:::::::::::::::::::::::
"She can't do that," Clint raged, pacing up and down in Phil's office "She has no right to do that."

Ricardo filed a complaint and they had to meet with the investigator team in a few days again, to survey the complaint. Clint and Coulson had their first talk with them that morning and these guys were anything but pleasant.

They had asked about the rumors without any interest in the truth. They took them apart piece by piece.

"She can and she does," Phil pinched the bridge of his nose. He was tired and frustrated.

"I kill her."

"Absolutely not." Phil got up, approaching the archer, slowly.

"She wants to take you away from me," Clint sounded so helpless it tore on Phil's heart, "She will take your job away from you."

"She can take my job but she can't part us," Phil tapped against his chest. They had the bond and their friendship.

"Phil... I-" the alarm echoed through HQ and Nick informed them via ear piece that the shapeshifter they were looking for found his way into HQ.

Phil and Clint split up to form two search parties.

Finding a shapeshifter between thousands of agents was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

"Sir," Sitwell greeted Phil, "We can't find him. I don't even know how to find him."

"Jasper, stay back," Clint pushed Sitwell aside, "That's not Coulson."

He couldn't feel the man in front of him, the stress and worry he felt didn't match the posture of the man who pretended to be Phil.

The 'false' Phil smirked, "Busted."

"You don't stand a chance."

"Try me."

Phil transformed into a red skinned man, pulling out a knife.

His first act was to knock out Jasper before he pounced on Clint.

Clint took his own combat knife, ready to defend what he held dear.

The real Phil could feel Clint's fear and determination as Sitwell called him, asking for help.

He ran as fast as he could, praying to arrive in time.

The red skinned man transformed again, this time into a burly dark skinned man with skin as hard as iron.

Agents streamed into the hall, firing at the shapeshifter but to no avail.

Clint's knife broke as it made contact with the solid skin. He was better than Mystic could ever be.

Three of the stronger agents tried to pounce on the guy as Hawkeye went down after a hit to the temple, but he defeated them easily and there was nothing the archer could do.

A young female agent tried to help him but she got a fist to the stomach, Barton's mind raced how to protect her. He blinked a few times to get rid of the dark spots, dancing in front of his eyes, before he got up and headed for her to protect her with his body.

The man used his chance to hit Clint in the face and stab him in the neck, above the collarbone.

A shot rang out as the guy turned back into his real form with the intention to transform into something else.

Many more agents gathered in the hall by the time Phil arrived, watching while his friend fought desperately for his life and their safety.

Coulson used the chance to shoot the guy as he transformed back, he knew he had to be fast and time the shot or else they all were doomed.

"Clint," Phil dropped on his knees, shedding his jacket to put pressure on the wound.

"Don't die on me," Phil babbled desperately, "Don't die, keep fighting. EMT's are on their way."

Phil's jacket was soaked with blood. The sheer panic they shared tore their hearts apart.

Clint was scared to die, he was scared to leave without Phil to guide him and he was scared what would happen to Phil when he wasn't around.

Phil on the other hand was scared to lose the man he loved most, he was scared to lead a life without the archer around.

Clint struggled for each breath, "Phil," he mouthed.

He could feel the blood in his throat and the gurgling sound he made was even for his own ears disturbing.

"I'm here," Phil's eyes shined with unshed tears, "I'm not leaving you, but you can't leave me either. I need you."

Tears streamed down Clint's face, he knew he had to die. His time was up but at least Phil was there to say goodbye and guide him the last few steps before they had to part for a long time.

The sadness and resignation Clint felt broke Phil's heart even more and he couldn't suppress his tears anymore, he was too stubborn to let all of them fall but the few he shed were bitter. He didn't want to hide them anymore, "I love you," he said huskily, "I love you."

He let go of his emotions, flooding Clint with all his love and devotion.

It was more than Clint dared to dream of, he sent his own feelings for Phil back. Together with some happiness about the fact that the older man returned his feelings.

