Chapter Text
The first time that the world starts making a bit of sense again is two hours after he's been brought to medical, when Phil hears Clint's voice outside his room. He pushes through the terrifying haze that's clouded up his mind and does his best to focus.
" - my submissive in there," Clint's saying. "It's supposed to be on your charts that I'm his emergency contact. Why the fuck can't I go in?"
"Agent Coulson has been through trauma," the nurse says. It's harder to focus on her voice. "He's currently in shock, and until he's more aware of his surroundings we don't want to -"
"Oh my god," Clint says, and there's fury in his voice. "Where the hell did you get your training - and have you even bothered to look at his file?" There's a rustling of paper, then a sound of violent jabbing. "There. Look at that number. He's a high rank submissive and you think he's in shock? That's not shock, that's fucking sub drop, and he's not getting better until I get in there to help him. Oi!"
"What seems to be the problem?" comes another voice.
"My submissive is in that room, in sub drop after experiencing trauma, and she won't let me in to level him out. And I'm telling you now, if there's even a hint of violation of submissives rights going on here, I will take this straight to Director Fury. Let me into that room. Now."
Phil's smiling. Clint's here to rescue him.
The door opens, then closes again. After a moment, Clint comes into view, all his anger clearly gone. "Phil?" he says softly. "You with me?"
"My hero," Phil slurs, and holds out his arms.
Clint's there in a heartbeat, wrapping Phil up in his arms, safe and secure. "I'm here, sweetheart," he says. "I've got you, it's all going to be okay. Do you know what's going on?"
Phil nods, then presses his face to Clint's neck. It hurts a little with scrapes and bruises all over his face, but he doesn't care. "Sub drop. Heard you yelling."
"Shit," Clint murmurs. "I'm so sorry, honey, I didn't want you to hear that. I know you don't like me raising my voice."
"Not at me. To protect me. Felt safe."
Phil can't quite get his words together, but Clint seems to understand, relaxing again. "Good. You are safe, I promise. Focus on me, and let me bring you back."
Phil does. Clint talks to him softly, words Phil doesn't really register but knows that they're good, and keeps Phil close, stroking his hair. It's so nice, but Phil knows it could be nicer if he could get this damn cloud out of his mind. He tries to focus harder, then whimpers when it refuses to budge. "Clint," he begs, and tries very hard not to cry.
"Shh," Clint whispers. "You're okay, sweet boy, I promise. It's going to get better. Just don't panic, don't cry, and don't worry. I've got you, and I won't let you fall. Trust me?"
"Yes." Because even if nothing else makes sense right now, trusting Clint is the simplest logic.
"Good boy. I love you so much. Stay with me, and it'll get easier."
And it does. Clint gives him something to focus on, something warm to counteract the cold, a light to pierce through the dark. Slowly the fog begins to lift, and the world returns to clarity. It’s still dark around the edges, as if the haze is ready to come back at any moment, but at least now Phil remembers what happened - a compromised op, all captured, all viciously interrogated, three dead from the backup team sent in to extract them. He comes back to himself enough to feel the flickers of pain still coursing through him, to hear the heart monitor beeping steadily. His breathing is in sync with Clint’s, and he finally feels like he’s a part of the world again.
He lifts his head, and Clint smiles down at him. "There's those beautiful eyes I know and love," he says. "Even if one of them is almost swollen shut. Back with me?"
"Yeah. I - I think. I've never dropped like this before."
Clint's eyes darken. "That's because after past traumatic missions, you were taken for general aftercare with all the uncollared subs. Someone didn't change your medical alert status - it was supposed to alert the team as soon as you landed to get me here to care for you, but you were still down in the general aftercare group."
"And since there are no uncollared subs at this level - or any subs apart from me - that group was ignored," Phil completes. "How did that happen?"
