Chapter Text
Their review is scheduled for three weeks after their collaring ceremony - and on the final cutoff day for Phil to be working as an uncollared submissive handler. If their review fails, he loses his job. No second chances.
Phil doesn't need them. What he and Clint have is real, and there's no way that anybody could look at them and see otherwise.
He's still nervous though, and Phil and nerves never get along well. The day before the review, he shuts himself in his office, snaps at anybody who disturbs him, and frightens a junior agent to tears when they block the hallway as he's trying to pass to get to the lunchroom. All in all, it's not the best of mornings.
Just after lunch, Clint drops in through the roof. "Hey, sir," he says. "Heard you're the one to avoid today."
"And yet you seek me out."
"Well, you know me. Always running into danger headfirst."
Phil feels his lips twitch into the beginning of an unwilling smile. "You tend to do that, yes," he agrees. "Not that being in my office is life threatening."
"Oh, I don't know about that, boss. You're pretty lethal."
"The only murders I plan on committing are scheduled for immediately after the review."
Clint sighs and sits on the couch. "It's gonna be fine, you know?"
"Is it?"
Clint looks at him in silence for a long moment, then sighs again. Phil can almost feel him wanting to change the tone, but as always he respects Phil’s strict rules around work conditions. "How many more crucial tasks have you got for today?” he asks casually.
Phil scans his inbox and shuffles a few files. "Just a few emails and a couple of reports to confirm.” They’re the only things that need his personal signature - anything else can be handed over if necessary, depending on the outcome of tomorrow.
"Twenty minutes?" Phil nods, and Clint kicks his feet up and makes himself comfortable. "Once they're done, I politely suggest you call it a day and head back to the tower - which, incidentally, is where I'm also headed in about twenty minutes. So it makes sense for me to wait."
Phil raises an eyebrow. Clint stares back innocently, and Phil finally sighs and runs a hand roughly through his hair. "Polite suggestion taken into consideration," he says, and turns his attention to his email.
He finishes up in just under half an hour. Clint hasn't said anything about the extra ten minutes, but Phil still gives him an anxious look as he packs up, aware he’s blurring the lines but fuck it, he needs to know he’s not in trouble. "C'mon," Clint says, smiling softly, "you're the one supposed to be biting heads off today, not me. I'm not annoyed about ten minutes. The fact that I convinced you to leave your office at one in the afternoon is a hell of a feat."
"I'll consider it as doing the accounts department a favour. They hate trying to work out my overtime."
Clint laughs and stands, stretching. Phil gets the last of his things together, and Clint holds the door open for him - but in an overly grand way, Phil rolling his eyes at the gesture. "Good sir," Clint says, adding a salute.
"Lock it behind you, Barton," Phil says, then stops him when he sees Agent Johnson headed his way, files in hand. All three share nods - Clint’s worked with Johnson in the past, and Phil knows her well as a fellow handler. "Those for me?" he asks. "And are they crucial?"
"Top three, and no. Just info packs.”
Phil carefully gets the right files and hands them to Clint. "On my desk, thanks," he says, and Clint heads back in. "I'm out for the rest of the afternoon," Phil tells Johnson, whose eyebrows go up. "Anything urgent can be forwarded to the tower, otherwise just take memos and let them know I won't be back until tomorrow afternoon."
"Is everything alright?" she asks bluntly. "You don't normally leave this early."
"I have my review to prepare for."
"Oh, of course. We didn’t want to pry, but you know we’re all supporting you, none of us think this is fair or want to see you go.” Phil nods, smiling a little, because he does know that. He’s on good terms with all of his fellow handlers and, while they haven’t actively spoken up about the review, he’s actually preferred it that way. It’s been nice to come work and be able to just be Agent Coulson. “They won't take you away, will they?" Johnson asks.
"Not if my Dom has anything to say about it, no."
"So you did... I mean, of course you would have to had found someone but I guess a few of us were wondering if it was... well, real. Or if someone's just collared you to keep you here."
Phil smiles. Clint's just stepped back out of the office, and Phil nods for him to lock it. "We were originally planning to go that route, but I found a better alternative. My collar is given out of love, not obligation. It's very much real."
Johnson smiles too. "Congratulations then.” She’s too well trained to have any nervous tics, but the way she doesn’t quite meet his eye is good enough. “For the record… if you had asked - because we never would have presumed to push anything on you that you didn’t want - but if you’d needed it, there are several in the department without submissives who would have, to keep you here.”
“Thank you,” Phil says, and lets a little genuine appreciation into the words. “It wouldn’t have been accepted, they would have seen straight through it for the farce it was, but the thought is appreciated.”
She nods. “A real Dom, though, Coulson. Never thought we’d see the day.” Phil rolls his eyes at her smirk, and she softens it back to a smile. “Will we ever find out who it is?"
"I'm sure everybody will know by tomorrow afternoon," Phil says with a glance at Clint, who smirks, "but I haven't been keeping it a secret or anything. Nobody's asked.”
“I think they were all afraid of getting yelled at, boss,” Clint says helpfully. Phil rolls his eyes.
"So -?” Johnson asks.
"Put it this way - nothing short of a direct order from my Dom was going to get me to leave my office at one in the afternoon."
Johnson's eyes slowly travel to Clint, who wiggles his fingers in a cheerful wave. "Yeah, he's mine," he says. "Surprised?"
"Yes... and no." She laughs then. "When you really think about it, who else would it have been?"
Clint grins. "Captain America volunteered."
Her gaze returns very slowly to Phil, who shrugs. "He offered. A few of them did, in fact, when we were planning on doing this the obligatory way. But I think I made the right choice. You're right - who else would it have been?"
"Well, good luck for tomorrow," she says. "I won't keep you.”
She heads off and Phil falls into line with Clint as they head for the exit. “Go on, then,” Phil says without looking at him. “I’ve managed to hold off for this long, but I know you keep your ear to the ground. What's the rumour mill saying about me?”
“Everybody knows, of course, that you’re being reviewed tomorrow,” Clint says. “I’ve heard some junior Doms talking about whether they should offer to collar you, which is kinda misguidedly sweet, but I advised them not to. Others have said you’ll find a way around it, or - well, there are always the assholes.”
Phil smiles wryly. “Let me guess - ‘it’s about time someone made him get a Dom, maybe they’ll force him to stop working and let us get real handlers’?”
“Along those lines, yeah. But there’s not many of them. On the whole, people seem to believe that you’ll loophole it and stay as you are, or that you’ll fake something. But… there are a few who have apparently caught on that something’s a bit different about you. That you seem more focused, but also more content.”
“Yeah? So they think I’ve got myself a proper Dom then?”