"I'm glad you love me, too, I didn't dare to hope that we could be more than friends," the agent bent forward, pressing his lips against Clint's. Tasting the blood of his beloved Hawk.

"I'm so sorry, I can't protect you this time."

Clint assured him that it was okay. He raised a hand, placing it on Phil's cheek, "Thank you, love... you," he moved his lips slow to make sure Phil could read his lips.

Clint knew it wasn't necessary but he wanted to say it, he had to say it before he died.

He felt how his strength ran short.

Barton regretted that they never got the chance to be a real couple. He regretted leaving Phil behind and he regretted that he would never know how it was to be in a loving relationship, growing old together with the man he adored.

They knew the chance that they died long before their time was real and the knowledge was constantly in their minds but now that the time had come, it seemed so unfair.

"I will miss you," Phil choked out, "I will always miss you, and I will always love you. Wait for me, okay? I'm following soon."

Clint tried to argue but he couldn't. The thought of Phil dying scared him but at the same time it warmed his heart and eased some of his fears to know that he wouldn't be alone for long.

They would lie side by side on the graveyard. United for all eternity.

"I know you're scared. I'm scared, too," Phil stroke through his archer's short hair, "I love you," he kissed him again. He could feel how Clint's presence within his soul faded.

Watching him die was the hardest thing Phil ever had to do.

Clint couldn't bear Phil's desperation and the sheer agony the older man had to endure but he wasn't strong enough to fight any longer. He had no other choice than letting go.

The EMT's had to drag Phil away from Clint by force.

Coulson stared at them, he kneeled on the ground with two burly agents next to him, one on each side. They made sure the older agent stayed where he was.

Natasha arrived at the scene, not believing her eyes "Phil," she choked out.

"He's dying and there's nothing I can do," Phil whispered apathetically.

She kneeled down next to him, with tears in her eyes, "Don't give up on him."

Natasha took him into her arms, "He's strong."

"Deuce thrust a knife into his neck," Coulson's voice grew stronger, filled with rage.

She swallowed hard, "We can't give up, we have... we have to believe or something," she tried to wipe the blood from Phil's face. Natasha never had seen him shed tears before; it was devastating.

"He gave up, how can I believe. Look at all the blood..."

She squeezed her eyes shut, she didn't want to look at it.

"He's leaving me. He loves me but he can't stay."

"You confessed?", she sniffed barely audible.

"We could have had it all."

There was nothing she could say to make him feel better. No words on earth could take away the pain the death of a loved person caused.

"Come," she helped him up and they followed the EMT's which desperately fought for Hawkeye's life.

::::::::::::::

Against all odds Clint survived the way to medical and surgery but his condition was still critical.

Phil held vigil for 73 hours by now, holding Clint's hand. Praying to a god he never truly believed in until Thor appeared on earth.

No one was able to get him to leave. Nick had brought him new clothes, forcing him to take a shower and Natasha forced him to eat. It was just a sandwich but better than nothing at all.

The nurses decided to leave him be the moment he entered med bay.

He was soaked in blood and lost in his own mind, his hands shook and his eyes were red rimmed. They'd never seen a handler break that way with the loss of one of his agents.

They fussed over him, analyzing his body language to guess what he needed or what they should say to offer at least some comfort.

"The investigators want to talk with you," Natasha peeked into the room, "I can keep watch while you talk to them."

"I don't want to."

"You have to."

Phil narrowed his eyes and got up, storming out of the room.

He went into meeting room 6 without a knock, "You want to talk? Then talk!"

"Agent Coulson we have a few more questions about your relationship with agent Barton."

"Yes, I confess," he mocked. "We are an item and we will not break up because you or a paranoid junior agent deny us our happiness. You want my badge? You can have it. I'm not staying without him by my side. If I have to choose between him and you, I will choose him and no one will ever find us. Have a nice day."

Phil turned around and left as fast as he came, bumping into Ricardo on his way out.

Leaving five stunned men and women behind.

Ricardo watched him walk away, he'd ignored her and didn't apology for barging into her.

