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On the count of three, Clint mouths, holding up three fingers. Smiling eyes gleam wickedly back at him as they crouch over the sleeping man between them.
One...
Two...
“Three!” They both yell as they pounce, her going for exposed ribs and underarms, and him for the backs of the knees and the soles of the feet.
“Wha--” Phil gasps, startled awake by their yelling, and then dissolves immediately into laughter, squirming and helpless in the face of their merciless onslaught of tickles.
Their victory is short lived. Clint expertly dodges a kick that would have at least loosened a few teeth – there's a reason he was the one who went for Phil's feet – and Audrey lets out a startled, undignified squeak as Phil gets a hold of her wrists and flips her easily to the mattress, pinning her. She laughs as she tries to wiggle out of his hold and crows with victory as she manages, briefly, to get one hand free. Sadly, it's not to much effect and Phil soon recaptures both wrists in an iron grip, pressing her securely against his chest.
Clint is more difficult to subdue, as he has years training and personal experience with grappling and Phil has his hands full – literally – with a pretty naked lady. She cheers Clint on as he attempts to twist away from Phil's powerful thighs while still maintaining his attack on Phil's ticklish spots, but to no avail; within a minute he's effectively trapped between Phil's legs, struggling and howling with helpless laughter.
“That... was not... funny,” says Phil, breathless and trying for stern but failing hilariously. Audrey and Clint both grin at him innocently and he rolls his eyes.
“That's what you get for falling asleep first,” Clint informs him brightly and Audrey makes a cheerful noise of agreement.
“You're lucky we didn't draw penises on your face,” she adds, tapping him lightly on the nose and grinning at him tauntingly. Phil's restricting hold on her has relaxed into a snug embrace. Clint slides up along Phil's other side as his husband lets out a long-suffering sigh and shifts to his back so they can both rest their heads on either of his shoulders. It's a familiar and comfortable position for the three of them. Clint pokes at Audrey's nose and chuckles softly at the comical way she scrunches up her face in response.
“I thought I was staying at a five star hotel, not a frat house.” Phil waves a hand around with a grin, indicating the almost absurdly indulgent hotel room. Well, suite, actually. It's a little over the top, maybe, but SHIELD pays him and Clint very well and it's practically a miracle for the three of them to be in the same place and have notice before a long op splits them up again. Miracles call for a little splurging, and it's not as if they have a whole lot of opportunity to spend their money otherwise.
“Fratboys wish they could party like us,” Clint scoffs, tugging a bit on Audrey's arm. She catches his meaning immediately – clever girl – and slides a hand over his flank to squeeze his ass, pressing herself against Phil's side as she does so.
“Think you could get a show like this at a frat house, Phil?” she drawls, reaching out pulling Clint into a sloppy kiss. He moans a bit for effect and buries a hand in her hair. They're a little theatrical, making a show of it, and it would be ridiculous if it weren't for how much they know Phil enjoys watching the two of them together. Not that he's going to give them the satisfaction of reacting to it, this time.
“Oh yeah, heterosexual kissing,” Phil deadpans. “So difficult to find at a frat party.”
Audrey giggles against Clint's lips and he breaks away with a smile. “Oh, but this is different.” he says teasingly
“Is that so.”
“Mmmhmm. Y'see,” he settles back down against Phil and mouths at his neck, “I'm just doing it for the attention.”
Phil laughs outright and tugs him for a kiss of his own. “Oh and it worked,” He murmurs between one press of lips and the next, landing a sharp slap on Clint's ass. “You're such a slut, Barton.”
“Aw, sir, you say the nicest things,” Clint says, and is rewarded with a sharp bite to his lower lip for his cheek
“Ew, gross, get a room you two,” says Audrey and laughs when Clint flips her off and kisses Phil deeper. She then settles back to enjoy the show because she was fooling exactly no one with that lame-ass middle school whining..
“Anyone fancy a little music?” She asks casually when they come up for air and Clint barks out an incredulous laugh.
“You can't keep away from that thing for a minute, can you?” he teases her and Phil lets out an inelegant snort underneath him.
“People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, Clint. Or wake me up at midnight trying to sneak down to the range because your bow misses you.”
“Look, a good bow is not to be neglected and also I have no idea what you're talking about. Hey, who wants beer? I would like a beer, I am getting one right now,” Clint is totally smooth and his attempts to hastily change the subject with promises of booze are definitely not obvious at all. Phil rolls his eyes – see? Completely fooled – and Audrey just chuckles and pushes him back down on Phil.
