It was dinner. Not only was it dinner, but Clint had cooked dinner for the two of them. Clint was a decent cook, but this was different. This was perfectly cooked Maine lobster with a crab and seafood stuffing, served with garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus. This probably took all day for him to prepare… which explained why Clint had not shown up for work that day. Phil arrived home to find their small kitchen table set, complete with the red table cloth that appeared out of nowhere one day and a vase holding a single rose between two white candles.
Clint came out of the kitchen two seconds later, dressed in a slate grey three piece suit, complete with a scarlet bow tie. In each hand he carried a plate of the aforementioned meal; he set a plate down at each place before taking a box of matches from his pocket, striking one and lighting each candle. He then turned to Phil and smiled.
“Dinner is served.” Phil smiled, sitting down in the chair Clint pulled out for him. They talked about television, news stories, music… they never talked about work at home. Home was meant to be a work free zone. It was nice, having this time just the two of them. Maybe later they could go see a movie.
“Will you marry me?” Clint was on one knee next to him. In his hand was a white box, holding an engagement ring; platinum with a silver inlay, randomly striped with amethyst. Phil’s response was less than elegant.
“Say that again.” Clint chuckled, shaking his head.
“Phil Coulson,” he said. “You have put up with me through so much. You’ve bandaged my wounds, filled out my paperwork and you’ve kept me safe… I want you with me forever, Phil. I want you as my husband. Please, will you marry me?” Phil didn’t respond.
At least not vocally; he did, however, knock over his chair when he pounced upon his fiancé and thoroughly kissed him.
“You two can’t get married.” Tony Stark said flatly. “No, not allowed. The ceremony will be horrific.”
“Screw you!” Clint replied, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “My wedding will be fucking magical, Stark!”
“I am very happy for both of you,” Steve said honestly. “Have you chosen a date yet?”
“We’re thinking the end of November,” Phil replied.
“Neither of us believe in long engagements,” Clint said with a shrug. “Five months should be enough time to get a small thing together.”
“Small?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. “What happened to ‘fucking magical’, Barton?”
“Small weddings can still be magical, Tony,” Steve said flatly. Tony shook his head.
“Fuck no. Barton said ‘magical’ and he’s getting magical.”
The wedding was set for November 17th; it was a sunny Saturday afternoon, and a light dusting of snow covered the streets of New York City. The ceremony was going to be held at Avengers Mansion, which was decked out in silver and amethyst and the snow only accented the mansion’s beauty.
“I swear,” Tony said with a grin. “It’s like I was able to control the weather and make this happen.” Originally, Tony was just going to (somehow) plan the wedding for the couple; when neither Clint nor Phil picked him as their best man, he decided to pay for the wedding, apparently out of spite.
No one has figured out how that works.
Phil almost had a heart attack when Steve agreed to be his best man; Clint didn’t even have to ask Natasha, she simply asked what color dress she would need to wear.
The actual wedding was performed at the bottom of the large sweeping staircase in the front hall; Clint and Phil had decided that they would each walk down one side of the staircase, meeting at the landing before walking down together. Phil wore a steel grey tuxedo, while Clint’s was—surprise, surprise—amethyst.
Nick Fury officiated the ceremony; Clint smiled a little when he heard Darcy sniffle and Phil had to fight the tears coming to his own eyes.
“Do you,” Fury said, “Phil Coulson, take this idiot to be your lawful wedded husband; to have and to hold, in sickness and health, despite of all the paperwork he causes, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” Phil replied with grin.
“And do you, Clint Barton,” Fury continued, “take this man, who is too good for you in more ways than one…”
Before he could finish, every single cellphone in the room went off.
“I do!” Clint replied quickly, knowing the Avengers had to assemble now, wedding or not.
“Good,” Fury replied. “You’re married, kiss him.”
“Yes sir!” The kiss was bittersweet; the first of their new lives together, but cut short by some sort of catastrophe. “I’ll be back soon,” Clint promised. The rest of the team and SHIELD agents had left the room, giving them a moment alone before Clint had to join the team.
“I know,” Phil assured him, doing his best to smile. “Stark would never let us live it down if we didn’t attend the reception he worked so hard on.” Clint laughed.
“Screw the reception… what’d you think of the wedding?” Phil chuckled a little; he only had one answer for that.