Fic: "Gotta Catch 'em All" (6 of 6), Avengers, Clint/EVERYONE, Steve/Tony, NC-17
And that's it! final chapter! Thank you so much for reading, commenting and on AO3 kuddowing/bookmarking this sucker, it's been a ride! and zelda_zee? You are a STAR ♥
Title: Gotta Catch 'em All (part 6/6)
Fandom: The Avengers
Characters/Pairings: Clint Barton centric. As for the pairings: Clint/Phil, Steve/Tony, Clint/Natasha, Clint/Tony, Clint/Bruce, Clint/Thor, Clint/Steve (yes, I am serious! lol!)
Rating: NC-17 baby
Word count: this chapter: 6 300 words, 20K overall
Summary: A classic 5 times + 1 story. Or maybe not. (aka the working title was "Clint gets some action")
A/N: The fic is now complete, yay! Again I want to say that my beta, zelda_zee, did such a fabulous job! She even skipped her shows so I could post it all before seeing the movie, that's how awesome she is ♥ It's so very appreciated! More notes on chapter 1
Ch.1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Can also be read on AO3
Chapter six: We should write 'em again on wet cement
Clint's thoughts are clearer when they get back to town very early on a Sunday. He's an adaptable guy; it's not the first time he didn't get what he wanted, and that's just life. After a real shower - yeah, he's definitely gone soft, he had missed the fancy jets so much - Clint goes to get a snack. Steve's already in the kitchen with the paper and a coffee and Clint sees him too late to change course without him noticing.
"Oh, hey, you're back," Steve says.
"Yep." Clint opens the fridge, but there isn't much of anything in there but beer and condiments. There are days when this place, as fancy as it is, is just like an unimaginably upscale frat house full of very dangerous people. He makes a face and takes out the Cheese Whiz.
Unfortunately, Steve is still there when Clint gets the bread. And he's fidgeting.
"I would like to apologize," Steve says.
It's surprising enough as an opening that Clint turns to him, crossing his arms over his chest.
"For my behavior, these last few weeks. Especially, you know, outside Tony's workshop," Steve says with a wince, rubbing at his neck. He means it, too, which makes it nearly impossible to stay pissed.
"Hey, it's okay."
"No, it's not. I was jealous and confused and handled everything very badly," Steve says.
Clint sighs. "You were kind of an ass, but it happens to everyone. Don't worry about it."
"Thank you," Steve says with feeling.
They're silent for a little bit, and if it's a bit awkward, it's thankfully not unfriendly.
"How was your trip?" Steve asks at last.
"Very nice. We did almost get mauled by a bear, though."
"Really?"
"I said ‘almost’," Clint says with a smirk. "Nat just looked at it sternly and it turned around and fled."
Steve laughs at that. "Smart bear."
"Indeed," Clint agrees with a wink, and just like that the atmosphere changes. Steve senses it too and grins at him, wide and happy.
Right about then a zombie-like Tony dressed in pajamas appears in the kitchen, drapes himself over Steve's back like a boneless limpet and steals Steve's coffee cup, who lets him do as he pleases with a fond smile. Only after he's downed half of the cup does Tony notice Clint.
"Oh, hey!"
"Hi Tony," Clint says around a bite of his Cheese Whiz laden toast.
"Good thing you're back," Tony says.
Clint frowns. "What? You had trouble? We didn't get called in."
He'd not heard about anything serious going on while driving back either.
"Nothing much," cuts Steve. "It wasn't worth bringing you guys back."
"It's trouble that starts with Coul and ends with Son, yeah," Tony says. "He's back, and creepier than ever, the psycho."
"He's not a psycho," Clint protests.
So Phil's back, Clint had wondered about that.
"He's been asking for you," Steve mentions in a way that he probably thinks is casual, but Clint and Tony can read his too-casual-to-be-nothing tone by now. Tony peels himself off Steve's back to look at his face.
"What was that? What do you know that I don't know? How is it relevant that Coulson wondered where Barton was? It's his job to count us like a mother hen counts her chicks," Tony says.
"He asked three times when Clint was coming back."
"Three?" Clint and Tony say at the same time. Okay, so that's out of character.
"In two days. Even after I said I didn't know the first time," Steve adds, his eyebrow climbing up towards his hairline in a pointed look and Tony whistles low.
"Ohhh, interesting development. How long has this been going on, huh?" he asks.
"There's nothing going on," Clint says, before stuffing the rest of his toast in his mouth all at once. There, too busy chewing to talk. But what the hell, three times? Phil is a consummate professional, he doesn't ask questions for nothing.
"Three times, Barton," Tony says, wiggling his eyebrows in a ridiculous fashion.
"Leave him alone," Steve says.
"What, you want me to shut up about this?" Tony says with a mocked outraged face
"Yes," Clint says after swallowing his toast. Steve nods.
"I can't believe this, you're a bigger gossip than I am-" Tony protests, but then Steve grabs him by the back of the neck and shoves his tongue in Tony's mouth. He’s got to give it to the guy, it's an effective technique. And really pretty hot. For all of their not so subtle touching and doe-eyed looks, Steve and Tony had been pretty good with keeping the PDAs on the down low up until now, at least in Clint's presence.
What had mostly started as a joke seems to derail on Steve, though, as Tony deftly straddles his lap right there on the kitchen chair and the kissing gets heavier, both guys totally lost in each other. Clint gets his phone out and records a minute for blackmail purposes - and possible wank material - then slinks out of the kitchen, letting them be. Hands are starting to sneak under clothes and Clint's not sure he's been invited to that party.
Anyway, he's decided he's got to go find Phil. If anything, it's best to clear the air sooner rather than later.
***
It's late on a Sunday morning, but Clint doesn't doubt he'll find Phil at SHIELD. Clint checks the gym, the range and the common areas first - a semi public meeting would be maybe a tad easier to handle - but doesn't see him there. In the corridor leading to Phil's office, Clint starts to second guess the decision to come here at all. He could wait to see Phil again in a team meeting and gauge the weather then. Or wait until Phil comes to him, as it seems he's been trying to do.
He's about to turn tail when Phil's door opens and the man himself steps out, eyes on a report; it takes a fraction of a second before he sees Clint.
"Hey, hi," Clint says, which is lame but could have been worse.
Phil is pretty neutral, hard to read as always.
"You're back," he says.
"We're stating the obvious now?" Clint teases.
"Looks like it," Phil answers. It also looks like he might smile. Jeez, Clint tells himself for the millionth time, he's such a sucker for that man. But this conversation is going stale very fast.
"Look, can we talk?" Clint asks and he's absolutely appalled that it came out of his mouth. It was not in his plan to say that at all. He just meant to say ‘hi’, get a read on the level of awkwardness and possibly make a joke or two to see if he could get their usual rapport back on track. Nowhere in there were the words 'can we talk?' to be used.
Phil looks taken aback, too, but he gestures to his office. "I thought that's what we were doing, but sure."
"Don't be a smart-ass," Clint says as he enters.
"Right, that's your thing," Phil retorts without missing a beat.
This is easy, their banter is intact, and that's great, right?
When Phil closes the door, he turns to lean against it while Clint sits on the corner of the desk. This is where the whole clearing the air thing gets tricky: the need to actually talk about stuff.
"Are we good?" Clint asks.
"What?" Phil looks confused.
"The other week, in the corridor, it was kind of awkward and I haven't seen you since," Clint forces himself to say.
Phil looks away. Phil never looks away.
"What you do in your downtime is none of my business," he says.
"It could be," Clint says, but it was too low, Phil probably didn't hear. Clint pretty much didn't want him to hear.
But yeah, just his luck, it figures that Phil has bionic ears.
"What?" Phil asks, looking back at him and frowning.
While away with Natasha, Clint had time to think about how he's been reacting to whatever or whomever life has thrown his way lately. It's been fun, but it hasn't been what Clint wants, and in order to rectify that, then maybe he has to work for it (or maybe die trying). He pushes off from the desk and walks towards Phil, stopping a foot or so from him.