“Don't bother, I'm already getting up,” She says, jumping off the bed and bending at the waist to retrieve the bottles from the minifridge, eliciting a low hum of approval from Phil.
“You have always been my favorite,” Clint says with feeling, eagerly accepting the dewy glass bottle.
“Really? That's funny because I'm constantly asking myself what it is I see in you,” Audrey teases, walking over to the corner where her cello case is propped up.
“My giant cock,” Clint quips, taking a long pull from his beer.
“No, that's what I see in Phil,” she shoots back slyly and Clint raises his bottle in her direction and winks.
“Damn straight.”
Audrey sticks her tongue out at him before retrieving her cello from her case and arranging herself neatly on one of the chairs. All teasing aside, she doesn't carry her cello with her everywhere – just almost everywhere – but she always brings it when she's going to spend a night with Phil and Clint; they can make fun all they like, but they love hearing her play and she knows it.
The lighting in the room gives Audrey's skin a golden tone that glows warmly against burnished red-brown wood. As she takes a moment to tune with ease of long practice Clint wishes, not for the first time, that he was a few points lower on the Kinsey scale. She is breathtakingly beautiful when she plays, seated like a queen at her throne, hands spinning music like gold from the air. She's a work of art for sure, and Clint appreciates her but does not ache for her the way she deserves.
Phil, on the other hand, has no such difficulties. He is enchanted. Clint shifts himself a little so he can easily look at his husband's face as he watches her, letting the music wash over him and settle into a deep buzz of contentment in his chest. He likes watching Audrey, naked and pretty and talented, but he likes even better the soft, sweet expression on Phil's face when looks at her. On impulse, Clint reaches up and touches the soft crinkles at the corners of his eyes out of some odd, half-coherent desire to touch his happiness. Phil looks down at him and raises a querying eyebrow.
“I like the way you look at her,” Clint answers softly, and Phil beams at him and presses a kiss to his forehead before returning his attention to their private concert.
“You should see him when he looks like you.” Audrey says, not pausing in her playing but looking at them with a gentle smile on her face. “His whole face lights up. It's gorgeous.”
Clint flushes a bit, embarrassment but pleased, and curls tighter into Phil, who snorts eloquently.
“My god, how did I end up with the two sappiest people on the planet,” He asks rhetorically, and his tone says dismissive but he doesn't bother hiding that sweet look, now aimed at the both of them.
“You love us,” says Clint, kissing his chest. Phil runs his fingers through Clint's hair and kisses the top of his head.
“Yeah,” he sighs contentedly. “Yeah I really do.”
They don't speak for a while. Phil and Clint lay back on the king-sized bed, exchanging idle caresses and the occasional soft kiss, but mostly just listening to Audrey. The cello's deep, rich voice fills the room and Clint enjoys the way the lower notes thrum through his body and vibrate in his chest. Audrey had apparently started on violin when she was young only to fall in love with the cello years later, and Clint counts his lucky stars for that; higher pitches tend to be unpleasantly piercing through his hearing aids and he can't hear them at all without.
Audrey finishes the song with a long, wavering note, and Phil and Clint give her a round of applause. She stands to give them a mock bow and sticks out her tongue at them before motioning to Clint.
“Alright Hawkeye,” she says, grinning. “You're up.”
“Aw, no,” Clint protests, hiding his face in Phil's shoulder. Audrey has been giving him lessons off and on over the years, ever since he made an offhand comment about wishing he could learn to play an instrument. He'd looked at her like she was simple when she'd asked why he couldn't and rolled her eyes. Don't look at me like that, she'd said. You act like there aren't any Deaf musicians in the world.
Well, it had been news to him.
Since then he hasn't really gotten much better than “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” since he can only practice when Audrey's around. It makes him feel ridiculously self conscious, but he keeps at it. Partly because of a lingering childhood desire to prove to his brother and the whole world that just because he's disabled doesn't mean he can't do shit, but mostly because – to no one's greater surprise than his own – he genuinely enjoys it.
Besides, Phil kind of gets a kick out of the ambiguity when he talks about his relationship with “the cellist.”
“Aw, yes,” Audrey coaxes, grinning. “Come on now, you just had your dick in me, no need to be shy.”