"I'll be investigating," Clint promises. “It’s been two months, it should have been on file a long time ago. It won't ever happen again... but once is enough. Let's deal with this first. I'm going to have to let them in to do general medical checks - and so they can confirm for me that nothing's broken in your poor beautiful face - but as soon as you're cleared we'll go home."
"Okay. Clint?"
"Yes, dearest?"
"I still feel... wrong? Around the edges."
"That's okay," Clint soothes. "You dropped hard, sweetheart, and I've only levelled you out enough to get you through your medical checks and hopefully home. It's not going to be okay just yet, and you won't be going to work tomorrow. I need to give you a lot of aftercare."
Phil looks at the blankets. "Sorry," he whispers.
"Don't you dare be," Clint says softly. "This isn't your fault, not in the slightest. You know I love caring for you, and this is the first time I’ve been able to look after you after an op - I’m not complaining. Okay, I am complaining, because this is the first time you’ve been on an op with a Dom to come home to and not only did the op fuck up, SHIELD fucked up and now you’re hurting - but I’m not complaining to you. Except I just complained to you. Fuck. Sorry.”
Phil chuckles. “It’s okay. You’re not mad at me, that’s what matters. ‘m sure I’m gonna be mad at SHIELD too, but I can’t really feel mad right now.” He sighs. “Feeling things hurts.”
And he feels stupid and juvenile and pitiful, but Clint just rubs his back and kisses his forehead. “Don’t worry about it, honey. You’re really not in control of your emotions right now, and it’s probably better that you don’t try to feel angry or anything too strong just yet. However you feel right now is okay, as long as you know you’re safe. I’m going to take you home as soon as I can, and I’ll hold you until it starts feeling better again. Okay?”
"Sounds good.”
"Good. I'm going to go open the door and let the doctors in. I'll only be gone a few seconds, then I'll come back and hold your hand while they check you over."
Clint lets go, and Phil wants to grab him, wants to beg Clint to not leave him - but that's stupid, Clint's not leaving, and Phil bites his lip, keeps himself silent. He does squeeze Clint's hand pretty hard when he returns, then forces himself to back off. "Sorry," he murmurs.
Clint squeezes in return. "It's okay, beautiful. Take what you need. I'm here."
Phil doesn't really focus much while he's examined. He hears a few comments about cuts and bruises and instructions for Clint on how to treat the abrasions. Clint pays attention, takes all the papers handed to him, and asks a few general questions.
When the doctor leaves, Phil looks at Clint. "Do I get to go home?"
Clint frowns at him. "Yeah, honey, we just talked about that. He's gone to get the release forms."
"Sorry. Tried to pay attention."
"Shh, sweet boy, I know. You're doing really well. Once you get out and get some fresh air, that's going to help you clear your head a little."
"Okay."
The doctor returns and Clint signs the forms while Phil is detached from the monitors. "Need some help getting dressed?" Clint asks once they're left alone again.
Phil shrugs. "Let me see if I can do it?" He needs to be able to succeed at something today.
"Sure." Clint brings over his clothes, and Phil exerts all of his focus on getting himself dressed, going slow to avoid all of the bruises and wounds he's ended up with. "Good boy," Clint praises once he's slipped his jacket on, and takes the tie from his hands. "No need to worry about this, I don't think. Let's get you home."
Clint's right - the cool night air on the top deck clears his mind a little and helps him focus. It also makes him shiver, and Clint wraps an arm around him, strong and warm. "Thanks," Phil murmurs. "Have we got a shuttle?"
"Uh-huh. Used your privileges to get us a priority - didn't think you'd mind." Clint steers him to the waiting shuttle, directs the driver to take them to the tower, then pulls Phil as close as their seatbelts allow. "How are you feeling?"
“‘s like being drunk.”
Clint raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
Phil nods. “But sort of like being on the edge - it could be a happy night, could be a sad one, could get angry and smash a bottle over someone’s head… it’s like I could feel everything or nothing and I’m sort of teetering on the edge just waiting to fall one way or another and - and this is so stupid, I’m sorry -”
“No, no, it’s really not. It’s helpful. I’m glad I know how you’re feeling. You won’t -” Clint sighs. “I can’t promise that you won’t fall, but you won’t wake up in the gutter in the morning. That I can swear.”
