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Phil Coulson has known that Clint Barton is his soul mate since he was 18-years-old and woke up to find a name scrawled along the edges of his left hip. The thing is, though, is that Phil Coulson wasn’t officially Phil Coulson until he was 26. He’s thought about this sometimes. Clint Barton has the name Fiona Horodecki written on him somewhere, and Clint Barton will never meet her.
Phil’s known the name of his soul mate since he was 18, he’s been Phil Coulson since he was 26, and he meets Clint Barton at the age of 30.
To say that he was stunned when he found the himself in charge of recruiting his soul mate – who turns out to be a sour-faced, grumpy 21-year-old who fires a bow and arrow – is a bit of an understatement. Soul Mates are private, of course, it’s against most country’s laws to even ask the name of someone’s soul mate if it’s not volunteered but considering Nick is his best friend, he damn well knows that Clint Barton is written on Phil’s hip.
Phil knows his soul mate’s name at 18, is Phil at 26, and shoots his soul mate in the leg at the age 30.
The soul mate conversation is a touchy subject for Clint, Phil learns this pretty early on. Shortly after recovering Natasha – who has the name of dead man on her hip with a bullet scar in it – a drunken Clint talks about his childhood and how his dad tried to cut the name off of him when he was 12. He even takes off his arm guard to show them Phil’s old name written on the outside of his left arm with a long scar on the outside of it. It’s a weird feeling to see his name, to see hear his soul mate talk about him. He almost breaks his personal cardinal rule and tells them his old name, but Clint changes the subject before he can.
It’s generally just assumed that most Shield Agents don’t like talking about soul mates. Nick isn’t the only one with an assumed identity after all, and Jasper isn’t the only one with a scarred-over name; Clint wears an arm guard despite being the best archer any of them will meet, Natasha wears a sarong on all missions involving the beach, and Phil stays in his suits.
Phil works for a decade with his soul mate in close quarters. He makes up one-third of the premier Shield strike team and the only time he comes close to telling the truth is during a game of strip poker. Nick asked him why he didn’t just tell Clint, and if he’s being honest even Phil doesn’t know aside from the fact that it’s been too long now. He’s never wanted Clint, even before he knew him, to feel obligated to be with him. Soul Mates are a tricky subject because it doesn’t guarantee happiness or stability. When he became Phil he resigned himself to the fact that he would never be with Clint Barton, and he’s never adjusted that view since he met him.
Phil works for a decade with his soul mate and it goes south in Puente Antiguo, New Mexico.
“You’re going to let the doctor keep doing her research, sir?” Clint clarified, falling into step beside him.
“Hey, we need her. And we need Selvig. Fury has some ideas for him.”
“Did anyone ever tell you your boss always sounds pretty sketchy there, sir?” Clint asked with a smirk. Phil grinned back.
“Most of the time he tells me himself.”
“Where are you going now?” Clint asked.
“My quarters, for a nice long nap,” Phil replied. “Fighting off a giant destroyer robot is kind of tiring.”
“Mind if I join you?” Clint asked, voice casual. Phil faltered for a step.
“What?” he looks. Clint is looking him directly in the eyes, posture casual for all that his eyes look questioning. Thumbs in his pockets, shoulders turned.
“Do you mind if I join you, in your quarters?” Clint repeated. After a beat he added, “to make-out, as the kids would call it, and possibly have sex if you’re up for it.” They had stopped walking now, paused in the hallway of the temporary facility.
“Okay,” Phil replied.
Natasha will later tell him that Clint had been making hints and insinuations at him for the previous few months and eventually just given up and gone for the direct approach. She won’t tell him this until she starts talking to him again about a month before the battle of New York.
Phil reads the name on his hip when he’s 16, he becomes who he is at 26, he meets his soul mate at 30, he falls for his soul mate by the time he’s 35, and he loses it all when he’s 40 years old because for all of a moment he’s so caught up that he forgets that the man whose name is written on his hip has no idea.
The morning after is a blur mostly because it happens at 2 in the morning with Clint whispering words into his neck and his calloused fingers trailing down his side. Phil jolts back into reality just as Clint’s thumb brushes across the ‘ton’ and stops.
“Phil?” Clint asks, quietly at first. Phil jumps up, scooting away from Clint’s hand but it’s too late because Clint’s already throwing back the blankets and reading his own name on the curve of Phil’s hip. “Phil?” his voice is louder.
“Clint, wait – “ Phil starts but Clint is already stumbling off of the bed, right hand clapped over Phil’s old name on his left arm.
“What the fuck? You… you’re… “ he doesn’t say it but his lips make the shape and Phil flinches because that’s as close as he’s come to being called his old name in well over two decades. That’s enough proof for Clint and he is halfway to the door, struggling into a pair of black pants and reaching for his shirt by the time Phil gets to his feet.
“Wait, Clint, let me – “
“Explain?” Clint snaps, going still finally. “Explain what exactly? Why my name is on you and you never told me? Explain how you’ve known since you met me who we are to each other and you didn’t ever share? Explain who the fuck you are?”
