brandingproblem | open post

"You're that important to me." That he can say easily. Because it's true. "And you made a pretty strong impression on Thor and Stark."

It wasn't planned for, though. Not something that Loki had considered, at any rate, else he wouldn't have done the stabbing in the first place.

That's reassuring to hear. Something in Phil loosens a bit. He still matters to Clint even with everything else going on around him.

"What do you think?" he asks, head tilted slightly. "About the Avengers breaking ties with SHIELD. I know you'll still be an agent but do you think they need the independence?"

"Need? No. But I think it's inevitable in case there's ever disagreement between what we wanna do and what Fury wants us to do." He rolls his shoulders, something of a shrug and something of a stretch. "World governments are not gonna be happy. They'll smile and thank us publicly, but behind closed doors, they're gonna get nervous."

Phil nods. "It is inevitable."

The Avengers work with SHIELD because SHIELD hasn't given them a reason not to. The second that disagreement happens they'll split. The Avengers don't need SHIELD but in many ways SHIELD still needed the Avengers.

"Make yourself more useful and set the table. This will be done soon." The pasta might be a little bit overdone but that would be fine. Neither of them were picky eaters.

"Yes sir."

If he were in a better place, he could see himself dipping in to kiss Phil's cheek. There's a desire. It's there. But he doesn't. Just sets to work.

"Aw, man, could've thrown together some garlic bread, too. Probably best we didn't or we'd have some charcoal instead." He's going for levity, if briefly. "Sorry. That I distracted you."

"You didn't distract me. We need to have these conversations."

Phil is finally up for these conversations too. He's been handling Clint with care. Maybe too much thinking that he couldn't handle it after everything Loki did and ordered Clint to do.

"You know I don't like leaving things unaddressed for long." Phil takes the sauce off the burner and then steps over to deal with the pasta.

"Kinda surprised you let me slide with it for as long as you did. Are there, um..." He does also hate having these conversations. Addressing what needs to be. He gets that it's important, but that doesn't make it any easier. A hand rubs the back of his neck. "Any rules to implement on your end? Changes on how we should treat each other?"

"What happened was a little more than our usual mission gone wrong." Phil drains the pasta carefully, mindful his muscles might not like the weight of the pot of water. The physical therapy is going well. Phil hasn't missed a session but he has doubts. "I wanted to give you time."

Too much time, maybe, but that's on Phil.

"All I want is honesty. If you need space, go take it. Just tell me."

He itches to go help and do all the heavy lifting, but if Phil needs help, he'll say so. The last thing his boyfriend needs is to feel useless. Even if maybe that's how he makes Phil feel. Sometimes.

"You're usually a lot better at figuring out what I need than I am. I don't know what it is I need. For things to go back to normal, ideally, but I think I gotta shift my perspective on what normal means now."

Losing his field agent status would make Phil feel useless. A lot more useless than Clint jumping in to do everything for him. He tries not to think about it as he dishes up pasta and sauce for both of them.

"I think a new normal means I'm going to have to learn how to figure that out again." Phil gets a bottle of red wine from his limited wine collection and opens it. "I think we can start with touches again, see what is comfortable and what isn't. We can still talk to each other."

When Clint's in the right mood he even flirts so Phil's not going to push that.

"Busting out the wine like a special occasion? Is getting me to talk that momentous?" It's a joke, yes, but also given how he usually is about opening up, it's also sort of not a joke, too. "Maybe I need to be super honest about all my thoughts and feelings more often."

Now that's a joke. Even if it shouldn't be.

"Have you been cleared for fun extracurriculars by any chance?"

"Drinking beer with homemade pasta sauce is a crime against man." Phil pours them both a glass to make sure that Clint doesn't go get a beer. He might still do that but Phil's going to try his best to give him some culture.

He sits at the table but the question gets a raised eyebrow. "My doctor doesn't think I'm ready for a bowling league but I've been cleared for the range and cardiac exercises like the treadmill and calisthenics."

Clint can't touch him so he imagines this is not an invitation to sex. He's not sure what it's an invitation to but hopefully Clint will make that clear in a minute.

"Who said anything about beer? I didn't say anything about beer. I'm being fed pasta and booze for free by someone I adore; I'm not going to deliberately ruin the moment."