Clint holds the door for him as they enter the shuttle bay, and they step straight into a shuttle, nobody else leaving at this time of day. “Seems so,” he agrees as the door closes and they buckle up. “Some names have been tossed around.”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“Only heard them today - last week everybody was focused on those juniors who got kicked out for nearly blowing up the labs, so you’ve only just really made it to the top of the list today.”
Phil nods. “So…?”
Clint smirks. “Someone said Fury had probably collared you.” Phil just about chokes, and Clint laughs. “Yeah, I know. There was a mention of Hill, but they were reminded that she’s already got a sub. Same for Sitwell. Couple of smart cookies thought to think about the people who you spend most of your time with, and actually live with, and who are all Doms.”
“Glad there are some brains in SHIELD,” Phil says, and Clint laughs again. “So, who do they think?”
“Amazingly, Bruce.”
“The one who I said would be the least believable?” Clint nods, and Phil smirks. “Maybe I need to choose him then. You don’t mind, do you?”
Clint rolls his eyes. “You wouldn’t let me take that collar off your neck for a second.” Phil has to acknowledge that, because, well, fair. “Steve was also mentioned. Tony and Thor were ruled out because their relationships are well enough known - and I think Nat and I were ruled out because you’ve always been known as our handler. And with all that said, there was one junior who looked very confused by the whole conversation and, when it was all finished, said ‘hang on, you mean it’s not Hawkeye?’”
“Promote that agent.”
“She’s already headed towards senior analyst, don’t worry.”
The shuttle touches down on top of Stark Tower, and they step out. Phil usually drops his neutral projection as soon as he enters the tower, either by taking Clint's hand or changing his body language to represent his submission, but today he keeps it firmly in place as they head for the lifts. Clint doesn't ask anything of him, just stays quiet and steady at his side. They take the lift in silence, a reasonable amount of distance between them, and it's only when Clint's opening the door that Phil takes a deep breath and lets Agent Coulson slip away.
As soon as the bedroom door closes, Phil turns to Clint and finds him already holding out his arms. Phil melts into them, presses his face to Clint's neck, and closes his eyes. "Sorry," he murmurs.
"Shh. Don't be. I didn't realize how badly you did nerves."
"Yeah. So stupid."
Clint presses a palm to the back of Phil's collar, the touch firm and reassuring. "It's not. Come and sit down - let me just hold you for awhile."
Phil has no arguments. He settles in Clint's lap, resting his forehead on Clint's shoulder, and stays still and quiet as Clint strokes his back. The nerves aren't really fading, but they're becoming less important. "Thanks," Phil says after awhile. "For dragging me out of the office. Looking after me so well."
"My pleasure. Are you feeling better?"
"Sort of." Phil sighs. "Not really. Still afraid."
"What are you afraid of?"
"Losing you."
Clint sighs softly. ”Well that just isn't going to happen, beautiful."
"They have the power to declare it invalid."
"Not legally. They can refuse to recognise me as your Dominant for SHIELD purposes, but they can't destroy our contract or take my collar away from you. They can't stop us from being together, Phil - and they have no bargaining grounds anyway. If they say this isn't real, they lose you because there's no time for you to find someone else. And SHIELD doesn't want to lose you. Fury will fight for you, as will the team. You aren't losing your job, and even if you did, you're not losing me."
"I know." Phil sighs. "I do know," he says, quieter. "I'm still scared."
"That's okay, sweet boy. I don't like you being scared, but I understand it. Is there anything else particularly frightening you?”
Phil shrugs. “Not so much frightening, but just bugging me. I can't work out what they're planning. If this fails - by which I mean, if it succeeds, if we pass the review - will this be over? Will my job be secure? Or is this just the beginning of a plan to try and kick me out of my position, and what comes next?"
“I wish I had answers,” Clint says - because they’ve talked about this a lot over the past few weeks, and neither of them are any the wiser. “All I can say is that you have the biggest support network possible to keep you on your feet and in your job. We love you, SHIELD loves you, and Fury… won’t let you go anywhere.”
“Thank you for the delicate wording,” Phil says, and Clint grins. “I know. I just hate the uncertainties. I just want to do my job and be yours and not worry about anything else. I don’t even know how to present myself tomorrow - do I come in as the obedient submissive who bows to every whim of his Dom, or as the ruthless and efficient agent who does a damn good job? Because I’m both… but I can only really be one in there.”
Clint's quiet for a moment, then cups Phil's cheek, drawing his head up and meeting his eyes firmly. "There’s a way we can make that easier for you. I don't want you to feel like you don't have a voice, but do you want me to request the review be held by formal rules?"
Phil takes a moment to think that over. Formal rules means that Clint speaks for both of them and that no question can be directed to or answered by Phil unless Clint gives his permission. It's a throwback to the old days when the Dominant spoke for their submissive in all public areas, and is another of the more archaic traditions that's fallen out of favour. These days, the only parts of formal Dominant behaviour that are really held in common society are a general request for a Dominant to be allowed to address a fellow Dom's submissive, and it's very rare for that to not be given.
Still, formal rules do come out occasionally. And Phil really likes the idea, can feel some of the nervous tension already melting away at the thought of Clint taking control, but Phil being allowed to pull that control back when needed. "You wouldn't mind?" he asks.
"Not at all - because I'm not taking your voice from you, we both know that. I'm doing what I can to offer you some protection from people who think it's okay to discriminate against you for being a submissive, or just being you. If it comes to the point of fighting tomorrow, you'd better believe I'm fighting for you."
Phil nuzzles his neck for a moment. "Clint?" he asks softly.
"Yes, dearest?"
"The... the leash thing." Since this is the first time Phil will be appearing in public formally recognised as Clint's submissive, tradition dictates Clint lead him in on a leash. It's not a rule by any means, and really comes down to the preference of each Dom. Some Doms insist on their sub wearing one whenever they’re in public, others refuse to take their subs anywhere on a leash. And, of course there are still private clubs where leashes are mandatory, but they're also the kind of place that won't let subs sit at the table or speak, and Phil's never been to one. Doesn't want to either - he's an old-fashioned sub in many regards, but he's also an independent one.
Generally it's a relaxed practice, accepted either way, except at SHIELD where it's gently advised that leashes, crawling, kneeling, public humiliation and other such behaviours aren't exactly work safe or appropriate. But this isn't SHIELD - this is a review showing Phil as Clint's submissive, and an occasion where appearance means everything.
Hence needing to ask about the leash. Because for Phil personally, it's kind of vital to find out where Clint sits on this one.
Clint hums in acknowledgement. "Yeah. I have one."
Phil trembles, just a little. "Wish you didn't."
"I think I can infer what I need to from that," Clint says lightly, rubbing his back again, "but I'll ask properly to be very sure. Do you want me to take you to the review tomorrow on a leash?"
"No."
"Okay."
Clint's tone is inscrutable. Phil looks up. "Is that... bad?"