Phil smiles. "Good. I do feel a bit better. Not quite like myself yet, but like I could be. Kinda like sobering up, I guess?”
"Good. And it will get better. Not straight away, and I'll tell you now that you are going to get worse again before you get better - you’re ‘sobering up’ now, but I’m afraid you’re probably gonna have a couple more drinks tonight - but it won't be as bad. I'll help you through and keep you safe."
"I know you will." Phil nuzzles against his neck for a moment, careful not to hurt his eye or any of the other scrapes he can feel on his face, then sighs and sits up. "Clint?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
Phil takes a deep breath. "You won't like it. But I need to be Agent Coulson for a bit - you know stage two of this op is going to involve the team and they need to know what happened so they can prepare for their part."
Clint looks torn. "Are you sure you're up for it?"
"It won't take long. I can do it."
"Okay," Clint says reluctantly. "I know it's important."
"Thank you. And… thank you for not forbidding me to go today.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” Clint strokes his cheek, carefully touching the skin just under his eye. “It’s hell when you get hurt, but taking you away from your job would hurt you more. As long as you keep coming back to me safely, and as long as you’re not going on ops that are destined to fuck up, then I’m not going to be an asshole and stop you from going - try to stop you from going, I mean. You wouldn't let me make ultimatums like that. Did you think I would?”
“Others did.”
Clint’s eyes narrow. “What was said to you?”
“Nothing bad. Just surprise expressed by one of the agents that you let me go.”
“And that’s the other reason I’m not going to step in,” Clint says with a sigh. “You’ve fought a whole lot of prejudice to get to where you are, and if you now start backing out of things because your Dom says so, it destroys so much of what you’ve worked for - not just for you, but for others wanting to be you. I’m your Dom all the time, but I will not ever make you do things you don’t want to do. You’re the man I love because of your independence, not in spite of it.”
Phil smiles. “As are you.”
Clint chuckles, and they pass the rest of the ride in comfortable silence.
Clint gets JARVIS to assemble the team as soon as they enter the tower, and it only takes a few minutes before everybody - minus Thor who's visiting Jane - is in the kitchen. "Thanks for coming," Phil says, leaning against the counter. He's tired and really just wants to go to bed and be held by Clint, but he can't shirk his job. "Today's op was a fiasco, as you can probably tell by my face. The team was compromised - we were only meant to incapacitate some of the lower level workers and get the information you needed to play your part, but someone tipped them off and we were all caught and interrogated. I don’t think we gave any information up that’s going to compromise your attack, but it’s obviously going to have an impact. If nothing else, we know these guys aren’t fucking around - three agents are dead."
"Shit, Coulson," Tony says.
"Are you alright?" Steve asks, shooting a quick glance at Clint, who gives him a brief look in return. Phil knows what the silent byplay is about - while the others are looking at this from a mission and objective based view, Steve has immediately caught on to the personal implications for Phil, and is checking in with Clint to make sure he has too.
Phil would normally be pretty pissed off about that, but it's oddly comforting today. Perhaps that's just the sub drop talking - the need to know that he's safe and looked after is pretty high right now. "As fine as I can be," Phil says, keeping his tone professional. "But naturally the events of today affect all of you."
"What does that mean for next week?" Natasha asks.
"You need to be better," Phil says bluntly. "Better than them. Tomorrow when I go into the office -" Clint clears his throat, and Phil sighs. "Tomorrow when the office emails me," he corrects, "there'll be all the images we were able to get. Floor plans, entrances, cameras, good spots for concealment or sniping. I need you all to study them hard. I’ll go through them with you and we’ll formulate a plan together. From the quick debrief we got on the way back, it’s determined that we’re keeping this as low key as possible, so all planning will be done here.”