The frown hasn't left Phil's face, but he's uncrossed his arms at least.
"There's something I've meant to do for a while now," Clint says, and he's so incredibly nervous right now, his stomach is tied in knots.
"What would that be?" Phil asks. Wonders of wonders, he looks a bit nervous, too. For a fleeting instant his eyes go down to Clint's mouth and it's the jolt Clint needs to push the words out.
"I was wondering if you'd like to go see a movie with me? Maybe grab a bite to eat, too," Clint asks.
And there it goes. By the looks of it, he's managed to throw Phil BAMF Coulson for a loop. There's a long moment of silence where Phil searches Clint's face for... what, a confirmation that it's not a joke maybe? Whatever Phil is looking for, it takes everything Clint's got not to fidget under his gaze.
"Are you asking me out on a date?" Phil asks.
Clint nods holding his breath. "I am."
Almost every time he daydreamed of doing just this, Clint had always imagined that Phil would list all of the reasons why dating would be against the rules and how they have an important working relationship that should not be messed with. Clint's thoroughly unprepared when Phil slowly smiles,
"I'd like that, yes," Phil say and it's Clint's turn to be shocked. Can it be that easy? With a grin of his own, Clint rocks back on his heels and stuffs his hands in the front pocket of his sweatshirt (it's so tempting right now to grab Phil and kiss him, but he's got to do this right).
"Awesome! When are you free?" he asks.
Phil shrugs. "Barring an act of villainy or an alien invasion... tonight?"
It makes Clint smile even wider. "Cool! What if I pick you up at six, so we can make it to the early show?"
"Sounds good."
And they stand there, looking stupidly at each other and Clint really has to gather all of his control not to move too fast and pin Phil to that frigging door.
"Okay, then," Clint says with a nod and he shuffles a bit sideways before Phil does too so he can reach the door. "I'll leave you to... whatever brings you to the office on a Sunday, and I'll be back at six, front door."
"See you then," Phil says, still smiling, and Clint steps out and closes the door after a frankly embarrassing little wave. As soon as he's safely out of sight, Clint fist pumps enthusiastically, though he refrains the whoop of joy. Oh hell yes, he just scored a date with Phil Coulson. Easily, too, meaning that Phil actually likes him back, no way to misjudge that.
It's going to be awesome.
***
"Oh my god, this is going to be a disaster," Clint says as he stands dressed only in his boxers in front of his closet and stares inside in dismay.
Well, he stares at what is left in the closet because most of its contents is on his bed, and it doesn't tell him what the ever-loving fuck he's going to wear. How can he own this many fucking ratty t-shirts and jeans while having nothing decent to go out in? He's got a couple of suits for when they're obligated to go to charity balls and official events, but that would be too much. He's got no middle ground wardrobe, that's his problem.
"You’re worrying too much," Natasha says, filing her nails while sitting cross-legged on Clint's bed, surrounded by the crap that are his clothes.
"No, I am not. I didn't think this through, I should have gone shopping or something," Clint says. Phil and he agreed to go see a movie, which is pretty low-key, but Phil really likes wearing nice clothes, so Clint should have made an effort.
"It would be easier for me to help if you'd say who you're trying to impress," Nat says.
"I'm not-" he starts.
"Clint," Natasha cuts him off and Clint turns to look at her. "There are only three things that make a guy like you nervous about what he'll wear." She then counts on her fingers. "One is a job interview, which I forbid by the way because there is no way you are leaving me alone with those lunatics. Two would be meeting the in-laws, so not that. It leaves three, which is going on a date and wanting to impress said date."
Clint lets out a big sigh and shuffles dejectedly to the bed to flop onto his back. He's going to fuck everything up, he knows it: why would a guy like Phil be interested in a bum like him for more than a few fucks?
"Fine, it's a date," he admits.
"Who?" Natasha asks again, face looming over his now and she's visibly curious. Clint reaches for one of her curls - it's a curl day, he loves those - and tugs on it just to watch it bounce when he releases it.
"You have to promise not to say," he requests. "If it doesn't work out, I don't want things to be awkward."
Natasha tilts her head. "Now I'm definitely curious."
"It's Phil," Clint admits.
It's sadly pretty rare, but Natasha grins.
"Phil Coulson. You have a date with Phil Coulson."
She sounds so amused, it makes Clint bristle.
"Yes, and I don't see what's so funny about it," he almost snaps.
Widow laughs, but then she bends to kiss his forehead and rakes her fingers in his hair; he tries to bat her hand away.
"Not the hair," he protests because he spent way too much time and product making it stand up just right.
"I'm not laughing at you, I’m just surprised that you're finally going to do something about that raging hard on you've had for the guy for years!"
"Hey!" Clint protests.
"Frankly, I had given up hope that you idiots would get over your 'oh no, we can't, we work together so we can't be involved!' arrangement," she continues in a sing-song voice and Clint grasps a pillow to slap at her.
"Shut up! Why are you so annoying?" he says as she ducks the hits and easily steals the pillow back. "There was no arrangement, this is totally new, so shut your mouth."
Nat raises a disbelieving eyebrow. "You're kidding, right?"
"Kidding about what? I asked him out today, he said yes, and that's all you need to know."
"Clint, he's been pining almost as much as you and for almost as long. You’re both morons if today is the first time either of you made a move," Natasha says.
This is at the same time the best news - pining for him, really? - and the worse - all that time wasted, Jesus! - that Clint ever heard. In the end, he can only smile.
"Wait, really?"
She rolls her eyes. "Really. Now do you want my advice about the clothes or not?"
"Please," Clint says with feeling.
"What's on the program?"
"A movie. Maybe something to eat."
Natasha nods.
"Okay, I see. Play up your assets," she says, fishing stuff off the bed to drop on his chest. "Tight pants, tight t-shirt -"
"I sense a trend," he snarks as he fists the soft cotton of an old pair of jeans and a black t-shirt that he's pretty sure is too small for him.
"Assets, Clint," Natasha insists. "And wear your black leather jacket.”
***
Clint is extremely nervous when he rounds the corner to SHIELD's headquarters, but it's mixed with a hefty dose of febrile anticipation.
Phil is outside as agreed and he's changed into civvies - the suit and tie is pretty much Phil's uniform Clint realizes. He’s now dressed in slacks, with an opened shirt revealing a t-shirt underneath (is that Led Zeppelin?). Phil looks fantastic and the more relaxed wear takes several years off him. Phil smiles when he notices Clint and casts an appreciative glance at the car.
"Nice ride."
"Sweet, isn't it?" Clint agrees. It's a testament to Tony's character that a cherry red Mustang is the least flashy car the guy owns. Clint has taken advantage of the "keys are in the ignition" standing offer that they all had a few months back (except for Bruce. He can't drive ever, nuh huh, road rage is a definite problem). It must be nice to be richer than God, but then Clint has to admit that Tony is very generous with his friends.
Once Phil climbs in, Clint drives them to Loews near Lincoln Square. They agree on 21 Jump Street for the nostalgia factor because the other choice is Wrath of the Titans and frankly? Monsters and Gods hit a bit too close to home and they need a change in their time off. When Clint buys a big popcorn Phil is a spoilsport and vetoes adding the crap they call butter. Clint agrees way to easily because it means they get to share (it might be totally pathetic, but when their hands brush in the bag Clint gets actual shivers). The movie is fun enough, mindless in the perfect way to allow them to relax and laugh. As the movie progresses, Clint sprawls more and more, and when his knee touches Phil’s he leaves it there. And then shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth to hide his grin when Phil leans on it with his own.
After the movie they decide to walk around the West Side for a bit. The city is familiar, dynamic as always, and Phil is absolutely hilarious with little off the cuff comments on the possible secret lives of some of the people they come across. At one point they grab a slice of pizza and it's without a doubt one of the best dates Clint’s ever had. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much and he's only slightly nervous when it's time to drive Phil home. On the ride back, the space between them gets more and more charged with anticipation.
