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Clint had never expected this.
It was late, but rarely did anyone at SHIELD keep normal hours. He was no exception and he'd finally finished the paperwork that Coulson had given him days ago, so he'd returned to the admin wing with intent to leave the paperwork in the box by his door.
But light showed under the shut door, so he'd knocked quietly and opened it, sticking his head in. "Sir..?"
Anything else he'd wanted to say was abruptly forgotten.
Coulson was on his knees next to his office couch, arms resting on it so he could rest his cheek on them. His shoulders and spine were lax, it was textbook submissive, only missing a dom sitting on the couch to stroke his hair.
Except Coulson was a dom. Clint had known that since first meeting him, and he was the kind of dom that Clint had admired. Quietly strong, absolutely no nonsense, guiding with firm hands and gentle eyes. He didn’t have a sub of his own, as far as Clint knew. Sometimes he did short term fostering, and the sub was always better for it.
All of that was entirely against what Clint was seeing now, and he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him as his instincts fought with him. "Coulson." He said, careful and clear, and saw no response. That only made some anger stir under his skin, as well as alarm, and he crossed the room, only hesitating briefly before sitting on the couch and putting a hand lightly on the back of Phil's neck. "Coulson." He repeated, rubbing his thumb back and forth.
Phil shifted just barely, letting out a sigh and turning his head toward the warmth of Clint's leg. Clint swallowed hard, hand stroking up and ruffling through Phil's thin hair, smiling at the low whine of pleasure that greeted his actions.
He let himself enjoy it, for a few minutes. The solid warmth of Phil leaning along his leg, the soft subby noises of happiness as he stroked his hair. It was something out of his dirty secret fantasies, one of those he barely let himself have. Still soon enough he returned to reality, giving Phil's hair the barest of tugs. "Phil. I need you to come up, now. Listen to my voice. Come up."
It took a few moments then Phil stirred again, some tension returning to his muscles and his eyes opening, still soft and dark and looking like new fantasy fodder. His gaze was lazy then full awareness returned, and he jerked, trying to sit back.
Clint moved his hands and let him, staring back. "Welcome back, sir." He swallowed, a thread of nervousness going through him. "I, uh. I found you like this. Down and alone. That isn’t safe so I brought you back up. Did someone..?" Put him down and leave, he doesn’t say, because of that is the case he has someone to kick the shit out of.
Phil shook his head jerkily. "Put myself down."
There was a long awkward silence, during which Phil got to his feet, knees popping. Which told Clint he had been down for a while. "I have a lot of questions." Clint said finally, looking up at him.
"If I’m dom why did you find me down?" Phil went back to his desk.
"Yeah."
"..I’m not dom anymore. What Fury did to save my life fucked with something in my brain." Phil stared out the window, not looking at Clint at all. "Fucked with a lot of my brain actually, but..."
"Wait." Clint had stood bolt upright when Phil had said he wasn’t dom, walking over. "How the fuck..."
He shrugged. "No one knows. I was alright, initially coming out of recovery. It took several weeks for me to realize something was wrong. My instincts were haywire." He looked at Clint, finally, brows drawn together. "Fury stormed in and I crashed to my knees without thought."
Clint rubbed his face with his hand. Yeah okay, classic inexperienced or uneasy sub response to an angry dom but.. "that must have brought him up short."
"Me too actually. He asked me what the fuck and all I could say was I didn’t know. He pulled me up and walked me to medical for blood tests. I’ve always had pretty high dom factor."
"Yeah I know." They’re the same blood type and factor. They’ve given blood to each other, before.
"It was off the chart low. Barely detectable." He rubbed his eyes. "Remember last month when i had to have Sitwell cover for me because I was in testing in medical?"
"Ohshit."
"Yeah, I was in an mri machine. Whatever Fury had done to me apparently damaged the part of my brain that deals with my being a dom. Brain chemistry right?" When Clint nodded he continued. "They told me that if they didn’t know from my records I was dom they’d figure me for sub. Now my body is trying to compensate the other way. It can’t produce dom factor..."
"Wouldn’t you just be a neutral?" Clint was frowning deeply.
"You’d figure, but apparently I am producing sub factor now." Phil's voice is blank. "Which is why I knelt to Fury."
Clint stared at him, and he just looked so broken and lost that he couldn’t do anything but step in and wrap his arms around him, tuck Phil’s face to his shoulder. "I am so sorry, sir. Is there anything I can do?"
Phil went rigid then sagged into him slowly, shivering. "I don’t know." He said it softly. "This has been.. really difficult, for me."
"I can’t even imagine what it’s like." He found himself stroking the back of Phil's neck, instincts rising to comfort a sub in distress.
"I was a happy dom. Yeah I knew it would never be fair to collar a sub of my own but.." he kept his voice calm and even, but his hands dug into Clint's shirt, a little. "I’ve always been in control. I’m still managing work, I think..."
