Disclaimer: I do not own Clint Barton, Phil Coulson, or any of the Marvel Universe/its affiliations.
Wow, it took me so long to throw together another one shot. But it's here! This one is purely Clint and Phil - no action, sorry, just a lot of talking. Still, I hope you enjoy!
The word for this one shot was "Star"
July 23rd, 2004
Zürich, Switzerland
Clint was alone on the rooftop for thirty seconds before the door opened behind him.
He didn't have to turn around to know it was Phil coming up behind him. He didn't have to raise his head to know it was his handler who was sitting down next to him. It wasn't exactly the first time Phil had come to find him up on the rooftop, but Clint had hoped he would have a little longer to himself before he was found.
The two of them sat together in silence for a few minutes before Phil broke the silence.
"What was it tonight?"
For a moment, Clint wasn't sure he was going to answer.
Not like he hadn't made a habit of talking to Phil when sleep escaped him, but tonight just felt different. It felt worse. In the midst of the silence, Clint tried to convince himself he didn't have to talk and he could just sit here until Phil left. Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn't true. He would have to say something.
"Belgium," he said flatly. It wasn't a lie but it was the barest minimum he could have offered. It hadn't just been Belgium- which had been a nightmare on it's own. The mission-gone-wrong had been just over four weeks ago, and Clint had been transferred to Switzerland from Germany five days ago. The worst of his injuries had subsided and his pain was only mild now, but the memories were still fresh. Many nights over the past few weeks had been consumed by nightmares of the warehouse where he had almost lost his life.
Still, tonight was worse.
Phil nodded, not even attempting to push the matter further. That was one of the things Clint loved about Phil - he never pressured Clint to talk more than he wanted to. It was one of the many great things about his handler.
Clint turned his eyes up to the sky, running his eyes over the clear abyss above him. He felt Phil's eyes on him, but didn't give any indication that he noticed. After a moment longer of sitting in silence, Clint sighed softly.
"There isn't a lot of things I miss about Iowa, but I've never been anywhere in the world that has a better sky," he said, never once tearing his eyes from the sky. He saw Phil frown slightly out of the corner of his eyes, no doubt confused about the sudden conversation shift.
"Really?" Phil asked, his voice low.
Clint nodded. "Yeah. The stars are unlike anything I've ever seen."
Phil didn't say anything, waiting for Clint to continue. It was only on very rare occasions when Clint would talk about his childhood and he imagined Phil wouldn't want to say anything to make him change his mind. Clint hated talking about his childhood - all the pieces that hadn't scared him for life were either too distant or too painful to remember. There was a lot Clint didn't want anyone to know, even Phil.
This might be one of the few exceptions.
"I had a second floor bedroom and my window opened up to one of the lowest parts of the roof. In the summer, on the really clear nights, I would crawl out onto the roof with my blanket and I would just stare up at the sky. Sometimes I would even fall asleep up there when I tried to count the stars," Clint said with the small shake of his head. "My mother would freak out in the morning when she found me curled up on the roof. She threatened to take my window away," he added with a small laugh. The small shred of happiness he got from remembering his mother almost made him want to stop talking and to just live in that moment, remembering her.
He glanced down at Phil who wasn't looking at him anymore but was smiling softly as he spoke. That alone urged him to continue.
"I always remembered that in the long nights at the orphanage. Most nights I slept in the rafters of the barn - felt safer that way. There were holes in the ceiling and I could see straight through to the same stars I had growing up. It reminded me of home."
Clint dropped his eyes to his hands that he was clenching in his hoodie sleeves, not wanting to think of the nights he had to spend alone in the orphanage. Those had easily been the worst years of his life. Eager to change the subject, he kept talking.
"In my circus days, the stars were the only thing that remained constant. Luna had a thing for the stars too - she knew where all the constellations were and what all the stars were called. She taught me over the years and I still remember. But New York just doesn't have the same stars as we did growing up," Clint said, coming to a conclusion. He missed those stars and the memories that came with them. Some nights he had been lucky enough to spend in a city where the pollution wasn't so bad and he could count the stars again. But even those memories were ruined with the bloodshed that followed soon after.
It felt like years before Phil finally broke the silence.
"I've never seen stars like that," he admitted, glancing over at Clint. The young archer looked over, meeting his eyes. "I was born and raised in New York. The only time I've ever been in a rural area where the sky is clear enough, I never paid much attention to the stars."
"Shame," Clint said softly. "Puts everything in perspective."
"How so?"
"Makes you realize just how small you are," Clint answered, purposefully avoiding Phil's gaze. His handler didn't answer, simply because he didn't know what to say to that. Not even he could argue with existentialism.
"I'll have to take you out there someday," the archer said. Phil looked over at him and was surprised to see his charge looking back at him. The raw vulnerability was gone from his eyes and Phil was relieved that he had managed to distract him long enough for his nightmares to at least fade a little. "Iowa, I mean."
Phil nodded, smiling softly as he reached over, putting his hand on Clint's shoulder. "I'd love to see it."
Clint looked away, seemingly satisfied with that answer. Phil let the air settle into silence once more, content with leaving the conversation at that. Just the prospect of visiting the places Clint had grew up in made him excited - it meant Clint was finally coming around to opening up to him. The progress was good.
All Phil could ask for was progress.
In the end, it was Clint who stood up first. "The nurse is going to flip shit if I'm not in there when she does her round," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Phil nodded, standing as well. "We'd better get back then."
The two walked to the door together, and Phil opened it up for Clint who was staring up at the sky. With the shake of his head, he pulled his eyes away and stepped inside the stairwell.
"It's just not the same," Phil heard him mutter. He agreed, it wasn't the same.
It was better.
I love writing these kind of one shots because they're for the sole purpose of the growing relationship between my two faves. Seriously, love these. Also, Fallujah is coming along quite nicely. I'm trying to finish all of it before posting but I might get impatient. Stay tuned.
In other news, Ant-Man and the Wasp came out a few days ago and it KILLED. If you haven't gone out to see it, I 100% recommend. It was fantastic.
Scroll down and drop me a review letting me know what you think of these one shots.
Until the next time.
Ciao!
