Six months later

Clint was lying on his couch, feet dangling over the edge. His head was lying in Phil's lap, and the older agent was carding his fingers gently through it, absently, as he was watching one inane show or another. Clint had laid there with him since the beginning of it, but he was completely unable to tell anyone what it was about.

They had just gotten back from a taxing week long op, where Clint spent most of his time in a tree without moving. If it hadn't been for Phil's massages, he would have been a giant, walking, cramp at the moment.

And no, before you asked, it hadn't been anything more than massages. Even if Clint was pretty sure he was ready, he didn't know how to breach the subject, and he wasn't going to have his first time with Phil in the middle of a mission. But they were getting there, and even Phil knew it.

They had been sleeping together, as in the same bed, for almost a month now, and their initial fairly innocent kiss had evolved into full-fledged making out and heavy petting. Phil even managed to make Clint come in his pants once, which the archer blamed on yearlong celibacy and the desperate absence of self-brought enjoyment lately. Phil had simply grinned smugly.

He could be a frustrating bastard sometimes, especially considering Clint hadn't gotten him to come. He was a bit ashamed about that.

Phil cleared his throat, and spoke without ever stopping petting Clint.

"Darcy has found herself another boyfriend. Johnny Storm, I think his name is."

Clint snickered, and wriggled a bit to settle himself more comfortably.

"I take it your attempts to match her with Natasha failed yet another time."

Clint didn't need to look to know Phil's lips were pursed.

"I don't understand her need to be so stubborn."

Clint barked a laugh.

"Ok, first, pot and kettle. Second, maybe she is just that straight."

Phil tightened his hold on Clint's hair lightly, not nearly enough to hurt, but a reprimand as much as a soft smack upside the head would be. Clint simply chuckled, knowing it would only grate Phil a bit more.

"You are an idiot. And Natasha is a sexual orientation of her own."

Clint let out a full bellied laugh.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Phil shrugged.

"You're gay and you wanted to sleep with her."

Clint pursed his lips, and tried to get up, but Phil pressed a firm hand on his chest. He relented with a sigh.

"I was desperate and depressed and do I need to add once again that it was a spectacular failure?"

Phil chuckled and let him go. Clint didn't move though. He had told Phil about the reason he attacked Agent Jackass about two weeks after their first date, and everything the idiot pushed Clint to do. Phil had been both pissed at the asshole, and surprised at Clint's reaction to it. If there was one person around here that knew that there was nothing romantic or sexual between Clint and Natasha, it was their handler.

The show ended, and Phil pushed Clint upward to go and get himself something in the kitchen. The archer let himself fall back on the couch and curled himself to make the most of the warmth his boyfriend-he hated to term, but lover implied a bit more fun on the bedroom part of the relationship- left behind.

It never failed to amaze and thrill him that Phil had gotten comfortable in his home so quickly. They spent most of their time there, since Phil's own apartment was depressingly bare, with the exception of Darcy's room. The only thing that caught Clint's eye when he went there was the arrow Phil always left on his nightstand. He recognized it fairly easily; it was the first batch S.H.I.E.L.D. R&D had crafted him, and he had only used it on one mission. The one where he shot an arrow through the eye of a scoot who had managed to stay hidden and was about to shoot Agent Coulson in the back.

Agent Coulson had known he could trust Hawkeye when he turned back to see the limp body fall to the ground. Hawkeye had known he could trust Agent Coulson when he didn't so much as twitch when the hard headed and rebellious assassin had drawn his bow in his direction.

The arrow had been delocalized in Clint's bedroom, as well as about half of Phil's wardrobe.

Clint was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Phil coming back until the agent was crouched in front of him, a soft smile on his face.

"Planning on giving me space?"

Clint eyed the cup of coffee in Phil's hand, and held his own imperatively. Phil rolled his eyes fondly at that, but still passed the cup to him. The archer took a good sip-Phil's coffee was always the best -before handing it back to the agent.