"Absolutely not. It's your choice, and whatever you choose is fine with me." Phil keeps looking at him, and Clint sighs. "If you want to know the answer to a question, sweet boy, ask it properly like I just did."
Phil bows his head a little in silent apology. "Do you have a personal preference for the leash?"
"Good boy," Clint praises softly. "I like them, personally, in the right setting. Walking a sub down the street is unappealing, but in a formal setting I do enjoy having a happy sub on a leash."
Phil bites his lip. "Do you want me to wear it to the review?"
"Would you be happy?"
"If it's what you wanted -"
"Straightforward answer, Phil. Forget me. Would you be happy?"
"No."
"Then I don't want you to wear it. Simple. My personal preferences are not pleasing if they're forced on an unwilling submissive - it's great if we both like it, but absolutely not going to happen if you don't."
Phil frowns. "Shouldn't I try these things for you, though?"
"Not things you already have a strong stance on - and not like that. If you really want to try something like wearing a leash to see whether we can enjoy it together, then we do that here, in private, and where I'm able to call the scene if it goes badly. I'm always open to us trying new things, sweetheart, and safely pushing our limits is all part of building a strong relationship. But knowing your existing limits is just as important. You don't like leashes. I don't need to put one on you and see the distress in your eyes to confirm that. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Good. Anything else you're worried about?"
"Not really. Just want to get it over with - the waiting is the worst."
"Agreed." Clint brushes his thumb across Phil's cheek. "I can stop you from thinking if you'd like?"
Phil smiles. He knows what that means. "Yes please, master."
"Go to the bedroom, get the box out for me, and kneel at the foot of the bed. I'll be there in two minutes."
Phil goes without a word.
Two minutes later, Clint is with him. And five minutes later, Phil has just about forgotten his own name, let alone some review tomorrow.
***
Of course he can't stay in subspace forever. And of course tomorrow comes.
The reviews are held in one of the SHIELD New York ground buildings, and everybody knows which one. And while the review itself is private and off-limits, that doesn't mean the corridors leading to the room are. Naturally there's a crowd, comprised of everybody who managed to get off the Helicarrier for the day - and it’s a surprisingly large number of people.
But at the forefront of the crowd are the Avengers, forming an almost honour guard to keep them back. And nobody in the crowd has any hostility, only surprise from those who haven't already heard about it from the very active rumour mill. But not bad surprise. In fact, quite a few people are smiling.
And that's when Phil decides to hell with protocol. He's gotten this far by not giving a shit about what a good submissive is supposed to do in public, and these are his colleagues. If Clint's right, these are the people who want to fight for him. What he has to be inside that room doesn't have to reflect on who he gets to be when he's at SHIELD.
So Phil keeps his head high and steps forward so he's in line with Clint. Clint just smiles at him and takes his hand. "That's much better," he says quietly. "Let's do this."
Each of the Avengers has a word or gesture for them as they pass by. They've all already given their support this morning, but Phil knows this is a public display of solidarity, and appreciates what it means. If this is a political game he’s entering, let them see just how much the Avengers believe in him and how much respect he commands (even if Phil’s pretty sure it is a bit of a show - he knows he’s liked amongst the Avengers, but not this much). He nods to all of them, smiles at Steve who holds the door open for them, and follows Clint inside.
The door leads into a small antechamber, where Fury is waiting. "It’s not the Council themselves," he says, and Phil bites back a sigh of relief. "Couple of lower level minions. They look unimpressed, but also unimpressive. They've already protested me being there, even though I have a pretty vested interest, and asked to speak to Phil alone if they can."
Clint tenses. He looks battle ready. "Not happening," he says. "If I leave, he's leaving with me."
Fury looks at Phil in silent question, and Phil lowers his eyes. It's the first time he's ever demonstrated full submission around Fury, and it's not easy, but it has to be done. "My Dominant speaks for me," he says. "I trust his decisions and know they are made in my best interest."
"Well then," Fury says after a moment. "Spoken like a true submissive. If I didn't know your rank, and the truth of this relationship, I'd commend you for a fine acting job."
Clint touches a hand to the back of Phil's neck. "Can we have a moment to prepare?" he asks.
Fury nods. "Good luck," he says and goes in.
Preparation involves Clint hugging him for a long moment, then kissing his forehead. “I know it’s not going to be fun in there,” he says, “but remember that I love you and I’m going to keep you safe. Whatever games are being played in that room, you’re better than them.”
“I trust you.”
Clint kisses him softly. “Good boy,” he murmurs. “I want you to keep your eyes down unless I say otherwise. Don’t give them a reason to fault your behaviour; I know you know how to be good for me, but you need to be good for a much stricter audience this time and you know they’ll be looking for any reason to judge you. Touch my arm if you want to speak or answer a question - I’ll answer anything you don’t want to.”
“Okay. Can I… hold your hand?”
“Yes, sweet boy, of course.” Clint laces their hands together. “Remember, if you get overwhelmed or threatened - or if you just think it’s the right thing to do - putting on your neutral projection is not a bad thing. I know this puts you in a vulnerable position, and also one where the game could change at any minute. Protect yourself if you need to.”
Phil nods. “Let’s get it over with.”
Clint presses one more kiss to his cheek, then opens the door and leads Phil in.
He’s got his eyes to the ground, which gives Phil a great view of three pairs of feet - men’s dress shoes, high heels, and Fury’s boots. He focuses on the latter as Clint greets the reviewers and introduces himself and Phil. Phil notices they don’t introduce themselves in return; apparently they don’t deserve to know the names of who they’re speaking to.
"Before we begin," Clint says, "under the Submissives Protection and Defense Act 1959, I request this review be held by the formal rules."
A throat is cleared. ”This is highly irregular for a review,” the woman says. “We need to speak with your submissive to ascertain details."
"Which I will allow when I deem the questions necessary and fair. My submissive has requested these rules be in place, and I have no wish to deny him what he needs."
There’s a pause, then Fury sighs. "Barton, will you allow me to speak to your submissive for a moment?"
Clint glances at Phil, who nods. "Go ahead," Clint says. “Eyes up, darling.”
Phil looks up at Fury. Fury looks right back at Phil. "You chose this?” he asks.
"I did. I trust Clint to speak for me."
Fury examines him, then nods. "I know Coulson," he says. "I'm satisfied that he's making this decision of his free will. And Barton will answer for him competently.”
Phil takes the moment to sneak a glance at the reviewers. He sees stern, uninterested faces, and decides that their feet are far more interesting, lowering his eyes without waiting to be told. Clint squeezes his hand in acknowledgement. “Can we begin?” he asks.
The first few questions are routine - their ranks and various other psychometric test results, when Phil was collared, who witnessed it - and Phil’s pretty sure they’re less about asking questions and more about gauging who Phil and Clint are. The power play between Clint and the reviewers is obvious, and Phil knows Clint’s calling on the Alpha Dominant traits, making himself powerful and intimidating. As far as Phil's concerned, it's working.