Miraculously, Clint finds a spot to park right in front of Phil's apartment in a well-kept brownstone in Midtown East, a lot closer to Stark Tower than Clint would have thought, and he gets out to walk Phil to his door. Phil is twirling his keys around a finger, just fidgety enough to show that Clint isn't the only one who’s nervous.
"Night cap?" Phil offers.
Clint knows that if he accepts, they'll be all over each other as soon as they cross the threshold. It's extremely tempting, almost unbearably so, but he's got to respect The Plan.
"No thanks," he says.
Phil looks taken aback and his face falls a little. Since Clint wants to be sure that he sends the right signals, he then adds "I had a great time,” puts a hand on Phil's neck and battles a stomach full of butterflies as he goes in for a kiss. It's a chaste brush of lips, sweet and unhurried and everything Clint never dared to dream about. Phil makes a soft sound in the back of his throat and pulling back instead of pushing foward is one of the hardest things Clint has ever done. "G'night," he murmurs against Phil's lips as he steps back, shoving his hands in his pockets. Clint longs to reach, grab, hold... wants so much, but this is important. He can be patient for a little while more.
"Good night, Clint," Phil says, finally opening his door and slipping in.
After a beat Clint forces himself to go home.
***
Clint just parked in the tower's garage when his phone chimes with a text
I had a great time too
Clint smiles, but before he starts to reply a second text appears.
how about dinner on Friday?
Oh, that's awesome. Clint hurries to answer.
it's a date.
The reply comes right after
excellent. my place @1900
Phil's playing dirty with that, offering to cook instead of going out. It's going to be harder to keep his hands to himself, but Clint is resolute.
I'll be there. you know. barring acts of villainy or alien invasions
***
Having a couple of days to prepare for their second date, Clint went shopping. He's got new Natasha-approved clothes (short-sleeved black shirt with a discreet silver motif and blue jeans) and he even bought a bottle of wine. Unfortunately, just before he manages to slip out the door, Stark appears out of nowhere and grabs the bag with the wine.
"Ohh, alcohol!" he exclaims, taking a couple of steps back while Clint is frozen in surprise.
"Not for you, you lush!" Clint says, trying to get his property back.
Tony is deceptively quick. After a dodge, he takes out the bottle and makes a face, and then looks at Clint, considering.
"Got a date?" he asks.
Clint didn't want to advertise it, but he's got to get on his way right about now if he doesn't want to be late.
"Yes, so give that back!" He's about to lunge when Tony lifts a hand.
"I'm sorry, I can't let you embarrass yourself like this. Wait a sec!"
Tony saunters to the living room bar, opens the wine cooler and takes out another bottle. When he returns, he slides it in the bag and gives it back.
"There you go. Believe me, I'm doing you a favor." Clint peeks at the bottle, but he knows nothing about wine, so he can't say what it's worth. Knowing Tony, though...
"This isn't a thousand dollar bottle, is it?" he asks.
"Nah," Tony says with a smirk.
"Thanks," Clint says sincerely. "I gotta go."
"Taking the Mustang again?" Tony asks, and Clint knows that what he really wants to know is who Clint is going out with, but he refrains from asking in a very un-Tony way. Sometimes the guy can be considerate.
"Is it okay?"
Tony smiles genuinely. "Not a problem. Have fun! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
"You know that leaves things wide open, don't you?" Clint says.
"Exactly," Tony replies with a wink and Clint laughs.
***
Clint's going to be a good boy and stick with The Plan of at least three platonic dates; he wants to show Phil he's interested in him and that even though he's definitely interested in future sexy times, it isn't all he wants. Making out sessions, on the other hand, could be negotiable. He can, and will, do this. Thus fortified in his resolution, Clint rings Phil's bell.
Phil always walks deceptively quietly, so there's no warning before he opens the door just a crack.
"Hey, hi," he says with a smile. "Just a sec."
The door closes, opens again and Phil has a caramel-colored tabby cat under an arm. "Sorry, he always tries to run off."
Clint had no idea that Phil has a cat. That he even likes cats. The cat meows, trying to twist out of his grasp. "I'll be right back, I was about to put him in the bedroom anyway..."
"What? No!" Clint exclaims and Phil stops, both him and the cat now looking at him with interest. Clint reaches out to let it sniff his hand then rubs under its jaw and the cat leans into it heavily, making Clint smile. "Hey you." He looks up at its master. "What's its name?"
"Erwin. Most days," Phil says, holding him up so he can be petted more easily.
"And the other days?"
"Bloody menace?" Phil says with a smile and Clint laughs. Phil lets Erwin jump to the ground and gestures to the living room. "Take a seat, dinner is almost ready. Do you want a beer first?"
Whatever it is Phil is cooking, it smells absolutely delicious and Clint nods, before he remembers to give Phil the bottle of wine.
"Yes, thank you. And here, I brought this, I don't know if it'll do..."
Phil pulls the bottle out of the gift bag and whistles low.
"It will do, alright. You didn't have to," he says, raising one eyebrow.
Dammit, the bottle must cost a fortune.
"I'll be totally honest here: I had bought something else, but Tony switched it out. I don't know much about these things," Clint admits with a wince.
"Did he now?" Phil says softly, checking the label again. "He knew you were coming here?"
Clint rubs his neck. "Not specifically. It's none of his business. Not that I'm trying to hide anything," he hurries to add.
"Agreed," Phil said. "Well if he wants to give his friends bottles of wine that go for a couple thousand bucks a pop, that's his choice. I'll gladly drink it."
With that, Phil takes the bottle to the kitchen as Clint goes to sit on the sofa. The furniture in the apartment is simple but of good quality, mostly made of dark hardwood and brown leather. There is a normal sized TV - living at Stark's makes one lose perspective - with what looks like a great entertainment center. There's a fairly big bookcase that seems to be stacked with way more CDs than books and Clint is dying to go over to check it out but he's afraid to look like he’s snooping right off the bat. A brush against his shin and a meow makes Clint look down at a curious Erwin.
"Hey there," Clint says, petting him. He sits back and pats his thigh. "Come on," he urges. Erwin doesn't hesitate and jumps up, then wastes no time bumping and rubbing his head against Clint's chest.
Clint chuckles. "That's a nice kitty," he croons, scratching under his jaw. Erwin starts purring like a lawnmower, turning to putty right there on his lap.
"I see you're making friends," Phil says, back with a beer that he extends to Clint. Phil has his in a glass, but he knows from ops they did together that Clint usually drinks from the bottle. It's a Samuel Adams, too.
"Thanks," Clint says, before taking a swig, hoping alcohol will help with the nerves. "And yeah, me and Erwin here are going to be best buds, aren’t we?" he asks the cat who purrs even louder, twisting to show his belly. "Yes, we will!"
"I didn't know you liked cats," Phil says and he's... smiling fondly which pleases Clint.
"Sure I do. I didn't know you did either."
"I found him when he was just a lanky kitten. He looked half drowned as he hid the best he could from a thunderstorm by the trashcan out back. I took pity on him and brought him in, and he decided to stay."
"Didn't you just say that he always wants to run off?" Clint asks.
"Yes, but it's just to get into trouble and then come back with burrs in his fur or with a live rat to let loose in the house," Phil says, but he looks more amused than annoyed.
"Oh, so you're a troublemaker, huh?" Clint asks the cat who meows back, making them laugh.
"I seem to have a soft spot for them, yeah," Phil says.
Clint grins and it's easy, hanging out with Phil like this. There are more stories about how Erwin is a menace, and then the buzzer is going off in the kitchen announcing that it's time to eat. Phil opens Tony's bottle (the wine is great, Clint will give him that, but two grand? That it's worth that much is beyond him). The food itself is absolutely great, from the smoked salmon appetizer to roast beef with all the trimmings and a cherry pie to top it off. A delicious, out of this world, cherry pie served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
"Did you bake this?" Clint asks, suitably awed after scraping his plate clean.
