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Phil calls himself a fool for probably the hundredth time since leaving his apartment and yet he's still here, standing in front of a virtual stranger's door with his sleeping daughter in his arms. His only defense is that Clint had sounded so distraught and despondent on the phone. Phil has been part of the Single Dad Hotline since Ellie had been born and, over the past two and a half years, has shifted from the one getting advice to the one providing it. He still remembers how it felt the first time Ellie had gotten sick, how incompetent and inadequate he'd felt as a parent that he couldn't do anything to make her feel better. Phil at least had Ellie's mothers—his best friends Maria and Melinda—to share the burden with, but Phil knows Clint is mostly alone in taking care of little James.
Taking a fortifying breath, Phil raises his hand and knocks lightly on the door. He doesn't want to ring the bell in case Clint has succeeded in getting James to sleep. The door opens a few seconds later to reveal a beleaguered looking Clint and Phil stifles the urge to gasp out loud. Clint is gorgeous. While Phil has seen pictures of Clint and James on the Hotline's sharesite, it's nothing compared to seeing the man in the flesh—a lot of flesh. Clint is barefoot and wearing nothing but worn sleep pants and a burp cloth thrown over one shoulder. They stare at each other for long moment before Clint's face splits into a wide, surprised grin.
"Phil? Is that really you? What are you doing here?"
"You sounded like you could use some extra support," Phil smiles back.
"You're amazing! I— Oh hello, sweetheart. You must be Ellie."
Phil turns his head and, sure enough, Ellie is awake and staring owlishly at Clint. Phil braces himself because Ellie isn't always great with strangers, but she surprises him by reaching both arms out toward Clint in the classic "carry me" gesture. Clint's eyes flick to Phil's for permission, who nods and watches with a lump in his throat as Ellie goes easily into Clint's tender hold. Clint cradles Ellie against his chest and she surprises Phil again by reaching up to kiss Clint's cheek, snuggling in, and falling back to sleep.
"She's beautiful," Clint whispers and then remembers that they're still standing mostly outside of his apartment. "Oh! Come in, please. Sorry."
Phil follows him inside the small apartment, tidy except for a few of James' bottles and toys scattered around. There's a small tree on a table in the corner that Phil remembers seeing in the Christmas morning pictures Clint had posted last week.
"Will Ellie be okay if we put her down? I have a Murphy Bed in my office."
"Yes, she'll be fine. She's a really good sleeper. I'm surprised she woke up at all."
Clint leads the way down a short hallway and into his office, gesturing toward the large cabinet against the wall without jostling Ellie. Phil pulls down the Murphy Bed, grabbing the pillows from the shelf above, and untucking the blankets for Clint to gently lower Ellie onto the mattress. The care in which Clint handles Ellie spreads a warmth through Phil and he realizes that the small crush he's been harboring may not be so small after all.
When Clint is done covering Ellie with the blanket, he moves to turn on the small nightlight by the desk and Phil leans down to brush a kiss across his daughter's forehead. He straightens and looks over to see Clint looking at them both with a soft, fond smile that widens as Clint ushers them out of the office. He leaves the office door slightly ajar and points toward another door.
"Do you want to see James? And I should probably put on a shirt."
"I'd love to see James," Phil responds and purposely doesn't comment on whether or not he wants Clint to cover up. He does let his eyes roam covertly across Clint's muscular back as they walk into the master bedroom.
Phil steps up to the crib standing next to the king bed and looks down at the sleeping baby. James seems to be resting comfortably, even if his cheeks are still a little flushed from the fever. Clint slides in next to Phil and reaches down to brush a lock of hair off James' forehead.
"He fell asleep a few minutes before you got here. I'd already given him the ibuprofen, like you and the doc told me to, but he was still so miserable that I didn't know what to do. I just kept holding him and rocking him until he finally fell asleep."
"You did exactly the right thing, Clint." Phil puts his arm around Clint's shoulders, who looks pretty miserable himself, and then pulls him into a hug before Phil can second guess the compulsion. Clint melts into the contact, wrapping his arms around Phil and holding tight. "You're a great dad and you're doing a wonderful job with James."
