The mission, from what Phil had gathered from the comms and the video feeds, had been a success. There was minimal property damage this time, thank god, despite the fact that five city blocks and six Avengers were covered in green ooze. The ooze seemed to be inert, but Fury had a thing about "people tracking ooze into my nice clean house, goddammit", so it was a trip through the decontamination showers for everybody before the debriefing.
Phil stood at the other end, where the team would exit after getting dressed. They didn't really need a welcome home party, but sometimes it helped to have a familiar face and a reminder not to fuck off immediately.
Steve was the first out. "Afternoon, Captain," Phil said pleasantly. He frowned when Steve kept walking, muttering something about perverts under his breath.
It was a few more minutes before anyone else emerged. This time it was Stark; he didn't acknowledge Phil either. "I lost!" he said in disbelief, apparently to no one. "How did I lose?"
Thor and Clint weren't far behind him. Thor was laughing heartily, patting Clint on the back. "Son of Coul!" Thor said to Phil. "Truly I have been bested this day!"
Clint shrugged, though he had a very smug smile on his face. "Just good luck, I guess," he said. Thor just laughed again, leading him away.
While Phil was still wondering what the hell, Natasha came out, still scrubbing her hair with a towel. "Dick measuring contest," she told him, like it was a completely normal thing to say. "Steve wouldn't compete and Bruce isn't back yet, so it wasn't really fair, but Clint still would have won. I told them they didn't have a chance, but of course they didn't listen."
After a moment, Natasha reached over and put her fingers underneath Phil's jaw, gently closing his mouth for him.
"The, uh," Phil stammered. "Uh. Brief. Debrief. Debriefing. It's in ten minutes."
Natasha pecked him on the cheek. "Sorry I broke your brain," she said, walking away.
Phil shook his head, trying to get it back together. It wasn't exactly easy, but he managed it somehow. As long as he could focus on the job and not anyone's anatomy, he could get through this.
The debriefing went as well as could be expected. Thor still wasn't quite used to telling the story of a battle without turning it into a saga, but Steve diplomatically corrected him when it got particularly out of hand. Bruce wandered in somewhere around the middle, a little dazed; Phil knew he mostly came to debriefings to find out what happened, not to contribute. Natasha was as direct as usual, used to years of these things. The only sign that anything out of the ordinary had happened was the way that Tony kept staring daggers at Clint.
Phil sighed internally. This was going to end in trouble.
As they left, Tony cornered Clint. "You cheated," Tony said, narrowing his eyes.
Clint raised an eyebrow at him. "How did I cheat at having the biggest dick?"
"I don't know yet," Tony said. "But I'm going to find out."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Clint said, with that same smug look. Tony glared at him before walking out.
Phil shook his head, holding the door open. "I don't want to hear more about this, Barton," he warned. Telling Tony something like that would be an exercise in futility.
Clint gave him a funny little smirk. "Course not, sir."
Phil looked at him suspiciously, but Clint didn't say anything else, just left.
Phil already knew that it was not going to be the last he heard about it.
Phil got through the rest of the day without thinking about it, too caught up in things that were definitely not arousing. However, he actually did have a life outside of SHIELD, despite appearances, and once he got home, it was hard to distract himself anymore.
It probably wouldn't have been as big of a deal if he hadn't had a point of reference, but very unfortunately, Phil had seen Tony's dick before. It was only once, the result of a miscommunication about a late-night SHIELD housecall to the Tower. It had been mercifully brief, but there were some things you simply couldn't unsee, and Tony Stark's dick was in that category.
And the thing was, Phil understood why Tony thought he'd win. Granted, Phil had no idea why he'd thought he could beat Thor, who was at least four inches taller and literally a fertility god. He wasn't sure Tony could take on Steve, either, but Phil knew he'd have been banking on Steve not playing. But against Clint or Bruce, Tony stood a good chance. Tony was bigger than average; Phil was man enough to admit that Tony was beating him, and Phil wasn't exactly ashamed of himself.
But if Clint was beating Tony and Thor-
Phil spent way more time thinking about it than the sixty seconds it deserved.
Phil managed to put it out of his mind, concentrating instead on his book, but suddenly his phone went off. No one ever texted him on his personal phone, but apparently he had a message from Pepper.
Tony is making me text you. This is NOT my idea jsyk
He frowned. This wasn't going anywhere good.
