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The guest room wall slides back and Phil is greeted by the wonderful smells of Clint cooking dinner. He smiles, stomach rumbling, when his nose tells him that Clint is making his famous chili.
"I like this new gig of yours," Clint says as Phil walks into the kitchen. "I see you more now than when we were working together."
"Kids blew a hole in the bus," Phil explains.
He walks over to where Clint is standing by the stove, pressing his chest against Clint's back and wrapping his arms around the other man's waist. Phil hums contentedly and drops his head onto Clint's shoulder so he can place a kiss against his neck. It all feels so wonderfully familiar that Phil has a sudden urge to cry over how close they came to losing this.
Clint reaches into a drawer without looking to grab a spoon, dipping it into the chili before lifting it toward Phil.
"Taste," he prods and Phil lifts his head automatically so that Clint can slip the spoon into his mouth.
Phil closes his eyes and hums again at the perfectly spiced chili that Clint has tailored over the years to exactly how Phil prefers it. Clint pulls the spoon away and Phil puts his head back down, snuggling a little more into Clint with a happy sigh.
"Good?" Clint asks.
"Perfect," Phil replies with a gentle squeeze, trying not to dwell on how much weight Clint has lost and hasn't quite gained back.
Clint chuckles. "I meant the chili."
"It's perfect, too," Phil says dutifully.
Clint huffs, amused, but turns his head and Phil lifts his without prompting so that their lips can meet in a proper greeting. Clint tastes like chili and home. Phil returns the kiss, ignoring the pain in his lip, and letting the kiss linger longer than their usual hellos.
"Hi," Clint whispers when the finally break apart.
"Hey," Phil greets back with a smile.
Clint puts the lid on the pot and shifts in Phil's arms until they're facing each other. He gives Phil another quick kiss before touching his fingers lightly to Phil's cheek.
"Thought you were just going to check on the kid?" Clint asks.
"Got called in to check on a 0-8-4," Phil replies. "Ran into an old friend, who hijacked my plane and took the others hostage."
Clint chuckles and steps out of Phil's arms toward the pantry. "That's what you get for sowing your wild oats in the jungles of Peru," he teases.
Phil doesn't bother asking how Clint knows where he was, taking a moment to enjoy the view of Clint bending over to look through one of the lower shelves before walking towards the refrigerator for a beer. He leans against the opposite counter as Clint starts pulling out the necessary ingredients for corn bread muffins - another of Phil's favorites.
"She accused me of having a midlife crisis," Phil says after he's taken a long sip of his beer.
Clint puts down the muffin pan and walks over to Phil, placing his hand on Phil's chest with a fond smile.
"Not the first time you've been accused of that," Clint tells him.
Phil puts bottle down on the counter and lays his hands lightly on Clint's hips.
"I think you're confusing a midlife crisis with robbing the cradle," Phil counters.
"I was far from a baby by the time we met," Clint argues.
Phil shrugs. "It's not my fault you look young for your age."
Clint rolls his eyes fondly and nods up at Phil's cheek.
"Why'd you let Camilla on your plane in the first place?" he asks.
"We were running from rebels," Phil explains ruefully and Clint throws his head back and laughs.
"How long did it take May to figure out she got played?"
Phil shakes his head. "She hasn't - at least as far as I know. I think she's still busy being pissed at me for pulling her back into the field."
"Wait. Let me see if I have this straight," Clint says. "You get sent to Peru and find an 0-8-4, the local police - one of whom you know intimately - show up, rebels chase you all onto the bus, the friendlies then turn on you, hijack the plane, thereby forcing your little band of 'lost boys' to work together and re-take control."
"That about sums it up," Phil nods. "Although I'm not sure your liking me to Peter Pan is any better than being accused of having a midlife crisis."
Clint waves away Phil's objection with the hand against his chest. "And Mel didn't catch on that you knew exactly what was going to happen... probably from when?"
"As soon as Camilla kissed me at the dig site," Phil confirms.
"That you knew exact what was going to happen," Clint continues, "but went along with it as some sort of team bonding exercise?"
Phil can only shrug in response.
"Mel must be really be pissed at you," Clint says. "I mean, I knew you guys never got along, but it's not like her to miss stuff like this."
"I don't think she buys Fury's story about your being on a long-term assignment any more than I did," Phil tells him. "I think May's trying to figure out how to approach me with her suspicions before she decides if she has more or less reason to be angry with me. She's been wearing those aviators you gave her," Phil adds as an afterthought.
"The purple ones? I thought she hated those."
"Yeah, but she loves you," Phil answers. "It's why we never got along. She never thought I was good enough for you."
Clint blinks in surprise. "What?"
"Her words," Phil says. "You guys were closer than most SOs and agents. I think May was the one of the few who ever suspected there was more going on between us than work. She gives a hell of a shovel talk."
"You never told me," Clint accuses.
"I didn't see the need," Phil responds. "I like that someone else was looking out for you and I didn't want to strain your relationship with May."
"I… I miss her," Clint says softly. "I know she must be worried."
Phil moves his arms to wrap around Clint and pulls him close.
"Soon, Clint," Phil promises. "When you get more of your strength back."
Clint nods against Phil's shoulder and they stand like that for a few minutes until Phil realizes that it's probably not necessary for Clint to start making the muffins immediately - it's still a little early for dinner.
Phil starts to stroke his hands in broad sweeps up and down Clint's back, smiling when he presses closer in response. Phil replaces his hands at Clint's waist and slots their hips tighter together.
"How long does the chili need to simmer?" Phil asks.
"Long enough for you to show me how dirty you can be, old man," Clint teases, yelping when Phil gives him a smack on the ass in retaliation. Clint laughs and then leans forward to hum breathily against the shell of Phil's ear, "Now that's something we haven't tried before…"
Clint deftly slips out of Phil's arms and takes a few steps backward toward the hallway. "Coming?"
"Not yet, but I'm counting on soon," Phil replies and follows Clint's laughter all the way to the bedroom.
fin