“We can do all that tomorrow, right?” Clint asks. His tone is casual, simple, but there’s an obvious undercurrent of worry.
“We can,” Phil says, “but before I forget, there are a few important points. Tony, have you got those…” Phil pauses, frowning. He knows this one… but he doesn’t. “What are they called? The grenades? The ones that disable all comms that aren’t yours?”
“StarkBombs?" Tony looks understandably confused - it’s not often that Phil forgets details like that, especially not when it comes to Tony's predictably named technology.
"Yes. Sorry. Long day." Phil rubs his forehead, trying to focus. “I think there are going to be issues with those. Apparently their technology circuit is very different to anything standard, so they might not work. Details tomorrow. Bruce, there's a room in there that needs immediate destruction. I'll make sure it's pointed out to you on the plans. Natasha..."
"Sir?" Natasha asks after a moment.
"Sorry," Phil says again, closing his eyes and forcing his thoughts to come together. "The... yes. The data room. There's no way you can infiltrate, they'll know who isn't one of them, so we need you to get in another way. I'll have the jammer... tomorrow? No, can't get it tomorrow - Thursday. Yes. Good."
"Coulson?" Steve asks.
"Right. Sorry, Steve. How's the upgrades on the shield?"
"Fine, but that's not what I wanted to ask. Are you okay?"
Phil nods. "Sure. Just... just a long day. Very long."
He lets go of the counter, sways, and quickly grabs it again - and there are sudden alarming tears in his eyes and he can't do this.
"Oh fuck," he hears Steve say. “Clint -”
Before Steve can finish, there are strong arms around Phil’s waist, holding him steady. "Come here, honey," Clint murmurs. "It's okay, I've got you. It's over, you're done. Let me take care of you."
Phil lets go of the counter again and turns to wrap his arms around Clint's neck. He feels so stupid for not even getting through a simple briefing, but he also knows he's not okay anymore, so Phil clings to Clint tight and trusts him to take care of it.
"What's happened?" Phil hears Bruce ask.
"Sub drop," Steve murmurs. “At least it sure looks like it.”
"It is,” Clint confirms. “He’s… not doing good. They didn't call me when he got back to base, left him for two hours on his own after enduring trauma. Dropped pretty much completely before I got to him. I levelled him enough to get him back here, but he's not okay quite yet, and definitely not okay enough to try and do something like this."
"Sorry," Phil says quietly.
"No apologies," Clint tells him. “I know you had to do it. Not your fault, sweetheart."
"'m sorry to them."
"To the team?" Phil nods and Clint sighs. "Steve? Reassure him?"
"Phil?" Steve asks, and Phil makes a small noise of assent. "None of us are cross or upset or judging you in any way, okay? We're all real sorry this happened to you, but it doesn't change anything. We still take orders from you, still trust you as our handler. Clint's going to take care of you, and we'll talk about the op when you're feeling better."
Phil nods. He can't find the words.
"Phil," Clint says softly after a moment. "Hey, c'mon, stay with me."
"Trying."
"I know. I don't think we're getting to my room, are we?" Phil shakes his head, and Clint tightens his hold. "You guys okay if we set up camp in the living room?" he asks over Phil's head. "I just need to hold him for awhile, get him through the worst of it."
"I was the only one in there," Tony says. "I'll get my stuff out, leave you to it."
As Tony leaves, Phil feels Clint stroking his hair. "Look at me, sweetheart?" he asks, and Phil tilts his head up, focusing the best he can. He knows he's here, knows Clint's here and the room's here, but nothing feels here. "Good boy," Clint says softly. "I'm going to carry you through, okay?"
Phil could walk, and kind of wants to protest (the whole team are right there after all), but it just feels so good to let Clint tell him what's happening and take care of everything. "Okay," he agrees.
"Clint?" Phil hears Steve ask. "When was the last time he ate?"