"Yes," Phil says with a shrug. "Baking is great stress relief. I’ve had a lot of practice."
Clint chuckles. "I bet you have. Everything was just fantastic, you're a great cook."
"Thank you," Phil says, pleased. He looks great too, dressed in a white button down, no tie and with the top two buttons undone. Clint's eyes kept straying to the patch of skin revealed in the v of the shirt all through the meal: he'd like nothing more than to kiss the soft skin there, and it's awfully distracting.
Phil insists on leaving the dishes to soak in the sink and they go back to the living room where Clint is faced with the prospect of sitting right next to Phil again. He's not stupid, he knows that if they sit there and start making out, he won't be able to resist going further. Instead, he goes to the shelves to check out Phil's music. At first glance all genres are represented, but he's surprised at the quantity of original heavy metal bands.
"That's quite the collection," Clint says, braced on the shelves with a hand and trailing a finger on the spines of the CDs.
When Phil answers he's a lot closer than Clint thought he was, right at his back. "Yeah," he says and Clint feels his breath touch his ear, making him shiver. Phil then puts a hand on Clint's hip, who jumps away because touching is tricky, and it could be his downfall.
Phil frowns. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" Clint hurries to say and he hopes that his smile doesn't convey his almost panic. "You just surprised me, that's all."
By the look of it, Phil doesn't buy the excuse. With a sigh, Clint decides to come clean.
"I'm trying to be good here. You're making it hard."
"Good?" Phil asks.
"I just want to do this right, you know?"
A tiny smile comes back to Phil's face and he advances on Clint again; Clint stands his ground because he's not a coward. Phil thankfully stops a couple of feet away.
"Your idea to do ‘us’ right is taking it slow?" he asks.
"Well, yeah." He's never done it slow, and his relationships never worked out. Maybe there's a correlation.
"And you don't think that four years of dancing around this is slow enough?" Phil says, and... he has a point.
"When you put it like that..." Clint says, his resolve wavering.
"Look, Clint..." Phil says intently. "I know what I want. And that's you."
What can you say to that?
"You've got to understand that it's not that I don't want, I want so much, but-"
Phil shuts him up with a kiss. From one moment to the next it's like a dam breaking and Clint surges forward, grabbing fistfuls of Phil's shirt. Sliding his tongue alongside Phil's is breathtaking, and a hint of the taste that expensive bottle of wine in Phil’s mouth make his head swim.
"I don't want to wait anymore," Phil whispers when they break the kiss to catch their breath. Clint nods and they shuffle towards the bedroom, working on buttons and belts in a somewhat futile effort to get out of their clothes along the way. (They also almost trip on the cat.)
Clint ends up sprawled on Phil's bed, as Phil straddles his thighs, pulling off his shirt. Clint has covertly ogled him on the few occasions where they'd had to shower at the same time - decontamination is a bitch but it has occasional perks - but now he can do it openly and he can touch, which is the best thing ever. Phil's in great shape, more so than anyone would guess with those suits of his, and Clint can't stop his eyes and his hands roaming over him, is making plans to do it with his tongue in a very near future.
"Come on," Phil urges, pulling on Clint's shirt, betraying in this moment more impatience than Clint has ever seen on the man. It's fantastic. "Why are you grinning like a loon instead of getting naked?"
Clint laughs. "You're cute when you're flustered."
Phil's eyebrow rise before he shifts and grinds down on Clint's lap in such an indecent way that Clint gasps, sharp pleasure zinging up his spine at the pressure on his aching dick.
"Fuck!" he pants, after a rather shameless moan.
"That's exactly what I'm trying to do," Phil argues and Clint can only help the best he can as they get rid of the rest of their clothes. All that is left after that is skin on skin, silky and hot, even more burning kisses and a need that runs so strong in his veins that Clint wonders if he might not stroke out, it can't be good for his health. Clint hooks his heels behind Phil's thighs and strains up, keening in the back of his throat.
"I want..." Clint stops, because he just wants, he doesn't care what, he'd be happy just to rub off like this until he comes.
"Tell me," Phil asks, sucking a mark on his neck and it makes Clint writhe. God yes, he wants to be marked, to be claimed.
"I want to be yours," Clint blurts out, vaguely horrified at himself; that sounded way too needy.
Thankfully Phil seems to like the concept because he all but growls and it's one of the sexiest sounds Clint has ever heard.
"Yes. Mine," he declares and it almost makes Clint white out.
"Yeah, yeah," Clint pants in encouragement when Phil fishes lube out of the bedside table. Oh, Christ, he's not gonna be able to hold on. "Come on, please."
He's always had a thing about Phil's hands, which is going to get totally out of control now at how good it feels to be prepped, stretched and nearly taken completely apart. He's moaning almost nonstop but too gone to care, and goading Phil into going faster only makes the contrary asshole slow down. He might even be laughing at Clint.
"I'm good, I swear, just-" Clint gasps when Phil brushes his sweet spot again.
"God, you should see yourself," Phil says, sounding awed and Clint can't take this anymore.
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," he starts to chant.
Phil finally relents. "Okay, hold on."
There's a bit of fumbling with a condom and at fucking last Phil lines up and starts to push in.
"Oh, God," Clint breathes out and that's it, he cannot hold on anymore and he comes before Phil even starts thrusting. It's a all-encompassing orgasm, turning him inside out for an exquisitely perfect moment where everything is pure sensation. When the pleasure recedes a bit and he can focus again, Clint's left punch drunk and buzzing. He grins up at Phil, whose eyes are a little wild. Phil's biting his lip in a visible effort to keep some sort of control, rolling his hips with slow undulations.
"Thank you, sir," Clint jokes and okay, judging by the hard thrust he gets in return, there's something to explore there another time. Right now, though, Clint wants to see what Phil looks like when he comes undone, wants to make him feel just as good as Clint does right now. "Come on now, fuck me. Don't hold back."
"Christ," Phil says, starting to move in earnest, strong, beautiful strokes that make Clint moan some more, he's so sensitive. "You'll be the death of me, I swear," Phil adds as he speeds up.
Clint hangs on to Phil's upper arms as he gets fucked good and proper, loving every single second of it, especially when Phil stutters and then shakes apart with a strangled gasp. Clint holds on to him, crooning at how good and perfect he is and Phil finally pulls out and crashes down right beside him, as if his arms have turned to jelly. Clint might feel a little smug.
He cleans them up as much as he can bother right now, which is not a lot but is good enough, then lies down next to Phil, face-to-face and with most probably with the stupidest smile he's ever sported on his face.
"We should do that again," he says.
Phil smiles, raising a hand to caress Clint's cheek, then combing fingers through his hair,
"I need a nap, first," he answers, before pulling Clint into a soft kiss, unhurried this time.
"If you insist," Clint murmurs, and gladly moves into Phil's embrace when he's pulled to rest against his chest.
The steady beat of Phil's heart is hypnotic and soothing under his ear. He can let his guard down and relax with Phil, who's solid and dependable as always, and who, against all odds, wants to keep him close. This thing they are starting isn't just a mutual crush coupled with a history of attraction that’s finally found an outlet. This is the real deal, what Clint's been looking for all of his life: someone who'll make him feel like he belongs, who will give instead of take and who will never betray him, at least not intentionally. He can see himself growing old with Phil, when up until now one of his only certainties in his life has been that he'll die young.
And that is perfectly fine with him. Bring on the grey hair, he's going to enjoy every second of it.
(His collecting days are over, he's got the ultimate trump card.)
