Work Text:
Day 7: Miracle
When you work for SHIELD, it often means that private plans get shot to hell. Every Agent knows this - it’s what they signed up for. But that doesn’t mean that Clint isn’t pissed as hell when they call Phil in on the second day of their vacation, because something came up and they absolutely need him. Not only that, they don’t have any use for him at the time, tell him to just stay put.
This. This right here is why he hates taking any time off. What use are days off, when he can’t spend them with his partner? If it wasn’t so incredibly close to Christmas, Clint might be a little more relaxed about it, but as it looks now, he might spend the holidays sitting alone in an empty apartment, which just sounds depressing as fuck.
This is why Clint usually volunteers to work over the holidays, to avoid this very situation. But ever since his relationship with Phil, he got to experience some truly beautiful Christmases and he really doesn’t want that to stop.
If both of them were to work, fine - at least, chances are they’d be stuck in whatever last minute mission together. But now?
Phil is several hours of flight away, juggling whatever bullshit someone else produced to try and rescue the situation, because this is how half of his jobs are going these days, while Clint is home alone with nothing to do and too many thoughts running wild.
He eyes the cupboard that holds the booze, mulls over it but doesn’t get up to get a drink. He’s not that low yet, and he wants to avoid that if he can - Clint does not want to start a habit that will be hard to break in the future.
Drinking with other people, casually and with nice company? Sure, every once in a while.
Drinking alone in a dark apartment to make his brain shut up? A really, really bad idea. Memories of years spent in fear of his father and later Buck Chisholm, Jacques Duquesne and even his own brother, Barney, stop him from doing that, even when the urge comes. Very occasionally, but still. He resists, and doesn't even drink too often as it is.
Thinking back to the violence and loss of control back then makes him not touch any alcohol at all for weeks and sometimes months at a time.
With a heavy sigh, Clint flops over a few times, until he’s upside down and with his legs hanging over the back of the sofa. He sighs again, causing Lucky to come jogging from the next room over and sit down on top of him - but only after turning around a few times, paws are digging into uncomfortable places while he does so.
“Oof, ouch.”
A cold, wet nose nuzzles into him, and Clint can’t help but smile at that. Lucky is a wonderful dog, and he loves him to pieces, even when he seems to be determined to cut off his blood circulation in important body parts sometimes.
With his hands buried in soft golden fur and with Lucky licking all over his neck and the underside of his chin in true canine affection, Clint manages to relax a bit. Breathing gets easier, and instead of letting his brain get the better of him, he focuses on the dog. The deep, even breaths, the feeling of fur on his skin and the slight wagging of the tail that keeps hitting his legs.
“Good boy, Lucky. Good boy.”
As if in response, Lucky nuzzles him again and Clint scratches the good spot behind his ear. They stay like this for a while, until Clint gets a bit lightheaded from being upside down for too long - he moves in another position, with Lucky still sprawled on his chest. He simply holds onto the dog, turns and then they settle again. On the way to lay down properly, Clint fishes his phone from a mess on the coffee table.
“Hey there. I miss you” he types into his ongoing chat with Phil, hitting send before he does something stupid like telling his partner how he’s been feeling in more detail. Who knows when Phil will be able to respond to a personal text from his personal phone next - there is no need to worry him.
The last time he’d heard from Phil was about three days ago. He’s been okay then, telling Clint that things are kinda messy and that he hopes to be able to text or better yet, come back soon.
At almost 2 in the morning, Clint’s phone vibrates with a new message. He instantly wakes up from a light sleep due to the vibrations. He went to bed with the phone near him, just in case. It’s a long standing habit for both him and Phil when the other is away on a mission, just so they’ll know when the other texts or calls.
“Miss you, too. I don’t wanna jinx anything and say a date, but I might be able to be home in a few days. Hope I didn’t wake you up - I love you”
Clint squints against the bright light of his phone, but the message makes him smile. Phil is okay, at least okay enough to text and that is very reassuring to know.
“Be safe and come back soon. I love you, too!” he types back and throws his phone back onto Phil’s empty pillow. The date on the display says December 20th.
Just how long are “a few days” going to be, Clint asks himself while falling back into a restless sleep.
The next few days, Clint spends very similarly to the rest of the time. He doesn’t talk much to anyone but his dog, even on their long walks out. Back home, he keeps busy with household tasks and paperwork, desperate to do something to kill his time.
December 23rd, his calendar on the desk proclaims, while Clint finishes the last page of forms. He’s done - nothing to do, nothing to clean anymore - no Phil.
He’d texted this morning, stating he didn’t know yet when they’d be finished, saying he misses and loves Cint. It’s reassuring to read from him, but nothing beats having his partner right here.
“Fuck this.” Clint tells the date on the paper, and it remains silent, staring back at him, almost mocking.