Just maybe inadvertently ruin the moment. Like, should he be talking about sex right now? Probably not, but it's one of his ways of flirting, so he bobs his eyebrows at Phil. "So maybe some cooperative calisthenics is a-okay."

The adore comment is nice. Phil doesn't fight the gentle smile. The sexual flirtation is a little less welcome considering Clint can't touch him without being afraid of hurting him.

"We can start with us sleeping in the same bed and go from there," he suggests as he settles in to eat dinner and drink wine with his boyfriend.

He grimaces a little down at his plate. "And wake each other up with nightmares? " Which, perhaps he should pry a little himself. "Or are you sleeping a little better now?"

"Define a little better." He sighs. "The pain used to wake me up before a nightmare could get too bad. As I heal I stay in the nightmares longer."

Which is to say he's still having the same nightmares but he's sleeping longer in them. Phil doesn't thrash in his sleep. He doesn't move much at all but back when he was healing it had been enough for pain and the pain had woken him.

"I've been sleeping enough that the doctors aren't concerned. I don't take the sleeping pills they give me."

"So you're in the no winning part of healing. Sleep's sleep, though. Even if it's shitty sleep." It doesn't worry the doctors, so, that's good enough. And it'll get better. With time. Hopefully. Just a length of time that will feel like an eternity.

He has to think that, because he has to hope for the best for himself, too.

"The pills aren't gonna hurt, you know. The grogginess in the morning sucks, but it isn't like you're jumping right into the field."

"I'd rather not be groggy first thing in the morning when I'm sleeping with a gun under my pillow." He pushes his pasta around for a moment before he continues.

"I keep thinking I should be dead and I'm waiting for Loki to show up and finish it." He's told his therapist some of that in more careful phrases but the truth of it is Phil feels like he should've died.

Luck does not feel like a good enough reason that he's alive.

"Have you considered breaking the habit for a bit and maybe not have it under your pillow?" It feels like his blood's gone cold at the thought. Of a return. Of what'll happen should that come to pass. "A gun's not gonna stop him if he manages to make his way back here."

"On my nightstand makes it too easy for someone to disarm me." Because they're all paranoid like that. He tries very hard to be less paranoid and tell himself that someone won't anticipate an agent like himself having weapons hidden away.

"I am working up towards putting it under the bed where I had it before." Not under the mattress or in a drawer but under the bed in easy reach. The pillow feels better for now. Hopefully for now. "I'm aware but trying very hard to live a somewhat normal life like I haven't stared down gods and monsters."

A slow nod. This isn't great dinner conversation even if it's important. "Part of me really wants to make a joke about gunplay in bed, but that's probably tasteless even for me."

"We're kinky but we're not that kinky," he says because he's often picked up Clint's jokes when Clint couldn't make them himself. Or he thought of a better one.

These are the kinds of dinner conversations they have sometimes. "Do you sleep without a weapon nearby?"

"It'd be really hot if not for having gun safety drilled into my skull for so many years that if we wanted to go for it, we'd really just have to get a prop gun or even a toy instead, and that's just not the same."

Right, maybe tuck that thought back since they aren't going to do anything kinky for god only knows how long. Until they wither away from blue balls or something.

"Weapon, yes; nearby, yes. Gun under my pillow, no; I'm not James Bond. If I do that, I'm on a mission, and I'm not sleeping but waiting to get the drop on someone."

"Maybe you're handling this better than I am." It's the years of gun safety training that keeps Phil from having one in the chamber and the safety on when he puts the gun there but it's not sane and he knows that. But if Loki comes back he needs something to face him down with and he needs to be fast.

He shrugs and sips his wine. "Maybe I should talk with Thor and see if that'll reassure me Loki's not coming back. I know he's gone but I almost died facing an illusion. I can't help but think... what if that's all they brought to Asgard?"

That he has talked to his therapist about.

"Maybe I can't sleep in the same bed as you if you need a gun under your pillow and I'm gonna wake up from a nightmare with that gun pressed to your fucking forehead like he's gonna use me to finish the job."

It comes out in a rush, and he feels all wound up all the tighter for it. Like he shouldn't have said it. Like it won't go over well. But Phil needs to know. That he's not handling it better.

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