"You are, your last two mission briefs were meticulous. I had no idea you were in distress sir."
He shook his head, jerking to move away. "I’m not in distress, I just..."
"Sir." He firmed his rubbing fingers on the back of Phil's neck. "You put yourself into subspace somehow. I can’t even understand how you did that. You are in sub distress."
".. I recognized behaviors in myself I used to see in the subs I fostered and knew I needed to go down." He mumbled it, stilling again against Clint. "I didn’t have anyone to ask."
"You could have asked me."
He did pull away this time, frowning at Clint. "This is seriously fucked up, and I barely understand how it works yet. I can’t ask that of you."
He sighed. "You don’t have to ask, I’m offering. And you don’t have to understand, because I do."
Phil swallowed hard enough his throat clicked, need and fear warring on his face.
"You have always taken care of me sir. Let me take care of you. It would be an honor to do so."
He looked away, tension thrumming through his body along with scratchy unease. He feels groundless, like all of his anchor points have been removed, like he's drifting at sea. He's never felt like this, almost never, he's always felt like he had strong direction in his life. Now everything has changed, and he hates it.
Hates how easy it is to give and fall.
He's still looking away when Clint set a hand on his shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth. "I don’t like this." He admitted.
"You shouldn’t. This is horrifying." Clint was watching Phil's expression flicker, uncertainty and fear and longing. "We don’t do anything you aren’t okay with. You are still my superior officer, but I do want to help you sir."
He looked back, frowning. "How?"
"For starters, don’t put yourself down ever again. Damn sir, you were almost unresponsive what if the alarms went off?" Clint wanted to know, and Phil nodded minutely. "If you want to go down just tell me. I'll ease you down and bring you up."
He hesitated then nodded. "I’d rather have you do it than anyone else. Thank you."
"Now tonight... I think you need to get out of this office and go to medical."
Now Phil scoffed. "You giving me medical advice?"
Clint made a face. "Dick. I think you should have a panel pulled to check your levels. My opinion is you should take leave as a distressed sub. No one would expect you to work through this sir. No one. I know you don’t want to take time off, but really. Think about it."
He let out a shaky sigh. "Okay. Medical it is. Then what?"
"Then we talk about it. I think you should come home with me. Let me ease you down. No strings."
Phil pressed his lips together. "We'll talk about that later." He decided.
Clint nodded and moved when Phil did, walking alongside him to medical.
Shield being what it is there were always medics on duty, and one agreed to take a vial of Phil's blood and run it through the appropriate tests. Phil used to donate all the time so he took it in stride, holding a cotton ball on the needlemark while the medic analyzed his blood.
"This is a somewhat unusual situation." She admitted, looking at Phil. "But not unheard of for severe head traumas."
"I need a better explanation. I’m starting to express sub behaviors, and its.. like an out of body experience." Phil admitted. "Even if I’m not producing dom factor why would I produce sub factor?"
"Now that is a very common misconception. Short version, everyone produces both. Modern medicine doesn’t look at raw numbers anymore, but percentiles." She turned, leaning back on the counter and looking between Phil and Clint, then back to Phil. "Generally speaking, over 65% dom factor is considered dom, over 65% sub is considered sub, anything in between is a form of neutral. Do you follow?"
Phil nodded. "That wasn’t discussed when I took sex ed."
"It was taboo for a long time, but medicine doesn’t do taboo. We need to be able to talk realistically. Going from numbers to percentiles happened about fifteen years ago. Your file had you had 88% dom before this." The machine finished and kicked out a printout and she took it, reading it then pausing, before giving it to Phil.
The chart made little sense to him, but the bold percentages under the chart that said "sub - 90%" felt like another blade through his chest.
"Your levels, the actual numbers, are much lower. You aren’t producing much, but the majority of what you’re producing is sub." She's calm voiced, not trying to relate as one sub to another because his expression says it all.
Loss and depression and distress and fear.
"I won’t lie to you. Your body isn’t used to being receptive to sub factor. You’ll probably be sore, physically, and maybe nauseous." When he nodded once, she sighed. "My advice? Don’t fight it. You'll only make it worse."
"..is there anything I can do?"
"There is synthetic factor we can put you on." She said, going to the computer and looking it up. "But the side effects are bad, and given you’re still in recovery, I recommend strongly against it." She printed up the information, offering it out to him. "I think you should go back on medical leave."
".. Fury told me I should when this first came to light." Phil admitted.
"Then take time off until you feel centered, sir." She looked at Clint, gaze going icy. "I don’t think I need to say anything about how any dom should treat Coulson right now."
Clint put his hands up. "I just don’t think he should be alone."
"You’re right about that much."
Phil stopped back at his office to gather his things, tucking his laptop bag away and looking around with sad eyes.
"What’s on your mind sir?"
"I know this isn’t true.. but all I can think is that my life is over. Most people are not going to take the news of this change well."