The End
Final author's notes: Thank you so much for the support on this, it was great to share it with you all!
as a FYI, the titles come from:
Fic itself: Pokemon theme; Chapter 1 (Bruce): "Touch me" - Samantha Fox; Chapter 2 (Thor): "Space Oddity" - David Bowie; Chapter 3 (Steve): "If it isn't her" - Ani DiFranco; Chapter 4 (Tony): "Harder Better Faster Stronger" - Daft Punk; Chapter 5 (Natasha): "I am your man" - Leonard Cohen; Chapter 6: "Together" - The Raconteurs;
Title: Gotta Catch 'em All (part 6/6)
Fandom: The Avengers
Characters/Pairings: Clint Barton centric. As for the pairings: Clint/Phil, Steve/Tony, Clint/Natasha, Clint/Tony, Clint/Bruce, Clint/Thor, Clint/Steve (yes, I am serious! lol!)
Rating: NC-17 baby
Word count: this chapter: 6 300 words, 20K overall
Summary: A classic 5 times + 1 story. Or maybe not. (aka the working title was "Clint gets some action")
A/N: The fic is now complete, yay! Again I want to say that my beta, zelda_zee, did such a fabulous job! She even skipped her shows so I could post it all before seeing the movie, that's how awesome she is ♥ It's so very appreciated! More notes on chapter 1
Ch.1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Can also be read on AO3
Chapter six: We should write 'em again on wet cement
Clint's thoughts are clearer when they get back to town very early on a Sunday. He's an adaptable guy; it's not the first time he didn't get what he wanted, and that's just life. After a real shower - yeah, he's definitely gone soft, he had missed the fancy jets so much - Clint goes to get a snack. Steve's already in the kitchen with the paper and a coffee and Clint sees him too late to change course without him noticing.
"Oh, hey, you're back," Steve says.
"Yep." Clint opens the fridge, but there isn't much of anything in there but beer and condiments. There are days when this place, as fancy as it is, is just like an unimaginably upscale frat house full of very dangerous people. He makes a face and takes out the Cheese Whiz.
Unfortunately, Steve is still there when Clint gets the bread. And he's fidgeting.
"I would like to apologize," Steve says.
It's surprising enough as an opening that Clint turns to him, crossing his arms over his chest.
"For my behavior, these last few weeks. Especially, you know, outside Tony's workshop," Steve says with a wince, rubbing at his neck. He means it, too, which makes it nearly impossible to stay pissed.
"Hey, it's okay."
"No, it's not. I was jealous and confused and handled everything very badly," Steve says.
Clint sighs. "You were kind of an ass, but it happens to everyone. Don't worry about it."
"Thank you," Steve says with feeling.
They're silent for a little bit, and if it's a bit awkward, it's thankfully not unfriendly.
"How was your trip?" Steve asks at last.
"Very nice. We did almost get mauled by a bear, though."
"Really?"
"I said ‘almost’," Clint says with a smirk. "Nat just looked at it sternly and it turned around and fled."
Steve laughs at that. "Smart bear."
"Indeed," Clint agrees with a wink, and just like that the atmosphere changes. Steve senses it too and grins at him, wide and happy.
Right about then a zombie-like Tony dressed in pajamas appears in the kitchen, drapes himself over Steve's back like a boneless limpet and steals Steve's coffee cup, who lets him do as he pleases with a fond smile. Only after he's downed half of the cup does Tony notice Clint.
"Oh, hey!"
"Hi Tony," Clint says around a bite of his Cheese Whiz laden toast.
"Good thing you're back," Tony says.
Clint frowns. "What? You had trouble? We didn't get called in."
He'd not heard about anything serious going on while driving back either.
"Nothing much," cuts Steve. "It wasn't worth bringing you guys back."
"It's trouble that starts with Coul and ends with Son, yeah," Tony says. "He's back, and creepier than ever, the psycho."
"He's not a psycho," Clint protests.
So Phil's back, Clint had wondered about that.
"He's been asking for you," Steve mentions in a way that he probably thinks is casual, but Clint and Tony can read his too-casual-to-be-nothing tone by now. Tony peels himself off Steve's back to look at his face.
"What was that? What do you know that I don't know? How is it relevant that Coulson wondered where Barton was? It's his job to count us like a mother hen counts her chicks," Tony says.
"He asked three times when Clint was coming back."
"Three?" Clint and Tony say at the same time. Okay, so that's out of character.
"In two days. Even after I said I didn't know the first time," Steve adds, his eyebrow climbing up towards his hairline in a pointed look and Tony whistles low.
"Ohhh, interesting development. How long has this been going on, huh?" he asks.
"There's nothing going on," Clint says, before stuffing the rest of his toast in his mouth all at once. There, too busy chewing to talk. But what the hell, three times? Phil is a consummate professional, he doesn't ask questions for nothing.
"Three times, Barton," Tony says, wiggling his eyebrows in a ridiculous fashion.
"Leave him alone," Steve says.
"What, you want me to shut up about this?" Tony says with a mocked outraged face
"Yes," Clint says after swallowing his toast. Steve nods.
"I can't believe this, you're a bigger gossip than I am-" Tony protests, but then Steve grabs him by the back of the neck and shoves his tongue in Tony's mouth. He’s got to give it to the guy, it's an effective technique. And really pretty hot. For all of their not so subtle touching and doe-eyed looks, Steve and Tony had been pretty good with keeping the PDAs on the down low up until now, at least in Clint's presence.
What had mostly started as a joke seems to derail on Steve, though, as Tony deftly straddles his lap right there on the kitchen chair and the kissing gets heavier, both guys totally lost in each other. Clint gets his phone out and records a minute for blackmail purposes - and possible wank material - then slinks out of the kitchen, letting them be. Hands are starting to sneak under clothes and Clint's not sure he's been invited to that party.
Anyway, he's decided he's got to go find Phil. If anything, it's best to clear the air sooner rather than later.
***
It's late on a Sunday morning, but Clint doesn't doubt he'll find Phil at SHIELD. Clint checks the gym, the range and the common areas first - a semi public meeting would be maybe a tad easier to handle - but doesn't see him there. In the corridor leading to Phil's office, Clint starts to second guess the decision to come here at all. He could wait to see Phil again in a team meeting and gauge the weather then. Or wait until Phil comes to him, as it seems he's been trying to do.
He's about to turn tail when Phil's door opens and the man himself steps out, eyes on a report; it takes a fraction of a second before he sees Clint.
"Hey, hi," Clint says, which is lame but could have been worse.
Phil is pretty neutral, hard to read as always.
"You're back," he says.
"We're stating the obvious now?" Clint teases.
"Looks like it," Phil answers. It also looks like he might smile. Jeez, Clint tells himself for the millionth time, he's such a sucker for that man. But this conversation is going stale very fast.
"Look, can we talk?" Clint asks and he's absolutely appalled that it came out of his mouth. It was not in his plan to say that at all. He just meant to say ‘hi’, get a read on the level of awkwardness and possibly make a joke or two to see if he could get their usual rapport back on track. Nowhere in there were the words 'can we talk?' to be used.
Phil looks taken aback, too, but he gestures to his office. "I thought that's what we were doing, but sure."
"Don't be a smart-ass," Clint says as he enters.
"Right, that's your thing," Phil retorts without missing a beat.
This is easy, their banter is intact, and that's great, right?
When Phil closes the door, he turns to lean against it while Clint sits on the corner of the desk. This is where the whole clearing the air thing gets tricky: the need to actually talk about stuff.
"Are we good?" Clint asks.
"What?" Phil looks confused.
"The other week, in the corridor, it was kind of awkward and I haven't seen you since," Clint forces himself to say.
Phil looks away. Phil never looks away.
"What you do in your downtime is none of my business," he says.
"It could be," Clint says, but it was too low, Phil probably didn't hear. Clint pretty much didn't want him to hear.
But yeah, just his luck, it figures that Phil has bionic ears.
"What?" Phil asks, looking back at him and frowning.
While away with Natasha, Clint had time to think about how he's been reacting to whatever or whomever life has thrown his way lately. It's been fun, but it hasn't been what Clint wants, and in order to rectify that, then maybe he has to work for it (or maybe die trying). He pushes off from the desk and walks towards Phil, stopping a foot or so from him.
The frown hasn't left Phil's face, but he's uncrossed his arms at least.