Coulson was angry beyond words, he could literally feel his blood boil.

"What was that all about?", she frowned.

"He just informed us that he and specialist Barton are in a serious relationship and he resigns from his position should we try to part them."

She had witnessed Coulson's breakdown days ago as Barton got hurt.

"What can we do for you, agent Ricardo?"

"I want to take back my complaint. I was wrong."

"We drop the matter and return back to Washington."

"Yes, sirs. I'm sorry for causing so much trouble," she gave them a curt smile and left.

The incident three days ago had opened her eyes for what was truly going on between the members of Coulson's team.

Black Widow wasn't in danger at all, she was just loved by the people around her.

They kept her safe without ulterior motives, they kept her safe because she was a member of Coulson's team.

The senior agent cared for his underlings, maybe more than he should but in a good way nonetheless.

Barton wasn't using his boss for his own career, he behaved and followed him around like a lost puppy because he adored the man who seemed to respect him.

She'd tried to gather information about all three of them and was less than happy with what she found within the records she hacked into.

Romanoff and Barton were orphans with a hideous past. Used, abandoned, handed around and abused. She could imagine what more they had to endure before Coulson entered their life, taking them under his wings.

Coulson was obviously a very good man, tough and a perfect agent.

She felt one hell of remorse for what she'd done to them.

Ricardo took all her guts together and walked down to medical.

She knocked and entered the archer's room "Sir?"

"What do you want?" Natasha was out of her chair in an instant.

"Wait," Phil ordered, "Let her talk."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you," Christina swallowed hard, the Black Widow was frightening, "I came to apologize and ask how agent Barton is doing?!"

"He's not dead, yet." Phil didn't look at her, his eyes were glued to the archer.

She studied the still form on the bed. His skin was white like the sheets but the heart monitor was beeping steadily. She didn't know him well but the silence and his lack of movements felt utterly wrong.

"I projected my negative experiences with superiors at you. I misunderstood your intentions and... I wasn't fair and I'm sorry."

"Being sorry is not going to change anything," Natasha hissed.

"You scared the hell out of him." Phil looked at her with his red rimmed eyes, "You tried to take his family away from him. You tried to take me away from him."

The broken look on the agent's face felt like a punch to the gut, "I didn't know."

"You never tried."

"I should go," she hurried away, tears of guilt streaming down her face.

"You're too nice to her."

"Clint wouldn't want me to crush her," Phil remembered their talk about her a while ago.

Sure he was angry at her before he got stabbed but on the other hand he knew how she felt.

Natasha took a deep, calming breath before she returned to her seat.

::::::::::::::::::

Clint heard a loud beeping noise and the smell of the penetrating disinfectant S.H.I.E.L.D was using confirmed his suspicion.

At least he knew where he was but he couldn't remember why.

"Clint?", Phil could feel a sense of fear and confusion, "You're in med bay, you got hurt last week."

Clint remembered, Deuce, the young agent, getting stabbed, their love confession.

Oh, god. Is it real?

"Calm down," Phil caressed his archer's cheek, "you scared me," he placed a gentle kiss on Clint's forehead. Answering his mental question.

The archer opened his eyes, the bright light burned in his eyes for a long moment before he could focus on the man next to him.

"Hey," he whispered. His neck hurt when he talked.

"Hey," Coulson smiled down at him, shedding a few tears of relief.

Worry hit Phil like a punch, "I'm fine but you're not."

"Bad?"

"You almost died. Your heart denied to work properly at two occasion during surgery but you made it. You need a lot more rest, though."

"And you?", his boss looked horrible. Emotionally drained, eyes puffy from crying and lack of sleep and he looked thinner than Clint remembered him to be.

"Now, I'm fine." Coulson let out a heavy sigh, his lover didn't seem to have brain damage from the lack of oxygen but he wasn't a doctor.

Clint squeezed Phil's hand and closed his eyes, he was too tired to stay awake.

Phil's love and silent comfort lulled him back to sleep.