He wants a picture of Clint's penis
Phil stared at his phone for a moment, unsure what to say, but the phone dinged again before he could respond.
Erect, pref next to a ruler. Tony said, not me
I'm a grower, not a shower -TS, Pepper is a prude
Use metric -TS
It took Phil a full minute to get it together enough to answer.
Where am I supposed to get one?
Idk, office depot? -TS
Phil didn't smack himself in the forehead, but it was a near thing.
Have a ruler. A picture
Ask him obv, Pep would give you 1 of me -TS
Phil quickly typed his answer.
PEPPER DO NOT SEND ME THAT
You + Pep != me + Barton
Nice notation, but that = BS -TS
Phil frowned. Nothing about this conversation made sense, but he was sure it wasn't going in his favor.
What does that mean?
You're among friends -TS
Very suddenly it dawned on Phil.
I am not with Barton
Barton and I, not a thing
All in your head
W/e Psyche, just send pics -TS
I am SO sorry - P
Phil had to look that last bit up on Wikipedia to even get it. When he did, he sat back on his couch, putting his arm over his face.
Why was he friends with Stark, again?
His phone rang, and he didn't even look at the screen before raising it to his ear. "Stark, I'm not going to do it, so give it up."
"If it involves Tony, I wouldn't do it either," the voice at the other end said.
Phil sat up. "Clint."
"Me and Natasha are going for pizza," Clint said. "You wanna come? You can have my mushrooms."
Phil pressed his fingertips to his forehead, shutting his eyes. Normally he'd have said yes without a thought, but he didn't know if he could go through it right at the moment. "I already ate," he said, even though the full contents of his fridge were orange juice, soy sauce, and half a stick of butter.
"Wanna tag along anyway, provide color commentary?" Clint asked.
"Early day tomorrow," Phil lied.
"Oh," Clint said, sounding disappointed. "Okay, well, we'll see you. Bye."
Clint hung up, and Phil sighed. He was being an asshole for no reason. Last month Tony had been completely convinced that Natasha and Steve were involved, but that clearly wasn't true. He just liked to make things up to make his life more interesting, because only Tony could get bored with a life like Tony's.
Phil looked at his phone. He should really call Clint back, make up an excuse about his excuse, not act like an idiot just because Tony said something stupid- because really, doing anything based on Tony's actions made him just about the biggest idiot he could possibly be.
He picked up the phone and ordered Chinese. Maybe he just needed a minute alone to process.
This is just Pep, right, not Tony?
All me. What do you need?
Tony: kidding or serious about me and Barton?
No clue. Prob pulling your pigtails- trust me, am expert.
Of all the things that Phil had to do for his job, getting things to Tony was probably the worst. Nine times out of ten, Phil just emailed it to him, cc'd Pepper, and that was the end of that. However, being a secret organization and all, there was such a thing as eyes only, and if Phil did not physically carry the information to him, put it in front of his face, then carry it away again, it wouldn't be eyes only for long. Of course, Tony still had no real respect for information security, but at least this way, fewer people would get details.
Phil had once suggested that another agent could be assigned to take care of this task. Fury had laughed him out of the room.
Phil found Tony in one of the common rooms of the Tower, eating a hamburger the size of his head and doing something to a hologram that didn't make any sense to Phil. Phil really wished he'd have caught Tony in his office or somewhere more private, but he wasn't entirely sure Tony remembered that he had an office. Here, anybody could wander by and listen in; though all of them were trustworthy, Phil didn't need a talking to about handing out information unnecessarily.
Plus Phil was maybe avoiding Clint. He didn't feel good about it; it was just a thing that was happening.
"There's my favorite agent," Tony said, waving the hologram away. "Except maybe Natasha. Is Natasha still technically an agent? Because no offense, but she's hotter than you." He considered this. "Then again, you probably wouldn't break my arm for calling you hot, so maybe you are my favorite after all."
Phil put the tablet down next to Tony and waited for him to pick it up; Phil had given up that battle long before. "Review this. I'm taking it with me when I leave."
Tony picked up the tablet, studying it. "You do know that even as we speak, I could have Jarvis take images of all of this, right?"
Phil resisted the urge to sigh. It had already been a long day. "Are you familiar with the term 'security theater', Stark?"
