brandingproblem | open post

He feels the anger rise in his chest. Not towards Clint but for what Loki did. His mind control ruined years of work and trust. In an agency like SHIELD it would take time for that to come back. Clint's almost starting his career over.

Phil will always be in his corner. He will always have his back. "You have me. No matter what."

"That's a nice promise. I know it's really tempting to believe it, too." It isn't that he doesn't believe it, necessarily, but it's that idea of no matter what that feels like tempting fate. Because there's likely a few scenarios in which that doesn't hold true.

"Sorry, that's, um." He rubs his face. "Maudlin."

"A little," Phil agrees with a small nod. "But after what you've been through maudlin is to be expected. Whether you believe it or not, it is true."

They've been through hell together as agents and friends. This might be the rockiest their romantic relationship has ever been but Phil still believes in Clint, still cares for him, and frankly, still adores him.

That won't change even if Clint doesn't feel like it's true.

"Can we not talk about what I've been through when you're the one on the mend?" Or not talk about it at all ever. That might be the ideal. "You're the one with every right to be miserable."

"This isn't the first time I've been stabbed." Phil sits back in his chair and studies Clint. He doesn't want to talk about it but he's also willing to push Clint a little bit. "Getting shot is worse. Or tortured. I'm glad to be alive."

"You went through a hell of a lot worse." Because Loki didn't really use physical force or threats. Phil's read the reports. The man twisted Clint's heart and turned it against his friends and fellow agents. It's insidious.

"You died on the table, Phil. You're lucky to be alive. If that son of a bitch had hit his mark, you would've bled out in minutes at most. You're allowed to be upset and mad and sad and whatever else, even to me. Especially to me."

So, Clint's read the medical reports. Or the SHIELD rumor mill is still going full force. "It was only eight seconds. I'm sure someone's exaggerated the number but it wasn't that long."

He lets out a heavy breath. He's dismissing Clint's concerns and deflecting like Clint's doing to his. Aren't they a pair? "Every time we go into the field we could die. I've gotten comfortable with that knowledge. I came close. For a time I was gone but the man responsible is beyond our justice. I need to do what I can to fix what he tried to destroy. The best justice is to keep going and show that bastard he didn't win."

"I'm not so sure sometimes that he didn't win after all." But Clint has a particularly unique perspective on the villain in question. The overarching goal was to please his master(s?) who gifted him with an alien army and a funky stick, sure. But there was a certain terrible desperation to the whole thing. Captured now, yes, and to face some kind of justice, but at the hands of people who know him, people he grew up with. Somewhere he's a prince, if a fallen one, to probably live under house arrest or something cozier than what he'd suffered before.

The plan backfired, sure. But Loki losing was also a win for him in a way. To get out from under those who had sought to control him.

"Doesn't mean I plan on giving up anytime soon."

Stark is of the same mindset. He's shouting at anyone who will listen that something bigger is coming. Phil believes him because as grandiose and ridiculous as Stark is Phil's rarely seen him afraid. He's afraid of whatever's out there. It seems like Clint is too.

"I'd let Natasha recalibrate your cognitive function a second time if you did." As understandable as the sense of defeat might be that's not who they are. They keep going against the impossible.

"I'm not...angry at all the testing and shit. Seems tenuous that a solid thump to the skull would be enough to make that magic or whatever let go for long. Gave me enough wiggle room to fight it off, but...I mean, even I'm worried it could come back. Seems like that's not the case, though. And with the disco stick sent off," with an impatient wave of his hand, "somewhere else, maybe with no one controlling it, it might not be a direct threat."

He glances at Phil, then down at the table. "Sorry. For...y'know, everything."

They need to find a reliable magic user. They exist. A few are on the list. Phil's not sure Clint would submit to magical testing like he's submitted to scientific testing. "We could ask Thor to send us a reliable mage... wizard? Asgardian to examine you. I think Asgard owes us a few favors. If you think that examination might ease some of your concerns."

He sits forward and puts his hand on Clint's knee, squeezing firmly. "I forgive you. And I'm sorry you did it."

Because there's no denying that even if Clint was twisted into doing it. He did it. "We'll get through it like we always have. Together."

"Maybe. Sure. I don't know. I'm sure Fury's asked or put out some feelers. Hard to keep direct communication when travel's a one-sided thing, much less communication. If it happens, it happens."

The forgiveness and apology and acknowledgement are...good? It doesn't ease anything that's been done, but it's not bad. But it all just wants to bubble up in a way he is not interested in showing his boyfriend. He makes to stand, breaking the physical connection.

"How about I shove the rest of this in the fridge? Easy leftovers, can't argue with that. And I can drop by whenever you need anything, if I can make it. You can always text me. Or Tasha, if she's not on mission."

"Hiemdall's always supposed to be listening. Or seeing." Phil sits back again. Two steps forward and maybe only one back. Hard to say when Clint clearly needs to rabbit. "You'll be kept in the loop, I'm sure."

He lets him be useful. Or feel useful. Maybe letting his boyfriend fuss over him, fix something for him, will help in the long run.

"Natasha nags me like I'm suddenly not a level seven agent." Phil's mature enough not to roll his eyes about being fussed over by two of his best agents. He handles them not the other way around. "You can also come by to sit on the couch and watch Kitchen Nightmares. Or to escape Stark. The door is always open to you, Clint."

"I tune him out a lot better than you do. He's not a bad sort. Just a nosy, talkative little shit." Stark was removed from the Avengers list for good reasons, but it's apparently all worked out in the end.

