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Almost Heaven

Summary:

“And who are you?” Thor asked, dropping to one knee to greet the mixed-breed mutt with a missing eye. The dog barked twice and Thor nodded. “Ah, Lucky. A fine name for a brave protector.”

“You really do speak to animals,” Steve said. “Huh. Imagine that.”

Written for Day 3: Pets of the First-Ever ClintCoulson Appreciation Week 2021

Notes:

Written for Day 3: Pets of the First-Ever ClintCoulson Appreciation Week 2021

Thanks to all the C/C peeps who suggested the idea for this ficlet. Love you guys!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“He needs a hospital!” Sam argued, going toe-to-toe with Steve, getting right in his face. “They both do. Natasha may have a concussion and she’s sluggish responding. Tony … hell, we don’t have any idea how bad it is or how deep the bullets are. We need to find out if he’s bleeding internally.” 

 

“We walk into an emergency room, we’re sitting ducks,” Steve said. “HYDRA’s not just inside SHIELD, they’re everywhere. We can’t trust anyone right now.” 

 

Bucky flinched in the corner of the abandoned building they’d taken cover in; he was still disoriented from the trigger words the bad guys had tried to use. Didn’t work -- Clint had ended the guy with extreme prejudice and an arrow through the brain -- but Bucky was busy blaming himself for their current situation.

 

“I say we face them,” Thor said; he’d been brimming with frustration after HYDRA had produced a device that was able to keep him grounded and tied to one place. “I am ready for them now, will not be taken in again.” 

 

“We can’t afford a straight-up fight. Those HYDRA guys were Army and local police, Thor, and they killed the bystanders without hesitation,” Bruce was wrapped in a blanket, exhaustion clouding his face. “We’ll put people at risk if we go out in public. If we could get Jarvis to find a doctor …” 

 

“SHIELD’s got control of the Tower.” Natasha’s voice was little more than a whisper. “They’ll try the back door into Jarvis and he’ll shut himself down to avoid being hacked. Only direct access is at the servers …” 

 

“... which are hell and gone from here.” Clint made up his mind. He stripped off the top of his suit, left his bow and quiver leaning against the wall, wished he had something to cover his tank, but it would have to do. “I know a place, maybe two hours from here; there’s someone who can help. That close enough?”

 

“I think so,” Bruce said. “But how …”

 

“I’ll get us a ride,” Clint promised. “Be back in fifteen.” 

 

“Clint.” Natasha turned concerned eyes his way. “Are you sure?” 

 

“Yeah.” He squeezed her hand and kissed her on the forehead. “Not like it’s the first time I’d trailed trouble after me.” 

 

It was quick work to hotwire an RV from the lot two streets over; he picked one with a bedroom in the back to set Tony up in and a couch for Natasha. The security cameras were laughably easy to disarm as were the locks. In the garage of the dealership, he found a coat rack with some jackets and hoodies plus a large tackle-box-sized first aid kit. He also liberated a Keurig, coffee pods, cleaned out the fridge of bottled water, and grabbed as many snacks as he could find. He rolled up to where the others waited with the air going and a full tank of gas. Thor, of course, took one look at the setup and declared this was the best way to see Midgard and started talking about buying one of his own. Sam and Bucky helped move Tony -- they used a plank as a stretcher -- and Natasha walked with some help from Bruce. By the time Clint hit the interstate and headed north, everyone had fallen silent, Sam watching an unconscious Tony and Steve helping keep Natasha awake.

 

It was a quiet drive until 20 minutes out from their destination; Tony began thrashing around, his fever spiking. He came awake, shouting for Pepper; they couldn’t make him understand that she was in a safe house. It only got worse as they turned on the small two-lane road that wound through cornfields and then onto the dirt driveway. Clint took it as easy as possible, missing the big pothole by the oak tree and the washboard section near the fence line, but it was still rough. He finally brought them to a stop in front of the white clapboard house. Warm lights glowed in the windows and on the porch, night slowly encroaching.  

