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“Hawkeye leaving position and entering the building.”
“Alpha team is seven minutes out.”
“Roger, that. Going silent.”
Phil never imagined that those would be the last words he’d ever hear Clint say.
The Alpha team is still a minute away when there is a bright flash of light and every camera blacks out. The only thing coming through the feed is a loud rumbling that echoes through the suddenly silent command center. Phil glances over to the display in front of him and watches as the green dot signaling Hawkeye’s position blinks and disappears.
“Someone get the secondary cameras up. I want eyes back on the scene,” Phil orders. “Alpha team, report.”
Jenkins’ shaky voice comes through the comm, “It’s gone, sir, it’s just...gone. He’s...” There’s a pause as Jenkins takes a deep breath and Phil remembers that the team lead had trained under Clint as a junior agent. The agent’s voice is a little less shaky when he continues. “Alpha team within sight of the building, sir. Visual confirmed - the building is no longer standing. No visual on Agent Barton.”
“Jesus...” one of the other agents says through the open comm, “there’s nothing left bigger than a baseball.”
The secondary cameras come on line, proving the agent’s observation is correct. The entire building is nothing but a pile of rubble on the corner of the street.
“Can anyone tell me what the hell took down the building?” Phil asks. “Alpha team hold your position. Nobody else goes near the building until we have more info.”
“The faint energy signature Hawkeye went in to investigate is gone, sir,” answers one of the junior agents a few consoles over. “Energy spiked suddenly before the implosion, but there’s no trace of it now. Nothing else out of the ordinary coming up on scanners.”
“Alpha team, you have a go for search and rescue,” Phil says over the comm.
An hour into the search, they find the mangled remains of Hawkeye’s bow and quiver. The quiver and arrows are barely recognizable, but the broken bow is unmistakable. Another two hours pass before Phil, as per SHIELD protocols, calls the op.
“Alpha team return to base. Beta team in transit for cleanup and recovery.”
Several chairs in the command center swivel toward him, but nobody says a word when they catch sight of Phil’s stoic face.
“No! Sir, we’re good to keep searching,” Jenkins protests. “We just need more time.”
“Negative, Agent Jenkins,” Phil responds. “There’s nothing else you can do there. Prepare your team for extraction.”
Phil slips off his headset before the agent can voice any additional protests. He pointedly ignores the sounds of everyone trying to reign in their reactions - there’s sniffling and throat clearing and quiet sobbing. Clint Barton, for all his bluster, was a very well-liked SHIELD agent.
“Orders for Beta team?” Sitwell asks as Phil turns toward him. Jasper is blinking rapidly, voice choked. Barton and Sitwell organize the monthly poker games and, if Phil’s memory is correct, Clint had introduced Jasper to his wife.
“Standard search and retrieval,” Phil responds and hands Sitwell the headset in his hand. “Keep me apprised of anything new and inform the Avengers currently available that I’ll need to speak with them in an hour’s time. Usual conference room.”
“Phil,” Fury says from behind him and Coulson spins around, surprised. He hadn’t heard the director enter. “Are you sure you want to do that here?”
“I see no reason not to,” Phil says and walks calmly past the director. “I’ll be in my office.”
Phil walks into his office, locks the door, sets an alert on his phone, and drops heavily onto the couch, letting his head fall into his shaking hands.
The last time he’d talked to Clint - not Hawkeye, but Clint - was three months ago in this office. They were going over status reports on several of the new recruits, laughing at Clint’s narrative on how the newbies had fared on the SHIELD obstacle course, when Steve had knocked lightly and walked in. There had been a proper distance between Clint and Phil on the couch, but Phil had still jumped back and stiffened when the Captain entered the room. By the time Steve asked his question and left, the damage had already been done.
“So we’re not even allowed to be friends?” Clint had asked, looking down at his hands. “I mean, I know you don’t want people to know we’re sleeping together, but I thought...”
They’d been sleeping together for years, but had agreed to keep it a secret in deference to Phil’s status at SHIELD. He’d spent years cultivating a reputation for being infallible and a relationship, especially with one of his assets, could be construed as a soft spot, a weakness he couldn’t afford. Phil’s reputation became even more important after Loki, the Avengers, and the months of recovery that followed - months when Phil could barely lift a pen let alone command the attention of superheroes. So they’d carried on as they had before and Phil assumed that Clint understood.
“Clint,” Phil said, “we’ve talked about this.”