“May we see his collar?” the woman asks.
“Okay with that, sweetheart?” Phil nods, letting go of Clint’s hand to loosen his tie and undo the top buttons of his shirt, pulling it away to reveal his collar. “Good boy,” Clint murmurs, waiting for him to neaten up again before resting his hand on the back of Phil’s neck, gentle but possessive. “Phil also gave me his ring,” Clint adds, drawing the necklace out.
“Interesting. Why do you not wear it on your finger as is traditional?”
“Because I’m an archer,” Clint says. “I can’t wear any rings or else they’ll interfere with my grip.”
“You aren’t shooting anybody right now. Wouldn’t it make sense to wear an outward display of your… affection, whenever you get the chance?”
Clint tenses, just a little. “Ideally, yes. But my job, as you well know, requires being ready to activate in a second. The time spent taking the ring off and securing it around my neck before picking up my bow could mean my life.”
“How does your submissive feel about you not wearing the ring?”
Phil touches Clint’s arm, and Clint nods, allowing him to speak. “I recognise and understand the need to not wear the ring on his hand. Clint is always wearing the ring though, whether it is seen or not. I don’t need an outward display of affection from him to know the affection exists.”
Clint rubs a thumb across the back of his neck, soft and soothing. “Phil’s collar is covered during work hours. For the past three weeks, nobody was aware of his collared status apart from Director Fury and our friends. That doesn’t change the legitimacy of our relationship or make me feel that Phil is any less mine.”
“Why was it kept a secret?”
“It wasn’t. It just wasn’t need-to-know information. People have more respect for Phil than to badger him during work hours - a time when he prefers not to be viewed by his status but by his calibre as an agent - about whether he has a Dominant or not. When asked yesterday if Phil has a Dom, he revealed the information with no hesitation. Besides, it’s still early days. We’re committed to one another, but old superstitions die hard. Personally I probably would have waited another week before making any kind of public announcement if the review hadn’t demanded it.”
Phil’s in agreement - there’s a general superstition that announcing the taking of a new submissive to anybody other than close friends in the first month means that the relationship will ultimately fail. He has no idea where it’s come from, but he half-believes it just as much as the next person… except in this situation. This falls outside the realm of superstition; at least Phil hopes.
“Yes, well, that brings us nicely to our next, and main point. Why did the two of you choose now to engage in a relationship?"
Clint glances at Phil, who nods. They knew this question would come up, and they know there's only one way to answer it - truthfully.
"The Avengers wanted to save Phil," Clint says, and the sudden tension in the room is palpable. "We knew that one of us could give our collar and do our best to keep him. Six of us offered. Five out of friendship... and one out of much, much more. Not that it was made clear at the time, of course. It was an offer of friendship too, because I never dreamt for a second that Phil would want to be mine. But he did. He chose me, and when he knelt at my feet to accept my collar and I saw what was in his eyes and how it matched mine..."
"You don't think he may have faked suitable emotions to keep his job?"
Clint growls quietly. "With all due respect, I know when I'm being bullshitted by a submissive. And why would Phil fake it towards me if we'd already agreed I'd go through with it? Why would he need to?"
"Fear that you'd find someone else and he'd lose his security?"
"Check our records - since my appointment as his agent, I haven't had a collared submissive, and Phil hasn't has a Dominant. Perhaps there's a sign there about how long we've had feelings for one another? I love Phil. I’ve loved him for years. To have him here as mine is still utterly unbelievable most days. I know you’re here to review our relationship, but you will not question my love for him.”
“Nor mine,” Phil says. He’s speaking out of turn, but he knows Clint won’t mind. “Relationships between agents and handlers are not uncommon - the way Clint and I developed feelings for one another follows the same pattern as many other relationships within SHIELD.”
“With the big difference being that the handler was Dominant and the agent submissive,” the woman says. "How can he submit to you and still be your authority?"
"This is far from rare," Clint says. “Perhaps not in SHIELD, but there are many relationships out there where the submissive is in a higher professional position of power than their Dominant. We simply separate work from home - the same way we did prior to this. Phil never bossed me around when we were just living in the same building, because he's not in charge of me when we're off the clock. Now I just give him orders instead. He is still my boss at work, and I still respect him just as highly in that position as I always did."
"Interesting that he is your authority," the woman says. "After all that happened with the Tesseract.” Phil tries not to tense up at the mention of it, and Clint steps a little closer. “I am curious how Coulson ended up being the leader of your team."
"Well, the leader, if we have one, is Captain America," Clint corrects. "Phil's our... advisor."
"Oh? And what advice does he give apart from pointing you in the direction of warfare? Seems that a group of superheroes either doesn't need anybody to tell them what to do, or need somebody... strong-willed."
Clint bristles. "If you're implying that he's weak -"
"You said it yourself. He isn't a leader - he's an advisor. What is it he does?"
Phil lightly touches Clint's arm, and Clint nods. "Go ahead."
"As you said, the Avengers don't need anybody," Phil says. His voice is still deferential and quiet, but he pitches a little of his SHIELD authority into the tone too. "Right now we are lucky enough that they've aligned themselves with SHIELD and are willing to work with us and listen to us. As you can imagine, though, there can be some dissenting voices in both camps. They need a correspondent, someone who they respect and who SHIELD respects, who can determine which situations require Avengers intervention and liaise them with SHIELD agents. As I've worked extensively with Agents Romanov and Barton for some time, as well as gaining the trust of the team during the time of the Tesseract, I was recommended."
"So you're a relationship coordinator?" The man shuffles papers, looking unimpressed. "Seems to me the most useful thing you've done is convince the Avengers to fight in your name when they thought you were dead, and then convinced them to take you back once the truth was revealed. How do you inspire such loyalty in those you tricked - especially the one who supposedly loves you and yet was led to believe he caused your demise?"
Phil flinches as if punched, then turns away. His hands are shaking.
Of all the things he had imagined happening today, this was not one of them.
It takes a moment to listen past the rushing of blood in his ears to hear that Clint's growling, low and almost feral. "How dare you?" he says quietly, and the cold anger in his voice is terrifying. "How could you think for a second that this is an acceptable topic?"
"Barton's right," Fury says, sounding pretty mad himself. "You're here to determine the validity of the relationship, not to attack my agent - especially for a decision he didn't make. That was my call and you know it."
As he's speaking, Clint steps around so he's in front of Phil, gently tilting his chin up. Phil blinks back the tears the best he can, but he can't hide the hurt. "Come here, honey," Clint murmurs, wrapping his arms around Phil tight. "I won't let them say another word to you, I promise."