Clint swears softly. "God, I didn't even think. Phil? Honey, do you know -"
"Breakfast."
"Fuck." Clint sounds distraught. "We need to get some food into you, beautiful, no wonder you're being hit so hard."
"There are nutrient shakes in the fridge," Bruce says. "I think they'll be your best bet, you're not going to get him to eat if he's dropping this badly. Want me to bring one in?"
"Please. Some water too." Clint lets go of him and Phil whimpers, pressing close. "Shh, no, sweet boy, it's okay. I just need to pick you up." He holds one hand to Phil's back, the other under his knees, and scoops him off his feet. "There you go. I'm right here. We're moving now, going to go set up on the couch where you can be nice and comfortable."
Phil closes his eyes and hides his face against Clint's neck as he's carried into the living room. He waits to be set down, but Clint sits down instead, keeping Phil in his lap. Phil isn't complaining one bit, and makes himself comfortable. "He going down fast?" Phil hears Tony ask.
"Yeah," Clint says quietly, stroking Phil's back. "As long as he doesn't hit the same level I found him at this afternoon, we should be okay."
More footsteps, then two items placed on the table. "Just get JARVIS to tell us if you need anything else," Bruce says. "Otherwise, we'll leave you to it."
"Thank you," Clint says, and a few minutes later the door closes. "Phil?" Clint murmurs shortly after. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I'm falling." Phil huffs out a laugh, but it sounds too teary for his liking. “Guess I had those drinks after all.”
Clint's arms tighten. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I can't stop it, but I'm going to be here the whole way through, and I'll do my best to keep you feeling safe." Clint shifts a little, one of his hands moving from Phil's back to pick something up. "I need you to drink a bit of this for me."
"Don't want to."
"I know. I'm sorry. Direct order."
Phil obediently opens his mouth and lets Clint help him take a few sips. When they don't immediately come back up like Phil's been expecting them to, he drinks a bit more, suddenly realizing how thirsty he is. "That all?" he asks when Clint takes it away.
"For now, yes. I don't want to make you sick to your stomach. Water?"
Phil drinks it greedily, then curls back into Clint when he's done. "When 'm I gonna feel better?" he asks.
Clint sighs. "I don't know, honey. I'm sorry. What are you feeling?"
"Unstable. Confused. Scared. Sad."
"All normal, but of course no less distressing for you. But it's going to get better, I promise."
"Clint?"
"Yes, dearest?"
"You said back in medical that I - you told me not to cry. Is that still...?"
"No, sweet boy. I just didn't want you getting too upset in there because I still had to get you home. If you need to cry, you go ahead and cry."
"You'll keep me safe?"
"I swear.”
Everything goes into a bit of a blur from there. There are tears, plenty of them, and some talking, a lot of reassurance and promises of safety and things getting better. Phil trusts Clint, trusts that the black fog won’t overcome him again, and eventually it fades out enough that Phil can fade into sleep instead.
***
Phil wakes to the low murmur of voices. He doesn't bother opening his eyes straight away, too warm and safe, just figures out where he is - on the couch, head in Clint's lap. And if Clint's here, he's safe.
He opens his eyes after a few minutes, and Clint immediately breaks off his conversation. "Hey, beautiful," he murmurs, touching Phil's cheek gently. "We didn't wake you did we?"
"Mm... yeah." Phil smiles. "It's okay." He pushes up on his elbows, Clint putting a hand to his back, and spots Steve on the other couch. "Hey, Steve," he says.
"Hi, Phil. You're looking better."
"I feel better. More myself." Phil twists around so he's sitting up properly, then leans against Clint. "The last few hours just feel like a weird dream... but I'm still sort of in it. Still not quite as focused as I'd like."
"That'll come with time and more sleep," Clint says, then chuckles when Phil's stomach suddenly growls. "And food. I think a very late dinner is in order."
"What time is it?"
"Almost midnight," Steve says. "Want me to make you something? I can do a mean omelette."