“Actually, we haven’t,” Clint responded, still not looking at Phil. “You wanted to keep it a secret, so I went along with it because you asked me to. I’d always told myself you were just a private person, that you weren’t...” Clint sighed and finally looked up, eyes filled with hurt resignation. “I never wanted to believe you were ashamed of me. Because I know I’ve done a lot of shameful things in my life, but this wasn’t one of them. At least I didn’t think so. And maybe I just assumed that, if I believed it, you would too.”
“I’m not ashamed of you,” Phil argued.
Clint let out a bitter laugh and stood. “Yeah...I don’t think either one of believes that anymore.”
“Clint...”
“Nah, it’s okay, really. Not your fault, sir,” Clint said with a self-deprecating smile. “You’ve never been shy about calling this what it is. My fault for imagining it was more. Sorry I ruined it, but I...uh...I don’t think this is going to keep working for me.” He stooped down to collect the papers off the coffee table and, by the time he straightened up, he was no longer Clint, but Agent Barton. “I’ll have the updated reports on your desk by the morning. Have a good night, sir.”
Clint walked out and never looked back. Phil didn’t try to stop him.
True to his word, all of Clint’s non-work related attention stopped. The archer no longer dropped in to remind Phil to eat or make sure he got enough sleep, so Phil started setting alerts on his phone for both. All of their interaction became purely professional - Clint somehow managing to never get any closer than a foot away from Phil. Even when at the Tower, where they both lived, Clint remained genial, but impersonal. The fact that nobody, Natasha included, noticed anything amiss told Phil just how successful they’d been in hiding their relationship all these years.
Phil told himself that he was relieved. Hiding their relationship had proved difficult with them both living in Avengers Tower and it was a distraction Phil did not need. Phil told himself he just missed the sex - Clint had always been an enthusiastic and imaginative sexual partner - not the way Clint’s whole body melted into his when they kissed. Phil made use of several SHIELD sanctioned prostitutes and blamed his dissatisfaction on having to voice his desires anew. Phil told himself that he was glad the team was bonding, and was in no way envious, when he watched Clint sling an arm around Bruce or poked Tony in the ribs or the thousands of other casual touches Clint doled out to everyone but Phil.
But now Clint is gone and everything comes crashing down on Phil at once. He’d been a fool, a coward for ever asking Clint to hide them. Phil had been afraid to show anyone, especially Clint, just how important a part the archer played in Phil’s life. Phil had been too afraid of showing any kind of dependency and had hidden away his happiness so deep that even Clint couldn’t find it, fearful of it being taken away. Except that it had been taken away from Phil anyway - gone in a split-second flash of light.
Phil’s phone beeps and he’s startled to find that an entire hour has passed with him wallowing in regrets. He straightens his tie and puts on his Agent Coulson mask, ignoring how his hand shakes as he opens the door to meet with the Avengers.
All of the Avengers, except Thor who is honeymooning on Asgard, are lounging casually in their chairs around the conference room table. Phil looks around and thinks it best to get it over with quickly. He opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by the ringing of his phone - Sitwell. Phil turns off the phone and lays it on the table.
“May I please have your attention,” Phil requests softly and everyone quiets down.
“You can’t start yet, Agent,” Tony says. “Clint’s not here and we all know how you hate repeating yourself.”
“Hawkeye,” Phil says levelly, “was on a SHIELD-only op earlier today when the building he was investigating imploded.”
Phil doesn’t get to say anything further because Steve and Natasha jump out of their seats. Phil holds a hand out to stop Natasha from leaving the room as Steve speaks.
“He’s hurt? Why didn’t you call us earlier? I could have been down in Medical an hour ago.”
“The building he was in imploded,” Phil repeats before continuing, “and there were no survivors.”
A stunned silence descends on the room and Phil speaks into the void. “As his team, I thought it prudent to inform you right away. We’ll start screening replacements immediately.”
“Fuck you, Coulson!” Tony’s yell is punctuated by the crash of his chair hitting the floor as he stands.
Phil cuts his eyes toward Steve to see if he’ll intercede, but the Captain has flopped back in his chair with his mouth open in shock and his eyes glassy with unshed tears. There’s a small sound to his right and Phil turns, surprised when he finds Bruce’s arm curled protectively around a pale Natasha.
“That’s really all you have to say?” Tony continues to rant. “You’ll find us a fucking replacement like he was nothing but a tool? Like he wasn’t my fr -”
Tony cuts off and hurls his coffee cup at one of the displays against the far wall. There’s nothing but the sound of broken glass hitting floor for a moment, accompanied by Tony’s labored breathing.
