"Is this a cozy safehouse, or is this planning for when we're old and grey and not dead?" Which is way too far ahead for Clint. "You don't want that just for me. Obviously the idea makes some part of you happy."
"I'm not entirely sure anymore," he admits with a chuckle at himself. "It started as a safe house and now I'm thinking of other things. Let's revisit the idea another time."
Phil can tell he's gone a step too far. He's pushing Clint too far too fast. He knows better than to push like this.
"No, I always like hearing what you're thinking and feeling." He reaches across the table and squeezes Clint's wrist. "Let's come back to this another time, okay?"
He just got Clint back. He doesn't want to put distance between them again just to give Clint more time to think. Again. Phil would like this night together if that's still possible after he opened his mouth like a fool.
He's pretty damn sure there are thoughts and feelings he needs to keep to himself. Like the impulse to say let's come back to this never. Maybe don't say that. God, don't make a fight start over something so...innocent? Romantic?
"What about something you want that's a little more attainable?"
"Let's go to bed," he says simply. Whatever that means to Clint. They can sleep or fool around. It will depend on what Clint feels up to after the conversation. "I'll even leave the dishes for tomorrow."
He really is romantic and imagining a whole future that ends quietly and peacefully together. It's a crazy dream given their lives and their jobs. Phil will hold it close though.
Phil's trying to mitigate the damage. It's very practical of him after such an impractical suggestion. A pipe dream. A nice fantasy. Maybe he shouldn't shit on this nice ideal being built up, but, god, is that what Phil thinks about? Planning out their lives together? Dinner might end up being fraught for the fact that Clint's going to half expect a proposal.
"Or leave dishes for me." Whatever. Tomorrow. "Yeah. Okay. We can go to bed." It's sure as hell attainable, even if it's not the kind of answer he was looking for.
Sometimes, even Phil can have ridiculous pipe dreams about happy endings with retirement and the man he loves. Who probably loves him back. Phil gets the feeling that's what scares Clint most.
He helps clear the table before taking Clint by the hand trying to reassure him just a little bit. It's fine. They're fine. Phil's always looked more towards the future than Clint. He'll be waiting there when Clint catches up.
"I'm going to steal this flannel if you're not careful."
Are they fine? Because he was pretty sure they were even more than fine until Phil started planning their retirement together, and now it feels like everything's thrown out of whack again. There's no fear of leaving, of course. If he ran every time Phil said something emotionally vulnerable and frightening, they wouldn't even be together. It's just...startling.
"I'll just buy another. Until you steal that one, too. And one day, you're gonna look at your closet and wonder how it became half flannel."
Half of his closet being flannel doesn't sound too bad, actually. It would be more evidence of Clint settling into their joint life together.
"You're going to make me late one morning and I'll walk into a briefing in a suit and flannel." Right now, he goes through the usual routine he has for going to bed at Clint's place. He doesn't expect anything sexual at all given how gun shy Clint seems right now.
"Now I want to make you late soon as possible, just for fun. Think Fury'll have the good humor enough to let it slide?"
Could be sexy stuff was on the table, and now it's questionable. Which kind of sucks. But that's nobody's fault! "I don't think flannel goes with, but at least you'll be nothing but cozy."
"Have you ever seen Fury in good humor?" Phil asks with an eyebrow raised as he sat down on the edge of the bed.
He holds out a hand to Clint to encourage him to come close and stand in the space between his legs so he can look up at him with an affectionate smile. "I'm sorry I scared you tonight. I didn't mean to but I got caught up, I guess, in the fantasy of it."
Well, with an invitation like that, how can he refuse? He takes Phil's hand, cradles his face with the other. This is a man smitten. There was no lie when love came out of his mouth.
And yeah. That's frightening. Because Clint doesn't know what to do with it, how to respond to it in a genuine manner. "It's a nice fantasy. Maybe even too nice."
"The chances of us actually making it to retirement are slim." He leans into Clint's touch with a soft sigh. "We don't really lead the sort of lives that end in retirement."
And Phil had already died once. If it happened again he wouldn't be coming back a second time. He's been very clear on his feelings about experimental procedures to bring him back.
"We should probably start simple with a vacation, huh?"
"I think working up to a cozy, quiet vacation first is the better option, yeah." A quiet chuckle. Did the heart and the logic switch places for a second there? "But...'s a nice dream. Good to have dreams. The fact that I'm involved in those dreams is pretty intimidating. I think you put me on a pedestal sometimes. And when I disappoint you, it's gonna be a pretty devastating fall from on high."
"You are human," Phil says looking over Clint. "You are going to disappoint me. I'm going to disappoint you. We're going to make mistakes and hopefully we'll fix them because if I've put you on a pedestal it's about how happy I am with you."