He slept for six hours before he awoke the second time but fell asleep barely ten minutes later.

Clint was in and out of it for two more days before he was well and coherent enough to stay awake.

"You can leave," Clint eyed the tired agent next to him.

"I don't want to. Nick grants me unpaid personal leave."

"Unpaid?", the archer felt guilty for his lover's loss of money.

"It's my choice," Phil smiled at him. "I want to be here, and he did that so we can spend as much time together as we want without anyone questioning us."

"I think you should sleep in your own bed for a while. Take a long hot shower, eat something delicious and then you can come back. I'm not going anywhere."

"I showered while you were asleep and Tasha forced me to eat Chinese."

"Sleep?"

"I prefer watching you," the older man confessed, blushing a little.

"You can't sleep," Clint realized.

Phil remained silent.

"What do you see when you close your eyes?", he knew what Phil was seeing but he wanted him to talk about it.

"You."

"Wearing a thong, in your bed?"

Clint was surprised that the strongest emotion in Phil's heart was sadness.

His joke didn't trigger a sense of humor or relief, or something like that. It just made him sadder.

"Phil," Clint tried to get up but Phil pushed him gently down.

"Don't get up before your doc gives his okay."

"When did it ever stop me."

"Listen to them," Phil stared deep into his archer beautiful eyes, "I think I loved you the moment we met." He caressed Clint's cheek.

"I was bleeding out back then."

"Your eyes caught my attention. I tried to find you but I couldn't and then you waltzed through my door, slowly intruding my heart and soul."

"I tried to get information, too, but everyone I asked about a gentle dark-haired agent with clear blue eyes told me I dreamt. That my mind made up the fact that someone actually cared for me. But I knew better. Then I heard your voice guiding me through a mission for the first time. My handler was so pissed that your name was declared classified. I meant it when I said I thank you. I hope you know that."

"Of course I do," Phil's feature lightened, "and you never have to thank me for watching over you."

Clint smiled, "You deserve it anyway."

"Sleep. You need more rest," Coulson placed a gentle kiss on his lover's forehead.

Clint hummed in agreement and dozed off instantly.

Phil couldn't take his eyes off his archer.

It was hard to believe that the beautiful younger man loved him.

Coulson was older, an agent through and through, and not able to show what he truly felt.

Sure he got better at it during the time they worked together but he wasn't convinced that it was enough.

Sharing feelings was one thing but saying it out loud something entirely else.

People needed to hear things like 'I love you', 'I need you' or 'I'm glad I have you' more often than just during their stays in med bay, or while bleeding out in the field.

Phil wasn't sure he could give him that.

Normally they only did it when shit hit the fan.

Sometimes not even then.

"You're thinking too much," Clint watched his handler.

Coulson was so unfocused that he didn't notice Clint's watchful gaze.

The archer didn't like the expression on his handler's handsome face.

"Sometimes it's important."

"Making choices without me?"

"No," Phil said offended. "I'm not leaving you," he knew the feeling Clint was broadcasting.

It was the kind of fear that filled your heart the moment you realize that someone you love was going to leave you behind.

"Are you sure?", Clint's low self-esteem was stronger than his trust in Phil.

"Of course I'm sure," well done Philip, now you have to say something about your feelings. He chided himself.

"What scares you then?"

"My feelings," good, he praised himself, time for the next step, "I'm not good at expressing what I feel with words. I worry that I can't say what you need to hear."

"You already told me what I need to know," Clint assured with a honest smile on his lips.

"But once in a lifetime is not enough," Phil shook his head.

"You told me more than once," the archer replied with a cheeky grin.

"You know what I mean," Phil said nonchalantly.

"I know but I don't want you to feel like you have to say it all the time. Once in a while is enough. Really."

"But it's not for me," the older agent denied, "You deserve to hear it. You deserve my honesty and you deserve to be treasured."

"But that's exactly what you do. You took me in and you make me feel like I belong to your team. You gave me a home and you protect me. Tell me what more could you do? It's by far more than I ever expected to have."