Phil shakes his head. "I can do it," he says, painfully aware of how small his voice is. "I can finish it. Need to prove myself -"
"You have nothing to prove," Clint says firmly. "Not a damn thing. I know the truth, not just about what happened, but about you. So does the team and Fury and everybody else you work with, everybody who matters. These two assholes mean nothing to you, and you owe them nothing. I will not let them hurt you anymore."
Phil sighs. It's choked up and stupidly sad sounding. "Okay. Do you think it's almost over?"
"Whether they intend for it to be or not, it's about to be -"
"Barton," Fury says, and Clint looks up. "You've passed."
Clint's eyes narrow. "Why do you look so angry about that, sir?"
"Because everything they said to Phil was deliberately designed to upset him. They supposedly wanted to examine your reaction and determine whether it was genuine."
"We're satisfied that it was," the woman says, and oh, she sounds so smug, even though she’s technically lost. "Of course, we'd like to ask a few follow up questions about the nature of your relationship -"
"You deliberately distressed my submissive when he was at his most vulnerable.” Clint sounds more disgusted than Phil has ever heard him. "You don't get to say another word to him. And don’t you even think for a second that we don’t know what you’re playing at - that wasn't to test my reaction, it was because you’re trying to break him in any way you can. You went after him as a sub first, thinking your bullshit rules could get him kicked out - and hey, thanks for that, you actually gave me the chance to be with Phil in a way we’ve both dreamt of for years. But you expected a fake relationship today that you could crack apart and use to kick Phil out. Instead you were faced with something real that you couldn’t break, so now you’ve resorted to trying to attack Phil’s credibility as an agent. You want to prove that he doesn’t deserve control of the Avengers so you can weasel your way in and get someone in to tell us what you want us to be doing. Stop me if I’m wrong.”
“You know you’re not wrong, Barton,” Fury says. “Keep going. Tell them what they need to hear.”
“With pleasure,” Clint says, and his grin is feral. “Do you know what will happen if we walk out of this room and inform the Avengers that you’ve managed to kick Phil out of his position? The Avengers will walk out of this building, pack up our bags, and leave. Mine and Agent Romanov’s resignations are written up and ready to be sent, and all of the Stark Industries contracts that are connected to SHIELD will be rescinded, with all debts called to be paid in full. And you will never see us again, any of us. We will cut all ties with SHIELD and be lost from your control forever.”
“You would bankrupt SHIELD and deprive the world of their heroes, all for one man?”
“You betcha. Because he’s not just one man - he’s the man who brought the team together when the world was falling apart around all of us, and he’s the one who keeps us together when we all want to cast off the weight of the world and disappear off the grid. He’s the only reason people like Banner come anywhere near SHIELD - because he trusts Phil Coulson when he says that SHIELD won’t try to hurt him like others have. He’s the only reason I’m still here, and probably the same for Agent Romanov - because we trust Phil Coulson when he says that our talents will always be used right and we will be treated with a respect we both sorely need. Phil Coulson matters to SHIELD, and to the Avengers, and to me. Be prepared for the shitstorm that will come your way if you try to mess with him any further. And now we're out of here. C'mon, sweetheart, let's go."
Phil allows Clint to lead him through to the antechamber, still stunned and overwhelmed, then stops. "There's people out there," he says. "I can't project neutral."
Clint walks to the door and opens it enough to stick his head out. "Steve," he snaps. "Clear the hall. Now."
A moment after he's returned to Phil, drawing him close again, the door opens and Natasha enters. She takes one look at Phil, then turns to Clint. "You failed?" she asks, and she’s tensing up, battle ready, and Clint was serious.
"No,” Clint says, anger still in his voice. “We passed. Apparently upsetting Phil to the point of tears by giving up on the submissive angle and trying to just break him instead was their game."
Natasha's eyes narrow. She leans out the door, murmurs something, then comes back in. "I find myself in need of a word with Director Fury," she says, and slips into the other room before they have time to reply.
"Is she going to cause trouble?" Phil asks.
"Probably. Nothing I haven’t already stirred up, and not for you - I won't let any of the aftermath of this land on you."
Phil hides his face against Clint's neck, Clint rubbing his back, and he doesn't bother to look up when the door opens again. "Everybody's gone," Steve says quietly. "Tony's setting up a temporary force field to keep the hall to the back door clear, and Thor's getting a car. Where's Natasha?"
"Inside. Having a word."
"I might go... help. Bruce will walk you out, he's outside whenever you're ready."
Steve opens the door to the other room, and for a moment Phil can hear Natasha's voice, low and deadly. Then it's gone, and it's just him and Clint, and Phil sighs and lifts his head. "Well, that was fun," he says.
Clint's eyes are full of worry. "Phil," he murmurs softly, then shakes his head. “Sweetheart, you look so sad. Is it - I mean, that must have been hell, but was it… Loki?"
Phil nods, and forces back the threatening tears. None of them have fallen yet, and apparently he looks bad enough without crying so he really doesn't want to add to that. "Stirring all of that up - but it'll be okay. Like you said, they don't matter. It doesn't matter."
"They don't, no. But the hurt you're feeling does. I know how much guilt you suffered, even though it wasn't close to your fault."
Phil smiles a little. "About the same amount you went through?"
"About that, yeah." Clint presses his hand to the back of Phil's neck, and lightly kisses his forehead. "I'm going to take you home and look after you, okay?"
"Okay. Thank you."
"No need to thank me, dearest. Let's go."
Bruce is waiting outside, and he gives them both a small smile. "Ready to go?"
"You our security detail?" Clint jokes. Phil manages a smile.
"Be glad it was me," Bruce says seriously. "Thor wanted to put his hammer to good use."
"I think Natasha and Steve will be more than enough," Clint says as they head off, arm still around Phil. "Natasha will be quietly furious, and Steve quietly disappointed. It'll be very quiet and scary in there."
"You guys don't need to go to this much trouble," Phil says as they head down another abandoned corridor towards the back exit.
"Yeah, we do," Clint says, in a tone that makes it clear that he won't accept argument. "You're on our team, Phil. We protect our own."
"What he said," Bruce says, and opens the door. "Thor?"
"I have procured a car for your privacy and convenience," Thor says. "And a driver who will keep his eyes upon the road and pay no attention to his passengers."
Clint smiles. "Thank you, Thor. Could you go and check that Natasha and Steve are safe?"
"With pleasure," Thor says, and heads in.
"Safe?" Bruce asks.
Clint shrugs. "Not beating up World Security Council minions, anyway."
"Good call. I'll leave you two in peace." Bruce fixes Clint with a serious look. "You take care of him."
"I will," Clint promises, just as seriously. "Tell the others I'm grateful."
Bruce leaves, and Clint ushers Phil into the car. The partition is up but Phil still waits until they're on their way to the tower before he speaks, and keeps his voice low. "You know I would have told you the minute I woke up if I had been able to?"