"What are you going to do for it?"

Phil's lips twitched upward, and he knew perfectly well what Clint was fishing for. He leaned forward to kiss him slowly and gently, in the perfectly non invading way the older man alone possessed, which led Clint to believe there was no one else more entitled to help him get over his problems in his head.

The kept kissing, neither one of them inclined in any way to let the other go. Clint had a brief thought that the position couldn't be comfortable for Phil, but the agent didn't complain, and would probably take offense if his boyfriend pointed it out.

The kiss in itself wasn't different from hundreds of others they had shared over the last half year. It was pretty freaking chaste compared to some of them. However, for some reason he couldn't really explain, even in his own head, something uncoiled in his chest, and he nearly melted into Phil. The agent brought up a hand to stabilize his boyfriend who almost fell over him. He looked up, eyes not quite concerned but very curious.


The archer tried to send everything he felt, everything he would never be able to voice properly in a million years, in his eyes and his tone.


Clint could see the exact moment his boyfriend understood the sudden light in his eyes, after the blank confusion. For a long moment, he searched Clint's eyes for something, anything that could hint that the archer wasn't ready for this, that he was doing this for the wrong reasons.

That he felt obligated. That was Phil's worse fear in their relationship; that he was forcing Clint into something. It had been a concern ever since he became his handler, and it was even worse now, after Clint's kidnapping.

But he didn't speak, and he didn't ask. He didn't ask if Clint was sure, because there was no way Clint would be able to lie to Phil, not now, not ever, and he wasn't, couldn't be sure. But he wanted it, he wanted it so much it hurt sometimes, and at the moment there was nothing in his head to stop him.

Phil must have seen his resolve, because he finally straightened himself, holding out his hand for Clint. He took a moment to put the cup of coffee on the end table, before he cupped Clint's face softly with both hands and kissed him gently.

"Thank you."

His eyes were so open and earnest Clint couldn't do anything more than swallow and nod. Neither of them was good with words, especially when it came about talking about feelings, but Clint was definitely worse. Phil never seemed to mind, though, and he looked like Clint's weak nod had told him everything he ever hoped to hear.

He took Clint's hand, and slowly led him toward the bedroom, only stopping once they were inside to close the door and kiss Clint once more. The archer let him lead, more than happy to go with the flow.

Finally, Phil pushed him backward until the back of Clint's knees hit the bed and he was lying on the bed. He stayed there, spread on top of the comforters, watching as Phil seemed to debate over something.

Apparently coming to a decision, Phil crawled onto the bed until he was over Clint, propping himself up with his arms on either side of the younger man's head. He started kissing him chastely until Clint felt himself relax once more. He hadn't even noticed he had tensed up, but of course Phil had.

After what seemed like an eternity, Phil pulled out of the kiss and leaned forward until his body was covering Clint's, their hips rubbing together. Clint wasn't hard yet, but if Phil kept this up, it wouldn't take long. Phil's mouth came to rest just beside his ear.

"Do you trust me to take care of you? Do you trust me to make you feel good, darling?"

Clint's arms tensed and pushed on Phil's chest until the agent was looking at him with an arched eyebrow.

"Not Darling. He-she-whatever, they used it, and-Just, not darling."

Phil pondered over that for a while before offering another one.


The tone was sultry and low, and that combinted with the sweet name sent a shudder down Clint's body right to his groin. Phil smiled a bit.

"Definitely baby."

he went down again, kissing along his jaw from his ear to his mouth and back again, whispering in between.

"So, baby? Will you let me?"

Clint nodded desperately, and Phil huffed a small laugh as he started to lower his mouth down the archer's neck. He pulled away for a second, and Clint helped him get rid of his shirt. The older man continued down, his tongue teasing at Clint's nipples and teeth nipping at his navel.

Clint was moaning and gasping and growling, and honestly, probably a lot of others things he wasn't even aware he was doing. He knew that the only things keeping him from writhing and arching into Phil's touch was his soothing hands at his sides.