“Are you done, Mr. Stark?” Phil asks.
“No! I’m not done you heartless bastard!” Tony yells back.
“Tony...” Steve warns, finally breaking out of his stupor.
“No, Steve! Don’t act like you’re okay with this because this is very much not okay,” Tony insists. “Even robo-agent here got a speech from Fury about losing his good eye and believing in heroes and he wasn’t even dead!”
“Tony, calm down,” Steve says placatingly and looks a little surprised when Tony flops down into a chair. Steve turns back to Phil with an apologetic shrug. “We’re all just a little shocked. I know he was just another asset to you, but we’re going to miss him like a brother.”
Phil doesn’t know why it’s Steve’s words that breaks him - leaving him feeling like his heart is being ripped out through his throat. “Just another asset,” Phil says bitterly, bending slightly over the edge of the table to brace his closed fists against it. He has an urge to laugh at how absurd that sounds, but his heart clenches painfully in his chest and chokes off the sound.
“Phil?” asks Natasha in concern.
“Agent Coulson?” Steve and Bruce echo.
“Shit! Are you having a heart attack?” Tony asks from across the table.
There’s a small part of Phil that wishes it were an actual heart attack and not just his heart breaking from grief.
“What the actual fuck, Coulson?!” says a familiar voice from behind Phil and he spins around, wondering if he’s somehow already died and is seeing ghosts. A very annoyed looking Clint glares back at him. “Where the hell was my backup and the extraction team? Do you know how fucking hard it is to fly a stolen helicopter into US airspace?”
Clint stops his tirade and frowns. “Hey...you okay, Phil? You don’t look so good.”
Phil holds out his hand, palm turned up, toward Clint. “Clint,” he begs, needing to make physical contact to believe this is real. His heart swells when Clint places his hand in Phil’s without question. Then Phil is tugging Clint into his arms and clutching at him desperately.
“Oh! Hey, Phil. It’s okay,” Clint says, wrapping his own arms around Phil gently. “What’s wrong? Nat? What the hell is going on?”
“We thought you were dead, you idiot,” Nat responds with a sniffle and cuffs Clint in the back of the head. “Don’t do that again.”
“Ow!” Clint cries, ducking his head, but not letting go of Phil. “How the hell is this my fault?”
“Everything’s your fault, Barton,” Tony says before walking over to pat Clint awkwardly on the shoulder. “SHIELD really needs to work on their definition of dead. I need shawarma. Anyone else need shawarma?”
“I could eat,” Bruce responds. “Glad you’re not dead, Clint.”
“Good to have you back, Hawkeye,” Steve says.
Phil has his face buried in the side of Clint’s neck, so he doesn’t see everyone file out of the room. Clint starts rubbing slow circles on Phil’s back. “Hey, Phil? You okay?” Phil has really missed that note of concern in Clint’s voice.
“No,” he replies shakily. “I thought you were dead.”
“Sorry?” Clint says and then seems to remember that they’re not supposed to do this kind of thing. He starts to pull away and Phil holds on tighter.
“No. Please don’t,” Phil pleads. “Please don’t walk away again. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Phil, I can’t,” Clint says, pulling back enough to look at Phil. “I can’t do this. I can’t go back to the way we were. I can’t keep pretending I don’t want more than what you’re willing to give.”
Phil brackets Clint’s face with his hands. “I don’t want that either. What I want is a chance to prove to you that I’m willing to give you everything.”
“Phil...”
“I know you don’t believe me and I don’t deserve another chance,” Phil continues, “but I thought you were dead and I...I didn’t know how to live without you.”
Clint’s face is unreadable as he grabs Phil’s hands and pulls them away from his face. Phil feels like his heart is cracking in two when Clint takes a step back away from him. But Clint doesn’t let go of his hands and Phil lets himself hope.
“I want to go on a date, several dates,” Clint demands. “And we should probably keep sex out of the picture for a while.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes for you to trust me again,” Phil promises.
Clint shakes his head. “I never stopped trusting you.”
Phil extracts one of his hands and places it in the center of Clint’s chest. “Not with this. This I have to earn.”
Clint’s eyes goes wide and disbelieving before they soften and he places his hand over Phil’s. “You really mean that.”
“I do.”
Phil stays very still as Clint leans forward and presses their lips together. It’s a small kiss, but they each feel the spark it ignites - the promise of new beginnings and a brighter future.
fin