Clint sighs softly. "Yes," he says. "Of course I do - you've made that clear so many times. Yes, I spent a month thinking you were dead, but it wasn't your fault, and I don't blame you. Never did."
Phil nods. "I know. I do know that."
"Yeah, I know you do." Clint twines a hand in his hair, rubbing gently at Phil's scalp. It calms him just enough, and Clint smiles as Phil's shoulders relax. "That's a bit better. And hey, congratulations. You get to go back to work tomorrow."
"And to think I tried to clear all my paperwork in case I couldn't go back."
"I can easily make a whole stack more with one carefully placed arrow."
"This I know from too much experience," Phil says wryly. "Perhaps you can give me one day without having to present a formal apology to a visiting dignitary."
"I'll try my hardest," Clint says, eyes sparkling. Phil has to smile, and Clint returns it. "And, as promised, you're still mine."
“Good,” Phil says, and falls silent for the rest of the trip. Clint lets him.
They pull up outside the tower and Clint jumps out, holding out a hand to Phil. It's extravagant, and Phil rolls his eyes as he takes it, but he's still smiling. As is Clint.
The smile slowly fades, though, as they head upstairs. He's happy to be here with Clint and relieved that they've made it through the review - but he's still unsettled by what happened, by the memories that were stirred up and the hurt he was made to feel.
He's still sad.
Once they're in Clint’s living room, Phil looks at Clint, who just returns the look evenly. He doesn't say a word, but his eyes are soft and patient. With a sigh, Phil slumps onto the couch and rakes his hands through his hair. "Now what?" he asks.
Clint sits next to him. "Well, that's up to you, sweetheart. If you want to talk about it, we can."
Phil sighs again. “I’m sorry I lost it like that in there.”
“Hey,” Clint says softly, “don’t. They hurt you, Phil.”
“You think I haven’t heard things along those lines before?” Phil asks. “People wondering why it was me of all agents who gets to work with you guys, and going so far as to believe I never really died and the whole thing was a ploy between myself and Nick.” Clint looks shocked and more than a little angry, and Phil hurries to reassure him. “I’ve never listened - not seriously. Like you said, the people who matter know the truth, and that’s what matters. Which is why I should have just let that roll off me like I do with everything else, and instead I nearly had a fucking breakdown.”
He’s still dangerously close to said breakdown, and the overwhelming concern in Clint’s eyes is drawing him ever closer to it. Thankfully, Clint doesn’t offer comfort or anything else that would tip Phil over the edge right now. “You know why?” he asks instead, and Phil shakes his head. “Because every other time you heard that shit, you were in your capacity as an agent - and in the mindset of a neutral. I know you’re always a sub, but you have a level of control over your emotions and your submissive nature at work that you don’t need to have when you’re with me. And in there, you were with me, supposedly under my protection. They attacked you as a submissive, when you had a lot of your walls down. Things hit you harder when you’re like that.”
When I’m weak, Phil wants to say, but he’s really not in the mood for an argument about why submissive doesn’t equal weak. When he’s in the right frame of mind, he knows it anyway. “I - I need to thank you,” he murmurs. “The way you stood up for me, what you said about you and the others…”
“It’s all true. If anybody tries to screw with you, Phil, the Avengers are assembling in a seriously bad way.”
“I really mean that much to you?” Clint’s eyes narrow, and Phil tries to backtrack. “I know you… you care. Of course. But you’d all really cut ties with SHIELD just for me?”
“There’s no just about it. You’re important to us.”
Phil swallows. “Even after…”
“After?”
“You were manipulated. Because of me.”
“Oh, honey,” Clint murmurs, and there's so much worry in his tone that Phil can't quite look at him. “C’mon, isn’t it supposed to be me wallowing in guilt about Loki? Shit, you died, Phil. You’re the least accountable - you didn’t do anything.”
“I sure didn’t. What kind of agent am I, Clint? My contribution to the battle was getting killed. Everybody says how brave and powerful and fierce I am, and I’m not. I’m just weak. How can I - how dare I try to be any kind of influence over this team?”
Clint’s emotions can only be described as despair. “They fucking got to you,” he whispers. “They made you believe them. Phil. This was their game - they want you to bow out on your own, because that’s the only way the team won’t schism. But if you dare… no, I’m not even entertaining that. You will not be made to feel this way, not when you mean so fucking much to all of us.”
“Clint, I’m not -”
“Listen to me. Listen. In that Helicarrier that day, I saw fully trained agents running for their lives, trying to hide and escape. I don’t blame them for that. I also saw superheroes bickering, refusing to work together like they were meant to, having meltdowns, hurting each other. And amidst all of that… there you were. A man who believed in heroes and the innate good in people - and a man who never let evil triumph. You went into that room wanting only to right the wrong currently invading the world. You went up against something bigger than you, something you didn’t understand, and something that tried to crush you."
"He did crush me," Phil says quietly. "Thoroughly and quickly. I couldn't even put up a fight."
Clint shakes his head. "He technically killed you, Phil, but he couldn’t crush your spirit - and neither he nor anything else ever has. You are the soul of the Avengers. You’re the spirit, the heart, the conscience, the good in all of us who have so much potential to take our powers and strengths and go rogue. You believed in us and you were prepared to die believing in us and we took that belief into battle and won. All thanks to you.”
The honesty in Clint’s eyes is staggering. “You really give me that much credit?” Phil asks.
“Yes. You’re the one who always believed that good could conquer evil, and I don’t know where we’d all be without your belief but it sure wouldn’t be here. I sure wouldn’t be here. You are far more powerful than you give yourself credit for - not just as an agent who can hold his own damn well, but as someone who believes in the good in people, even after seeing how dark they can truly be. When we go into battle with you in our ear, we go in knowing that someone believes in us and thinks we can succeed. That’s why you matter, Phil. That’s why you’ve always mattered. And I wish we’d made you aware of it earlier. You deserved to know what the team thinks of you. Maybe today would have hurt you less if you'd known.”
"I'm not going to cry," Phil says, then winces as his voice wavers. "Shit. I'm not."
Clint rubs his arm softly. "Yes, you are," he murmurs.
"Is that an order?" Phil tries to joke, but his heart really isn't in it.
Clint offers him a small smile anyway. "It can be if you need it to be," he says. "I'm not sure where you're at with crying in front of others - I've never seen you cry, and you're clearly fighting it hard right now. I’m not surprised; you’re wrung out, and you need to let go. So if you need an order to be able to let your emotions out in a healthy way, I'll give it."
Phil bows his head. "I might," he admits. Crying freely has never been his strong point - he’s always considered tears a luxury he doesn’t deserve or never has time for.
