brandingproblem | open post

"Sounds good. I know I joke about my bachelor kitchen, but I promise I've never actually burned anything down." A beat. "While cooking." Arson is a completely different thing entirely.

He knows this is frustrating to Phil, but he keeps giving Clint space, and he takes it greedily. Gives him enough room to wiggle around and maneuver. He should maybe give more in return. Give something else. He licks his lips.

"I'm cleared for light active duty. Mostly just been quiet short recon trips. Probably gonna go back to the full shebang in the next few weeks. I hope. I don't think anything that's knocked loose in my head is gonna be any kind of liability in the field."

"I know. Your handler has been keeping me updated." And asking for advice on how to work with Clint in the field. Phil is the resident expert according to everyone in SHIELD second only to Natasha. Who is currently busy with her own work that Phil also knows about.

He washes his hands and starts to gather things for a simple pasta sauce. Phil deliberately puts himself in Clint's space again and again, brushing against him here and there.

"I've been hearing mostly good things."

"I'm shocked. I've been kind of a pushy asshole. You know how it was, breaking you in." A joke. If anyone got broken in, it was Clint. But he's pretty sure it worked both ways between them. New handler just has to learn that sometimes being hands off is the best possible course of action.

And in a more literal sense, hands off is not what Phil is up to. He takes the casual brushing touches the way he's taken most of the other ones: without complaint, without comment, not reciprocated. He does make a point to actually get out of the way while Phil does his thing. Pasta goes with pasta sauce. Obviously. He can cook up pasta without incident, given you just let it cook and you can go do other things while it softens up.

"I haven't had much chance to get into trouble yet."

"Yes, you did a wonderful job," Phil says dryly. Chopping vegetables keeps him from trying any more touches but he can't help longing for something like Clint's arm casually around his waist or a gentle kiss to the back of his neck.

He's quiet for a little bit before he speaks. "Are you afraid I'm going to break if you touch me?"

He's going to pick at this problem for a bit. He can have a one track mind. He wants to understand why Clint either needs this distance or thinks it's what has to happen.

Well, now he's frowning at uncooked pasta. He could keep being an asshole, sure. Just go escape and then not have to have this conversation, even if they only have it in starts and stops. He can't avoid it forever, though. Or he shouldn't. "It sounds stupid when you say it."

"It's irrational but not stupid," he corrects. Phil has to remember just how much Clint has lost over his lifetime. He has to find a well of patience that is at war with his own desires.

"It is stupid that you're blaming yourself." He glances over at him. "It was my choice to face him. The only people responsible for what happened to me are myself and Loki."

"I'm gonna hurt you." He says it quietly. If a watched pot never boils, they'll never have any pasta at this rate. "I know I'm not...actually gonna, I'd never want to, I wouldn't do it deliberately. But I'm so sure it'll happen."

Phil takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

"You're hurting me now."

Because all awhile he was recovering and getting better he wanted Clint with him and Clint wouldn't. They're in the same damn room and it feels like Phil's with a stranger. He feels like he's still lost Clint to the mind control.

Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuck, sure, it's a different kind of hurt, but it also makes a panic start to creep in. A confirmation of fears. He wants to go jump out a window and run away. Dinner's now the furthest thing from his mind. Spares one quick, wide-eyed glance at Phil, away again. Is he breathing? He needs to check in with himself to make sure he's breathing okay. Okay. Right. Keep doing that, the breathing thing.

"I can leave," he says quickly. "If this is too much."

"The last thing I want is for you to leave." Phil says it simply, firmly, because it's the truth. "I understand you're working through a lot and I'm doing my best to be patient but I'd like you to meet me halfway."

Phil needs Clint to give him something. Anything. Doing things for him is something but it won't be enough. It won't be necessary and then how the hell is he supposed to spend time with his boyfriend?

What excuse does he need then?

There's a lot he can read into that but, and he's trying very hard not to do so. To just take the words at face value.

He has to fight down a flare of indignation amidst the awful fucking sinking feeling. Not enough, he hasn't been enough, he's never been fucking enough for anyone, has he? No, shut up, that's not helpful. Be proactive.

"What do you need me to do?"

"What can you give?" he counters because what Phil needs might not be what Clint can do right now. He understands that. He wants to work within what Clint's comfortable with.

If that's nothing... that's a problem they'll have to figure out together. Is he actually thinking about couple's therapy? How the hell could they pull that off with their jobs and the secrets they have to keep?

"Apparently not enough." He means for it to sound snappy, but now he's worried that actually comes off upset. "I can spend more time here? Is that what you need? Should I pop in a couple times a week? Every day if I can? Dinner and a movie every night?"

Phil leaves the sauce to simmer and faces Clint. Now he's the one hurting Clint and it's hurting both of them but the only way forward either to fix this or end it is to keep going.

"You're not really here when you're here, Clint," he says softly. "I know it'll take time for us to get back to how things were before but I can't even touch you. You won't get close to me. I don't know how to help you feel like you can without getting you to actually touch me."