"See, this is why you're my favorite," Tony said. Phil sat down across from him, watching Tony go through the data. "So what's up with you and Clint? Lover's quarrel?"
"There's no me and Clint," Phil said firmly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You're not talking to him," Tony said, flicking to another page. "He's mopey."
Phil had really, really hoped that Clint hadn't noticed or cared that Phil was turning down chances to see him. He wasn't doing it on purpose, except for the part where he was. Tony's accusations had unfortunately had too much of an effect on him. Had he and Clint really gotten that close without Phil noticing? What did Clint think was going on here? If Phil wanted to take this to the next level- which he didn't, obviously, that would be silly- what would Clint say?
He kept telling himself over and over again that Tony was wrong, that he didn't know about these things, that he was just being his garden variety asshole self. However, accidentally catching Natasha and Steve embracing in the elevator, just as Tony had foretold, did nothing to help.
"Clint's mood has nothing to do with me," Phil said.
"You keep telling yourself that," Tony said. "If you're not actually together- which you are, so stop lying- will you please fuck him? He's sad-eating all my junk food."
"You can buy more," Phil said.
"I'm not sacrificing my Funyuns so you and Clint can angst over each other," Tony said. "If it helps, focus on his great big dick. Still waiting for pictures, by the way."
"One, that would be completely inappropriate," Phil said. "Two, even if I had access to it, I would not give you a picture of it."
"Hey, if you want to keep Clint's dick to yourself, that's your prerogative," Tony said. "But if I don't get pictures, Clint forfeits."
"Is Clint aware that he's playing?" Phil asked.
"Probably not," Tony said, looking up from his tablet. "Get ready, Casanova."
Phil didn't even have to turn around to know he was fucked.
"Oh look, it's the man of the hour," Tony said, as Clint approached.
Clint looked suspiciously between the two of them. "What are you two talking about?"
"You," Tony said.
Phil put his hand over his face. "We're talking about how Tony is twelve years old."
"We're talking about how Coulson wants the D," Tony said. Phil looked at him blankly. "Don't you ever use the internet?"
"Whatever you just said, I'm going to go ahead and assume it's not true," Phil said.
Tony leaned towards Clint. "Don't listen to him," he said in a stage whisper. "He wants the D. He's just not up on his slang."
"Uh," Clint said, looking confused. "Okay."
Tony rolled his eyes. "Okay, maybe I'm twelve, but the rest of you are eighty."
"Are you finished?" Phil asked.
"Baiting you, or with the tablet?" Tony said. "Either way, the answer is no." He motioned to Clint. "I'm going to be a while. Barton, take Phil to lunch. Don't let him say no. He's just intimidated by your-"
"Thank you, Stark," Phil said.
Clint scratched the back of his neck. "Uh, actually I was just about to go out, if you wanted to come with."
"Say yes," Tony urged. "Think about the D."
Phil rubbed his forehead. "I can't," he said. "I have to remain with the documents. You know how it is."
"You're a fucking idiot," Tony said. He put the tablet down. "I'm done."
"You just said two seconds ago that you weren't," Phil told him.
"I was lying," Tony said.
"I'm just gonna go to lunch," Clint said slowly. "See ya."
"Are you trying to suck at this?" Tony hissed at Phil, as Clint walked away.
Phil scooped up the tablet. "As always, thank you for your cooperation, Mister Stark."
"See if I try to be your wingman ever again, Coulson!" Tony shouted behind him, but Phil didn't stop.
Tony says good luck on mission, wonders why you won't give him your phone number
Not dignifying w answer
It wasn't a bad mission, in the grand scheme of things. For once, Clint's newfound status as a superhero was a help to the mission, not a liability. For an Avenger, a suite in a sold-out hotel suddenly became vacant; an exclusive party suddenly had a spare invite. And then for an unassuming secret agent posing as a keeper, it was nothing to drug the target, take him away on the pretense of helping him to his room, and have him loaded quietly into the back of a black van.
So really, not that bad at all, even if the champagne was noticeably cheap and some drunk asshole inexplicably cornered him to complain about Clint's archery for ten minutes. Phil didn't know why he wasn't talking to Clint; after a while, Phil started to wonder if he thought he was talking to Clint. Then it was back up to the room, and that was it.