“I have never lied about who I am!” Phil yells back, surprising himself. “This is who I am, Clint!”
“Fuck you Phil,” Clint said before turning back around and leaving the room. Phil watched him go, one hand drifting down to trace the other man’s name on his hip.
“He’s mad because you never told him you knew,” Natasha said on the Helicarrier a week later when she returns from Istanbul.
“I know that,” Phil replied.
“Do you?” Natasha asked. Phil turned to look at her but she had already walked off towards the bridge.
“Maybe you should write him a letter,” Maria suggested over Pad Thai in her office at the base in New Mexico about two months later. Phil frowned
“Why?” he finally asked.
“Well, clearly talking to him isn’t your strongest suit. And listening to you isn’t his.”
“Yes, clearly we are meant to be together. Maybe next time Thor touches down we can ask him what asshole god came up with these.” Phil replied, severely stabbing at a noodle.
“People’s names don’t change,” Maria said casually before taking a sip of her beer. “Witness protection civilians’ don’t, foreign nationals who change their names don’t, some people go by their middle names but their partner’s name still shows their first.”
“I know that,” Phil replied.
"Just saying," Maria said with a shrug.
“Nick; I’m tired of these games,” Phil said another handful of months later.
“This isn’t a game, Phil; I need you down there,” Nick replied.
“Maria can’t handle whatever it is?”
“Maria has enough to deal with. Look you idiot, you won’t even have to see him most likely; and you two have worked together since the whole damn thing. It’s not the end of the world.”
Phil’s soul mate gets captured by an otherworldly demigod, the entire facility collapses, New York faces an alien invasion, and Phil dies for 3 minutes and it takes way too long before he gets a chance to punch him in the face for that last comment.
It was three weeks in the intensive care unit before they let visitors who aren’t Nick in, and even then Clint doesn’t come in until Phil’s bedside clock reads 2:00 am.
“You kind of scared the crap out of us sir,” Clint said, sitting on the edge of the chair next to Phil’s bed where May had yelled at him for twenty minutes seven hours earlier.
“Nick told me he let you all believe I was dead,” Phil said. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Not your call,” Clint said with a shrug.
“I should have told you,” Phil said and all of the sudden they weren’t talking about the Battle of New York anymore. Clint’s fingers twine together and he looks at the floor as he replies.
“I spent most of my life positive that my soul mate… that I wasn’t worthy of a soul mate. I knew, and know, that the names we’re given don’t guarantee anything. My parents were soul mates and I wish they’d never met. But I always… Christ, knowing that there was someone out there that I was destined for gave me a little bit of hope for the future when I was younger. When I grew up, though, I knew that my life wasn’t the best, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
“Clint – “ Phil started, trying to shift himself up. Clint shook his head.
“No, please let me finish Phil. I thought that finding my soul mate would be a punishment for them. And when I… finding out that you’ve known for years that we’re soul mates felt like a confirmation of that. It felt like, like you got to know me and knew that I just wasn’t worth it.”
“That’s not why, Clint.” Phil replied.
“I know Phil, but I can’t figure out why so that’s just where I end up!” Clint exclaimed, hand going into the air.
“You know why!” Phil yelled back, before devolving into a short burst of coughs. He waves away Clint’s alarmed look. “You know exactly why - I am not who you imagined your soul mate to be! I am not the person you used to imagine and spend time thinking about and wonder what they’re like.”
“You think I care about that?” Clint demanded, standing up.
“Yes!” Phil snapped before he could stop himself. “I mean, no! I just… I didn’t think it would be fair to you,” he said quietly.
“Well what a pair of self-confident sons of bitches we make, huh?” Clint drawled, sitting heavily back in the chair. “I’m sorry too, you know. I shouldn’t have reacted as badly as I did. To be honest I’ve been nuts about you for years. I felt like some sort of lovesick tween because sometimes I’d think about waking up to find your name on my arm instead.” He let out an awkward little short laugh and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I, uh, I meant to show you this once I heard you were going to be on the base but all of the shit going down sort of… well, I mean, I realized that I didn’t… that I should have listened to you and talked after we… anyway, I wanted to apologize and I thought maybe this might… shit, okay hold on.”
"What are you talking about?” Phil asked, smiling despite himself. Clint let out a short breath.
“Right, okay.” He unzipped his jacket and shrugged off before holding out his right arm. Phil was about to ask again until he saw it. Inked across Clint’s shoulder was ‘Phil Coulson,’ in what looked like Phil’s own steady hand.
“My… that’s my name,” he said, feeling like an idiot for stating the obvious.
“I thought it was a little bit unfair that I, uh; I wanted to have a piece of you with me too. So a few weeks ago I went down to this little tattoo parlor near the base and I got this done. Uh, they wouldn’t cover the old one but I thought this was kinda nice you know? Hip to shoulder, now we sort of match. I know it’s kind of stupid but I hope it’s not ins- “ it had taken far too long for Phil to get himself righted enough to grab one of Clint’s belt loops but it didn’t take long at all for Clint to stop talking once Phil started kissing him.