Phil didn't stop until he reached the waistband of Clint's jeans, and raised his eyes for a second, making sure the archer was still with him, not having a panic attack or something of the sort. When he was reassured, he smiled softly, and kissed Clint's belly.

The archer sighed, and unclenched one of his hands from where it was clutching the sheets to plunge it into Phil's hair. He wasn't tugging or gripping, simply seeking contact and stability. Seeking Phil.

The older man began to work on Clint's jeans, all the while whispering against the archer's heated skin. Clint couldn't hear him, but the brush of warm air was as good enough, and he lifted his hips helpfully to get rid of his pants faster.

Phil made a soft surprised noise when he saw Clint was going commando, but really, the archer had been exhausted, and he hadn't planned to do anything more with his day than cuddling with Phil, so why should he have bothered with underwear?

He could see his cock wasn't fully hard yet, but it was getting there quickly. Especially if Phil kept up his ministrations. The older man's hands had been pretty absent until this point, anchors more than anything else, the man apparently preferring to use his mouth to map out his soon to be lover. now, though, Phil decided he'd rather watch the man in his bed, and he let his agile fingers do the work.

He started tracing the sharp hipbones, and drifted further downward. He bypassed Clint's cock, to the archer's unending frustration, and went to lightly cup his balls. Clint's empty hand flew to his mouth, muffling himself, before he could fill the room with his cries.


Phil's firm voice brought his focus back to him. The hand had stopped, and Clint whined in protestation. Phil let go of Clint's jewels and took the archer's wrist, forcing the hand away.

"I want to hear you. I need to know how you feel."

The voice, so calm, so controlled, so composed, destroyed any chance Clint ever had of not listening to Phil. He tried to form a coherent thought.

"I need-Phil please, I need-"

Phil kissed Clint's hipbone again.

"What, Clint? What do you need?"

Clint groaned.

"More. Please."

Phil's eyes lit up.

"More, baby? I can do that. Do you want me to suck you?"

Oh fuck. Clint could officially do nothing more than nod frantically and hope Phil got the message. He apparently did because he chuckled fondly, and took Clint's cock in his hand.

The contact sent sparks through Clint's entire body, and he arched into Phil's touch, keening all the while. Phil stroked him a few times, and Clint was past words. He wasn't even sure where he was anymore.


Finally, Phil took him in his mouth, and Clint's vision whited out, his universe narrowing to only the sensation,

and Phil,




Clint came with a loud yell, panting as he fell back down on the mattress. Slowly his vision returned, but he could do nothing more than lie in a sated, boneless heap and watch Phil. The agent smiled a bit at him, Clint's seed running out of the corner of his mouth. If Clint had any energy left, he would be already on top of the other man, licking it away and trying to chase himself in Phil's mouth. Mostly to be sure this really did happen. That he really did just get the best damn blowjob from Phil Coulson, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

But for the moment he settled for watching. There would always be later. He started to frown when he saw Phil pulling away, and working on things Clint learned to recognize as before bed rituals, despite the quite obvious bulge in his pants. He propped himself on one elbow.

"What're you doin'?"

Phil looked up, pleasantly surprised.


Clint wanted to roll his eyes, but that required more energy than he had to spare at the moment. As words escaped him, he simply looked pointedly at Phil's crotch. The agent sighed, and his eyes were gentle.

"You don't have to-"


Clint's tone was sharp, because he wasn't going to be the only one to cum tonight. Phil looked startled.



Clint had learned that a 'please', a real one, was the best way to win against Phil's stubbornness; especially when it was something Phil clearly wanted as much as Clint did. The older man swallowed, and walked until he was at the foot of the bed, eyes staring into Clint's.

"What do you want?"

Clint unleashed the full power of his gaze, and Phil fell on the bed, crawling up to Clint, as if hypnotized. Clint waited until their mouths were leveled before commanding roughly.

"Fuck me."