There is that. He can admit that yes, maybe there's some worship and adoration going on here but he will never forget that Clint is human and mistakes will be made on both parts.
"You are way too good for me. You might come to realize that someday, but until then? Gonna appreciate that you're a deluded fool who's mine." He idly strokes Phil's cheek, leaning down to kiss him tenderly.
Too good? Phil doesn't see it that way but now's not the time to argue about Clint's self-image. He leans up into the kiss and runs his fingers gently over Clint's hair.
"I am yours," he says when they part. Phil's pretty sure that's not going to cause Clint to panic some more.
No, Phil wasn't inclined to share or be shared. It would take a lot of convincing for something like that. He's quite happy being with one person. That's all he needs. Clint, as it turns out, is the one person making him happy.
"I feel pretty luck myself." He presses a kiss to Clint's palm. "Now get in bed and cuddle with me."
It might come as a surprise to some, how easily someone like him gets to cuddling. But it's cozy, a comfort, to have someone trusted (loved) by his side, the rhythm of breathing lulling, arms making for a better blanket than any whatever thread count sheets. He doesn't need it, except after the way this week has been, it feels needed. Feels right.
Phil curls himself around Clint with a contented sigh fitting their bodies together on instinct and memory. They will probably untangle during the night but starting this way is the perfect way to end the day.
Instead of once again saying how much he feels for Clint he laces their fingers together and presses a kiss to the base of his skull. Phil figures the message will be received loud and clear.
Oh sure, they'll untangle, retangle, wake up in the morning with limbs and bodies all askew, but they gotta start somewhere cozy. Clint sighs into it, their fingers laced, the kiss pressed tenderly. "Right back at you, boss."
Maybe he'll say it in words someday. Maybe he won't. Maybe the sentiment will translate well enough.
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Phil can tell he's gone a step too far. He's pushing Clint too far too fast. He knows better than to push like this.
"I think I'm just a romantic old man."
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"Think I just need to keep my mouth shut."
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He just got Clint back. He doesn't want to put distance between them again just to give Clint more time to think. Again. Phil would like this night together if that's still possible after he opened his mouth like a fool.
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"What about something you want that's a little more attainable?"
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He really is romantic and imagining a whole future that ends quietly and peacefully together. It's a crazy dream given their lives and their jobs. Phil will hold it close though.
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"Or leave dishes for me." Whatever. Tomorrow. "Yeah. Okay. We can go to bed." It's sure as hell attainable, even if it's not the kind of answer he was looking for.
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He helps clear the table before taking Clint by the hand trying to reassure him just a little bit. It's fine. They're fine. Phil's always looked more towards the future than Clint. He'll be waiting there when Clint catches up.
"I'm going to steal this flannel if you're not careful."
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"I'll just buy another. Until you steal that one, too. And one day, you're gonna look at your closet and wonder how it became half flannel."
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"You're going to make me late one morning and I'll walk into a briefing in a suit and flannel." Right now, he goes through the usual routine he has for going to bed at Clint's place. He doesn't expect anything sexual at all given how gun shy Clint seems right now.
He is content with simply being together again.
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Could be sexy stuff was on the table, and now it's questionable. Which kind of sucks. But that's nobody's fault! "I don't think flannel goes with, but at least you'll be nothing but cozy."
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He holds out a hand to Clint to encourage him to come close and stand in the space between his legs so he can look up at him with an affectionate smile. "I'm sorry I scared you tonight. I didn't mean to but I got caught up, I guess, in the fantasy of it."
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And yeah. That's frightening. Because Clint doesn't know what to do with it, how to respond to it in a genuine manner. "It's a nice fantasy. Maybe even too nice."
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And Phil had already died once. If it happened again he wouldn't be coming back a second time. He's been very clear on his feelings about experimental procedures to bring him back.
"We should probably start simple with a vacation, huh?"
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There is that. He can admit that yes, maybe there's some worship and adoration going on here but he will never forget that Clint is human and mistakes will be made on both parts.
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"I am yours," he says when they part. Phil's pretty sure that's not going to cause Clint to panic some more.
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"I feel pretty luck myself." He presses a kiss to Clint's palm. "Now get in bed and cuddle with me."
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It might come as a surprise to some, how easily someone like him gets to cuddling. But it's cozy, a comfort, to have someone trusted (loved) by his side, the rhythm of breathing lulling, arms making for a better blanket than any whatever thread count sheets. He doesn't need it, except after the way this week has been, it feels needed. Feels right.
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Instead of once again saying how much he feels for Clint he laces their fingers together and presses a kiss to the base of his skull. Phil figures the message will be received loud and clear.
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Maybe he'll say it in words someday. Maybe he won't. Maybe the sentiment will translate well enough.