Or flirt or laugh or just be happy to be around him again.

Clint swallows down a very unkind remark that's bubbling up to the tip of his tongue, about how Phil can just call him a burden if that's what he means.

That Phil hasn't said it means that isn't what he means. Phil doesn't lie to him. Doesn't tend to sugarcoat things. Says what he means.

"You can touch me. You've touched me. That's a thing you've done and can do. I've never told you to stop, and I've never pushed you away." Yet.

He reaches out silently for Clint's wrist knowing how stiff and awkward it will be. Phil slides Clint's hand under his shirt, pushing it up out of the way to his heart. That means Clint will feel the end of the scar from where Loki's scepter tore into him.

"But you don't touch me." Phil presses Clint's palm against his chest right over his heart which is beating strong and sure as it ever was. "I don't know you keep your hands to yourself. I thought I lost you and I keep wanting to touch you to make sure you're here and I haven't. You haven't lost me."

He's going to make that as clear as he can. "I'm still alive."

Stiff and awkward, yes. Phil might find a frantic pulse under his fingertips, and Clint opens his mouth to object, closes it again without saying a damn thing. If this is what's needed, then--maybe he doesn't need to pull away like Phil's fire. Even if the urge is there. Even if he's stiff and doesn't know what to do with himself in this moment.

He can feel the edge of scarring, the texture changing, and curls his fingers away. And then has that same panic at the idea of hurting his boyfriend again and flattens his fingers out again. Curls the fingers of his other hand instead, tight.

"Yeah." Also tight, his voice. "We're both alive."

Phil reaches up with his other hand and places it over the back of Clint's neck. He hasn't been this close to Clint since he first showed up at his door and he hugged him.

"And you're not going to lose me," he says it firmly, looking into Clint's eyes. "I know every detail of what you did for him. I've known it for a long time. It's not driven me away or made me see you differently. I'm here and I want you here but not if you don't want to be here and be with me."

It would be an odd adjustment if they went back to being friends instead of lovers but Phil would make it for Clint if it would help him. He'd do anything if it would help.

It helps, he supposes, that he can see the motion rather than just suddenly having a hand on his neck. It means he can prepare for it and not lash out. Doesn't keep the crawling feeling from worming under his skin or the rapid beat of panic from settling into his chest.

"I don't know that you do," grit out through the dusty sandpaper that his mouth feels like it's turned into. He's at least still breathing. That's always a plus.

"Can we-" He swallows against the grit, closes his eyes. "Can we establish some ground rules? Um. Renegotiate our rules. Something."

Phil really can't touch him, can he? Clint's scared for him or scared of his touch. There's real fear there. That makes him worry for Clint.

He lets his hands fall away from Clint's slowly. "Of course we can. Whatever you need, Clint."

If it will help them get back to how things were before or a new way things can be good, Phil will do it. He'll do anything to erase the look of fear in Clint's eyes.

The hands leave. His own hand hesitantly stays where it is, pressed to the strong beat of his boyfriend's heart. Try not to give in to the incessant fear that he's going to do something to hurt Phil, to damage him, to send him back to a hospital bed or worse. That these hands were only made to do the awful work of others.

Which might distract him from the awful feeling of knowing that Phil's caught him out in the lie about being able to touch him. At least a little.

"Touch me where I can see." That doesn't solve the problem, but he's pretty sure that's at least a reason why the touch to his neck gave him away so clearly.

A breath. "When you say be with you. Define that for me?"

Phil puts his hand on Clint's hip though he fully expects Clint won't relax into the touch or lean into it like he would before. It hurts that the easy trust between them has been so deeply damaged by what Loki did. They should be helping each other recover from this and yet...

"It feels like you're going through the motions when you're here," he explains, his tone still calm and patient. "I don't like you pretending everything is fine when it's not. I'd rather you be yourself so that we can actually help each other."

He wants them to move forward but if they're both pretending nothing's wrong than they never will.

Didn't really expect setting a rule to be taken like an order, but it's...better. He supposes. Better than a hand on the back of his neck, anyway.

He pulls his own hand away, slowly lifting it from familiar skin. "I'm trying to be myself. The me that I was. Sometimes it's easy to just be me. Easier with you, sometimes. I don't exactly want to be what came out the other side."

"You don't have to pretend to be that when you're not in the mood." Phil feels the loss of Clint's hand but stops himself from chasing after it. He'll be fine. They'll be fine. They're talking and that's better than ignoring everything.

"I'd like you to be here because you want to. Not because I've got some chore for you. If you don't feel like it, tell me. But don't stay away because you're afraid you're going to hurt me. I trust you." He believes that Clint's free of Loki's influence. He won't suddenly turn on Phil while they're watching Dog Cops or sharing dinner.

"Have a little faith in yourself too, Clint."

"I don't think you want me to be the me that the docs see in their offices, so I gotta figure out a middle ground that doesn't chase you off." Because he absolutely thinks that's possible, that there is a version of himself that Phil would just drop rather than bother trying to salvage.

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