Blackhawk Retirement Chapter 10 Heart
Disclaimer: More of the same. See the bottom for more notes!
When Clint gets up, only 7 hours have passed since they returned to New York with Phil. He needs to confirm it hadn't been a dream or delusion. He dresses in worn denim jeans and faded black t-shirt, but goes barefoot. The Tower has been home these past few months, and a make-shift, near useless medical ward is not going to make him put shoes on indoors. Leaving his bedroom, he pads down the hall to where they put Phil to finish convalescing. Quietly, he pushes open the door, but wakes the pair in Phil's bed regardless. He gives them a soft smile and enters the room. They return the smile, welcoming him.
Tasha attempts to vacate the bed for him, but a quick sign stops her movements. He just needs to see and touch Phil right now. Her position makes it that much more real to him, but Clint requires physical confirmation of his own. Extra reassurance.
In calm silence, the trio reconnect. Phil reaches for Clint, ignoring the slight strain on his chest and back. Clint quickly steps forward, wishing to erase all signs of pain from his husband's face. Their hands touch, clasp, grips tightening as though afraid they'll be torn apart again. Tears track relentlessly down cheeks of all 3 faces as the men gave each other slightly awkward one armed hugs. Tasha remained seated between Phil's knees, and kept wiping at her smiling face. Phil's other arm came up and his hand tightened on her shoulder, tugging. She carefully crawled deeper into his embrace, listening to his repeated murmurings of having returned to his Hawk and Spider. Clint pulled back enough to leave a trail of kisses across both his lovers' brows, tension deep within his bones fading away now that they were back together.
Time passed, as it does, with the three of them content to share their silent embrace and quiet, gentle kisses that reaffirmed their life, their love, and their connection to one another. They were only interrupted when Bruce and Tony came to check on Phil.
"Well, all the spies are happily together again!", Tony exclaimed, boisterous and hyper as he pushed through the door. Tasha tapped on Clint's arm to get his attention. Clint looked at her, then reluctantly pulled away from Phil, but kept hold of his shoulder. All three agents looked at the two geniuses, waiting for their news.
"Prognosis, Doc?", Phil asked of Bruce. Tasha's hands came up to translate for Clint.
"Well, the nanites are performing better than expected," he began, pausing for Tasha, "Tony and I think that it's safe to let you go, but we want you to schedule intense physical therapy. Also, while we don't need to constantly monitor your progress, we will still need to see you a few more times to make sure everything remains stable. Other than that, you're free," Bruce explains, his phrasing slow enough that Tasha is able to easily keep up the signs for Clint's benefit. Clint grinned from beside Phil's head, hand on his shoulder tightening. The only outward signs of his joy. Tasha smiled, a faint shine of pearly, white teeth briefly seen before she adjusted her expression to something more demure, more refined. Phil smiles, lines around his eyes crinkling with his pleasure.
Tony looks at each of them, surprised by the lack of celebration. "This is it? No dancing in the halls? I expected a bit more cheer from you," his tone carried the level of surprise he felt. His genius, being ignored, was bruised. More like his ego, on behalf of his genius.
Phil snorted. "Spies," he said, the single word conveying everything. That they kept everything buttoned up, and tended towards not being overly demonstrative, especially in public. That kind of thing could be dangerous in the long run. Tasha slithered out of the bed and together with Clint, helped Phil to his feet.
"Let's go down to the common room so Pepper, Steve, and Thor can see you," Clint offered, hands hesitant in the language of signs, not because he didn't know the signs, but because he was hovering near Phil as the older man shuffled into slippers and slid on a thick robe Tasha pulled from the closet and offered him.
"We need to talk about that girl," Phil reminded them, stepping gingerly across the room as though there were bombs underfoot, or just that he didn't trust his own stability after several months abed. Clint hovers, Tasha smirks at them from the chair. Phil heads for the bathroom, shaking his head in fond exasperation at them, and the two assassins keep an eagle, or hawk's eye on him until the door closes behind him.
Clint turned those sharp eyes on the scientists, pinning them in place like an entomologist placing a specimen. "You are absolutely sure on his recovery? He'll be fully field ready?" he demanded, hands moving with a level of force he reserved for fighting. Tasha translated, her own voice picking up the depth of promise if the geeks tried to worm around the truth.
"We expect that to be the case," Bruce says, a restraining hand on Tony, who looked fit to be tied at the idea of doubt on one of HIS projects, "It depends on his physical therapy, which will need to incorporate every system because of his prolonged bed rest. The therapist and his team will be here in two days," Bruce explained. Tony managed to limit himself to an explosive, angry huff of air, settling under Bruce's handling.
Tasha nodded, giving Clint a chance to absorb that information from reading Bruce's lips, then promising, "It is enough Hawk, we will help him return to full form." Phil chose that moment to come back into the room and immediately noted the tension, minor though it was. He stopped in the doorway and looked at his spouses, gauging their moods.
Tasha appeared as inscrutable as ever, but there were signs of tension in the way she sat so still. Clint fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot that told Phil his archer needed more time with just the two of them.
"All right, let's go," Phil said, flicking a hand in an arc, indicating the door, and moving forward in that detestable old man shuffle he was forced to use instead of his usual confident stride. Clint was immediately beside him, ready in case he stumbled. Tasha brought up the rear. The two scientists got out of the way, then followed, quietly discussing the nanotech.
The group of five made their slow way to the common area, one floor up, where Pepper, Steve, and Thor sat around a table, each nursing drinks and waiting for news. When Clint and Phil entered the room, Thor was the first to spot them.