"There's something I've meant to do for a while now," Clint says, and he's so incredibly nervous right now, his stomach is tied in knots.
"What would that be?" Phil asks. Wonders of wonders, he looks a bit nervous, too. For a fleeting instant his eyes go down to Clint's mouth and it's the jolt Clint needs to push the words out.
"I was wondering if you'd like to go see a movie with me? Maybe grab a bite to eat, too," Clint asks.
And there it goes. By the looks of it, he's managed to throw Phil BAMF Coulson for a loop. There's a long moment of silence where Phil searches Clint's face for... what, a confirmation that it's not a joke maybe? Whatever Phil is looking for, it takes everything Clint's got not to fidget under his gaze.
"Are you asking me out on a date?" Phil asks.
Clint nods holding his breath. "I am."
Almost every time he daydreamed of doing just this, Clint had always imagined that Phil would list all of the reasons why dating would be against the rules and how they have an important working relationship that should not be messed with. Clint's thoroughly unprepared when Phil slowly smiles,
"I'd like that, yes," Phil say and it's Clint's turn to be shocked. Can it be that easy? With a grin of his own, Clint rocks back on his heels and stuffs his hands in the front pocket of his sweatshirt (it's so tempting right now to grab Phil and kiss him, but he's got to do this right).
"Awesome! When are you free?" he asks.
Phil shrugs. "Barring an act of villainy or an alien invasion... tonight?"
It makes Clint smile even wider. "Cool! What if I pick you up at six, so we can make it to the early show?"
"Sounds good."
And they stand there, looking stupidly at each other and Clint really has to gather all of his control not to move too fast and pin Phil to that frigging door.
"Okay, then," Clint says with a nod and he shuffles a bit sideways before Phil does too so he can reach the door. "I'll leave you to... whatever brings you to the office on a Sunday, and I'll be back at six, front door."
"See you then," Phil says, still smiling, and Clint steps out and closes the door after a frankly embarrassing little wave. As soon as he's safely out of sight, Clint fist pumps enthusiastically, though he refrains the whoop of joy. Oh hell yes, he just scored a date with Phil Coulson. Easily, too, meaning that Phil actually likes him back, no way to misjudge that.
It's going to be awesome.
***
"Oh my god, this is going to be a disaster," Clint says as he stands dressed only in his boxers in front of his closet and stares inside in dismay.
Well, he stares at what is left in the closet because most of its contents is on his bed, and it doesn't tell him what the ever-loving fuck he's going to wear. How can he own this many fucking ratty t-shirts and jeans while having nothing decent to go out in? He's got a couple of suits for when they're obligated to go to charity balls and official events, but that would be too much. He's got no middle ground wardrobe, that's his problem.
"You’re worrying too much," Natasha says, filing her nails while sitting cross-legged on Clint's bed, surrounded by the crap that are his clothes.
"No, I am not. I didn't think this through, I should have gone shopping or something," Clint says. Phil and he agreed to go see a movie, which is pretty low-key, but Phil really likes wearing nice clothes, so Clint should have made an effort.
"It would be easier for me to help if you'd say who you're trying to impress," Nat says.
"I'm not-" he starts.
"Clint," Natasha cuts him off and Clint turns to look at her. "There are only three things that make a guy like you nervous about what he'll wear." She then counts on her fingers. "One is a job interview, which I forbid by the way because there is no way you are leaving me alone with those lunatics. Two would be meeting the in-laws, so not that. It leaves three, which is going on a date and wanting to impress said date."
Clint lets out a big sigh and shuffles dejectedly to the bed to flop onto his back. He's going to fuck everything up, he knows it: why would a guy like Phil be interested in a bum like him for more than a few fucks?
"Fine, it's a date," he admits.
"Who?" Natasha asks again, face looming over his now and she's visibly curious. Clint reaches for one of her curls - it's a curl day, he loves those - and tugs on it just to watch it bounce when he releases it.
"You have to promise not to say," he requests. "If it doesn't work out, I don't want things to be awkward."
Natasha tilts her head. "Now I'm definitely curious."
"It's Phil," Clint admits.
It's sadly pretty rare, but Natasha grins.
"Phil Coulson. You have a date with Phil Coulson."
She sounds so amused, it makes Clint bristle.
"Yes, and I don't see what's so funny about it," he almost snaps.
Widow laughs, but then she bends to kiss his forehead and rakes her fingers in his hair; he tries to bat her hand away.
"Not the hair," he protests because he spent way too much time and product making it stand up just right.
"I'm not laughing at you, I’m just surprised that you're finally going to do something about that raging hard on you've had for the guy for years!"
"Hey!" Clint protests.
"Frankly, I had given up hope that you idiots would get over your 'oh no, we can't, we work together so we can't be involved!' arrangement," she continues in a sing-song voice and Clint grasps a pillow to slap at her.
"Shut up! Why are you so annoying?" he says as she ducks the hits and easily steals the pillow back. "There was no arrangement, this is totally new, so shut your mouth."
Nat raises a disbelieving eyebrow. "You're kidding, right?"
"Kidding about what? I asked him out today, he said yes, and that's all you need to know."
"Clint, he's been pining almost as much as you and for almost as long. You’re both morons if today is the first time either of you made a move," Natasha says.
This is at the same time the best news - pining for him, really? - and the worse - all that time wasted, Jesus! - that Clint ever heard. In the end, he can only smile.
"Wait, really?"
She rolls her eyes. "Really. Now do you want my advice about the clothes or not?"
"Please," Clint says with feeling.
"What's on the program?"
"A movie. Maybe something to eat."
Natasha nods.
"Okay, I see. Play up your assets," she says, fishing stuff off the bed to drop on his chest. "Tight pants, tight t-shirt -"
"I sense a trend," he snarks as he fists the soft cotton of an old pair of jeans and a black t-shirt that he's pretty sure is too small for him.
"Assets, Clint," Natasha insists. "And wear your black leather jacket.”
***
Clint is extremely nervous when he rounds the corner to SHIELD's headquarters, but it's mixed with a hefty dose of febrile anticipation.
Phil is outside as agreed and he's changed into civvies - the suit and tie is pretty much Phil's uniform Clint realizes. He’s now dressed in slacks, with an opened shirt revealing a t-shirt underneath (is that Led Zeppelin?). Phil looks fantastic and the more relaxed wear takes several years off him. Phil smiles when he notices Clint and casts an appreciative glance at the car.
"Nice ride."
"Sweet, isn't it?" Clint agrees. It's a testament to Tony's character that a cherry red Mustang is the least flashy car the guy owns. Clint has taken advantage of the "keys are in the ignition" standing offer that they all had a few months back (except for Bruce. He can't drive ever, nuh huh, road rage is a definite problem). It must be nice to be richer than God, but then Clint has to admit that Tony is very generous with his friends.
Once Phil climbs in, Clint drives them to Loews near Lincoln Square. They agree on 21 Jump Street for the nostalgia factor because the other choice is Wrath of the Titans and frankly? Monsters and Gods hit a bit too close to home and they need a change in their time off. When Clint buys a big popcorn Phil is a spoilsport and vetoes adding the crap they call butter. Clint agrees way to easily because it means they get to share (it might be totally pathetic, but when their hands brush in the bag Clint gets actual shivers). The movie is fun enough, mindless in the perfect way to allow them to relax and laugh. As the movie progresses, Clint sprawls more and more, and when his knee touches Phil’s he leaves it there. And then shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth to hide his grin when Phil leans on it with his own.
After the movie they decide to walk around the West Side for a bit. The city is familiar, dynamic as always, and Phil is absolutely hilarious with little off the cuff comments on the possible secret lives of some of the people they come across. At one point they grab a slice of pizza and it's without a doubt one of the best dates Clint’s ever had. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much and he's only slightly nervous when it's time to drive Phil home. On the ride back, the space between them gets more and more charged with anticipation.