"Sounds perfect."
"One for you too, Clint?"
"That’d be great. Thank you, Steve."
"My pleasure."
Steve lets himself out, and Phil snuggles closer to Clint, who wraps him up in his arms. "You do seem a lot closer to baseline," Clint says after looking him over for a moment. "I'm glad."
"Me too. I feel like I need to be close to you though, more than normal."
"Since I don't plan on letting go of you any time soon, that won't be a problem." Phil smiles and Clint returns it. "After some food and a good night's sleep, you should be level again, but I'll still be keeping you very close for awhile. I signed us both off for medical leave tomorrow. There... may be repercussions from that."
"Why? There's definite grounds for short-notice medical leave."
"It's less about that and more the reasons I cited. You're fine, I just noted sub drop for you. I may have mentioned that, on top of caring for you, I'm also furious enough with SHIELD that if I went in tomorrow I might start shooting and not stop."
Phil sighs and tries not to smile. "Surprised I haven't gotten calls about it already," he says, reaching for his phone.
"Please. I switched that off hours ago. You're on medical stand-down, no calls allowed."
"Clint -"
"No," Clint says firmly, and Phil immediately puts the phone down. "This need to be on call 24/7 is something I planned on addressing with you anyway, but I'm not doing it when you're technically still in sub drop. For now I'll just say that you're on stand-down, there are other agents on call, and SHIELD can survive without you for twenty-four hours. I promise."
"I know. Sorry."
"It's okay, sweet boy. Commitment isn't a bad thing. But you need to focus on yourself right now."
"Thought that was your job," Phil teases.
Clint laughs softly, then presses a quick kiss to his lips. "I'm glad you're feeling better. How long has it been since you last experienced sub drop?"
"Four years, give or take.”
“Really? You’ve definitely been on bad ops in that time.”
Phil nods. “Usually I was either out of the line of fire or -” He sighs, trying not to blush. “Well, if we were a long way from medical, one of the Doms would…”
“Dom on duty,” Clint says. “Honey, I know all about that. No need to be embarrassed - it’s what has to happen sometimes to keep all agents safe. But they normally help subs who have dropped - you said you haven’t been in sub drop?”
“I was always priority level - the second we got clear, they’d sort me out pretty quickly and determine if I needed care or not. I’d generally get holed up in the back of a plane or a car with a blanket and a Dom keeping me aware of my surroundings. And since I knew back then that was all I was gonna get, I - well, I guess I fought the drop pretty hard. Even if I wanted to be held and looked after properly, I wasn’t gonna get it. So that’s how I usually dealt.”
“You didn’t fight this time? And nobody looked after you?”
“I tried. And they checked in but - but I guess they knew I had a Dom now and I’d be looked after once we got back. Everybody was pretty shaken and roughed up and I wasn’t going to make a nuisance of myself and say that I was starting to feel fuzzy when we were ten minutes from SHIELD and you’d be there.” Phil laughs with no humour. “Well.”
“The Dom on duty still should have caught it -”
“The Dom on duty was one of the agents who died.”
Clint stops. “Oh,” he murmurs after a moment, then sighs. “Okay. I’m sorry, I’m trying to find people to blame and that’s not helping things right now. We know medical fucked up, we’ll find out how soon enough, and that’s enough for now.”
Phil nods. “I can take my share of the blame for not trying to alert someone to what was happening, but I can tell you’re not letting me blame myself right now. It happened - it was gonna happen at some point, we both knew that. Though I really was hoping it wouldn’t happen six fucking weeks into our relationship.”
“I know. I’d make a joke but it’s probably not the right time.”
“It’s never the right time for any of your jokes.” Clint chuckles again and Phil smiles. “When's the last time you helped a sub through drop?"
Clint worries his bottom lip. "Well, never," he says.
Phil blinks. "Never?"