Clint draws Phil right into his arms, gently encouraging Phil to rest his head on Clint's shoulder. "You're safe here," Clint tells him softly. "You're hurting, and there's an easy way to help release some of that hurt. If you need to cry, then do it. I've got you, and I won't let go."
And for the first time in a very long time, Phil Coulson allows himself to cry in somebody's company.
At first it's fucking awful - he's trying to cry nicely, to not make a sound or dampen Clint's shirt, and he's so painfully aware that someone's seeing him this vulnerable. But Clint just rubs his back and keeps him close and Phil realizes, sudden and certain, that he's not being judged. And that's when he really lets go, lets himself cry how he needs to, to let all of the hurt and anger and frustration seep out with the tears.
He cries himself out in the end, another thing Phil hasn't done in a long time. Usually he forces the tears away, angry at himself for his weakness, but this time they slowly peter out on their own - very slowly, and Phil is painfully aware of how long he’s been crying. But Clint’s held him the whole way through, kept him safe just as promised, and now Phil feels empty, like there's nothing left to get rid of. It feels surprisingly good.
One of Clint's arms shifts away, and Phil hears him grabbing tissues. Phil takes them, keeping his head down, makes himself as presentable and dignified as possible, then balls up the tissues and lobs them across the room towards the bin without looking. "Nice," Clint says after a moment, sounding impressed. "Straight in."
Phil huffs out a laugh. "Thanks," he says, wincing at his voice. "Secret skill."
"I can see." Phil lifts his head and tentatively meets Clint's eyes. "Feeling better?" Clint asks softly, cupping a palm to Phil's cheek and smiling when Phil nods. "I didn't know you were capable of so many tears, sweet boy. It's been a long time since you've let yourself cry, hasn't it?"
"Yeah," Phil admits, leaning into Clint's hand. "That was exhausting."
"I bet it was. And as much as I just want to take you to bed and hold you for awhile, I do want to make sure you're okay first. Which means serious and vertical conversations."
Phil smiles. "You and your vertical conversations."
"There are many good things that happen when we're horizontal, but effective communication tends not to be one of them." Clint presses a light kiss to his lips, then turns serious again. "Okay. How are you feeling on the whole?"
Phil considers it for a bit. "Angry," he says eventually, and Clint raises an eyebrow. "Maybe it's not the most logical emotion, but they set out to try and break me - that was their goal. And I don't like being played like that. I know not to believe a word of what they said, because I trust you over them. They took me by surprise and got me on a topic that... apparently still hurts more than I realised."
"You and me both," Clint says softly, and Phil finds his other hand and squeezes it gently. "It's a sore spot, and it's okay to have those, as long as you don't let them destroy you, and as long as you let the truth of the others who love you speak louder than the hurt."
Phil nods. "I still struggle to properly comprehend how much you seem to believe in me, but I can’t deny that you believe what you’re saying. And I really don’t have the energy to be upset anymore, not after that truly impressive display of emotions I just presented.” Clint smiles, and Phil returns it. “So I'm... angry,” he concludes. “At them. But I know the anger isn't going to get me anywhere either."
"No, but that's okay. You saved us at least half an hour of conversation right there; I thought I was going to have to talk you through why it's okay to be upset, why everything they said was bullshit, and why feeling angry is okay. I might just go and leave you and your common sense to it."
"But then who would I cuddle with?" Phil asks innocently.
Clint laughs. "Oh, I love you, Phil Coulson."
"I love you too. Can we go to bed now? I'm okay, I swear - or at least a lot better, I probably won’t be okay until this is a bit less raw, but that’s for time to fix. I just - I need you."
"You've got me." Clint stands and Phil follows - until Clint makes a detour to the closet. "You lie down and get comfortable," Clint says. "I just want to grab something."
Phil takes time in taking off his suit, carefully hanging it before crawling into bed. Just as he's settling in, Clint comes back. He's also stripped off his field suit, but Phil's focus is firmly on his hands, in which lie a pair of deep brown leather cuffs Phil has never seen before. "Are those new?" Phil asks.
Clint sits on the edge of the bed and holds them so Phil can see. They're padded and soft and beautiful, and Clint smiles as Phil takes them in. "I said I'd buy you things," he says. "Next time we'll choose together, but I wanted to have something for you for when we got back from the review - it seemed like a fitting time to give you your first present from me. Something to help you feel secure and safe. I think you like them by the way you're staring, but if you don't, it's okay. I'm still learning your tastes."
"My tastes are basically simple and anything from you," Phil murmurs. "They're beautiful. I get to wear them?"
"You absolutely do. If you want your hands free for proper cuddling, it's not a problem, but I thought you might like these on while I hold you for awhile."
"I'll fall asleep pretty much immediately," Phil warns.
Clint smiles. "That's okay, sweet boy. You deserve a nap. Arms above your head." Phil hesitates for just a second and Clint, like the good Dom he is, catches it. "Unless you'd prefer something else?"
"You don't mind?"
"Phil, all I want is to hold you and know you're happy. How we do the holding is the least of my worries, as long as you're comfortable. How do you want to be?"
Phil sits up and holds out his wrists in front of them. Clint carefully fastens the cuffs, checking circulation and tightness, then Phil lies back down on his side, wrists tucked up against his chest. Clint copies him, wrapping one of his arms around Phil's waist, and just looks at Phil, who ducks his head slightly. "This okay?"
"Definitely. I'm never going to complain about being able to see my beautiful boy."
Phil can feel the heat of his blush, and he hides his head further. "Clint," he murmurs.
There's an odd silence, and when Clint speaks again his tone has changed. "You'll tell me if it's too much, right?" he asks, and his voice is tense, just like when he's waiting for a reprimand while he tries to explain why he went out of the parameters of a job. "All the pet names and shit. I know I go overboard and I'm not - all the touchy feely sappy stuff, I'm not the kind of guy people expect this from -"
"Because this is the kind of guy you let them see," Phil says softly, and turns his hands so his palms are resting on Clint's chest - but gently, not wanting to push him away. "They see Barton - hardened by battle, always ruthlessly on point, ready for a fight. And yes, that's you, but this is also you. Clint - kind and sweet and caring and really fond of pet names and you can be both. You are both. And I love both - I love you."
Clint closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. When he looks at Phil again, he looks calmer. "I'm sorry, sweet boy," he says, and Phil relaxes. "I'm still working on this, and I know you are too. Separating work from home is hard when you kill people for a living, but come home to such a wonderful submissive that you just want to shower with affection.”
"Just keep doing what -" Phil interrupts himself with a yawn. "Sorry. Do what you're doing. It's working."
"Good. And you're falling asleep."
"Yeah. Sorry."
"It's okay. My fault for going serious on you when you said you'd be out of it fast." Clint starts stroking his hair again, and Phil presses closer, nosing in under Clint's chin. "I'll give you a couple of hours, okay?"
"Mm."
