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Phil examined his reflection in the mirror and frowned. He had suits and ties for every possible situation except for this. He didn't like to call the vague unease in his stomach panic, but he wasn't feeling entirely calm and collected either.
Maybe, just possibly, he was getting overly focused on the suit. It wasn't panic, though, definitely not.
A mild attack of nerves.
Completely normal. Everyone got them.
Everyone except Phil Coulson.
The tie definitely wasn't going to work with the suit and shirt combination he'd chosen. It was too garish. Phil began looking through his tie rack for a more suitable one.
There was nothing to be nervous about. This was just dinner, a meal he'd eaten hundreds of times. He'd even eaten dinner with Clint more times than he could count and there was no good reason why this one particular time had to signal anything.
Except for the part where this was a deliberate attempt at a date, their first because coffee didn't really count. This was the meal that would mark the beginning of a real attempt at being something more than friends who flirted. It was food with wine in a good restaurant (not so good it was intimidating, but the food wouldn't arrive in baskets either) and they'd never done that before.
Maybe there was a good reason to be slightly unsettled after all.
Phil pulled out a tie and held it up, examining it critically. This one wasn't garish but he wasn't convinced that it was the right tie. These things had messages and significance and-
An alert sounded on his phone and Phil sighed.
This was the other reason for this bout of mild agitation: they had made two other attempts at dinner so far and both of them had been cancelled due to work. Phil was starting to suspect the universe was trying to send him a message.
He pulled out his phone and sent up a silent plea before he looked at the screen.
*It's a good thing Clint's pretty or I'd need help hiding the body right now. NR.*
Phil looked at the message, feeling some of the tension melt away. Natasha would never baldly state it, but apparently Clint was feeling the same nerves Phil was. It made him feel lighter somehow because Clint had been the confident one in all this so far. Knowing that Clint was just as unsettled was comforting.
Returning to the mirror, Phil held up the tie again and decided that it was exactly the right tie for the suit and the occasion.
***
Phil had barely been waiting outside the restaurant for a minute when Clint hurried up, already apologising and looking guilt-stricken.
"Shit, I'm sorry, you wouldn't believe the crap Stark...no, you'd believe it, don't mention Stark," Clint said. "Sorry, bad start. Trying to get out of the tower without a hundred questions was...and then the subway was jammed and...uh, hi."
Phil smiled because Clint looked as wild eyed and panicked as he felt and that made some of the tight knot in his chest melt away.
Clint straightened his jacket and took a deep breath. Phil felt his smile widen a little because Clint wearing a suit, complete with tie, was something he definitely needed to see more often. Not that he had any objection to Clint wearing his tactical uniform or his training gear or anything else Phil had ever seen him wearing, but Clint in a suit was something he'd be happy to witness again.
It was probably a sign that this whole feelings thing wasn't new if Phil could immediately list his five favourite looks from Clint's wardrobe. He pushed the thought away because right now he needed to focus and behave like a sane, rational man rather than a lust-addled teenager.
"You're not late," Phil said reassuringly. "I only just got here myself."
Clint grinned. "That's a relief. Now we're finally here, I don't want to fuck this up by being a bad date." He paused and his gaze swept Phil from head to toe, his smile changing into something with just a hint of leer in it. "Just so you know, that's one of my favourite suits. It makes your...uh...eyes, look fantastic."
There was just enough illumination from the street lights and the restaurant window for Phil to see the tips of Clint's ears turn red. It was charming and Phil couldn't help wondering whether the skin there would be as warm to touch as it looked.
He cleared his throat and said, awkwardly, "Thank you. You look nice too."
Clint shook his head sadly. "I'm going to pretend that's Coulson for 'you look hot, your ass is amazing and I want to jump you right now but this is a public place'. OK?"
Phil forced his face into the blandest expression he could find and said, "If it makes you happy, you can think that. Shall we go in?"
From Clint's pleased smile, Phil suspected he wasn't fooling anyone with the attempt at pretending Clint was wrong. It was probably because Clint wasn't wrong,
They were shown immediately to their table, which was in a corner where both of them could have their backs to the wall and a good line of sight to the door. Phil had been very specific when he was making the reservation because he didn't want either of them uncomfortable or tense during the meal. He supposed this was one of the many ways that dating a trained operative had its complexities.
The waiter gave them each a menu and waited patiently for drinks orders. After barely a pause, Phil ordered beer and Clint smiled and asked for the same. The beer wasn't entirely about putting Clint at ease: part of it was because it took a lot more beer to get drunk than wine. Phil didn't have much recent formal dating experience, but he remembered a couple of disasters from his younger days when there was a bottle of wine on the table and he'd kept sipping to deal with nerves and...