“This is completely different,” Clint argues as he allows Phil to push him upright with a chuckle. “I always give a masterful performance with my dick. Me on the cello is just an embarrassment.”
Audrey laughs, reaching for him. “Oh stop it, you're fine. Come on Clint, please?” she needles, making an unfair use of her pleading face. He makes a grumbling show of reluctance and yelps when Phil smacks him on the ass and tells him to get a move on.
“What is it with you and spanking tonight?” Clint mutters as he trades a quick peck on the lips with Audrey and takes her place on the chair.
“Guess I'm in a mood,” He says, planting a sharp slap on Audrey's ass as soon as it's within reach. She squeaks and then bites him on a nipple in retaliation. Hard, if Phil's rather audible reaction is anything to go by.
“Ah, ow, ah okay. Okay!” He doesn't really specify what he's okaying but Audrey seems to get the gist and lets up anyway. She's a lot nicer than Clint.
“Mmhmm, that's what I thought. Now hush, it's Clint's turn to play.”
Clint starts slowly, taking his time to get reacquainted with the instrument and running through some scales in light pizzicato before even picking up the bow. When he's reasonably sure he's in tune he draws long, rich notes, giving his body a few moments to recall the precise movements, the particulars in how to correctly hold himself and his hands.
Phil and Audrey are making out lazily on the bed because they know how being watched makes him nervous and awkward. He runs through a through a few basic scales, then does them in thirds and slurs the notes together prettily. Or, well, the Clint Barton approximation of pretty, anyway, which is probably not actually that pretty but whatever.
By the time he's warmed up and ready to play through his tiny repertoire of actual songs he knows by memory, Phil has decided it's safe enough to watch him while Audrey cuddles close and presses soft kisses and gentle bites along his neck. Clint doesn't meet his eyes, but he can feel his gaze and it warms him in a sort of unsettling way. It's definitely more nice than not but by the time he's finished his face is flushed and he's feeling a little unsteady.
“All right, show's over folks,” he announces as his last childishly simple song comes to an end. Phil and Audrey clap and Clint gives them an elaborate bow before handing the cello back to it's owner.
“That was lovely,” Phil murmurs against his mouth as Clint settles back next to him. Clint scoffs, because it's kind of absurd of him to act like Clint in any way measures up to the professional cellist in the room, but it's still sweet and he can't help from feeling a little pleased with himself. Just a little, though.
“You've really come along, Clint,” Audrey agrees as she idly teases a scale apart and weaves it into much more complex patterns than Clint's earlier warm-ups.
“Yeah, three years later and I'm almost as good as the average fifth grader,” Clint jokes, but they know he appreciates their encouragement. It's nice to learn new things that don't involve killing people or property damage, no matter how inexpertly. That's one of the (many) things he likes about having Audrey in on this thing they have; it makes him feel almost like a normal person.
It doesn't really make sense given the... uniqueness of their relationship, but on the occasion he'd brought it up Phil had understood, saying he felt the same way. Audrey's weird enough to handle the two of them, but grounded enough to be a sort of anchor to a world outside SHIELD and it's almost creepily insular strangeness. Clint wonders if her tolerance – or, perhaps, attraction – to the unusual is a musician thing or if it's just her. It's probably a bit of both but he doesn't think it really matters. What matters is that it works.
“How are things with Ethan?” Phil asks after a brief, comfortable lull. Audrey pulls a face and Phil grimaces slightly in response. “Ah. That good, huh?”
She sighs. “It's over. He broke it off a few weeks ago.”
“Ouch,” Clint says sympathetically. “What happened?”
“He said that my between my music and my relationship with not just one, but two other men, there was entirely too much competition for him to handle,” she says, obviously going for cheerfully flippant but falling a little bit short. She and Ethan had been seeing each other pretty seriously for the last six months, almost as long as she'd been in New York, and she'd liked him a lot.
“He is weak and will not survive the winter,” Clint intones gravely, drawing a soft laugh and a grateful look. “It's not like he didn't know from the beginning.”
“I know, right? Men,” she shakes her head with mock sadness. “They never hear to a word I say.”
“Hey, now, I resemble that remark!” Clint protests, pleased to hear the real laugh he gets from her in return.
Phil, though, looks disquieted.