"We will fight."

"We will make up."

"We won't truly talk about it."

"Because we know each other well."

"We have to talk about problems at one point."

"And we will when the time comes."

"Are you sure?", Phil was scared that their relationship could collapse like a house of cards.

"We actually did talk sometimes. I mean a sorry is enough for me."

Phil exhaled loudly, "You win."

"Good." Clint patted the mattress next to him, "Get some sleep."

Phil shook his head, "The bed is too small." He was scared to hurt his beloved archer.

"Get your ass in bed or I make you."

Coulson knew Clint wasn't in any condition where he could carry out his threat but with Clint you could never know.

So he obeyed and settled down next to the archer, "Sleep well."

"I always sleep well with you by my side."

"Good to know." Phil put an arm around Clint's middle and fell asleep shortly after.

Clint snuggled closer into the embrace and permitted himself to sleep.

The nurses gathered at the entrance door with happy smiles on their faces.

Seemed like Coulson's world was in order again.

:::::::::::::

"Take it easy, Barton," Phil regretted granting the archer some time at the firing range.

He wasn't well enough.

"I missed," Clint's jaw dropped, "Sir, I missed," he looked at his handler with wide, surprised eyes.

"No wonder." Phil placed a hand on the archer's cheek, "How many fingers?", he held up four.

Clint blinked a few time to focus, "Four?"

"You need rest." That was an order mixed with worry.

"But I missed," he whispered.

"It doesn't count. You can't see correctly because of the strain you force onto yourself. You just got released, you have to be patient." The main reason they released him was that Barton was a pain in the ass.

"I know," but he loved his bow.

Fellow comrades were staring at them, the rumor mill was waiting for more input.

"Come with me," Phil guided his archer back to his office. "Lie down and sleep," he gestured at the sofa.

"I'm not tired," he slept enough the last nine days.

"You are tired," Phil pushed him onto the couch, "Sleep or I call Natasha and she'll knock you out."

"Hitting an already hurt man is low," Clint glared half-heartedly.

"Who said something about hitting?", Phil raised a brow, "She has the best tranquilizer hidden in her bra."

The archer narrowed his eyes, "How do you know where she hides the tranquilizer," normally he was offended that someone wanted to force drugs on him but not this time. This time he felt jealous about the fact that Coulson mentioned her bra.

Phil looked stunned, "Tell me you don't know where she hides it."

He couldn't, Clint knew where she hid it. She got special underwear shortly after she finished basic training and the three of them lived in confined space more than once.

And as their handler Coulson probably had to know everything about his assets, even what kind of special underwear S.H.I.E.L.D provides them with. As embarrassing as it was it was still part of their uniform, kind of.

The relief and embarrassment the archer felt calmed Coulson down.

It was nice to know that Clint was one of the jealous kind, though.

"Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for." Phil was a jealous bastard himself.

The archer yawned and closed his eyes.

"Do you need anything?", Phil kissed his lover's forehead.

"Just you," the archer sighed before his breath evened out.

Phil made himself comfortable behind his desk, his chair wasn't the most comfy but he knew the tricks by now.

His gaze wandered to the archer's sleeping form every few minutes while he worked through the stack of papers next to his computer screen.

Clint seemed so peaceful in his sleep but Phil wasn't a fool, okay was not often a fool.

He could see the barely visible lines of worry and stress around the archer's eyes.

The small frown that appeared every so often, indicating that his dreams were everything but peaceful. He didn't the bond to know all that, but the bond made it easier to read him, though.

"Clint?" a pang of fear hit him and for the first time, during the last weeks, it wasn't his own.

He was out of his chair in an instant, crouching down next to the archer "Love, wake up."

Clint stirred, blinking his sleepiness away.

"It was just a bad dream," Coulson caressed his archer's cheek with the knuckles of his fingers.

"Dreamt, I lost you," he was still unfocused.

"I almost lost you, not the other way around," Phil chuckled sadly.

"You're fine...", it was partly a question and partly a statement, filled with relief.