Beer and a glass of water. It was much safer.
"I'm trying to decide," Clint said after a minute of intense menu reading.
"Decide between?" Phil asked.
Maybe he'd spent a couple of hours in the afternoon checking the menu on the Internet and working out his order ahead of time. Maybe.
Clint looked up. "Whether to order dessert first so if we get called out, we'll at least be able to say we stayed for dessert and that makes this a complete date."
Phil shrugged and closed his menu. "I'm choosing to have faith today."
Clint frowned down at his menu again. "Your faith would be inspiring if I hadn't lived through the last few weeks."
"I've also left instructions not to call us unless the world is ending," Phil added. "Verified to be ending, not just a minor threat or suspicion."
The bright smile on Clint's face when he looked up made Phil's heart beat a little faster.
"Seriously?" Clint said. "You've left instructions?"
"I left instructions. After the last time, it seemed appropriate."
They'd got as far as the restaurant door last week and then they'd both been called in for what turned out to be three malfunctioning Doombots in Central Park. It was hardly the massive robot army they'd been promised and Clint had been vocal in his annoyance.
"That may be the nicest thing you've ever said to me," Clint said as he closed the menu. "Oysters are probably way too much of a cliché, right?"
"Definitely."
"Just checking," Clint said lightly. "You're not deathly allergic to shrimp or anything, are you?"
"How many times have we eaten together?"
Clint shrugged. "I've never had a vested interest in making sure I don't kill you with anything I eat before."
"Oh." Phil cleared his throat. "I have no allergies as far as I know."
Clint grinned and opened his mouth to speak, but the waiter chose that moment to glide up to the table with their drinks. He put the glasses down, frowned disapprovingly when Clint immediately reached for his water and then waited with an expectant air.
Phil quietly ordered pasta and soup. Looking slightly intimidated by their silent server, Clint ordered an appetiser and the salmon and he waited until the waiter stalked away before reaching for his beer.
There was an awkward silence. Phil wondered whether Clint was feeling the same pressure he was to get this exactly right, to not make the wrong choices or say the wrong things.
"I did mention that's my favourite suit, didn't I?" Clint said eventually.
"You did. But feel free to mention it again."
"I will." Clint smiled. "I like all your suits, just so you know. And if you ever want to wear jeans, I'd be happy to experiment with liking those, too."
"I'm starting to suspect you only want me for my wardrobe," Phil said dryly.
"Never." Clint paused and his smile turned wicked. "Naked is my all-time favourite look for you."
Phil choked on his mouthful of beer and Clint laughed. Bastard.
"When did you-?" he waved his hand vaguely.
"Decontamination showers," Clint said cheerfully. "I have no shame."
"I already knew that about you."
"Thought you might."
"So, checking for acid burns?" Phil asked slyly.
Clint grinned. "That was a good mission."
"Suspending me over a vat of acid is your idea of a good mission?"
"That bit was less fun," Clint admitted. "But the rest of it? Fuck yeah, that was a good mission."
"You're not planning to make that an anniversary of some kind, are you?" Phil asked warily.
"What do you take me for?" Clint tried to look offended. "Anniversary of our first kiss, yes. First time I got to grope you? I'm tacky but I'm not that tacky."
Of course, their waiter arrived with appetisers just in time to hear that. He looked as though he'd like to disagree with Clint but couldn't do it without actually talking. Instead he put their food down carefully, shot Phil a sympathetic look and glided away.
"I'm starting to think he doesn't like me," Clint said. "And I've been on my best behaviour."
"I can only imagine what your worst behaviour would be."
"Is that a dare?" Clint popped a shrimp in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "Because give me the word and I can drag you behind that pot plant and-"
"It wasn't a dare," Phil said firmly before tasting his soup.
Clint shrugged philosophically. "OK."
"It worries me when you concede defeat so easily."
"Like I said, best behaviour. I-" He broke off and frowned. "Did you hear-?"
There was a sudden roar of noise as the front of the restaurant disappeared in a shower of plaster, bricks and glass. Phil heard Clint swearing but the dust was too thick to see him. Stunned silence reigned for a moment and then screams and shouts erupted around them.
Phil touched a hand to his ear before remembering that it was his night off so of course his earpiece comm was in the pocket of the suit he'd worn at work. He pulled out his phone, hit the speed dial and all he got was a busy signal.
There was a loud booming sound from outside and the room shook, sending more debris showering from the ceiling to add to the thick dust in the air.