And that was more than Phil's self-control could take. He fell onto Clint, mouth searching hungrily, as if he may die without Clint's embrace. As if the archer's mouth was his lifeline.

Clint realized how much Phil had been holding himself back, because he had wanted this to be about Clint. The archer would have to work on that. Phil pulled away with a mighty gasp. His hips were twitching, rubbing the tented fabric of his pants against Clint's thigh. The younger man almost regretted having already come, because that had to feel fantastic against a hard cock. Phil was panting into his ear.

"Oh baby, please tell me you have-"

Clint gasped.

"Third drawer from the top."

Phil grabbed the condom and the lube, and worked a bit of the liquid onto his fingers. He didn't try to flip Clint over, for which he was grateful. He wanted to see Phil's face. He needed to see what he looked like when he came.

He tensed a bit when the first finger breached him, but quickly relaxed under Phil's wicked mouth. The second one grazed his prostate, and he pushed into Phil, the other man's hard cock rubbing against his balls. Clint moaned as he felt his cock harden again slowly, and Phil growled.

He pressed a third finger in, despite Clint's urgings of just getting on with it already. Phil Coulson was nothing if not thorough.

Suddenly the older man pulled back, and Clint shivered at the cold air. He opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped when Phil quickly undid his pants, and let them fall on the floor, gaze hungry and urgent.

In a fraction of second, he was on top of Clint again. One hand by the archer's head to steady himself, the other on guiding his cock to the archer's hole. Clint sighed when he felt the blunt touch, and nodded frantically at the hesitation, Phil's way to ask if he was ready.

Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, Phil penetrated him until their hips were mashed together. The older man rested his forehead on Clint's, waiting for his okay. Clint took a deep breath, and wrapped his legs around his-now it was official-lover's waist, and started rocking his hips.

Phil got right on the program, and started thrusting in slow and hard. Clint yelped each time his prostate was hit. He wrapped one arm around Phil's shoulders, another around his ribs; a steel band keeping them pressed chest to chest. They breathed in each other's air, and lost the knowledge of where their own body stopped and the other's began.

Phil came first, body tensing and arching into the archers, unable to stop himself, but he collected himself just enough to pat down to Clint's own member. He brought the younger man back over the edge with a couple of hard and precise strokes on his now again rock hard cock.

Phil rolled off Clint, but gathered the limp archer in his arms, cuddling him so that the blonde head was tucked under his chin. He stretched to feel around into a drawer, and took out a cloth that he used to wipe off Clint's semen. After that he removed the condom, and threw it in the trash.

Clint was staring at the cloth, trying to remember when he put that in his nightstand, when he came to the conclusion he hadn't, he looked up at Phil as well as he could from where his head was. He arched an eyebrow that was received with a small sheepish smile.

"I might have been a bit optimistic."

Clint beamed goofily.

"You were right, though."

Phil chuckled.

"Aren't I always?"

Clint swatted him lightly on the chest with a muttered "Smartass." Phil simply tightened his hold on the archer. Clint smiled happily, and nosed Phil's neck lazily. Phil stroked his back calmly. The blond sighed.

"I think I might be falling asleep, sir."

Phil looked down and kissed the top of Clint's head. He whispered fondly.

"Is that so, Agent Barton?"

Clint nipped weakly at his neck.

"Hm yeah. You should do the same."

Phil hummed non-committal.

"Why is that?"

Barton kissed his shoulder and slid down to rest his head on Phil's chest, eyelids drooping.

"Because I still owe you two orgasms, sir."

Phil chuckled, and saw the exact moment Clint fell asleep, perfectly relaxed, and trusting. Phil watched him for a moment and letting himself drift away, happily chasing after the man he loved.


So this is the end. Hold your breath and count to ten.

Sorry. Wrong song.

Really though, it's a bit weird that this fic is done! Thank you to all the people who took a moment to leave a comment, it always brightened the dullest of days! Thanks to my beta who did amazing work on this!

I love you all, and my next text should be up in a short time!