"I'm fine."

"But not there," he tapped with his index finger against Phil's temple, "I can feel it at night."

Coulson feared that he was broadcasting his inner turmoil the moment he fell asleep and now he got the proof.

"But I will be," Phil assured, "give me some time."

"Is it my fault?" fear burned in Clint's eyes, "Am I making you unhappy? I can hide my emotions, so they won't bother you..., or I-..."

Phil hushed him up with a soft kiss to the lips, "They're my own. I need your emotions you're still with me and mostly well."

Clint sighed deeply, "We have to work on your guilt trips."

"I know," Phil couldn't get rid of the nightmares.

The experiment, the time after that and especially almost losing his beloved asset.

"Move in with me," the older man blurted out.

Now, Clint was fully awake and stunned.

Phil regretted asking and tried desperately to find a way to take his offer back.

"I'd love to," Clint interrupted his lover's train of thoughts.

"Really?"

"Yes, really," Clint cupped Phil's cheek with one of his hands, tracing the line of his cheekbone with his thumb.

"I have to finish a few more reports before we can go," Phil leaned into the touch.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm not sure I can walk out of here on my own two feet."

"I shouldn't have let you train with your bow," Phil said, guilt clear in his eyes.

"Not your fault. I skipped my meds."

"Again?"

"I hate the fuzzy feeling."

"I know you do but they're important. Just two more days."

"It scares me that you didn't notice I skipped them," his handler, normally forced them on him and the fact that he forgot about it worried him deeply. It showed how out of it Couslon was.

"That's what's bothering you all day?"

"I thought I made my point clear that I worry about you," Clint felt hurt.

"I didn't think you'd notice that anything was wrong just because I didn't ask if you've taken your meds."

"It's not only that, or the bond we share," Clint let his fingertips ghost over his handler's face.

"The lines around your eyes, the lack of positive feelings in your eyes, your posture, the way you speak, the way you treat fellow agents, the way you play with your pen when you think I'm not watching,..."

"Okay, I understand." Phil gave him a loving smile. It were the small, barely noticeable things than spoke louder than words ever could.

He noticed the same things whenever he took the time to study his Hawk's mood.

"Let's talk about it at home, okay?"

"Okay," Clint agreed, even though he knew they wouldn't.

"Sleep some more, I'll wake you."

The archer nodded, listening to the sounds Phil made while he typed the report.

He listened a long time before he fell asleep again.

:::::::::::::::::

Two days passed before they finally had to talk about the thing between them.

Phil awoke with a start, drenched in sweat and screaming Clint's name after one of his many nightmares.

Clint sat cross-legged on the other side of the bed, watching his scared lover.

"You can't go on like this," he said in the dark.

"How long are you watching me?" Phil was embarrassed.

"Two hours and thirteen minutes."

"You need your rest," Coulson chided.

"You, too," he couldn't ignore it any longer, he knew how difficult it would be for Phil when they went on like he wasn't tossing and turning around in bed ever night, waking up screaming Clint's name.

Better now than later. The longer they waited the more Phil's demons would strengthen within his mind until the point it would become part of his personality or worse, he would break.

"Tell me about it," the archer moved closer to Phil, pulling him down until his head rested on Clint's legs.

"I saw him stab you and you died in my arms," there was blood everywhere. Clint's lifeless eyes stared at him and he could hear a voice in his head, telling him that he failed, that he killed the archer due to his stupidity.

The worst part was that Phil felt that the voice was right.

It was his fault, it was all his fault.

"I'm not dead," Clint reminded him, "We're alive and together. You protected me as best as you could. I mean you killed Deuce, and for me getting hurt,... there was nothing you could have done to save me."

"It doesn't feel that way," Phil confessed.

"I know it doesn't but you have to remember what you have done for me. You came as fast as you could. You shot him before he could finish me off for sure. You cared for me while I thought I have to die. You offered me comfort and your love. You spent days next to my bed, watching over me. You told the investigators to fuck off, risking your career. You got me out of medical and offered me a home. You did all that within the last three weeks. I could tell you how great you are the whole night, or longer."