 

“Nobody’s afraid of dogs, are they?” He asked as he stood and went to open the door. “Or allergic to cats or rabbits or cows or horses or any animals in general?” 

 

“I used to be,” Bruce said, helping Natasha stand. “But not anymore.” 

 

“This is someone’s house?” Steve looked through the windshield. “Do they know we’re coming?”

 

“Yeah, I texted. We’re good.” Clint opened the door and stepped out; three dogs instantly crowded around him, each trying to get his attention by dancing about. “Whoa, whoa, okay. Settle down.” 

 

“Hello there.” Sam waded into the mix, petting each one in turn as it came over to sniff him. A grey pitbull with a missing foreleg butted his leg and demanded more attention. “Who’s a good boy?” 

 

“That’s Buddy,” Clint said. “He’s a sweetheart. Be careful when you sit down, tho. He thinks he’s a lap dog and doesn’t realize how heavy he is.” 

 

A border collie darted around Steve and came to heel at Natasha’s side. “Hey, Laika,” Natasha smiled at the dog. “I’m okay, girl. Just need some rest.” 

 

“And who are you?” Thor asked, dropping to one knee to greet the mixed-breed mutt with a missing eye. The dog barked twice and Thor nodded. “Ah, Lucky. A fine name for a brave protector.” 

 

“You really do speak to animals,” Steve said. “Huh. Imagine that.” 

 

The front door opened and a man walked out on the porch; everyone froze, but Clint crossed the distance and went easily into his arms for a hug and a kiss. 

 

“All,” he said, standing on the steps with his arm around the man. “This is Phil Coulson, my husband.”

 

“Husband?” Sam and Steve asked at the same time.

 

“Kinda keep it on the down low,” Clint explained. “Safer that way.”

 

“Explanations later,” Phil said. “If Stark is as bad as you say, I need to get a look at him right away. And, for God’s sake Nat, sit down before you fall down.” 

 

That got everyone moving. Steven and Bucky carried Tony around the house and in the back door where there was a small waiting area and an examination room. Clint directed them on through into a small room with a hospital bed, various monitors, and cabinets filled with medical supplies. Tony mumbled the whole way; in short order, Phil had an IV going for fluids and pain medication. Natasha was ensconced on the couch in the living room; Clint rummaged a large ice pack from a freezer in the mudroom and a heating pack for her bruises. Then he pulled out two big pans of lasagna from the fridge, popped them in the oven and started chopping vegetables.

 

At one point, Clint saw them all gathered out on the porch and went to check on them. Sitting on the swing, Bucky was moving it with one toe; in his lap were five small kittens, one all white and the others various mixtures of grey, black, and white. The mother cat appeared from under the floorboards, a sixth baby in her mouth. She jumped up and deposited it, a grey tabby, before disappearing again. 

 

“I don’t know what to do with them,” Bucky said, an undercurrent of awe in his voice. “She just started bringing them out.” 

 

“That means Lettuce likes you.” Clint’s heart melted when Bucky gently stroked a metal finger through soft fur. “She’s got trust issues -- came to us from an abusive home, already pregnant with her first litter -- and she’s a damn fine judge of character.”

 

“Lettuce?” The edges of Bucky’s mouth turned up. “Seriously, Barton?” 

 

“That was her name when we got her,” Clint replied with a shrug. “She likes to sleep in the garden, so it kinda stuck.” 

 

“You rescue every animal around this place?” Bucky asked. “Cause that sounds like something you’d do.” 

 

“He does have a habit of bringing home strays.” Phil came through the screen door to lean against the white railing by Clint. In his jeans, blue flannel shirt, and black glasses, he looked unassuming and normal, and Clint found that so very sexy. “Did you remember to put the …” 

 

“Yes, dear. Should be done in …” Clint checked his watch “... ten more minutes. And I made a salad too for the grazers in the bunch.” 

 

“How’s Stark?” Bucky asked. 

