Work Text:
Phil glanced at his watch as he hurried down the hallway on his way to another meeting. In the ‘normal’ working world, he’d be packing his things and heading home. Trying not to sigh, he decided to duck into the men’s locker room to hit the bathroom. The locker room itself was deserted and he couldn’t hear any showers running. He popped into stall and closed the door behind himself.
He heard the door to the locker room slam open. There was a moment of silence, the quiet noise of the door sliding closed, followed by someone cursing a blue streak and apparently, kicking the benches. A locker opened, the sound of fabric hitting the back of the locker with unnecessary force, and then the locker slamming closed. The tirade seemed to end with a loud “shit, shit, shit!”
Phil did his pants up and flushed the toilet. Stepping out, he carefully washed his hands, giving whoever it was long enough to take off if they were embarrassed to have been overheard. Stepping into the locker room, however, he found that the man had not disappeared. He was sitting on the bench furthest from the door, hunched over, hands over his face. Phil would know those shoulders and that dirty blond hair anywhere. He’d been fantasizing about them too much lately. “Barton? What’s wrong?”
Clint’s shoulders hunched, obviously recognizing Phil’s voice, before dragging his hands down his face and turning to look at the other man. “Sorry, you had to hear that Phil.” He took a deep breath. “Fucking Housing department lost my request form for quarters off base.”
Phil pulled his phone out again and started texting, letting his next meeting know he likely wasn’t going to join them. There was more to this than Barton was saying. He had rarely seen the other man this upset, and it wasn’t just anger and frustration that Phil could hear in his voice.
“And?” he prompted when the other man made no motion to explain further. This was the first he’d heard of his asset requesting to have quarters off the main base and forms of that type would have definitely come across his desk. His mind came up with half a dozen potential reasons for the request, all of them making him worry for Clint. Was the other man being bullied?
Clint let out a wet laugh that made Phil want to gather the other man into his arms and assure him everything would be alright. A desire that Phil promptly squashed while he waited for the other man to explain. “The shelter says I have to prove I have somewhere to live that’s off base before they’ll release my dog to me, and today’s the deadline for his adoption. They’re going to put him down in the morning.”
Phil blinked a couple times. That was not one of the half-dozen reasons he’d come up with for why Clint would need to live off base. His next thought was ‘Clint has a dog?’ before he frowned. “What if your dog stayed with me until we figured out the paperwork? I live off base. Does it need to be a place with a yard or is a condo alright?”
Clint just blinked at him for a moment before an aching hope crossed his features. Phil watched as Clint squashed that hope, his face going serious again. “Phil, I can’t ask that of you.”
“You didn’t ask, I offered.” Phil replied, no nonsense. “Now which shelter is he at? Are they still open? Should we call and tell them we’re on the way?”
Clint blinked twice more before finally accepting, joy and determination in his features while he stood. “I’ll call them, they should still be open. Can you drive or should we borrow a car?”
Phil followed Clint out into the hallway. “I’ll drive, but let’s borrow an SUV, something with more room since we’ll need to stop into a pet store on the way home.”
Clint nodded before typing in a number to his phone and speaking to the shelter. They stopped in at the garage to borrow a large SUV with tinted windows and Phil dropped into the driver’s seat, adjusting everything before taking off at Clint’s direction.
“May I ask where you got a dog?” Phil finally asked.
Clint ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck for a moment. “I was walking back to base after dinner one night when I watched this stray get hit by a car. I’d seen it around before, figured it belonged to one of the bodega’s or something, but nobody noticed or cared. I picked him up and took him to the vet. Broken leg, lost an eye, but he was going to fully recover. I told the vet to see if they could find him a home, but nobody stepped forward. They need to make room, so they put Lucky on the list for euthanasia. When I went to get him, they told me I couldn’t have him until I had an off-base address.”
Phil nodded and felt a small grin touch his lips. “His name is Lucky?”
Clint nodded. “I used to call him Pizza dog when I’d run into him. He loved me because I’ve usually always got a bit of leftover pizza to put in the fridge back at the base. He loves pizza, but at the vet, with him looking up at me, obviously hurting but still wagging his tail…I just…called him Lucky.”
Phil pulled the SUV into the shelter’s parking lot before clapping a hand on Clint’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Let’s go get Lucky.”
***
Phil stood back, out of the way, and filled out the paperwork on a small clipboard. He couldn’t help glancing up however, as Clint and Lucky basically rolled around on the floor together, each seemingly just as happy to see the other. Lucky was some sort of a scruffy yellow lab mix, was indeed missing an eye and had a broken front leg, for which he’d been given a fittingly purple cast. The staff at the shelter didn’t bat an eyelid at Clint showing up with Phil in tow, they only seemed pleased that he’d worked something out, so he could take Lucky. It was obvious the staff cared, but they had only so much room. One of the young women had gone to collect the doggy starter kit they gave to new adopters while the second had gotten Lucky from the kennels and brought him up.
“So, have you been out of town?” The older of the two women stepped up next to him causing Phil to quickly return his attention to the paperwork.
“Hm? No, why do you ask?”
“He’s been here basically every night to walk Lucky himself. If my boyfriend had been disappearing every night, I damn well would have noticed.”
Phil felt himself blushing at the thought. “Oh no, he’s not my boyfriend.”
The ‘uh-huh’ she gave him told him exactly what she thought of that, but before he could try and clear things up, the other woman had appeared with a tote bag full of dog food samples and poop bags. The two women took turns saying goodbye to Lucky while explaining things to Phil and Clint that they may not have considered.