"Thanks. That means a lot." Clint holds onto Phil for another few seconds before letting go and taking a step back. "But I'm being a horrible host. Let's go out into the living room where we don't have to whisper. Can I get you something to drink?"
"Yes, please."
Phil settles on one end of the couch as Clint pauses on the way to the kitchen. "Hot cider okay? You're staying for a bit, right? I can put a little spiced rum in it?"
"That sounds great."
"Coming right up."
Phil glances around as he waits, smiling at the covered electrical outlets and padded corners on the coffee table. There is a row of picture frames on the mantle, mostly of James—a sonogram, Clint grinning widely at the camera and wearing hospital scrubs while holding a swaddled James, James wearing a tiny 49ers jersey and chewing a stuffed football, James and Clint with a beautiful redhead, who Phil has to assume is Natasha from Clint's description of his best friend. Propped up against one of the frames is the Christmas card Phil had sent, showing him and Ellie sitting with Santa. There are no pictures of James' mother.
James was a result of a one night stand with a casual friend of Clint's. She had only agreed to take the baby to term if Clint promised to never ask her to be a mother. She had signed away all rights to James after the birth and, so far, has made no attempt to contact them. Clint has told Phil multiple times that he's never regretted keeping James, that he couldn't, despite how rough it had been for them in the beginning.
Clint's best friend Natasha had helped for the first few weeks, but had to return to DC and her job with the United Nations. It was Natasha who had pointed Clint to the Hotline, where Phil and Clint had struck up a fast friendship over chats, texts, and then phone calls. For as much as they talk, neither of them had suggested crossing the few towns that separated them to meet in person, until tonight.
"Here you go. Hope it's not too hot."
Clint hands Phil a steaming mug of cider, breaking him out of his thoughts, and takes a seat next to him as Phil takes a careful sip. "It's perfect. Thank you."
"No man, thank you. I still can't believe you're really here. I must have sounded pretty desperate on the phone."
"Not desperate, just worried. I know how easy it is to beat yourself up over something you can't control. We feel like we should be able to protect our kids from everything."
Clint sighs and nods, taking a long sip of his cider before giving Phil a lopsided smile. "You always know just what to say to make me feel less like I'm a total failure at this. I almost didn't call you. Thought for sure you'd have plans tonight."
"Just a quiet night at home with Ellie."
"It's New Year's Eve."
"I volunteered to watch Ellie so Maria and Mel could go to a party. Besides, being a middle-aged, single dad isn't exactly cause to have men beating down my door."
"Why the fuck not? You're hot. I'd come knocking." Clint's eyes go wide when he realizes what he's said. "Shit. And now I've totally made things awkward. Forget I said that."
Phil blinks and forces himself to think as clearly as he can. He has already explained to Clint that he's gay and had donated his sperm in a stark white room at a clinic so that Maria could undergo in vitro. Clint had responded that he was bi, but had never hinted that he was interested in anything other than friendship and advice from Phil. Then again, neither had Phil. He's been very careful about the men he's dated since Ellie was born. Most aren't interested in settling down or gaining an instant family and no one has held Phil's interest beyond a few dates. Clint, on the other hand, already has a son and has told Phil he'd like to adopt a whole brood someday. They also have an amazing amount in common and can spend hours talking to each other without the conversation going stale.
"Do you really want me to forget it?"
Clint's eyes go even wider and he very carefully places his mug on the coffee table. Phil does the same.
"Not if that means what I hope it means."
"If it helps, I'd come knocking on your door too."
Clint smirks. "You already did."
"That's right, I did." Phil glances at the clock on Clint's entertainment center. "It's almost midnight."
Clint's smirk slides from mischievous to sexy as he shifts closer, pausing when their lips are only a hair's breadth apart. "Happy New Year, Phil."
"Happy New Year, Clint."
About an hour later, their quiet conversation will be interrupted by James' crying as he wakes needing to be changed and given another dose of medication. Just after dawn, they'll be woken by Ellie crawling into Clint's bed and cuddling in between them. A year later, they'll celebrate the turning of a new year by making love in the master bedroom of their new house. In the years that follow, they'll exchange vows and grow their family by adopting twins from a local orphanage. They'll watch their kids grow and have kids of their own, the love between them never diminishing.
For now, it starts with a kiss.
~ fin ~