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“Clint, babe?” Phil said after a moment of consideration with his eyebrows drawn close together.
“Hmm?” Clint hummed halfheartedly, but Phil knew he’d had Clint’s attention.
From the sound of it, Clint was replaying one of the Angry Birds games that he’d beaten too many times to count. He was sprawled over the other end of the couch, his head resting on the arm, and his bare feet were in Phil’s lap where Phil was gently stroking the delicate skin covering the ankles as he read on his own tablet. It was a rare day off mission for them both, and over the past little while Phil’d gotten used to coming over to Clint’s whenever he had a few days of shore leave. Between the Bus and Clint’s place, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone back to his own place for more than a hour to pick up the mail and grab some clothes.
Huh. Phil was a little startled by that revelation. Sure, they’d been together for several years by now, through all of the craziness of discovering the existence of demigods and alien armies, never mind their combined hazardous careers and near-death experiences, but Phil had honestly not given much thought as to furthering their relationship. He liked the way things were, and he wasn’t about to rock the boat when thing were going well.
Inadvertently, though, Phil had somehow merged his life with Clint’s so seamlessly, that he couldn’t remember a time when they didn’t live like this. The medicine cabinet was filled with Phil’s contact lenses and Clint’s hair gel and both their razors. The book case had a mix of Phil’s collection of jazz vinyls and Clint’s sci-fi paperbacks. Phil’s winter boots sat in a neat row next to his dress shoes and Clint’s jogging sneakers. The kitchen was filled with small appliances and gadgets they went and bought together because apparently cooking together and for each other was a thing for them now. Clint was never home enough to cook before Phil and Phil didn’t have anyone to cook for before Clint, but now, they spent a considerable amount of time in the kitchen on a regular basis and make all kinds of elaborate meals that both of them were addicted to.
Phil was sure that if he went to the bedroom closet right now, it’d be half-filled with his various suits in dry cleaner’s bags, interspersed with Clint’s random t-shirts and black on black ensemble he wore at work, and his own casual wear. And Phil was pretty sure the thick alpaca socks he was wearing were actually Clint’s at one point. And the sweatpants too. And the hoodie.
Huh, indeed.
“Phil?” Clint sounded concerned when he called Phil by name, Angry Birds long abandoned and the tablet resting face down on his belly. “You all right? What is it?”
Phil shook his head to clear the runaway train of thought. “When was the last time we gave Lucky a bath?”
Clint dragged his eyes over to the slip of golden shadow sitting next to him on the floor, who raised his head at the sound of his name. “I don’t know. I think Kate gave him one a couple weeks ago? Maybe?”
“We have gotta train him to not go sniffing around the dumpster in the future,” Phil’s nose crinkled at the trace of wet dog smell. “He smells.”
Clint sniffed a bit harder, then grimaced. “Wow, I’m going to have to claim sensory adaptation for this. I didn’t even noticed how stinky he’s gotten. Yeah, go get set up in the bathroom. I’ll bring him over once I’ve changed of these.” Clint pulled at his jeans and the hem of his shirt.
Lucky, Phil knew, like most dogs, did not enjoy baths. At all. He nodded and set his tablet down on the coffee table before heading into the bathroom. He stripped off the socks, sweats and hoodie after turning on the water, leaving him in an old t-shirt and boxers, then started rummaging through the cupboard under the sink for Lucky’s doggy shampoo.
Clint came in shortly, also stripped down to his boxerbriefs. Giving Lucky a bath was like fighting a particularly slippery alien monster. The dog was an escape artist in his own right. It always took the two of them to have the remotest of chance at getting the job done, and they still ended up drenched in suds from head to toe most of the time. Phil didn’t know how Kate could get the dog all cleaned up on her own without having to pin Lucky down. He’d have to ask her one of these days.
As soon as Lucky saw the bathtub, he whined with his hackles up, his tail tucked and ready to bolt. It was only Clint’s fingers tight around his collar dragging him forward that prevented him from fleeing the bathroom.
Clint hauled the dog into the tub and got in after him, sitting with his arm around Lucky’s torso so he wouldn’t be able to move around too much. Phil sat on his edge of the tub with his feet in the tub. He checked the water temperature one last time before switching to the hand shower.
Between Clint’s strength and Phil’s efficiency, they managed to get Lucky soaped up and mostly rinsed before Clint’s arms slipped. Lucky knew the exact moment Clint let go of him and bucked. He shook himself, sending a sudsy spray all over the humans and the bathroom walls, before running out the door, presumably to hide in the nest behind the couch Clint’d set up for him.
