[Avengers: Drabble] "Nesting" [Clint/Coulson, G]
Title: Nesting
Author: Ami Ven
Prompt: comment_fic prompt here
Word Count: 785
Rating: G
Fandom: Avengers
Pairing(s): Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Setting: part of my happy ‘verse
Summary: “I trust Clint to make decisions about our home that we’ll both be comfortable with.”
Nesting
The fifth time that Tony asked Phil a question about the floor he and Clint were going to share in the newly-renovated Stark Tower, and Phil off-handedly replied that whatever Clint chose would be fine with him, the billionaire frowned, hands on his hips.
“Is this a problem, Agent?” he asked, suspiciously. “Is Barton holding you against your will? Blink twice if you need us to rescue you.”
Phil rolled his eyes. “I’m a man of simple tastes,” he said. “I trust Clint to make decisions about our home that we’ll both be comfortable with.”
Tony continued to frown at him and Phil sighed - despite himself, he was starting to see Tony as a friend, and didn’t want to leave him entirely without an explanation.
“I assume that you’ve done a full background on everyone you invited to live in your tower - don’t give me that look, Stark, this one time, I approve - and you know that for most of our adult lives, Clint and I have not had many consistent domestic arrangements.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Tony agreed.
Phil smiled. “And you also know about Clint’s childhood. He hasn’t had much control of his surroundings, so this… it’s easy to let him have this.”
“You two have a disturbingly healthy relationship,” said Tony, and he didn’t ask Phil anything else about the remodeling.
*
Clint might have a lot of downtime since being reassigned to the Avengers initiative, but Phil still had his regular duties at SHIELD. They had finished the kitchen and master bedroom while Phil was recovering after the Battle of New York, and Clint had still been pondering the paint samples spread over the kitchen island, so Phil was unsurprised to come home after his first day of desk duty to find painting tarps all over the living room.
The archer worked steadily after that - actually worked, despite Tony’s repeated reminders that he had people for that - laying carpet and painting walls. The living room wound up a kind of slate blue, with plush brownish carpet and sturdy wooden furniture, decorated with several of Phil’s more artistic Captain America posters and two of Clint’s handmade bows. The guest room was shades of brown and green, not as personalized but no less welcoming.
The blueprints for their floor stayed on the kitchen table, increasingly scribbled with Clint’s messy handwriting as he came up with ideas and changed his mind.
Another room was set up as a small gym, warm gray walls and tiled floor. The master bath was purple - Clint had actually asked about that, and Phil had agreed at once - to match the purple accents in their charcoal bedroom. The corner room, with the big glass windows, was a home office, with a wooden desk and bookshelves on one side for Phil and a glass-and-metal set on the other for Clint. There was also a library, with two big armchairs for reading side-by-side and a loveseat for reading together.
Every day, it seemed, Phil came home to find another room painted, furnished or decorated.
All except one.
It was completely unlabeled on the blueprints, a little square next to the master bedroom that stayed blank each time Phil looked at it.
Then, he came back from visiting the SHIELD field office in Chicago to find that Clint had painted it.
The walls were a light purple - lilac or lavender, some kind of flower - and the floor was a plush carpet in a darker shade. When Phil entered, Clint was just finishing the detail work on the white window trim, and he looked up.
“Yes,” said Phil.
Clint frowned. “Yes what?”
“Yes,” Phil repeated. He crossed to take the brush from his husband’s hand, set it on the paint tray, and pull him in for a long kiss. “Yes.”
“Yes what?” Clint said, sounding dazed.
“I know what this room is,” said Phil, softly. “Maybe you didn’t label it on the plans because you didn’t want to jinx it. Or because you were worried about my reaction. Or because you were worried about your reaction. But I know it’s a nursery and I say yes.”
“It was all three of those,” Clint admitted. “But… you say yes?”
“I think we need to have some discussions about specifics, but I am agreeing to the general idea of having kids, yes.”
“Kids, plural?”
“We can discuss that.”
Clint kissed him again. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Barton!” called a voice, a moment before Tony appeared, frowning at his StarkPad. “What’s this analysis you’ve been having JARVIS run on baby cribs?”
“That depends on what he’s found,” said Phil, in his blankest voice, and felt Clint laughing against his shoulder as Tony spluttered.