Miraculously, Clint finds a spot to park right in front of Phil's apartment in a well-kept brownstone in Midtown East, a lot closer to Stark Tower than Clint would have thought, and he gets out to walk Phil to his door. Phil is twirling his keys around a finger, just fidgety enough to show that Clint isn't the only one who’s nervous.
"Night cap?" Phil offers.
Clint knows that if he accepts, they'll be all over each other as soon as they cross the threshold. It's extremely tempting, almost unbearably so, but he's got to respect The Plan.
"No thanks," he says.
Phil looks taken aback and his face falls a little. Since Clint wants to be sure that he sends the right signals, he then adds "I had a great time,” puts a hand on Phil's neck and battles a stomach full of butterflies as he goes in for a kiss. It's a chaste brush of lips, sweet and unhurried and everything Clint never dared to dream about. Phil makes a soft sound in the back of his throat and pulling back instead of pushing foward is one of the hardest things Clint has ever done. "G'night," he murmurs against Phil's lips as he steps back, shoving his hands in his pockets. Clint longs to reach, grab, hold... wants so much, but this is important. He can be patient for a little while more.
"Good night, Clint," Phil says, finally opening his door and slipping in.
After a beat Clint forces himself to go home.
***
Clint just parked in the tower's garage when his phone chimes with a text
I had a great time too
Clint smiles, but before he starts to reply a second text appears.
how about dinner on Friday?
Oh, that's awesome. Clint hurries to answer.
it's a date.
The reply comes right after
excellent. my place @1900
Phil's playing dirty with that, offering to cook instead of going out. It's going to be harder to keep his hands to himself, but Clint is resolute.
I'll be there. you know. barring acts of villainy or alien invasions
***
Having a couple of days to prepare for their second date, Clint went shopping. He's got new Natasha-approved clothes (short-sleeved black shirt with a discreet silver motif and blue jeans) and he even bought a bottle of wine. Unfortunately, just before he manages to slip out the door, Stark appears out of nowhere and grabs the bag with the wine.
"Ohh, alcohol!" he exclaims, taking a couple of steps back while Clint is frozen in surprise.
"Not for you, you lush!" Clint says, trying to get his property back.
Tony is deceptively quick. After a dodge, he takes out the bottle and makes a face, and then looks at Clint, considering.
"Got a date?" he asks.
Clint didn't want to advertise it, but he's got to get on his way right about now if he doesn't want to be late.
"Yes, so give that back!" He's about to lunge when Tony lifts a hand.
"I'm sorry, I can't let you embarrass yourself like this. Wait a sec!"
Tony saunters to the living room bar, opens the wine cooler and takes out another bottle. When he returns, he slides it in the bag and gives it back.
"There you go. Believe me, I'm doing you a favor." Clint peeks at the bottle, but he knows nothing about wine, so he can't say what it's worth. Knowing Tony, though...
"This isn't a thousand dollar bottle, is it?" he asks.
"Nah," Tony says with a smirk.
"Thanks," Clint says sincerely. "I gotta go."
"Taking the Mustang again?" Tony asks, and Clint knows that what he really wants to know is who Clint is going out with, but he refrains from asking in a very un-Tony way. Sometimes the guy can be considerate.
"Is it okay?"
Tony smiles genuinely. "Not a problem. Have fun! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
"You know that leaves things wide open, don't you?" Clint says.
"Exactly," Tony replies with a wink and Clint laughs.
***
Clint's going to be a good boy and stick with The Plan of at least three platonic dates; he wants to show Phil he's interested in him and that even though he's definitely interested in future sexy times, it isn't all he wants. Making out sessions, on the other hand, could be negotiable. He can, and will, do this. Thus fortified in his resolution, Clint rings Phil's bell.
Phil always walks deceptively quietly, so there's no warning before he opens the door just a crack.
"Hey, hi," he says with a smile. "Just a sec."
The door closes, opens again and Phil has a caramel-colored tabby cat under an arm. "Sorry, he always tries to run off."
Clint had no idea that Phil has a cat. That he even likes cats. The cat meows, trying to twist out of his grasp. "I'll be right back, I was about to put him in the bedroom anyway..."
"What? No!" Clint exclaims and Phil stops, both him and the cat now looking at him with interest. Clint reaches out to let it sniff his hand then rubs under its jaw and the cat leans into it heavily, making Clint smile. "Hey you." He looks up at its master. "What's its name?"
"Erwin. Most days," Phil says, holding him up so he can be petted more easily.
"And the other days?"
"Bloody menace?" Phil says with a smile and Clint laughs. Phil lets Erwin jump to the ground and gestures to the living room. "Take a seat, dinner is almost ready. Do you want a beer first?"
Whatever it is Phil is cooking, it smells absolutely delicious and Clint nods, before he remembers to give Phil the bottle of wine.
"Yes, thank you. And here, I brought this, I don't know if it'll do..."
Phil pulls the bottle out of the gift bag and whistles low.
"It will do, alright. You didn't have to," he says, raising one eyebrow.
Dammit, the bottle must cost a fortune.
"I'll be totally honest here: I had bought something else, but Tony switched it out. I don't know much about these things," Clint admits with a wince.
"Did he now?" Phil says softly, checking the label again. "He knew you were coming here?"
Clint rubs his neck. "Not specifically. It's none of his business. Not that I'm trying to hide anything," he hurries to add.
"Agreed," Phil said. "Well if he wants to give his friends bottles of wine that go for a couple thousand bucks a pop, that's his choice. I'll gladly drink it."
With that, Phil takes the bottle to the kitchen as Clint goes to sit on the sofa. The furniture in the apartment is simple but of good quality, mostly made of dark hardwood and brown leather. There is a normal sized TV - living at Stark's makes one lose perspective - with what looks like a great entertainment center. There's a fairly big bookcase that seems to be stacked with way more CDs than books and Clint is dying to go over to check it out but he's afraid to look like he’s snooping right off the bat. A brush against his shin and a meow makes Clint look down at a curious Erwin.
"Hey there," Clint says, petting him. He sits back and pats his thigh. "Come on," he urges. Erwin doesn't hesitate and jumps up, then wastes no time bumping and rubbing his head against Clint's chest.
Clint chuckles. "That's a nice kitty," he croons, scratching under his jaw. Erwin starts purring like a lawnmower, turning to putty right there on his lap.
"I see you're making friends," Phil says, back with a beer that he extends to Clint. Phil has his in a glass, but he knows from ops they did together that Clint usually drinks from the bottle. It's a Samuel Adams, too.
"Thanks," Clint says, before taking a swig, hoping alcohol will help with the nerves. "And yeah, me and Erwin here are going to be best buds, aren’t we?" he asks the cat who purrs even louder, twisting to show his belly. "Yes, we will!"
"I didn't know you liked cats," Phil says and he's... smiling fondly which pleases Clint.
"Sure I do. I didn't know you did either."
"I found him when he was just a lanky kitten. He looked half drowned as he hid the best he could from a thunderstorm by the trashcan out back. I took pity on him and brought him in, and he decided to stay."
"Didn't you just say that he always wants to run off?" Clint asks.
"Yes, but it's just to get into trouble and then come back with burrs in his fur or with a live rat to let loose in the house," Phil says, but he looks more amused than annoyed.
"Oh, so you're a troublemaker, huh?" Clint asks the cat who meows back, making them laugh.
"I seem to have a soft spot for them, yeah," Phil says.
Clint grins and it's easy, hanging out with Phil like this. There are more stories about how Erwin is a menace, and then the buzzer is going off in the kitchen announcing that it's time to eat. Phil opens Tony's bottle (the wine is great, Clint will give him that, but two grand? That it's worth that much is beyond him). The food itself is absolutely great, from the smoked salmon appetizer to roast beef with all the trimmings and a cherry pie to top it off. A delicious, out of this world, cherry pie served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
"Did you bake this?" Clint asks, suitably awed after scraping his plate clean.
"Yes," Phil says with a shrug. "Baking is great stress relief. I’ve had a lot of practice."