"Sir, we need to get out of here," Clint shouted.
"Can you see anything?"
"Not much, but I can remember the layout." A warm hand covered Phil's and Clint tugged at it. "We'll have to go out the front, I don't know where the back exit is and we need to get out now."
"Agreed."
Clint raised his voice, trying to be heard over the shouts and cries. "Everyone, onto the street!"
There were several incredulous shouts, probably at the idea of going outside where the thing trying to destroy the building was, but the idea that there was someone in charge seemed to help. The volume of the screaming faded and as the dust began to clear, Phil could make out people scrambling over the rubble for the dubious safety of the sidewalk.
Clint had his hand and he seemed to know where he was going so Phil followed and tried not to stumble on chunks of masonry. They were nearly there, nearly out, when there was another shattering blast of noise and suddenly the world was collapsing around them. Instinct took over, the kind of instinct that comes from working together for years. Clint's arm went round Phil's waist, Phil shoved and rolled and by some miracle they found shelter as the building collapsed around them. The roar of destruction seemed to go on forever and Phil expected at any moment for their shelter (a table? Maybe?) to give way under the weight of half a building.
Then everything was quieter. Just a few quiet plinks and some shifting dust as the rubble settled. The sound of people shouting and sirens going off was muffled and Phil couldn't see anything in the total darkness around him.
He was lying on Clint and for a moment he felt a spark of worry, then Phil realised Clint's chest was rising and falling beneath him and he breathed more easily. There was something pinning his left ankle, something hard and narrow. Phil suspected a pipe and it wasn't painful yet but it promised to be later. The air was filled with dust and Phil could feel it gritty on his face and lips. One of his hands was trapped under Clint's shoulder and Phil flexed his fingers slightly, which made Clint twitch. He lifted his other hand to wipe some of the dust away from his face but it didn't help.
The arm still wrapped around his waist tightened a little as Clint coughed.
"Well, this wasn't how I pictured our first date going," Clint said, his voice rough and raspy.
Phil couldn't stop his short bark of laughter. "I only wish that I was more surprised."
"Good thing neither of us minds small spaces."
Moving wasn't easy but Phil shifted a little so he could reach out with his free hand and try to map their tiny prison. Whatever had formed the roof of it was a couple of feet above his head but when he experimentally moved his hips a little, he found there was only a few inches of clearance at that point. Their shelter had tilted during the collapse and they were probably lucky it hadn't crushed their legs.
There wasn't much room next to them, either, and Phil honestly couldn't see a way to roll off Clint without dislodging something that might be important to the structural integrity of their tiny pocket of safety.
Clint made an odd half-gasp sound. "Can you...not do that?"
"Not do what?"
"Move. Like that."
Phil froze. "Am I hurting you? Barton, talk to me. Where are you injured?"
"Fuck no, not injured." Clint gave an exasperated snort. "You're wri-...ah, moving around up there and I'm very attracted to you and do I have to draw you a picture?"
No, Phil didn't need a picture. Now that his attention had been drawn to the problem, he really didn't need a picture at all.
"Here?" he asked incredulously. "Now? Is this really the place?"
"Yes," Clint said and his voice had deepened a register. "Here. Now. Pretty much anywhere, if you keep doing that. I'm sorry, was I unclear at any point about how much I want you?"
Phil swallowed. The vibrations in Clint's chest when he spoke felt really good and now that Phil was aware of how much he was affecting Clint, he had the inappropriate urge to encourage it. To move again, hear Clint gasp, maybe see where friction could take both of them.
"Coulson." Clint cleared his throat. "Phil. If we weren't coated with dirt, I'd be kissing you right now. Just so you know. I mean, you're here and we're not getting interrupted any time soon and technically we're still on a date."
"But you draw the line at some dirt?"
"I draw the line at eating half a ton of plaster before I can even get to your mouth, if you're as filthy as I am."
"Really? I thought you were far more creative than that."
There was shocked silence for a moment and then Clint began laughing. Phil smiled, even though he knew Clint couldn't see it.
"I can be creative," Clint said and Phil had to imagine the cheerful leer that was probably on his face. "Really creative. Just wait."
"I'll look forward to it."
The arm around Phil's waist loosened and then he felt a hand land firmly on his ass and squeeze.
He wetted his lips and immediately regretted the action as he tasted cement and brick dust. "Is that your hand?"
"I'm being creative." There was a pause. "I did mention how much I like that suit, right? Highlights your best assets."
"You told me it highlighted my eyes."
