Clint blinked awake, stretching like a cat. He took in his surroundings, recognizing his bed and his Phil. He blinked again. Hold up. Something wasn't right…

It took him a few moments.

"WHOOP!"

Jumping from the bed, Clint back flipped. He froze as soon as he landed, spinning around. Phil was still asleep. Good. Why not give him an amusing heart attack?

He got into position…

"Waaaaaake uuuup…Phil….waaaaaake uuuuuup."

Someone was singing in his ear. He blinked awake warily, assessing his surroundings. He was in a (now somewhat familiar) bed that did not belong to him. He was comfortable and given that he was awaken through singing, there was no trouble. On the other hand, if there was trouble, then he was in a Disney musical and given his work at SHIELD, he would not be surprised if he was in an alternate dimension where this was true. However, this was not true.

Phil leaned up, attempting to figure out where Clint's singing voice had come from. When he did, he nearly had a heart attack, panic rising through his stomach and into his throat, sweat starting to grow at the base of his spine.

Therefore, Clint saw him blink and raise an eyebrow.

"Clint, what are you doing?" he questioned, voice tightly controlled. Clint raised his own eyebrow, smirking.

"Hanging upside down from the water pipes." He chirped back charmingly. Phil refrained from dropping his face into his hands.

"And, this is a good idea, given that you cannot see at the moment?" he questioned tightly. Clint's smirk widened, shrugging.

"Eh. Whatever." His smirk turned to a genuine grin, "By the way, I love the fact that you're wearing purple, blue, and green plaid. It looks good." Clint nodded.

It took Phil a couple seconds to process that.

He shot off the bed, reaching for his clothing.

"Your eyesight is back. You need to go to medical, so they can determine the extent of your recovery, and if it is permanently back or if it is a temporary return, and…" Phil continued to talk, but he turned the majority of his attention to watching Clint crawl upside down across the pipes lining the roof of his bedroom. His lips quirked up just the tiniest bit when Clint flipped down to stand in front of him.

"I am not going back to medical." Clint determined, interrupting him. He gave him the look that said he meant business and Phil sighed. He didn't know whether it was because he suddenly realized how adorable that look was (like a puppy begging for a treat) or because he knew that Clint would sneak out of medical the instant he got the chance.

"I know." He agreed. "And, I am even saying that as your handler. It's too much trying to get you to go to medical when you're bleeding out, let alone when nothing is obviously wrong with you." Clint nodded eagerly.

"Yup! Besides, I have better ideas about what we could be doing right now…" he trailed off suggestively, raising an eyebrow. Phil sighed. That sounded amazing, but three days of missing work would already have his workload piling up.

"Your eyesight is back and I still have paperwork to do. I-" Phil paused as his phone started vibrating.

Shut up. Paperwork is done. Take care of Barton now or he'll end up bringing sex to the office. –NF

Clint glanced over his shoulder, eyes widening. Phil groaned, awaiting the freak out. Clint didn't disappoint.

"He has my apartment bugged?! And he's been watching us?! GET OUT YOU FREAKING CREEPER! THAT HAS TO BE AGAINST SOME SORT OF LAW! OUT! GET OUT! I'M CALLING NATASHA! SHE'LL GO ALL RUSSIAN ON YOUR ASS FURY! GET OUT! OUT! YOUR FREAKING CREEPER!"

Phil rolled his eyes, affectionately tugging him closer.

"Enough."

"No! That is not enough I-"

Phil ignored him, tugging him back to bed.

That shut him up real quick.

Comic relief epilogue is comic-y relief-y. Finished! Hope the prompter liked it! Yeah, I know right up after the fourth chapter. I just didn't want to drag it out and I won't be online again (I think) until next week, so...