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He can practically hear the wheels in Tony’s mind turning as they approach the porch.
Sure, Cap’s gonna be pissed – on second thought, everyone’s gonna be pissed, except Nat, who’s known about this ever since Clint brought her here after a Hydra base raiding party gone awry – but there’s nothing he can do to change that now.
He opens the front door, leaving it open for the others to filter in behind him.
“Honey, I’m home!” he calls like he does every time he returns, his tone somewhere between mocking and sincere.
Clint doesn’t need to look at his teammates to know the farm confuses the hell out of them. Well, things are gonna get even weirder because he can hear Phil emerging from the kitchen.
“Welcome back,” is the first thing Phil says, smiling warmly at him and pulling him into a kiss.
Clint would love nothing more than to lose himself in the warmth of Phil’s embrace for the next hour or four, but there are a couple of Avengers standing in the entrance hall, so alone-time will have to wait.
“That’s Agent,” Tony stammers, his hand slightly raised as if he can’t decide whether to point at Phil or not.
“You died,” Cap says, voice already dropping in anger. Not that Clint can fault him – hell, he was pretty damn furious himself when he found out Phil survived.
“Death isn’t always the end, Captain,” is Phil’s mysterious reply. His hand has snaked around Clint’s waist, a steadying pressure through the layers of his costume.
“What – but I hacked all files!” Tony protests, apparently more shocked by SHIELD successfully keeping secrets from him than by Clint hiding his boyfriend. Partner. Potential fiancé, whatever.
“Fury chose not to keep any. My name does not appear on any records filed after the battle of New York.”
“And you’ve been, what?” Tony scoffs, “Playing house with Barton? When did you even meet?”
“Guys,” Nat interrupts, thank the gods, ‘cause Clint really doesn’t like the way Steve’s scowling at him or how white Thor’s knuckles are where they’re gripping his hammer. Bruce just looks hurt. “Let’s move this to the kitchen.”
She leads the way and Phil follows her, pulling her into a hug once inside the room. Clint sends the others an awkward look that’s hopefully also apologetic.
“You’re taking this pretty well,” Steve tells Natasha when everyone has filled into the kitchen, then says no more.
Natasha meets his glare evenly. “That is because I knew.”
Cap exhales sharply, his nostrils flaring. “Barton. You better have a damn good explanation for this.”
Every pair of eyes darts towards Clint.
“Language?” he offers, trying to lighten the mood. Not even Tony cracks a smile. “Alright, alright… Drinks first?”
“Truth first,” Steve orders, crossing his arms in front of his chest, which highlights his biceps and makes him look all the more menacing. Phil squeezes Clint’s shoulder and then takes a seat next to Natasha. Everyone else remains standing.
Okay, fine. Clint can do this. He once took out twenty-seven thugs with two arrows and a sharpie. This is nothing.
“It was about a year after New York – that time I did that solo mission? Strictly recon?” he starts after clearing his throat. “Anyway, I’m in position, ready to spy on bad guys, when I’m made and have to get away. Well, I’m good, but even I can’t take on an entire Hydra base after they blew me outta my nest… So for a moment I thought, this is it – until there’s backup, even when none was scheduled. Turns out it was Phil. Pretty hard to keep himself a secret after saving my ass.”
Clint smiles at the other man, whose expression darkens briefly as they both recall the state Clint was in.
“He took me here to debrief and patch me up, swore me to secrecy. This really is a safe house – Phil keeps it up when not on missions.”
“What about Nat?” Steve asks, his spine still ramrod-straight and arms crossed. Clint glances at his best friend.
“Eight months later,” she explains. “The raiding party in Montana. Got pretty banged up. Our report says we took refuge at a safe house in Idaho, but Clint took me here instead since it was closer.”
“And you never once thought to tell us?” Steve’s indignation kind of hurts, Clint’s got to admit. But then he knew this was coming, no matter when he told them.
“I had my orders, okay –”
“We had a right to know,” Steve insists, finally uncrossing his arms but now he’s taking a step towards Clint and that’s just a little bit intimidating. “We’re a team, Clint, and we can’t be one when we don’t trust each other enough to tell us things as important as having a partner.”
“With all due respect, Captain,” Phil intercedes, much to Clint’s relief, “but revealing my existence was not an option. Keeping my survival a secret was imperative to –”
“Yeah, screw that,” Tony cuts in hotly, but Steve’s already talking again and now Thor also decides to contribute a few pompous syllables, ‘cause who needs to understand what the other is saying anyway, right –
Bruce clears his throat.
Everyone falls silent. Even Phil seems impressed. The guy doesn’t even have a green tinge but he’s still radiating enough anger to be intimidating (pun intended).
“This isn’t helping.” Bruce sounds more exasperated than pissed, thankfully. “I agree that it was wrong to hide Agent Coulson’s survival with us, but Clint was following orders and what’s done can’t be undone. Besides, we have bigger problems. We need to rest, come up with a strategy. We can pick this up after Ultron’s gone.”
The room lapses into silence again and Clint’s pretty sure that he could cut the tension with a knife if he wanted to.
The moment seems to stretch forever but in fact probably just a few seconds pass before Steve sighs and both Tony and Thor deflate somewhat.
“You’re right.” Cap’s tone is firm and leaves no room for argument. “We can’t afford this right now.”
So they put the squabble on hold. Phil plays host and gets those who want drinks, then Thor bids them goodbye to check on something he saw in his hallucination and Clint decides it’s as good a moment as any to put his duffel bag away.
He collides with Phil when he turns around after stashing it next to the bed they share. Seriously – Phil is the only person in the world who can sneak up on him. Not even Natasha manages when he isn’t either severely wounded or passed out.
“Hey,” Clint murmurs, closing the space between them almost out of reflex, his hands stroking Phil’s back. “Sorry to spring this on you like that.”
“It’s fine. They had to find out sooner or later. They’ll get over it.”
Clint nods, then leans in to capture Phil’s lips with his own. They still have to figure out sleeping arrangements and what the hell they’re going to do about that murderous robot, and there’s no way Fury won’t make an appearance, but it all fades away for just one, glorious moment as they kiss, languid and slow, savouring every second of it.
“Welcome home,” Phil whispers.
Clint grins. Somehow, everything’s gonna be alright.