Clint reaches out and puts it face down onto the table - it doesn’t help. He glares at tit for a moment, then leaves the room. He takes the leash off of the hook to go on a walk with his dog.
“Lucky! Come here, boy! we’re going to the park” he calls, and as soon as he finishes the word “park”, Lucky comes scrambling down the hallway with a wildly wagging tail and pure excitement in his eyes. Then he headbutts into Clint’s stomach to stop himself.
“Oh hey, are you okay?” Clint asks, gently patting Lucky’s head and unable to stop the laughter rising up his throat. The dog just beams up at him, enjoying the pets while waiting for him to finally put the leash on so they can go out.
Laughing feels good, too - Clint was planning on going for a walk to calm down in the first place, but it seems like Lucky just being the goofy and wonderful dog that he is did half the job before they even left the apartment.
It’s beginning to snow. Not enough to remain on the floor, but enough for Lucky to get excited and chase after the snowflakes in the air. He’s trying to catch them, and Clint happily lets him.
“Maybe we’ll have a white christmas this year, huh?” he asks the dog, then pulls out his phone to film a quick video of Lucky jumping into the air to try and get the snow. Small flakes are stuck in his fur, only slowly melting away. Clint can’t help but smile, and he holds out a treat behind his phone, then he gets Lucky’s attention - the video ends with a dog snout darkening the screen. He immediately sends the video to Phil.
Lucky has settled down next to him, and when Clint is finished with his message, he is met with deep brown dog eyes that look up at him. He smiles, smoothing down the fur on his dog’s forehead, then the sides of his head. Lucky leans into the touch, clearly happy with all of this love and attention. Most of his weight leans against Clint by now, eyes sliding closed.
They remain like this for a while, by the side of the park’s walkway. Some people “oohh” and “aww” at the sight of Lucky, especially families with children, but Clint doesn’t pay them any mind, apart from shooting a smile to a little girl who holds her mothers hand and waves at him with the other.
Lucky has that effect on people.
On their way home, Clint can feel the phone vibrating in his pocket. He fishes it out with one hand, heart stopping for a beat. He really hopes that this is a message from Phil - and really.
“Thanks for the video of our son. btw I’ll make it home in time for christmas! <3” the message reads, and Clint starts a little happy-dance in the middle of the street. He gets some odd looks, but nothing worth mentioning - this is New York, after all.
Clint expects to find the apartment as dark and silent as he does.
What he doesn’t expect when he leaves the bathroom after a long, hot shower, is the light in the hallway being on and a familiar pair of shoes next to the door.
A spark of happiness lights up his entire mood as Clint makes his way towards the living room/kitchen area. And really, when he rounds the corner, he is greeted by the sight of Phil, whose suit looks rumpled and his five o clock shadow is very much turned into a beard by now, but he looks up at the sound of footsteps behind him and smiles.
“Phil!” Clint all but tackles his partner to the couch behind him. He can feel Phil’s startled laughter against his neck, but he has him wrapped up in both arms and holds on tightly. Both of them end up on top of it in a tangled mess, rumpled or, in Clint’s case, half dressed and damp from the shower, but none of it matters right now. They’re both home, in one piece but most of all, safe and reunited.
“No more last minute missions. Fuck that.” Clint says into his partner's hair, and Phil just nods - he must be exhausted, because he doesn’t even pull away to sign an answer. This tells Clint everything he needs to know though.
He wraps arms and legs around Phil, then simply turns both of them over until Phil is comfortably on top of him, head tucked under his chin while Clint gently scratches the nape of his neck while he keeps his other arm firmly around Phil.
They stay like that until both of them drift off into a light sleep. It’s only when Lucky decides he wants to join in in the cuddles that they wake up, because the dog jumps gracelessly onto Phil’s back and licks his ear.
“Ow. Way to go, Lucky.”
Lucky just nuzzles closer, and Phil reaches up with one hand to pet him.
“Yes, I love you, too.”
Under him, Clint’s chest rumbles with laughter.
“You two are having your usual discussion?” he asks. His hearing aids are still in the bedroom, but he just knows how things usually go.
Phil just nods, and instead of an answer, chuckling. They stay on the couch for a bit, cuddling and trading lazy kisses, then a rumbling stomach decides that it’s time for dinner.
The morning of December 24th starts out late. They didn’t get into bed until late at night, and that’s perfectly fine. They don’t have to be anywhere, and even though it’s much later than planned, they can finally enjoy their vacation together.
Small dust particles are already dancing in the streams of sunlight that make it through the window and into their room, but neither Phil or Clint gives it any attention. They’re way too busy removing restrictive clothing so they can greet each other properly after the time they spent apart.
As messy as the holiday season has started, they still managed to start Christmas together - if it wasn’t so incredibly frustrating, they would have called it a miracle. But as it is, they’re here, they’re happy, and the days can come.