"Yeah. The past relationships I had were short lived, and with people who had no trauma to face on a daily basis. I've been on ops where sub agents dropped, but I was either never the Dom on duty - kinda not practical to have the sniper as the emergency Dom - or everybody pitched in to help. Being the sole anchor to pull a submissive out of drop is very new. That's why Steve's here - I hope that's okay."
Phil frowns. "He's here to help?"
"To help me, not you," Clint clarifies. "After getting you as levelled out as I could, I needed... I had to know that I did okay. That another Dom wouldn't have done it better. Needed the reassurance that I kept you safe and did my best."
"You did," Phil says, nuzzling into him, "but I get why you wouldn't believe it from me alone. Did he reassure you?"
Clint nods. "Said it was clear that I looked after you right. There's things he would've done differently, but that's his style and based off helping subs that aren't you. He says that you clearly responded to me and what I was doing and that means it was right. And he said it's - it's okay to worry. Because being scared about having someone else's safety in your hands is kind of a good thing, as long as you use the fear as fuel, instead of letting it freeze you up. And I did." Clint laughs a little and holds Phil tighter. "But in the spirit of honesty, I was scared shitless."
"Will you let me apologize for scaring you?"
"I think you know the answer to that question. I might as well apologize for SHIELD not informing me you needed me. This situation was so far out of our hands."
"You took control of it really well, though," Steve says as he returns, a plate in each hand. The smell hits Phil right in the stomach and he’s making grabby hands for the plate before he realizes. Clint and Steve both laugh, but it’s good natured and Phil just rolls his eyes as he digs in. “Really though, Clint. You did great.”
“Thanks," Clint says, uncharacteristically shy, and focuses on his own plate.
For awhile, there’s just companionable silence, then Clint and Steve settle back into conversation. It’s something to do with Tony and one of his labs, but Phil doesn’t pay attention, leaning against Clint again when he’s finished eating. He yawns a few times and Steve smiles. “Tired?”
“Uh-huh,” Phil mumbles, and Clint draws him closer. “Don’t want to go to bed yet. Happy here.”
Nobody makes him move. Phil ends up dozing, catching bits and pieces of conversation, until he comes to to find Steve and the plates gone and Clint gently shaking him awake. “C’mon, sweet boy,” Clint murmurs. “Time to get you to bed.”
Phil yawns. “Have your muscles deflated?”
“Thought I’d give you the choice.” Clint sounds amused. “There’s a plus in all this; I’ve seen you tired, but I don’t often get to see you sleepy.”
“There’s a distinction?”
“Yeah. You brat when you’re sleepy.”
Phil winces. “Sorry.”
Clint scoops him up. “It’s okay - it’s too cute to be effective,” he says as they head towards the door, and Phil chuckles.
Clint uses JARVIS to get the lift, apartment, and bedroom doors open (Phil has tried not to think too hard about the fact that JARVIS can open any door in the building, locked or not), and gently sets Phil on the edge of the bed, bringing him pyjamas to change into. “Bathroom,” Phil says once he’s changed, and goes after a nod from Clint. He doesn’t normally ask permission for things like that, but he’s still not quite in control of himself, still much happier letting Clint call all the shots.
Once he’s done and back in the bedroom, Clint settles him in bed then takes his own turn in the bathroom. Phil’s almost asleep by the time Clint gets back, and holds his arms out when Clint lies down. “I’ve got you,” Clint murmurs and draws Phil close.
Phil snuggles into Clint, yawning. “You’re good to me. Really good.”
“That’s all I try to be,” Clint says, his voice oddly small. “I learned pretty quickly that I can’t save you from the world, but I can be a safe place for you to come home to.”
“That’s exactly what you are. Am I that for you too?”
“You sure are, sweet boy.”
“Good. Can I go to sleep?”
Clint chuckles. “Of course you can. I’ll see you in the morning, hopefully with a clear mind.”
“Sure hope so.”
Phil’s going to say goodnight, but he falls asleep too fast.