Except that they'd be staying until the next morning to keep up appearances, and it was just him and Clint in the room, and even though there was a sitting room, there was just the one bed. Phil was too damn old to sleep on an uncomfortable couch just because of the possibility of an awkward situation, so here they were.
Him and Clint.
Alone in the room.
In one bed.
Clint really sucked at formalwear. His tie was crooked, with a knot that was just all wrong, and his vest never even made it out of the room. Clint was, however, great at getting out of formalwear, despite the fact that Phil almost caught a shoe to the face when Clint kicked it off with a little too much enthusiasm.
Phil undid his tie and rolled it up, taking his jacket off and hanging it. Some people around here actually knew what they were doing; Phil couldn't resist the urge to pick Clint's jacket up from where he had carelessly dropped it. He still had it in his hands when Clint spoke.
"Hey," Clint said. That voice meant trouble. Bad trouble.
Phil stalled, hanging Clint's jacket up, smoothing out the wrinkles. When he finally turned around, he immediately wished he hadn't.
Clint was sitting on the corner of the bed, his legs splayed out. He had his arms behind him, palms flat on the bed, and it was basically the most enticing fuck me pose that Phil had seen in a long time. The fact that Clint was down to a pair of black boxers definitely contributed to the image, especially when they left approximately nothing to the imagination.
So that was happening. That was a thing that was certainly happening, and it was certainly happening in front of Phil.
"Um," Phil said.
Clint cocked his head, beckoning. "Why don't you come on over?"
"Uh," Phil said.
"I figured everything out, why you're being so weird," Clint said, grinning. "I think Tony was right. I think you do want it. It being my-"
Phil held up a hand, finally finding his capacity for language again. Actually, now he was kind of pissed off, though he couldn't quite articulate why. Fuck Tony for getting him into this position; it was the middle of the mission and his asset was offering him cheap sex for no reason. This might have been a milk run, but there was no reason to get distracted.
There was also this thing where he was kinda figuring out that cheap sex with Clint wasn't what he wanted.
"Yes, thank you," Phil said. "I can spell, I figured it out."
"C'mon," Clint said. "How could you not?"
Phil raised an eyebrow at him. "Just because you're-" He flicked his eyes down towards Clint's crotch and back up again- "gifted, you think everybody wants it? Not all of us are size queens."
"I can't believe you just used the phrase 'size queen'," Clint said.
"I can't believe you think this seduction technique is going to work," Phil said.
"Chicken?" Clint challenged.
Phil sighed. "I am not afraid of your dick, Barton, no matter how big you think it is."
Clint looked put out. "What do you mean, 'think'?"
"Go to sleep," Phil said, going into the bathroom.
Phil undressed, stepping into the shower. He did not turn the cold water on full blast, jerk off, or bang his head against the wall, but he thought about all of these things in turn.
By the time Phil was finished with his shower, Clint was under the covers, already asleep- or pretending to be. And Phil could have done it, maybe should have, almost did; it would have been so easy to get in next to Clint, to wrap his arms around him and say he was sorry, to tell him how stupid he was for passing up his chance. Clint would forgive him, say he understood even if he didn't, and then Phil could ride his cock all night long.
Let's all be honest: Phil had been thinking about it. Phil had been thinking about it a lot. Phil had, quite obviously, seen Clint in his underwear, but it was only enough to tell him that Clint fit into the general category of large. Clint's dick was getting quite a reputation, though, and Phil really, really wanted to find out how much of it was true. Size appreciation had never really been his thing, but Phil was maybe ready to give it a try. He wondered what it would feel like in his mouth, stretching his lips wide; more than that he wondered how it would feel inside of him, spreading him open, filling him up. He didn't even know if he could take it all, and something about that made him want to try.
Phil got into bed on his own side, as far from Clint as he could get. He turned out the light and went to sleep, and he didn't move an inch closer.
There wasn't much packing to do in the morning, other than reassembling their suits in their garment bags. Clint sat on the bed, pulling on his boots while Phil tied his tie.
"Hey," Clint said, and Phil didn't turn around this time, keeping his eyes on the mirror. "About last night- I guess I was just a little drunk, is all."
Phil didn't bring up the fact that Clint had held the same flute of champagne in his hand all night long without drinking a drop of it. "It's nothing," he said. He could see Clint in the mirror, but Clint was looking away. "Don't worry about it."