THE END
Current Mood:
lazy
Author: Ami Ven
Prompt: comment_fic prompt here
Word Count: 785
Rating: G
Fandom: Avengers
Pairing(s): Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Setting: part of my happy ‘verse
Summary: “I trust Clint to make decisions about our home that we’ll both be comfortable with.”
Nesting
The fifth time that Tony asked Phil a question about the floor he and Clint were going to share in the newly-renovated Stark Tower, and Phil off-handedly replied that whatever Clint chose would be fine with him, the billionaire frowned, hands on his hips.
“Is this a problem, Agent?” he asked, suspiciously. “Is Barton holding you against your will? Blink twice if you need us to rescue you.”
Phil rolled his eyes. “I’m a man of simple tastes,” he said. “I trust Clint to make decisions about our home that we’ll both be comfortable with.”
Tony continued to frown at him and Phil sighed - despite himself, he was starting to see Tony as a friend, and didn’t want to leave him entirely without an explanation.
“I assume that you’ve done a full background on everyone you invited to live in your tower - don’t give me that look, Stark, this one time, I approve - and you know that for most of our adult lives, Clint and I have not had many consistent domestic arrangements.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Tony agreed.
Phil smiled. “And you also know about Clint’s childhood. He hasn’t had much control of his surroundings, so this… it’s easy to let him have this.”
“You two have a disturbingly healthy relationship,” said Tony, and he didn’t ask Phil anything else about the remodeling.
*
Clint might have a lot of downtime since being reassigned to the Avengers initiative, but Phil still had his regular duties at SHIELD. They had finished the kitchen and master bedroom while Phil was recovering after the Battle of New York, and Clint had still been pondering the paint samples spread over the kitchen island, so Phil was unsurprised to come home after his first day of desk duty to find painting tarps all over the living room.
The archer worked steadily after that - actually worked, despite Tony’s repeated reminders that he had people for that - laying carpet and painting walls. The living room wound up a kind of slate blue, with plush brownish carpet and sturdy wooden furniture, decorated with several of Phil’s more artistic Captain America posters and two of Clint’s handmade bows. The guest room was shades of brown and green, not as personalized but no less welcoming.
The blueprints for their floor stayed on the kitchen table, increasingly scribbled with Clint’s messy handwriting as he came up with ideas and changed his mind.
Another room was set up as a small gym, warm gray walls and tiled floor. The master bath was purple - Clint had actually asked about that, and Phil had agreed at once - to match the purple accents in their charcoal bedroom. The corner room, with the big glass windows, was a home office, with a wooden desk and bookshelves on one side for Phil and a glass-and-metal set on the other for Clint. There was also a library, with two big armchairs for reading side-by-side and a loveseat for reading together.
Every day, it seemed, Phil came home to find another room painted, furnished or decorated.
All except one.
It was completely unlabeled on the blueprints, a little square next to the master bedroom that stayed blank each time Phil looked at it.
Then, he came back from visiting the SHIELD field office in Chicago to find that Clint had painted it.
The walls were a light purple - lilac or lavender, some kind of flower - and the floor was a plush carpet in a darker shade. When Phil entered, Clint was just finishing the detail work on the white window trim, and he looked up.
“Yes,” said Phil.
Clint frowned. “Yes what?”
“Yes,” Phil repeated. He crossed to take the brush from his husband’s hand, set it on the paint tray, and pull him in for a long kiss. “Yes.”
“Yes what?” Clint said, sounding dazed.
“I know what this room is,” said Phil, softly. “Maybe you didn’t label it on the plans because you didn’t want to jinx it. Or because you were worried about my reaction. Or because you were worried about your reaction. But I know it’s a nursery and I say yes.”
“It was all three of those,” Clint admitted. “But… you say yes?”
“I think we need to have some discussions about specifics, but I am agreeing to the general idea of having kids, yes.”
“Kids, plural?”
“We can discuss that.”
Clint kissed him again. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Barton!” called a voice, a moment before Tony appeared, frowning at his StarkPad. “What’s this analysis you’ve been having JARVIS run on baby cribs?”
“That depends on what he’s found,” said Phil, in his blankest voice, and felt Clint laughing against his shoulder as Tony spluttered.
THE END
Current Mood:
lazy