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ROUND TWENTY-SEVEN
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It was nothing Clint couldn’t handle. Really.
Phil was the best thing that had ever happened to him and it was well worth putting up with the odd bruise or busted lip if it meant they could be together. After all, it wasn’t like Clint was a woman. The guys that beat on their wives, now they were scum but Clint was a trained agent and he could take Phil if he really wanted. Probably. He wasn’t sure he could find it in himself to lay his hands on Phil like that. Not that he’d need to though of course because Phil loved him and he’d never really hurt him. Until he did.
Blow after blow rained down on Clint and, reflexively, he curled up into himself and prayed that it would stop. Worthless piece of shit. When are you going to learn? Each insult punctuated with a kick. He’d heard those words, or an approximation of, countless times but they’d never hurt like this before. Clint’s vision swam and he dry heaved as Phil kicked him square in the stomach.
He must have passed out at some point because the next thing he remembered was waking up to Phil’s frantic apologies. Clint stared at him blankly, unable to piece together what had happened until he tried to sit up and pain shot through his entire body. I’m so sorry, baby. I love you. You know that right? Clint nodded, still woozy and tried to find comfort in the fingers stroking through his hair. At least Phil told him he was sorry, it was more than his dad or foster parents ever had but still, Clint couldn’t quite meet his eyes. He fought down a childish longing for his brother.
It happened more frequently after that. Some days Clint even wished that someone would notice but nobody ever did. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Plenty of people saw the marks, they were kind of hard to miss by that point but people just assumed they were from sparring in the gym or missions gone bad. He stopped thinking up plausible explanations in the end because they were just never required. Or at least until Tony fucking Stark starts giving him the side-eye.
Clint felt the weight of Tony’s gaze from across the table and it made him antsy. Who did this guy think he was? He didn’t know shit. Phil was the best thing that had ever happened to him and he wasn’t giving him up. Clint glared at Stark, wrapping an arm around Phil and silently daring him to speak. The rest of the team were oblivious to the silent exchange, tucking into slices of pizza, drinking...laughing. Stuff Clint rarely did anymore.
Phil turned to look at him, probably wondering what was with the borderline PDA and Clint froze. Had he made Phil mad? It was unprofessional flaunting their relationship like that in front of the team. The panic must have shown on his face because Phil’s lips quirked into an almost smile and he took Clint’s face in his hands, kissing him tenderly.
When they finally pulled apart Clint could barely suppress his grin. Natasha rolled her eyes, making a gagging noise while Steve and Bruce politely diverted their attention elsewhere. Thor proposed a toast and nobody but Clint noticed the absence of Tony’s glass. Yeah, Phil was pretty great. Clint was a lucky guy.
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