"I hurt you after the experiment. I hurt you with my moods,... I-"

"Shut up," Clint hissed, "Don't you dare disregarding yourself. I can count the days you, accidently, hurt me on one hand. To count what good you have done I'd need a calculator."

"You make me sound like some kind of hero," Phil huffed.

"You are a hero. You are my hero," Clint replied, "You are my life."

Phil let go of his emotions and permitted himself to weep. His fears and sadness grew too heavy to hold back anymore.

Clint bent forward, putting his arms around Phil, shielding him from the world.

Coulson's sadness broke his heart.

"It's okay my love, let it all out," Clint brushed his lips over Phil's tear stained cheek.

Phil couldn't remember the last time he cried so hard. It could be the day his parents died in an accident when he was little, maybe not even then.

Sure he had wept bitter tears, missing his mommy and daddy, but he was too small to fully understand the impact.

It affected him and formed the protective side of his personality but it seemed do far away now. He had his aunt back then who offered comfort as best she could, but who was left now?

No one was left when Clint would be gone.

Whether Natasha nor Nick could hold him here, in the world of living.

Clint was all he had, all he wanted and all he needed.

His childish smile when he was happy.

His gentle smile, which was reserved for Phil.

His adoring smile, he only used for agent Coulson in his best bad-ass mood.

Clint as an insecure and broken child within the body of an adult, seeking love and protection.

Phil had decided a long time ago that he'd provide just that, love and protection.

The archer needed him as much as Phil needed his archer. He could feel it bright and clear.

"You do know you're my everything, right?" Phil got over his pride and fears, and expressed what he was feeling.

"I know it now," he wasn't sure for a while, he feared the bond had destroyed what they had.

"Never doubt and never forget," Phil breathed heavily, tears still found their way down his cheeks.

"Don't worry. All I have to do in case I forget is listening to your heart and soul."

Phil tried desperately to stop his tears and hide his pitiful sobs.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Phil." Clint kissed Phil's cheek, moving his lips against his handler's hot and tear stained skin.

"I almost lost you and that scares the hell out of me."

"I know that feeling. Do you remember Minsk? Of course you do. You had a bad concussion and a broken shin. We hid for three days, I think they were the three longest days of my life. I was so scared you'd broken your hard head; and I wasn't sure you could keep your leg, at least not fully functional."

"You fussed over me like a mother-hen," Phil chuckled sadly. He had never seen the archer so god damn nervous during a mission.

"I was scared and had every right to," Clint pouted.

"I lost count on the times you scared me."

"Liar," Clint said gently, "You know exactly how many times. You don't forget things like that," he was 100 percent sure.

"Six times, worried. Very worried. Five times, scared. Nine times close to an heart attack and one time absolutely terrified. Two times, when I include our very first meeting but back then it was probably more pity and sadness for the poor dying kid in my arms."

"Nine times almost an heart attack?" Clint couldn't remember so many incidents.

"You almost broke your neck while your nest collapsed beneath you. You got shot in the chest, your vest barely provided enough protection. You got lost in Mozambique.

You fell off a plane with a defect parachute, how you managed that and survived is still a riddle to me. You almost suffocated in a safe. You almost got roasted in an explosion. You lost most of your hearing after your new sonic arrow malfunctioned. You barely survived a serious case of pneumonia."

"My injuries weren't serious," Clint stated.

"Did you just listen?"

"I did."

"Imagine it would have been me," Phil sniffed, rubbing his eyes.

"I give in," Clint surrendered.

"Thought so," Phil took a shaky breath.

"Let's try to sleep. You need it," Clint let go of Phil and lay back down before he pulled Phil half on top of himself.

"Good night," Phil's head rested on his archer's chest.

"Good night Phil," Clint stroke through his handler's soft hair until the older man fell asleep.

He enjoyed the knowledge that his gentle caresses soothed most of Phil's pain away.