Chapter Text
Phil adjusted the packs beside Peggy’s saddle, trying not to fuss. From the sound of Peggy’s amusement, he wasn’t really succeeding. Peggy was packed relatively lightly, even with the many sets of Phil’s fancy new tailored Whites. Apparently, trusted members of a Royal Delegation to an Imperial Wedding couldn’t wear just anything. Secretly, Phil didn’t mind so much. While more elaborate than practical, the ceremonial Whites looked good. It didn’t hurt that the first time Clint had seen Phil wearing them, he’d swallowed his tongue. Phil had discovered he’d do a lot of things to put that look on Clint’s face.
“Ugh,” Clint muttered, appearing suddenly as if conjured. He leaned into Phil’s side, a warm, steady weight. “I don’t think I want to go anywhere involving Prince Anthony-Call-Me-Tony again. That man is impossible.”
Phil bit back a smile, his arm coming up to pull Clint closer. “What is our dear Prince trying to do now?” he asked dryly.
“He wants to bring some sort of really heavy armour. And because Jarvis can’t carry it all, he’s trying to order everyone else to do it.” Clint’s voice was muffled from where it was buried in Phil’s shoulder. “He keeps talking about assassination attempts.”
Phil frowned. If the Prince was worried, maybe they should take that extra squad of guardsmen. It was doubtful Tony would have heard anything Nick, and therefore Phil, hadn’t, but you could never be certain with the Prince.
:Chosen, stop worrying: Peggy said.
:But I’m so good at it: Phil told her dryly.
:You really are: Clint agreed.
Over the last few weeks, Phil had been slowly letting Clint into his thoughts. It was strange, particularly after so long with just Peggy as his constant company. Not even being back in Haven surrounded by friends had been enough to break Phil of his many bad habits. But Phil was learning, and Clint was incredibly forgiving and patient.
“Do you really think the Dark Elves or Hydra will try anything at the wedding?” Clint asked in a low voice.
Phil couldn’t help the need to pull Clint closer, his hand on Clint’s hip. He smiled faintly when Clint hummed happily. “I don’t know,” he replied. “They may be desperate enough. Nick has plans if they do, and between us and the Asgardian guard, I doubt they’ll succeed.” He pressed a kiss to Clint’s temple. “Besides, do you really think anyone can beat the combined skill of the great Hawkeye and Black Widow? Or the best Heralds we have?”
Clint tilted his head up to grin at Phil. “Not when we have you on our side,” Clint agreed.
:Saps, the both of you: Peggy huffed.
Phil grinned.
End