"It does." Clint squeezed again. "And also your ass. I was being trying not to be crude."
Phil snorted and put his head down on Clint's shoulder. "You're impossible. What am I going to do with you?"
"Anything you want. I've got a lot of ideas."
The words conjured up a dozen images, all of them completely inappropriate to their current location. Fantasies that Phil kept carefully locked away in a corner of his mind, to be taken out and examined only when his defences were down or he couldn't get through another lonely night in a cold bed.
Phil swallowed as his throat went dry and heat flashed through him and he now had as much of a problem as Clint did. Beneath him, Clint went very still and then sighed, his warm breath ghosting past Phil's ear.
"Shit, if I'd known years ago that I could turn you on just by talking to you, our comm channel would have been way more interesting," Clint said.
"And also X-rated." Phil wriggled the fingers trapped under Clint's shoulders. "Fury would have had us up on charges for traumatising the junior agents."
"Would have been worth it. What are you doing?"
"My hand is going numb."
"Then move it."
"I thought you told me to stop moving things?"
There was a long pause before Clint said, "Just so we're clear, you asked for this."
Shifting so Phil could pull his hand free seemed to require a lot more movement than Phil judged to be strictly necessary. It also seemed to involve Clint's hands on his hips to get them both "into a more comfortable position" followed by Clint's hands taking firm possession of Phil's ass again. There was also a fair bit of lifting and maybe some gratuitous rubbing as they settled into place again.
Phil may have contributed to some of the rubbing. Possibly.
He buried his face in Clint's neck and smiled against Clint's skin when there was a very soft grunt.
Then they both lay still for a long time while heart rates and breathing slowed and Phil failed to resist the temptation to bury his fingers in Clint's short, soft hair.
The noise from outside their tiny bubble of stability was starting to get louder. Hopefully it was a sign they'd be rescued soon rather than the return of whatever had destroyed the restaurant.
"Boss?" Clint said eventually. "Phil? Just so you know, this has been a pretty good date."
"Really?"
"Yeah." One of Clint's hands swept up under Phil's jacket and began rubbing circles on his spine. "Great, even. But I was thinking, maybe for our next date-"
"There's going to be a next date?"
"Definitely. For our next date, why don't I bring some food over and I can cook for you." Clint's hand stilled for a moment before continuing its soothing motion. "It'll be great. I can cook, we can make out on your couch while we pretend to watch whatever crappy show you're DVR-ing and if you really play your cards right, I'll let you take my shirt off."
Phil chuckled. "You seem very confident that there's going to be a second date."
"I'm feeling very confident," Clint said and he rolled his hips against Phil unsubtly. "Very, very confident."
"I'm not sure whether my apartment will survive the experience, if it goes anything like this one."
He felt Clint shrug. "It's got to get better from here. This? First dates never go well in movies with happily ever after endings. I'm taking this as a good sign."
Phil couldn't resist nuzzling slightly at Clint's neck, enjoying the quickly inhaled breath beneath him as his lips grazed Clint's throat. He pressed a kiss to the spot where Clint's jaw met his neck and got a quiet sigh in response. Pushing up slightly on one elbow, Phil carefully felt along a broad shoulder, traced fingers up Clint's neck and over his chin until he could brush some of the dirt away from Clint's mouth. Using his fingers as a guide, Phil slowly leaned down to kiss him.
There was dust and the sour taste of old plaster, but underneath all that Phil could taste the clean, rich flavour of Clint's mouth. He kissed gently at first before lightly tugging at Clint's lower lip with his teeth and felt Clint's blunt nails scratch against his shirt. There was a deep, shuddering breath and then Clint surged against him, pulling him tighter so they could deepen the kiss.
Dust showered down and Phil pulled away, suddenly aware that the noises outside were much louder now and he could hear rubble shifting. His breathing was too fast and he was fairly sure the dust around his mouth was smeared and wet and Clint's hand was still on his ass.
That was probably why the universe picked that precise moment for the top of their shelter to be torn away, exposing them both to the cold night air and the curious eyes of Thor, Stark and Natasha.
Phil looked up. Stark's faceplate was open and his expression was...peculiar. After a moment he swore under his breath and stalked away.
Natasha grinned. "Hi."
"My friends!" Thor boomed. "You are indeed alive!"
Clint lifted the hand that had been on Phil's ass and waved. Phil just moaned quietly and dropped his head to Clint's shoulder.
As Thor began carefully lifting the bar pinning Phil's ankle, Clint lifted his head slightly and his lips brushed Phil's ear.
"I think your suit's ruined," he said softly. "I'm going to miss it."