Clint chuckles. "I bet you have. Everything was just fantastic, you're a great cook."
"Thank you," Phil says, pleased. He looks great too, dressed in a white button down, no tie and with the top two buttons undone. Clint's eyes kept straying to the patch of skin revealed in the v of the shirt all through the meal: he'd like nothing more than to kiss the soft skin there, and it's awfully distracting.
Phil insists on leaving the dishes to soak in the sink and they go back to the living room where Clint is faced with the prospect of sitting right next to Phil again. He's not stupid, he knows that if they sit there and start making out, he won't be able to resist going further. Instead, he goes to the shelves to check out Phil's music. At first glance all genres are represented, but he's surprised at the quantity of original heavy metal bands.
"That's quite the collection," Clint says, braced on the shelves with a hand and trailing a finger on the spines of the CDs.
When Phil answers he's a lot closer than Clint thought he was, right at his back. "Yeah," he says and Clint feels his breath touch his ear, making him shiver. Phil then puts a hand on Clint's hip, who jumps away because touching is tricky, and it could be his downfall.
Phil frowns. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" Clint hurries to say and he hopes that his smile doesn't convey his almost panic. "You just surprised me, that's all."
By the look of it, Phil doesn't buy the excuse. With a sigh, Clint decides to come clean.
"I'm trying to be good here. You're making it hard."
"Good?" Phil asks.
"I just want to do this right, you know?"
A tiny smile comes back to Phil's face and he advances on Clint again; Clint stands his ground because he's not a coward. Phil thankfully stops a couple of feet away.
"Your idea to do ‘us’ right is taking it slow?" he asks.
"Well, yeah." He's never done it slow, and his relationships never worked out. Maybe there's a correlation.
"And you don't think that four years of dancing around this is slow enough?" Phil says, and... he has a point.
"When you put it like that..." Clint says, his resolve wavering.
"Look, Clint..." Phil says intently. "I know what I want. And that's you."
What can you say to that?
"You've got to understand that it's not that I don't want, I want so much, but-"
Phil shuts him up with a kiss. From one moment to the next it's like a dam breaking and Clint surges forward, grabbing fistfuls of Phil's shirt. Sliding his tongue alongside Phil's is breathtaking, and a hint of the taste that expensive bottle of wine in Phil’s mouth make his head swim.
"I don't want to wait anymore," Phil whispers when they break the kiss to catch their breath. Clint nods and they shuffle towards the bedroom, working on buttons and belts in a somewhat futile effort to get out of their clothes along the way. (They also almost trip on the cat.)
Clint ends up sprawled on Phil's bed, as Phil straddles his thighs, pulling off his shirt. Clint has covertly ogled him on the few occasions where they'd had to shower at the same time - decontamination is a bitch but it has occasional perks - but now he can do it openly and he can touch, which is the best thing ever. Phil's in great shape, more so than anyone would guess with those suits of his, and Clint can't stop his eyes and his hands roaming over him, is making plans to do it with his tongue in a very near future.
"Come on," Phil urges, pulling on Clint's shirt, betraying in this moment more impatience than Clint has ever seen on the man. It's fantastic. "Why are you grinning like a loon instead of getting naked?"
Clint laughs. "You're cute when you're flustered."
Phil's eyebrow rise before he shifts and grinds down on Clint's lap in such an indecent way that Clint gasps, sharp pleasure zinging up his spine at the pressure on his aching dick.
"Fuck!" he pants, after a rather shameless moan.
"That's exactly what I'm trying to do," Phil argues and Clint can only help the best he can as they get rid of the rest of their clothes. All that is left after that is skin on skin, silky and hot, even more burning kisses and a need that runs so strong in his veins that Clint wonders if he might not stroke out, it can't be good for his health. Clint hooks his heels behind Phil's thighs and strains up, keening in the back of his throat.
"I want..." Clint stops, because he just wants, he doesn't care what, he'd be happy just to rub off like this until he comes.
"Tell me," Phil asks, sucking a mark on his neck and it makes Clint writhe. God yes, he wants to be marked, to be claimed.
"I want to be yours," Clint blurts out, vaguely horrified at himself; that sounded way too needy.
Thankfully Phil seems to like the concept because he all but growls and it's one of the sexiest sounds Clint has ever heard.
"Yes. Mine," he declares and it almost makes Clint white out.
"Yeah, yeah," Clint pants in encouragement when Phil fishes lube out of the bedside table. Oh, Christ, he's not gonna be able to hold on. "Come on, please."
He's always had a thing about Phil's hands, which is going to get totally out of control now at how good it feels to be prepped, stretched and nearly taken completely apart. He's moaning almost nonstop but too gone to care, and goading Phil into going faster only makes the contrary asshole slow down. He might even be laughing at Clint.
"I'm good, I swear, just-" Clint gasps when Phil brushes his sweet spot again.
"God, you should see yourself," Phil says, sounding awed and Clint can't take this anymore.
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," he starts to chant.
Phil finally relents. "Okay, hold on."
There's a bit of fumbling with a condom and at fucking last Phil lines up and starts to push in.
"Oh, God," Clint breathes out and that's it, he cannot hold on anymore and he comes before Phil even starts thrusting. It's a all-encompassing orgasm, turning him inside out for an exquisitely perfect moment where everything is pure sensation. When the pleasure recedes a bit and he can focus again, Clint's left punch drunk and buzzing. He grins up at Phil, whose eyes are a little wild. Phil's biting his lip in a visible effort to keep some sort of control, rolling his hips with slow undulations.
"Thank you, sir," Clint jokes and okay, judging by the hard thrust he gets in return, there's something to explore there another time. Right now, though, Clint wants to see what Phil looks like when he comes undone, wants to make him feel just as good as Clint does right now. "Come on now, fuck me. Don't hold back."
"Christ," Phil says, starting to move in earnest, strong, beautiful strokes that make Clint moan some more, he's so sensitive. "You'll be the death of me, I swear," Phil adds as he speeds up.
Clint hangs on to Phil's upper arms as he gets fucked good and proper, loving every single second of it, especially when Phil stutters and then shakes apart with a strangled gasp. Clint holds on to him, crooning at how good and perfect he is and Phil finally pulls out and crashes down right beside him, as if his arms have turned to jelly. Clint might feel a little smug.
He cleans them up as much as he can bother right now, which is not a lot but is good enough, then lies down next to Phil, face-to-face and with most probably with the stupidest smile he's ever sported on his face.
"We should do that again," he says.
Phil smiles, raising a hand to caress Clint's cheek, then combing fingers through his hair,
"I need a nap, first," he answers, before pulling Clint into a soft kiss, unhurried this time.
"If you insist," Clint murmurs, and gladly moves into Phil's embrace when he's pulled to rest against his chest.
The steady beat of Phil's heart is hypnotic and soothing under his ear. He can let his guard down and relax with Phil, who's solid and dependable as always, and who, against all odds, wants to keep him close. This thing they are starting isn't just a mutual crush coupled with a history of attraction that’s finally found an outlet. This is the real deal, what Clint's been looking for all of his life: someone who'll make him feel like he belongs, who will give instead of take and who will never betray him, at least not intentionally. He can see himself growing old with Phil, when up until now one of his only certainties in his life has been that he'll die young.
And that is perfectly fine with him. Bring on the grey hair, he's going to enjoy every second of it.
(His collecting days are over, he's got the ultimate trump card.)
The End
Final author's notes: Thank you so much for the support on this, it was great to share it with you all!
as a FYI, the titles come from:
Fic itself: Pokemon theme; Chapter 1 (Bruce): "Touch me" - Samantha Fox; Chapter 2 (Thor): "Space Oddity" - David Bowie; Chapter 3 (Steve): "If it isn't her" - Ani DiFranco; Chapter 4 (Tony): "Harder Better Faster Stronger" - Daft Punk; Chapter 5 (Natasha): "I am your man" - Leonard Cohen; Chapter 6: "Together" - The Raconteurs;