Finally, they were able to make their way back to the parking lot. Lucky jumped into the back of the SUV as soon as the door was opened for him, and then stood with his good front foot on the center console so he could watch while Phil drove, and occasionally lick the ear of whoever didn’t seem to be paying him enough attention. To save Phil from swerving in traffic, Clint started scratching Lucky’s ears until Phil was able to park next at a pet store.
Armed with a list provided by the shelter, they made their way through the ‘dog’ section of the store, Clint in charge of driving the cart while Phil controlled the list and kept Lucky from stealing anything that was not bolted to the floor or too large to fit into his mouth.
Clint pulled out his wallet at the checkout desk and didn’t bat an eyelid at the cost to equip Phil’s condo with everything needed to keep Lucky happy, fed, and stimulated enough to hopefully not destroy anything.
As they were rolling the cart out to the car, Clint spoke up again. “I’ll bet this is not how you planned to spend your evening.” He grinned at Phil over the cart as they began to load up the SUV.
Phil met Clint’s smile with one of his own. “No, this is better.”
Clint’s smile grew impossibly wider at this admission and Phil hid a slight blush by turning his attention to Lucky and helping the dog up into the back seat of the SUV again.
Pulling the SUV back onto the road, they renewed the battle with Lucky regarding who needed the most slobbery kisses.
“Lucky, stop! He’s driving!” Clint laughed, pulling the dog’s head away from Coulson’s ear.
“Do as your dad says!” Coulson laughingly agreed, ruffling the dog’s chest fur playfully.
“But you also have to mind what Papa Coulson says too!” Clint spoke mock-firmly to his dog, wagging a finger in Lucky’s face which was promptly slobbered on. “If you’re going to live in his apartment, you have to abide by his rules!”
Since he was still driving Phil couldn’t hide the blush at being called Papa Coulson, like they were a family. “I guess I’m going to have to come up with some rules, aren’t I?” he mused, hoping to somewhat distract Clint.
“No chewing on Coulson’s shoes,” Clint explained to Lucky.
“The furniture in the living room’s all leather, so I don’t think I need a ‘no dogs on the couches’ rule.” Coulson decided after a moment’s thought.
“What about the bed?” Clint looked over Lucky at the other man.
Coulson pursed his lips. “Well, it’s not like there isn’t room for him,” he admitted.
“I sure named you right, didn’t I?” Clint murmured to the dog. “Papa Coulson’s even willing to let you sleep on the bed with him.”
Coulson pulled the SUV to a stop in the visitor parking of his building, not sure he was fast enough at getting out of the car to hide his increasing blush. Between the two of them, they got all of Lucky’s food and accessories out of the SUV and into the service elevator. Stopping at Coulson’s floor, they shifted everything into the hallway so they could release the elevator. Coulson took Lucky and walked down the hall to his apartment, letting them both in before returning to help Clint.
At Phil’s direction they rearranged a few pieces of furniture so Lucky’s bed was under a window but still out of the way. A place was found for his food and water bowl and a corner of the pantry set aside for the large bag of dogfood. While they worked, they chatted amiably and Lucky nosed through the apartment, making himself familiar with each and every room before returning to the living room.
“Can I get you a beer?” Coulson asked once they’d found a spot to hang Lucky’s collar and leash.
“Sure.” Clint nodded, happy for any excuse to not leave, scratching Lucky’s ear as the dog pulled up to his side and followed them both into the kitchen.
Phil opened the fridge and examined the top shelf which, to Clint’s surprise, was filled with three large growler’s from three different local breweries. “I’ve got a red, a blond and an IPA.” He tossed over his shoulder as he reached for a nearby cupboard that was full of glasses.
“I’ll try the red.” Clint smiled and nodded his thanks before starting up a conversation about the local micro-breweries in town.
As Clint drained the last of his glass, Phil seemed to remember something and moved to the edge of the kitchen where he dug through a small drawer for a moment before returning with a key. “Here,” he handed the key to Clint. “This will get you in my door. The front entry key is 0945.”
“Are you sure?” Clint blinked. “I mean…”
“I want you to be able to see and take Lucky out whenever you want. And if I ever get pulled out on an emergency mission or something, you need to be able stay here with him.” Phil seemed to frown. “We should ask around the office, see if anyone knows of a good sitter, in case we’re both called out at the same time.”
Clint nodded, setting his glass down next to the sink. “Coulson,” he glanced up at the other man. “Phil, this really means a lot to me. Thank you.”
Coulson’s smile, which had been merely polite until Clint had used his first name, grew and his expression became bashful. “Happy to help.” He replied sincerely. “If you ever need anything Clint, please know that you can always come to me.”
Clint smiled and nodded, dropping his gaze for a quick moment. Clint pulled his eyes back up, meeting Phil’s sincere gaze. He felt himself stepping forward, into Phil’s space, watching Phil’s expression for any indication, welcome or rejection. Phil looked back at him, unsure, eyes darting between Clint’s eyes and his lips. They leaned towards each other, hesitated and made to pull away.
Tired of being ignored, Lucky barked and jumped at Clint’s back, pushing him forward onto Phil. With the dog’s help, their first kiss was an awkward one, teeth knocking together followed by soft laughter. Clint darted forward again for a second better, longer kiss, and Phil made no objection, returning the kiss with fervour.
They pulled apart, breathing together with their eyes closed. “Stay with us,” Phil whispered, opening his eyes at last, watching Clint’s face.
The edges of Clint’s lips twitched upwards, his kaleidoscope eyes opening, meeting Phil’s gaze and searching for sincerity. “Please,” he whispered back.