Clint chuckles. It's soothing. "Yeah, you're gone," he says. "Sleep well."
Phil does.
***
He wakes to Clint carefully removing the cuffs, rubbing each of his hands and wrists in turn. He kisses each wrist at the pulse point and Phil smiles, eyes still closed. "Could you look after me any better?" he asks.
"You tell me," Clint says, and Phil opens his eyes to see Clint watching him, smiling softly. "Anything you need?"
Phil sits up, stretching a little as he considers. "Food? Is it dinner time?"
"Think so.” The team does a shared dinner once a week where everybody who can cook pitches in to help, but they’d all been aware that, depending on how today went, Phil and Clint might not be joining them. “Do you want me to bring some food up?"
Phil shakes his head. "I want to eat with everybody."
Clint doesn't argue or even question it, just nods and stands, holding a hand out to Phil. "I'm pretty sure Nat spread the word that you're still one of us, so at least they all know it's a positive outcome overall."
"Good." Phil follows Clint to the closet, where they each grab casual clothes and dress. Phil detours to the bathroom to splash water on his face and smooth down his hair. He usually wakes up pretty clear headed after falling asleep bound, but the water helps wake him up that last bit. "Did you sleep?" he calls to Clint as he does.
"Maybe a little. Not much." Clint's hair is askance, Phil notes as he leaves the bathroom, and when Phil tells him as such, Clint just inclines his head towards Phil. "Straighten me up?" he asks.
Smiling, Phil takes much longer than necessary settling Clint's hair back into place. Clint stays still, eyes closed, and Phil can't resist kissing his forehead as he finishes. "All tidied up," he announces.
"Thank you, sweet boy.” Clint kisses him properly, soft and quick, then surveys him. “You look happier.”
“I feel it.” Phil shrugs a little. “Today happened. I never really expected the review to be fun, and I’m just glad it’s over and I can go back to normal life.”
“As normal as our lives are, anyway.” Clint takes his hand and leads him towards the door. "Let's go get some food."
"Can I ask a favour?" Phil asks as they leave the room.
"Of course."
"I know we're doing the 'no PDA' thing, but can we relax that just a little tonight?"
He squeezes Clint's hand meaningfully, and Clint smiles. "You know I'll never say no to hand-holding," he says. "And you're the one setting the limits on PDA, sweet boy. You tell me what you want."
Phil nods. "Just this for now."
"Okay." The doors open and they step out into the main foyer. Clint peers into the dining area and nods. "Everybody's there - including Pepper, and I think Jane might be visiting."
Phil just shrugs. "That's fine."
"Looks like dinner is just starting. Let's go." Phil resists the urge to fall a step behind, and stays level with Clint as they enter the dining room. "Hey guys," Clint greets. "Enough for two more?"
Before anybody can answer, Tony's out of his seat. "Here he is - the man of the hour!" Tony announces. "He stood down the World Security Council and won: Phil Coulson, ladies and gentlemen!"
"Tony!" comes from four different directions. Clint looks ready to commit murder.
Phil bursts out laughing, squeezing Clint's hand to calm him down. "Thank you for the well needed comedy, Tony," he says, and everybody relaxes (though Natasha's still shooting Tony death glares). "Clint really deserves the credit for standing up to the Council. As do Natasha and Steve I believe?"
Steve rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. Natasha just smiles. "You're welcome," she says. "And yes, plenty for you two. I was going to send up plates later, but it’s good to see you both here instead.”
“I’ll keep the comedy king in line," Pepper says calmly. She's already got Tony back in his seat, and is patting his hand with a gentleness Phil knows can turn authoritative in an instant - the fact that Pepper outranks Tony by one point on the Dominance scale is something she never lets him forget. "Good to see you, Phil."
Phil smiles at her, then at Jane who returns it, and takes the seat Clint's just pulled out for him. "Such a gentleman," Tony says with a smirk.
"Yes, and you could learn a thing or two from him," Pepper says, before picking up a bowl and handing it down the table. "Potato salad?"
Conversations are already resuming around them. Clint's been drawn in by Natasha and Steve, murmuring quietly about, Phil presumes, what went down in the boardroom. Phil fills up his own plate, hesitates a moment, then does Clint's as well. He knows what his Dom likes, after all.
When Clint finally pays attention, Phil just adding the last of the salad to his plate, he looks surprised but so pleased. "You didn't have to do that, sweetheart," he murmurs, "but thank you."
"My pleasure."
Steve says something else and Clint turns back. Phil focuses his attention on his food for a moment, then looks up and across at Jane. "Good to see you again, Doctor Foster," he says.
"And you, Agent Coulson. Especially under such good circumstances - Thor explained your difficulties... the best he could, anyway. While I don't object to him offering his hypothetical collar, I'm glad you chose another, or you would have been the one leading him through everything."
Phil smiles. "I'm glad I chose another too, or else I wouldn't have ended up with Clint -"
"Hm?" Clint asks.
Phil glances at him, making a shooing gesture with his fork. "About you, not to you."
"Well excuse me, I'm sure," Clint snarks, and they swap smirks.
Phil turns back to Jane. "And I would have missed out on that," he says. "On second thoughts, is Thor's collar still available?"
Clint flicks a pea at his head. "I heard that."
Phil tosses it back onto his plate. "Then stop listening in," he says.
"Now I know why you wanted to come downstairs for dinner," Clint says with a long-suffering sigh. "You wanted to besmirch my good name with these people."
"You do that all by yourself," Phil says.
Clint laughs, then returns to talking to Natasha, who's been watching them with a smile. So has Jane, Phil finds when he turns back to apologize, which she waves off easily. "You two are lovely together," she says. "How long has it been?"
"Three weeks."
"Still in the honeymoon stage, then?"
Phil glances at Clint, laughing over something with Natasha and Pepper, and smiles. "Yes and no. I've known him for years, after all." He shoots another look at Clint, then changes the topic. "How's your research?"
Jane’s research is, apparently, full of terms that Phil doesn't quite understand. Eventually Bruce chimes in, then Tony, and the three are engaged in an intense discussion of… something. Thor and Pepper are watching with just as much amusement and bewilderment (though Pepper has a slight advantage over Thor on this one thanks to years of exposure to Tony), and Natasha, Steve and Clint are still in their little conclave.
Phil looks up and down the table, taking in the team, and smiles. In his heart of hearts, he doesn't truly believe that they'd all pull up roots and abandon SHIELD and the rest of the world just for him - but he is slowly beginning to realise that his place isn't on the outside looking in like he'd always thought. Hero or not, he's a part of this team, and this team has his back just as much as he always has theirs. He's won the right to be here, and here is where he's staying.
His life, naturally turbulent and ever-changing, has finally settled down in the one place it matters. Phil's found his home, and not even the World Security Council can tell him otherwise.