached out behind him with one hand to turn on the water, and Clint pressed him backwards into the shower.

Phil grabbed the soap and things got slippery fast. There was the smell of coconut and pineapple as they lathered each other up, their mouths almost in constant contact.

After a moment, Phil pulled back.

"Easy," he said. "Keep this up and we won't get to the main event."

"Sorry," Clint grinned. Phil raised his eyebrow and smirked, then pressed Clint back against the wall. He picked up a disposable razor from a shelf, along with a can of shaving foam. Clint's eyes slid closed. Those weren't usually in the shower. Phil had thought about this, he'd prepared for this, he wanted this.

"Logistics," Phil said, and Clint opened his eyes to see him frowning. "I didn't realise... Can we move over to the tub? I need you sitting down with your legs apart."

"Sure."

They left the shower on, the room filling with steam. Clint sat down in the tub and bent his knees, letting them fall apart to rest against the sides of the bath. Phil positioned himself on his knees between Clint's legs. They were both hard, and Clint was leaking a little. Phil smeared the precum with his thumb, then spread the shaving foam liberally around Clint's groin. He lifted Clint's cock and balls out of the way.

"Hold yourself here," he said, and Clint reached down and took hold of himself. "Good."

Phil started shaving. He began down between Clint's legs and moved up slowly. His expression was one of intense concentration, and having that sort of focus on him made Clint's head spin. Phil was so slow and careful, not wanting to hurt him, and Clint was getting more and more desperate with every stroke of the razor. He felt loose and spacey and it was great.

Then it was done, just in time and much too soon. Clint was so hard he could hammer nails, and he said as much, making Phil snort and smile at him.

"Come on, let's rinse you off." They made their way over to the shower, Phil supporting Clint until he pressed him up against the wall of the shower. Phil grabbed the soap and gave Clint a more thorough wash than he had earlier, focusing on Clint's genitals. Clint screwed his eyes shut and clenched his hands, pressing back against the wall. He used every trick he had not to cum right then. He really wanted to feel Phil's mouth on him.

The water stopped suddenly, and Phil's hand was around his wrist.

"Come on, dry off." They stepped out and Phil pressed a towel into his hand. they both dried themselves off as quickly as possible. Clint glanced at Phil, and the fire he saw in his expression made it necessary for him to kiss him, hard. Phil pulled back, and smiled, stroking a hand down Clint's cheek. "Easy. Finish drying and give me a minute, then come on through. I'll be in the lounge." Phil pecked at the corner of Clint's mouth quickly, then let his towel drop as he left the room.

Clint took a deep breath and let it out slowly. God he loved that man. He scrubbed the towel against his hair again, and then dropped it into the wash bin. He grabbed Phil's from the floor and dropped it in there as well, knowing it would bother Phil otherwise. He also rinsed the shaving foam from the bottom of the tub and threw out the now blunt razor. It gave him the chance to calm down a little. He wasn't really bothered about the mess, but Phil could sometimes be kind of a neat freak. Nothing too bad, but he'd insist on cleaning up the bathroom later if Clint just left it.

He thought enough time had probably passed, so he went out to the living room. There were candles everywhere, and the gas fire was on, flickering prettily. Phil was kneeling beside it, fussing with the settings. He obviously heard Clint come in, because he turned and smiled.

"Hey."

"Hey." Clint walked over, and knelt down beside Phil. Laid out on the floor was Clint's old blanket, it was soft against his knees. It felt vaguely sacrilegious to have sex on the blanket he'd had since he was thirteen, but it was soft and easily cleaned.

"I think it would be easiest if you lie down," Phil said, looking at the fire instead of Clint. "I don't know. What do you think?"

"Lying down is fine," Clint told him and moved so he was lying on his back. He stretched, arching his back and reaching his hands up over his head. The floor was hard, but the blanket felt good against his skin. Clint could be a bit of a sensualist.

"I..." Phil looked lost for a second, looking at the expanse of Clint's skin. "If I do something you don't like, or if it's just not good, I need you to tell me. I did some research, but..."

"Wait," he lifted himself up on his elbow. "You've never done this before. Ever?"

"That's right."

"Oh." Clint wasn't sure what to do with that. On the one hand, it was hot. On the other, he didn't want to push Phil into something he wasn't comfortable with. "You don't have to do this."

"It was my idea. I want to."

"Okay." Clint lay back, shifting against the blanket, but he was tense now.

"Stop that," Phil frowned, exasperated. "If I didn't want to, I wouldn't." He pressed Clint's legs apart and settled between them, then leaned along Clint's body to kiss him and as he pulled back he stroked a hand through Clint's hair. Just like that, the tension fell away. Phil was here and happy, and in control. Clint could relax and let it happen. "Good," Phil said.

Phil moved down Clint's body, kissing and licking as he went. When he got down to Clint's cock, he stopped and just looked at it for a long moment, then he slid back the foreskin, slick with pre-cum. He leaned down and licked at the head experimentally. It was a strange taste, salty and bitter, but not altogether unpleasant. Besides, it was Clint. He slowly took Clint's cock into his mouth suckling gently and licking. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he listened and catalogued all of Clint's responses so he could learn what was good and what was not. His fingers caressed Clint's balls and explored further down as he pushed himself, taking more into his mouth. He spluttered and pulled off when it hit the back of his throat. It was an entirely unpleasant sensation.

"You okay?" Clint had the presence of mind to ask.

"Yeah," Phil replied, a little ruefully, and then turned back to the task at hand. He sucked and licked and bobbed his head up and down, and he could tell Clint was getting closer. The idea of swallowing was just too much for him. He pulled off and immediately spat (Clint hadn't cum yet, it was just the idea of it)into a tissue from the travel pack he'd positioned strategically beside the blanket (along with lube and condoms).

"Sorry," Clint babbled, even as Phil finished him with one hand. Phil wasn't sure he knew what he was apologising for.

"It's okay," Phil didn't mind. It was Clint.

"You want a hand with that," Clint asked, gesturing to Phil's groin. Phil knew Clint would be more than happy to return the favour. Phil didn't entirely understand it but Clint really liked giving head.

"No, I'd rather save it." He pulled Clint up and moved them so they were sitting with their backs against the couch, pulling the blanket up around them. "It doesn't take you that long to get it up again."

"Ah, okay." Phil had always had a longer recovery time than Clint, it had caused some embarrassment when they'd first got together. And Clint was always happy for another round, but right now he was content just to snuggle with Phil in the softness of his blanket. The familiar warmth of the blanket and the smell and feel of Phil wrapped around him meant home to Clint, and he was as happy as he had ever been.