You Left (I Stayed)
by Cider Sky
His voicemail is full.
He knows this because nearly every single one of his teammates has made a point to tell him. He knows he will have to delete some of the messages to make room for whatever important (or unimportant in Tony's case) news his team has for him but … he can't.
He never deleted the one's Phil had left for him, no matter how mundane, and now, well now they were there on his phone, mocking him, made of nothing but painful reminders.
And hell, it's turned into something unhealthy, something dangerous. He starts listening to them after a particular shitty mission. It had been intense and had landed nearly everyone in the infirmary and when he had awoken he had genuinely fucking forgotten.
And that is not okay.
Before he understands what he is really doing he's pulling up his voicemail, sweating like a fucking addict who needs a fix, and plays the first message in the queue.
'Hey, just calling to remind you to sign the paperwork I filled out for you … shouldn't be too hard seeing as I did 99% of the work … ok, gotta go. Hand in the paperwork. Love you. PAPERWORK!'
The sound of Phil's voice brings him back, levels him out, and before he can lose himself in an obsessive listening session he snaps the phone shut and takes a breath.
It tides him over for two days, though barely, and when he does it again it's after awaking from a particularly fucked nightmare.
He gasps, fumbles for the phone and listens.
'Hey, sorry, what'd you want? HoHos or twinkies? If you don't call back within five minutes I'm getting snowballs.'
Clint presses the 'next' button.
' – I don't remember why I called … long day I guess. Well, can't wait to see you.'
Next.
'So, Fury's on my ass about that paperwork I'm pretty sure I told you about three days ago. You are so not getting any tonight.'
Next.
' – can't remember the name of the song. It goes something like nana nananana na – uhm – nan a …. It's stuck in my head. Anyway, thought you'd know."
It had been something from the 90s. Something terrible. Clint can't remember.
Next.
'Call me.'
That had been about a fight, he's sure of it, he can hear it in the other man's tone. Seems like a good place to stop and it takes far more courage than it should to snap the phone shut.
Phil's voice is still clear in his head when he finally falls asleep.
It doesn't take long for the others to notice. He's started bringing the damn thing on missions with him and hell, he knows it's a risk, but he's that fucking desperate.
Another mission ends and it's all good and triumphant and the others seem pleased as pie but when they all get onto the noisy transport he's dialing in his password and thrusting the thing up to his ear.
He keeps his expression tight and controlled and though his stoic façade might be holding up for the time being, his behavior is raising eyebrows.
" – soy latte … no, no thanks … yeah –" a pocket dial, Clint doesn't know why he saved but still, he listens.
Next.
"The old crackberry lives to see another day, I see." Clint glances up from his phone, up at Tony whose expression is half mocking half … something else.
"So says the man who talks to his robot manservant during battle –" Clint murmurs, trying to keep up with Tony's snark because as long as he plays back they'll think everything's fine, that they'll leave him be.
"JARVIS is not my manservant, that's Steve's job." Clint looks up because, honestly, it'd hard to resist watching Steve turn that particular shade of red.
"What is this crack-berry and whence do they grow?" Thor interrupts, loud and curious and Clint is grateful; this isn't the first time the Asgardian has saved him from Starks nosy line of questioning, "I have not yet seen such a berry at the Wholesome Foods Market. Is it rare? WE MUST TRY SOME!"
Tony jumps into a long tirade about slang and how blackberries are less superior in comparison to the StarkPhone and how he is terribly wounded that the archer decided to betray him in such a manner …
But Clint isn't listening. He tucks the phone safely into his vest and, when he closes his eyes, it feels a lot like Phil's hand on his chest.
"Hey, I have a couple of hours before the meeting with Fury, so, I was thinking, well … just get your ass over here."
That's Clint's favorite.
That had been a good day.
"Should I be worried." Natasha looks at him with that pointed look that suggests she may be a telepath.
"About what?" He asks innocently but doesn't smile; he hasn't quite figured out how to get that particular ability back yet.
She gives him a 'do-i-look-stupid' look and nods down at the phone in his hand.
"I'm waiting for a call." Natasha raises a brow and Clint can't believe he couldn't muster a better lie. It was hard when you didn't really care.
"Clint –"
"I'm fine, Tasha. Really."
Fuck. He really isn't.
" – but I love you, you stupid idiot."
His second favorite.
But only because the first half had been two full minutes of a dressing down that put Fury to shame.
The second and third and fourth mission go as planned so reason stands the fifth will be a shining example of success.
It is.
There are no casualties, few injuries – just scrapes and bruises – and the property damage is stunningly minimal.
But then Clint reaches for his phone and finds empty space.
It's gone. It's fucking gone.
Clint's stomach drops and he turns on his heel, heading back to where he had been perched.
"Where are you going?" Natasha asks as she drops into step with him but he hardly hears her.
"Clint. Stop." She puts a hand on his shoulder and it's firm and unyielding.
The others are looking at them, all wearing identical expressions of confusion.
"что случилось." What's wrong?
"My phone, Nat. I dropped my phone." There's a sharp drop in her brow, her expression hard and concerned.
"Clint, it could be anywhere." Clint can appreciate that she's always been the voice of reason in his life but he really doesn't want to hear it right now because the rubble that looked so minimal and manageable before now looks daunting and impossible.
"Tasha." His tone, the look in his eyes; she knew what he was really saying was 'please'.
They look for fifteen minutes, much to the annoyance of Tony who cannot for the life of him understand why he was freaking the fuck out about a phone.
"I'm telling you, the StarkPhone is unparalleled. You will be amazed. AMAZED. You won't miss that old fossil, buddy, I promise. It even comes in purple. You like purple, don't you?"
Steve, unlike the still babbling Tony, eventually senses that something's going on and moves forward to help.
They pick through the broken concrete and shattered glass.
They don't find it.
Three days later a StarkPhone appears in front of his door.
It's about the same time Clint starts to think he's forgetting what Phil Coulson's voice sounded like.