“Audrey,” he begins after a brief pause, and Clint knows immediately what's coming next. He and Audrey share a fond, long-suffering look which Phil studiously ignores. “I don't want to be the one keeping you from the relationship you deserve. Clint and I would understand if--”
“Phil, no,” She interrupts him, quick, light notes stopping abruptly. She sets the cello gently to the side and climbs onto the bed. Clint shifts away slightly to give her room to straddle Phil's lap and then lays next to them, head on Phil's shoulder and hand on Audrey's thigh. He doesn't offer his opinion (Audrey is a grown adult who can make her own decisions and doesn't need Phil fussing about them, even if his concern for her is kind of sweet) because this part of the relationship is between the two of them. Besides, he already knows how it's gonna end.
She cups Phil's face between her palms and places a firm kiss on his lips before pulling away to look him directly in the eye. “Phil,” she begins quietly, intensely. “I love you. I love both of you. This is not a stopgap on my way to a 'real' relationship.” Clint helpfully provides the air quotes and fake-pouts when he's ignored. “What we have, what all of us have, together, is real.” She removes one hand from Phil's face to lace her fingers with Clint's hand on her thigh, lifting it to kiss his knuckles. “I'm not going to throw you over for some guy who's too insecure to deal with not having all of my attention all the time, okay?”
Phil nods, slowly. “Yeah,” he says, wrapping his arms around her, and she cups the back of his head and presses him against her chest. “Yeah, okay.”
“She's told us this before, Phil,” Clint says quietly, pressing a kiss onto his shoulder. “You should listen to her. She's not gonna run out on us.” He says it with perhaps more confidence than he feels, childhood abandonment issues being what they are, but he's still reasonably sure and Audrey's bright, pleased smile seems to back that up.
“So that's what I see in you,” she says, squeezing his hand. “You're the smart one.”
“God help us all if Barton's the smart one.” Phil quips, and Clint grins.
“Fuck you too, sir.”
“Oooh, you know I like it when you call him sir,”
Clint flashes her a cheeky salute. “Clint Barton, professional cocktease, at your service.”
Audrey matches him with a wicked smirk. “Good thing I don't have a cock.”
“Don't be so sure,” Clint responds with a grin, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I'm an even better clit tease.”
“Don't I know it,” She says with an elaborately wistful sigh she ruins by laughing, and then looks down at Phil. “Are we good now?”
“Of course.”
“Good,” she says, but stays where she is, running her hand through Phil's thinning brown hair. Clint untangles his hand from hers and strokes it along her waist and over Phil's arms and down her thigh, simply enjoying the feel of them.
His eyes close, though he doesn't let up his steady petting, and then he says “I'm gonna miss this.”
Phil lets out a soft hum of agreement, lifting his head from where it's bowed against Audrey's chest. She keeps her hand at his neck, stroking a thumb against his cheek. “Me too. It's been nice having you close by, Audrey.”
Audrey snorts. “You guys have been off god-knows-where half the time I've been here,” she points out.
“God has no idea where we've been,” Clint jokes. “He doesn't have the security clearance.” Audrey rolls her eyes and huffs out a laugh.
“My point.”
“Yeah, but we're in New York much more often then Portland.” Phil's voice is smooth and even and does not betray the melancholy they both know is there.
“We'll manage,” Audrey says, unconcerned. “We always do. When do you leave?” she asks Clint “Day after tomorrow?”
Clint nods. “Just me, though. Phil's staying in the city for now.” Clint tries not to reveal how disappointed he is by that. He and Phil have been assigned fewer and fewer ops together over the past few years and he doesn't like it. The world is getting crazier and he knows it's silly – Phil is perfectly capable of taking care of himself – but he wants stay close to Phil, to protect him rather than whatever freaky-ass research the scientists are up to over at PEGASUS.
He doesn't notice he's nudged himself closer to Phil until Phil frees an arm from around Audrey and wraps it around his shoulders. Clint meets his eyes and is rewarded with a smile, gentle and reassuring. Audrey brings a hand down to run through his hair and Clint can't help but smile back.
It's hard sometimes, being separated from them so much – especially Phil – but that's the job. The two of them talk, sometimes, about getting out; retiring and settling down somewhere they can see each other more than six months out of a year. They still might, someday. Perhaps. Probably not.
For now, at least, this is enough. Here, in this ludicrously opulent hotel room, with two of his favorite people and the increasingly heated slide of skin on skin that promises another round excellent sex in the immediate future, everything is perfect. Clint cherishes it, cherishes them, and pointedly, deliberately, does not think of the future.
He'll deal with it when it gets here.