 

“Sleeping.” It was Bruce, sitting by Natasha on the couch, who answered; all the windows were open so the cross-breeze would cool the house; screens covered them to keep the bugs out. “Got the bullets out and cleaned up the wounds. X-rays show no internal bleeding; he’s got a broken ulna and tibia -- going to be hell keeping him off his feet for a while -- but he’s going to be okay. Phil’s got a nice setup back there.” 

 

“He has to deal with Barton dragging his ass home without going to medical,” Natasha called. She shifted the ice pack to a new spot on her head. “Clint’s worse than giving shots to feral cats, right, Phil?” 

 

“Well, Ms. Patterson’s orange tabby is a handful,” Phil said.

 

“That cat’s possessed by the devil,” Clint muttered. “I’ve got the scars to prove it.”

 

“Poor thing was tied up in a bag and tossed in the creek when he was a kitten.” Phil arched an eyebrow Clint’s way and he grinned. He loved this sexy man when he got all caring and conscientious. 

 

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my husband in a nutshell,” Clint said. “Infinite patience and all compassion. Takes in and finds homes for every stray, including me. The best damn vet in the whole of Iowa.” 

 

“Vet?” Steve asked from the rocking chair next to Sam. “You served?” 

 

“Army Rangers,” Phil answered. “I was a medic; saw enough bullet holes and explosive damage during my tours, so when I mustered out, I made the change and got my D.V.M.”

 

“Vet.” Sam started laughing. “You’re a veterinarian? Oh, please let me be the one to tell Tony.” 

 

“An animal doctor?” Thor said, “That is indeed a noble profession.” 

 

“And a perfect match for Barton here.” Bucky glanced up, a smile on his face. “We’ve all seen his table manners.” 

 

“Hey! I resemble that remark.” Clint grinned; it was nice to see Bucky happy even if the world was going to hell around them. 

 

Just then, a buzzer went off in the kitchen.

 

“I’ll get it,” Phil said. 

 

“Nah, let me. You stay here and tell ‘em the story about you and Nick in that juice bar in Kabul. They’ll love it,” Clint insisted. 

 

“Only if you tell the one about how we meet,” Phil replied. “The real one.” 

 

“Deal.” 

 

They ate around the big dining room table after Phil helped Bucky move the kittens to a blanket-lined box he had ready. Well, all but the solid white one who refused to let go of Bucky’s shirt and curled up in the crook of his arm for the whole meal. There were plans to make, HYDRA to face, but, for this one moment, they were safe, his friends and his husband chatting like the big family Clint had always wanted. 

 

Phil looked up, caught Clint’s eye, and smiled. 

 

Yeah. HYDRA might be everywhere, but Clint had people at his back, people he trusted. 

 

And they were worth fighting for. 

Notes:

Buddy is a nod to the rescued dog in John Wick; I changed him a bit
Laika is the name of the dog the Soviets sent into space
Lucky is from Fraction's Hawkeye
Lettuce was my older brother's cat who really did love to sleep in the garden, curled up under heads of lettuce.
That's Alpine there, the white kitten. You know Bucky's going to take her with him.

There is a Ms. Patterson who owned an orange tabby who went to the same vet's office as us. The cat was the sweetest thing in the world, loved to be scratched, sat quietly in her lap without a carrier ... but the second the Vet came in the exam room, it turned into a real Mr. Hyde. He and his siblings were tossed into a river in a burlap bag when they were kittens; closest Ms. Patterson could figure out, the trauma of that got grafted onto the vet who treated him right after. Everyone in the office loved the little bugger and they treated him with kid gloves even when he was at his hissing scratching worst. Cat lived into his late teens, a nice spoiled life of a beloved house cat.

Having grown up on a farm, I can unequivocally state that our local vet worked out of the back of his house and did, on occasion, stitch up some wounds and do emergency people care. One time, my brother had an accident while chopping wood and if it weren't for the vet being there to help deliver a calf, he'd have lost part of his foot. I've added medical training for Phil to make it more realistic, but you know anyone married to Clint would know who to treat various wounds.