Phil and Clint stared at each other, both drenched in soapy water, before they both burst out laughing. Clint tackled Phil and pulled him down to sit in the tub, and they wrestled until Phil’s got Clint pinned underneath him. Clint was wet and bare from the waist up, completely and utterly beautiful with his hair all mussed in wet clumps and his eyes bright and breathtaking even under the harsh bathroom light. Phil felt his breath catch in his throat, nearly unable to breath properly at how much he wanted this to last forever. How much he wanted this to be so much more.
Phil knew his thoughts had gone on a tangent because Clint’d got his concern face on again, and Phil was only able to tell that apart from his resting face because, well, Phil’d had years of practice.
“Phil?”
Phil chuckled, burying his face into Clint’s neck, not caring that they were still drenched and in need of a bath themselves. “Nothing. Just... God, you have no idea how perfect you look right now.”
“You mean lying in a tub all wet and dirty and in need to go chase down our dog before he sprayed water all over the apartment?” Clint arched an amused eyebrow at Phil. “Actually, don’t move. I like you right where you are.”
Phil’s breath caught again. “You said ‘our dog.’”
“Uh, yeah? So?” Clint looked really worried when Phil picked himself up to straddle Clint’s lap. “Phil, baby, are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” Phil huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Talk to me, Phil.” Clint offered. This was how they worked. In the years of them working together as a team, before even this thing between them had became real, they’d never held anything back. It often surprised Phil and Clint alike how much trust they managed to put into one another to safe guard their inner most secrets and fears and dreams. Phil knew that Clint wouldn’t push if he decided not to say anything, but Phil also knew that he could tell Clint, that he wouldn’t be judged for it.
“It’s silly.” Phil allowed Clint to maneuver them so they were sitting side by side in the tub. “I just thought… well, I was thinking, earlier, of how much I wanted this to be a permanent thing. When I’m on the Bus and I think of home, this place is where I think about, with our couch and our mixed sock drawer and our dog and our fancy espresso machine neither of us could figure out how to use properly.” Phil turned to face Clint. “I don’t want to push things onto you that you might not be comfortable with. I know commitment is a big thing for you, and I know we have a good thing going here, but...”
Phil didn’t know how to continue. He hadn’t planned this. Whatever “this” was, it’d just happened, all of a sudden without his permission or any contingencies. He didn’t want to put Clint on the spot, or make him uncomfortable. He knew that Clint might get nervous, but he’d like to think their relationship had progressed far enough for Clint to not bolt at the first mention of serious commitment.
He’d hoped anyway.
Phil was surprised when Clint started chuckling, which turned into full blown laughing as he buried his face into Phil’s shoulder. After he finally got his laughter under control, Clint pulled Phil towards him and pecked a kiss to his temple.
“So you finally figured out that you’ve practically moved in with me, huh?”
What? Phil pulled back slightly to stare at Clint, who’s eyes were dancing with laughter still. “You mean...”
“You’ve got keys to the place. You know our neighbors and their kids by name. You even make those amazing chicken wings for the weekly rooftop barbecue whenever you’re home for it. And even if you ignore all of that, it’s kind of hard to ignore that invasion of suits that’s going on in our closet. And they’re all of your favorites, don’t think I didn’t notice. I doubt you’ve even worn the ones that you left at your place in years.”
Phil blinked. He hadn’t noticed that, but he knew Clint was speaking the truth.
“Phil, baby, you okay?” Clint nuzzled the side of his face while his arm tightened around Phil’s shoulder. “I don’t mean to...”
“No, it’s okay,” Phil said, taking a big breath. “It’s just... I need a minute to let it all sink in’s all.” Phil let out the breath after holding it for a few seconds. “I can’t believe I haven’t noticed that before.”
“It happens to the best of us.” Clint shrugged with a small, shy smile. “So, when are you going to bring the rest of your stuff over?”
Phil couldn’t help the grin that threatened to take over his face. “I don’t have much over there anymore. Nothing that I care much about anyways. My Cap collection has been donated to the Smithsonian as per my old will after Fury prematurely declared me dead to HR, so all that’s left are just random stuff. Next time I get a few days off, we can go over there and pick up anything I wanted to keep and call for a donation truck to get the rest?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Clint’s grin widened to match his. “Listen, Phil. I want you to be in my life for as long as you’re willing to put up with me. We might never get to the point of walking down the aisle, because God knows how much red tape we’ll have to deal with. Never a wedding kind of person anyway. But I want you to know that this is it for me. You were it.”
Clint looked at him, his eyes were soft and full of love. Phil could drown in those beautiful blue eyes forever.
“You were it for me too,” Phil said, his voice a bit raspier and brimming with emotions he couldn’t and didn’t want to contain. He wanted to go shout from the rooftops.
“Good,” Clint leaned in for a kiss before patting Phil on the thigh and getting up. “Now we gotta go hunt down that dog of ours and make sure he’s not created an even bigger mess than he’s already done.”
Phil chuckled, shaking his head as he followed suit.
It was good to be home.