"Hawkeye! Son of Coul! It is good to see you up and about!", Thor's boisterously loud voice echoed in the space around them, welcoming them with its warmth. Steve and Pepper turned and smiled, pleased to see the agent mobile again.
"Good to see you, sir," Steve said, moving away from the table to come to shake Phil's hand. Phil blushed along the tips of his ears as he shook hands with his hero, making Clint grin. Pepper just gave Phil another hug, wiping happy tears from her cheeks. Tasha had disappeared along the way, and reappeared with a slim, black plastic case in one hand that she slipped to Clint who winked at her.
"Do you want to sit here, or on the couch?", she asked Phil, stepping up beside him.
"Armchair, please," Phil replied, heading to the nearest one in the room. It was an overstuffed monstrosity in a dark maroon leather. Tony usually joked it 'ate' people when they sank into its softness. He gingerly falls into it by loosening his knees, letting Tasha fuss with an extra pillow behind his back and a throw in his lap. Clint settles on the floor beside the handler's feet, not quite pressing against them. The others claimed places around the room: Tasha near Phil and Clint on the end of the ivory couch; Bruce and Tony on the matched loveseat, a tablet in each lap; Steve and Pepper filled in beside Tasha, their own tech in hand, and Thor settled in the other maroon armchair, hands curled over the handle of Mjolnir.
"So this girl?", Phil prompted. Clint slipped his hearing aids in once he was settled, his back to the edge of the chair. Natasha informed everyone that the girl didn't know who hired her, but that her orders had been sent just before the team had discovered records of Phil's survival. Upon checking with JARVIS, Tasha learned that the AI had not been the only presence that day, hacking through the SHIELD mainframe. JARVIS was running a subroutine to track down traces of the other hacker.
"Well, this ought to be good. Do we turn her over to SHIELD, or keep her here?", Steve wanted to know, hands fidgeting with his own tablet, impatience in his voice.
"We aren't set up to keep prisoners here," Tony needlessly reminded them from his slouched position beside Bruce. He'd dropped his head to the back of the loveseat in boredom. He hated briefings, they felt too much like board meetings.
"If we do that, they'll definitely know we have Phil," Clint worried, briefly catching his lower lip between his teeth.
"They may well know by now, Clint. It's okay. Not going anywhere," Phil reassured the archer, twitching his leg sideways to increase the contact with the other man's upper body. Clint slouched in acknowledgement.
"We can keep her for a day or two more, I think. Fury will know by then, and will bring a response," Tasha informed them, committing the team to a decision.
"We'll have a response for Director Fury," Bruce quietly promised, making Tony shift warily beside him, tensing to see what response would be required, green or otherwise.
Pepper spoke then, coolly professional if she took part in these kinds of meetings regularly, "I believe the room you have her in has a mag lock on it, so keeping her in, is no problem. Shall I get anything else for her relative comfort?" She looked at the three agents as she spoke, knowing their ideas on captives would be different from the others. SHIELD didn't necessarily follow Geneva, if it didn't suit them. Pepper could only hope these three would, at least this time.
"As I require less in the way of sleep, I shall take up the guard on her floor," Thor broke his silence. He had experience regarding assassination attempts, but captives were rare for his people. When there was a living captive, they were treated well and ransomed back to their people.
"Thank you Thor. I'll come relieve you after 4 hours, all right?", Steve thank the princely warrior who nodded.
"Well, that's solved," Tony interrupted, too twitchy to sit still any longer, snapping himself forward and standing, surprising Bruce into a slight flinch. "What's next? Dinner?"
"Pepper, if you could make sure the prisoner gets meals and a change of clothes," Phil requested when the CEO stood up, ostensibly to corral Tony. Phil's request shortcircuited her.
"Of course, Phil. Can I get you anything before I head back to the salt mine?" Phil smiled but declined and she left the team to decide their plans for the rest of the day. Their voices began to climb as they discussed, ne argued, their options.
They didn't realize they'd have company for dinner.
AN: Announcement time! First, I'm sorry this is late. I know it's only Monday, and I'm not that late. However, I have preferred to get my stories out every weekend. That didn't happen this time. I have caught whatever ick is crawling around, thanks to my devoted husband *glares in his general direction*. That slowed me down considerably, for all that I'm medicated, and am still plugging away. I also got an editing request and that also made editing my work that much more thorough. And I'm running 3 stories at once, so everything got slow. No real excuse except being sick, and taking on a bit more work than I'm used to.
Also, I've put up notes in my profiles (on FFN and AO3) where you can find me elsewhere if you want to get story background, or just come harass me. I write posts under filter, on Dreamwidth and Livejournal, so you won't be getting crap you don't want to see. Each journal has a 'sticky' that lists those filters, with the comments screened. You just have to leave me a comment saying "I'm from 'whatever fiction site', and I want to be on your fanfic filter!" and I'll let you in. You'll get to see where I ramble about my storylines, whine about the characters, and mumble about new stories. I also have a Facebook, under this handle (only thing that stayed the same, as the journals are older).
I might be going to an every other week posting schedule. A couple of new stories are trying to crowd their way out of my gray matter, and well, I need some time to write them, and keep up with the others. I don't want to release more, but I also feel like one or more of the 3 I've got going on are winding down. I would also like a couple weeks RIGHT NOW to get ahead of myself a bit more. So bear with me. I know where my stories are going, and the well is not drying up on any of them. I refuse to let a story just die and not get finished. (I also don't like those 'chapters' that aren't anything other than an author's note, which this is quickly becoming, lol!) So if I don't post for a couple weeks, please don't freak out, just, PM me or something – I have some health issues I have to wrangle (aside from this cold), and some other real life stuff I want to mess with. Cripes this is a long author's note. But I think that's everything. See you when I see you!