Clint's quick and efficient about the cleanup, because he needs something to do with as much gusto as possible and also so he can leave faster. And it feels bad. To need to leave. Because this should be a safe and comfy place. Except there's talk about him and thinking about him and Clint has talked and thought about him so much that sometimes it seems impossible for there to be room for anything else.

"Okay." He flashes a tight smile. "Well, I'm gonna..." With a thumb jerked at the door. "Text me, though. When you need me. For anything."

"You didn't babysit him in Malibu."

Really, Phil doesn't mind Stark that much. He's a good man underneath it all. Stark's just very good at getting under his skin and he doesn't like it. At all. But he is a good man at heart.

He gets up to walk Clint to the door because he is an old fashioned gentleman. "I know how to reach you. And I will if things start falling apart around me."

Chivalry is alive and well. He might actually invite Steve, just because in less awkward circumstances, they'll probably get along fabulously. "Kinda hope you'll reach me before things get to the falling apart stage. We want to avoid the falling apart. Okay? Don't you fall apart on me."

"You'll catch me if I do." At the door Phil stops. He really wants to kiss Clint before he goes. He would really like those arms around him again. But Clint's still not comfortable, still itching out of his skin.

He settles for a tight squeeze of his hand. "Don't stay away so long this time, okay? The falling apart goes both ways."

They can hold each other up until they can stand on their own.

That's a hell of a lot of trust that, majority of the time, he'd be happy to accept. It's a little harder to believe it, now. Phil's been able to read the room well enough to not insist on a kiss, which, he should be able to kiss his boyfriend, right? And yet he's so damn grateful not to get into it. The hand holding he allows, only very lightly giving anything in return.

He can't make any promises himself. So he simply ducks away through the door without saying anything.

God. That could've gone better. Hopefully that'll placate Nat. And Phil. Who deserves better. And yeah, it was good to see for himself that his boyfriend is alive and recovering.

He should probably go over whenever he thinks about it. Hell, he should probably move in at least temporarily, just to keep an eye on him, to have someone there to help and be at beck and call. But he doesn't. He only comes over when Phil asks him to, and if he has to make up some bullshit chore for Clint to do, then, they don't have to mention it or acknowledge it at all.

There hasn't been this much distance between them since Clint first joined SHIELD and everyone, Phil including, was trying to get a good sense of the carney they had recruited. He often feels like he can't understand his boyfriend anymore, that he's looking at a shadow. Someone else is wearing Clint's skin.

If it wasn't for the little glimpse of Clint, the Clint he remembers, here and there Phil would be more worried than he is. And he's very worried.

And the more Phil recovers the less he needs Clint around to do things for him. The reasons don't hold up to scrutiny. Eventually, he's going to be fully healed and there'll be no reason for Clint to come over except if Clint wants to. Phil's not sure he wants to. He's not going to walk on eggshells forever.

He sends Clint a text with a grocery list and asks that he bring it over whenever he has the time.

The good news is that when Clint's as reasonably clear of any potential future mind control as can be, he's put back in the field. Light duty, at first, to get back into the swing of things and to start getting used to his brand new handler.

It doesn't go great. It doesn't go wrong, necessarily, but those who've been around long enough to remember Clint in his early days will definitely feel that this is familiar. But it's doing things again, even if he doesn't get too far from home turf, and it helps to settle something restless inside him.

Not all of it. Definitely not all of it. It's a start, though. Everything feels like it's just a start.

He shows up with bags of groceries in and on his arms, knowing full well that while the help is appreciated, it's less and less necessary. Still, he does it with a smile. "I feel like you should be impressed I got it all in one trip, but you're one person with an occasional extra mouth to feed. It's not exactly lots."

"I could have an extra mouth to feed," Phil says as he lets Clint into his apartment. "If you'd like to stay for dinner."

He follows Clint into the kitchen. Once a bag is set down Phil starts unloading it. His movements are smoother and the only time he winces is when he twists wrong. It really won't be long until his physical and he finds out if he can return to field work or not.

But his first priority is getting Clint to stay long enough to work out whatever's truly wrong and if Clint wants to fix this or not.

This is where, under more normal circumstances, Clint might make a very lewd comment about what to put in his mouth and then probably go in for a kiss. He's aware of himself this way.

But he doesn't and simply helps unload groceries like a good boy. Friend. Good boyfriend.

"Yeah? I can do that. You want me to whip something together, or do you wanna try your hand at something? Or just order something, but maybe something a little healthier."

Phil watches Clint for a moment and sighs heavily. "We're really not okay, are we?"

He doesn't see the point in dancing around the topic or easing into it. Phil can be deceitful and keep secrets but he prefers to get to the heart of the problem whenever possible. In their personal relationship he's always been honest and straightforward with Clint.

He holds a bunch of bananas in his hands and for a long moment looks completely lost. When he finally sets them down on the counter, he pulls his hands back, tucking them under his arms.

"Is that a we as in you and me individually, or we as in us?"

"According to my therapist I'm doing well for a man who almost died." Phil puts himself across from Clint giving him plenty of space but also making it hard for the man to not see him, not face him.

"I don't think you're doing well and that's effecting us." There's a clench of fear and worry in Phil's stomach. He doesn't want to lose Clint. He doesn't want to push so hard that Clint decides to leave them behind.

But he has to say something because the silence is going to end them too.

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