"Okay," Clint said, standing up, though he didn't sound okay at all. "Are we ready? I could destroy some brunch."
"I don't think people usually use 'destroy' and 'brunch' in the same sentence," Phil said, turning around.
Clint shrugged. His manner was stiff, uneasy, and Phil suddenly realized the level to which he'd fucked up, which was a lot worse than he'd thought at the time. "Then I could consume it with gusto, or whatever the fuck people do at brunch."
Phil took down the garment bags. "Good enough for me."
Screwed up my life sos please advise
Is this about the D?
Goddammit Tony don't you have your own phone
You never call, you never write
Get off the phone to my woman and go get your man. You're cut off until I see Barton's dick, and that's final.
Phil sincerely wished he didn't have to do this at the Tower, but it wasn't really the kind of thing Phil could invite Clint to his place for; Phil wasn't sure at this point whether Clint would even accept his invitation.
So maybe he was planning an ambush. Desperate times.
Fortunately, Phil was good at sweet-talking Jarvis, and he got to Clint's floor without seeing Tony. "I regret to inform you that Agent Barton is not accepting visitors," Jarvis said when they reached it.
"Then why did you bring me up here?" Phil said, before he realized he was getting snippy with an AI. "Please inform Barton that there is a code seven-oh-two and Agent Sitwell is requesting immediate entrance."
The doors slid open, revealing Clint; when he saw Phil, he looked extremely unamused. "There's no seven-oh-two, is there."
"Nope," Phil said. "Can we talk?"
Clint sighed, stepping aside. "Go for it."
Phil sat down in one of the chairs in Clint's living room, and Clint flopped down heavily on the couch. Clint had basically unlimited access to Stark's funds with which to furnish his apartment, but his furniture still looked like he bought it at a thrift store.
"Things have gotten a little screwed up," Phil said, because he couldn't think of a better opener. "Lately, I-"
"Look, I know why you're here, so let's just get it out of the way," Clint said, sounding resigned. "I don't know if I came on too strong, or if Tony made it all up, or if you're not into it. You don't have to give me an excuse. Let's just put it behind us."
"This wasn't about that," Phil told him, resisting the urge to shake him. "I was never concerned with your dick, Clint."
Clint's brow furrowed. "You weren't?"
"I was concerned because Stark thought we were dating," Phil said.
Clint shut down, his body going tense. "And you wouldn't date me."
Phil realized he was rapidly losing his chance at the D, and he hated, hated, hated Tony for bringing that phrase into his life. "I never said that."
"No, it's cool," Clint said, shrugging. "We don't need to talk about it."
"Clint, please don't be like that," Phil said gently. "Just listen to me." He sighed. "First I thought Stark made it up, then I thought it might have actually happened, then I was convinced that it was all in my head and you didn't actually want it. I didn't want to get my hopes up for nothing."
"Didn't want it?" Clint said, giving him a look of disbelief. "After I came on to you in the least subtle way possible?"
"It was during a mission," Phil told him, "and I thought you were being, well." Phil shrugged. "A dick."
"I was ready to fuck you right then and there if you'd said so," Clint told him.
Phil tried not to dwell on that statement, at least not at the moment. "I don't care how big your dick is, I don't do meaningless sex. It's not worth it. If we're doing this, we're doing it with intent. No one night stands. No friends with benefits."
"I don't want to have meaningless sex with you," Clint told him. "Me and my big dick want to have very meaningful sex with you."
"How sweet of it," Phil said dryly. "I'm serious about this."
"Me too," Clint said, getting up. He walked over, standing in front of Phil. "I've wanted this for a really long time. I thought it would never happen, and I thought all this just fucked it up more. If you want me to prove that I'm serious and not just trying to fuck you, we can go as slow as you want." He held out his hand. "But I'd definitely rather you came to the bedroom with me right now."
Phil looked at him for a long moment.
"Well," Phil said, putting his hand in Clint's. "If you insist."
Have something for Tony.
Oh god. Go for it
Sorry for using inches. Couldn't get a meterstick this time of night
Ok I deserved that, but could have done without the thumbs up. Congrats on the sex tho -TS
Do i win. Cb
Go to bed. -TS
Clint grinned, handing the phone back to Phil. Phil kissed him on the top of the head, putting the phone back on the nightstand.
In the end, Phil won, and he did it without even showing his dick.