"So don’t tell anyone. It’s your factor sir. You can keep it private."
"People will find out."
"Then come back settled and give them nothing to question."
He settled his laptop bag strap on his shoulder, frowning at Clint. "Why are you doing this?"
Clint hesitated. "Because I’ve always wanted to take care of you sir."
Phil pressed his lips together again the sighed and bowed his head. "Your place or mine?"
"Yours is probably cleaner." He admitted, and dared to smile when Phil did.
Phil drove, with Clint sitting in the passenger seat, reading the information on the synthetic factor with a pen light. The section on known side effects made Clint swear every other sentence and made Phil tighten his jaw.
"Sir this will kill you." Clint decided, staring at the paperwork.
"I think you can call me Phil." He said, letting out a slow breath through his nose.
"Doesn’t change that this will kill you. You’re still in recovery from being dead, and .. all these warnings about recent surgery patients and blood clots." He looked at Phil, shutting off the pen light.
"..yeah. I agree, it isn’t a good option."
"This isn’t an option at all."
"My body, Barton."
"Are you listening? This is way way too big of a risk." His voice raised, then he reined himself back in. "You don’t need to go on this. I know this must be traumatic but .. you'll be okay sir. Life can be okay with you being a sub." His traitorous brain has already envisioned Phil kneeling by a bed with hands in parade rest, Phil on the bed in four point leather, those sweet subby noises getting fucked out of him.
Clint knows he's already gone on Phil. Has always been but now it’s too close to a reality even if he knows it isn’t fair to ask Phil for anything.
That didn’t stop him from wondering if Phil was into impact play, and he briefly daydreamed laying a grid pattern of bruises into Phil's back, chasing them after with a piece of ice, before jolting himself back to reality.
Reality being Phil white knuckle on the steering wheel, eyes focused on the road. Which nicely killed Clint's semi, at least.
"..talk to me, Phil. Please."
"I can’t say anything without sounding like I’m talking bad about subs in general." Phil sounded miserable. "I respect submission. I know it’s about strength, and trust, and I have never disrespected a sub for their willingness to give control to me, it’s always an honor." His knuckles cracked on the steering wheel. ".. I’ll never have that again. Not like this. That’s why I still want to consider the replacement therapy."
"Maybe we should continue this when you aren’t driving." Clint finally suggested, swallowing hard, watching Phil's eyes get glassy with unshed tears.
Phil said nothing, but drove a little faster.
Clint had been to Phil's place before but it had been some time. It was somehow reassuring to see it hadn’t changed much. Solid modern furniture, real wood and comfortable fabrics, thick rugs on the hardwood floors. A few shelves dedicated to Phil's Captain America collection, interspersed with shelves of books. Magazines scattered on a coffee table and dishes in a drying rack.
"I’ve always liked your place." Clint ventured, stepping out of his shoes at the door as Phil unlaced his boots, taking them off and pulling his tie free.
"Can you start some coffee while I change? I'd rather be comfortable." Phil seemed hesitant.
"Whatever you want, I’m here to help you." Clint replied and was rewarded with some tension bleeding from Phil's stance as he walked away.
He found the coffee and started it, then mindful of the fact that Phil probably hadn’t ate in some time he rummaged through his cabinets and fridge. By the time Phil appeared in the doorway Clint had grilled cheese sandwiches on a skillet and tomato soup heating in a pot.
"Comfort food." Clint was sheepish. "I hope you don’t mind."
"No. Not at all." Phil was in sweats and a plain grey shirt, padding barefoot into the kitchen to peek at the pot.
"I added diced stewed tomatoes and some cream. Also fresh basil."
"It smells great, thank you for doing this."
"I said I wanted to take care of you."
"Ah." Phil moved to pour himself some coffee. "And how long have you had that fantasy?"
He flipped the sandwiches. "Years. But.. you never played with other doms." He huffed. "Maybe this was a bad idea."
Now Phil huffed. "You’re one of my best friends. I trust you with everything I am." He frowned at Clint, getting plates and bowls out and setting them on the cabinet. "Nothing is a great idea right now but you’re still the best idea."
"..thanks, for that." Clint had to smile. "It means a lot to me. Given I started as an ex-carnie criminal."
"You’re amazing and never think different."
He served the sandwiches to the plates, getting a ladle for the soup. "I hope I’m amazing enough to help you."
"You obviously have opinions about what I should do."
"I think you should try it before you decide to go on replacement therapy." Clint admitted, watching Phil ladle his own bowl of soup.
".. submission has never been part of who I am."
"Of course it is. You were an excellent dom that took great care of subs. Now you’ve moved to the opposite perspective. You know domination, all about it, you just aren’t dominant."
Phil carried their bowls to his table. "I don’t know how to submit. Who wants that?"
"You don’t have to. Your body obviously knows the basics. Enough to go down. Enough to bow to a dom." He pointed out, carrying their sandwiches. "You don’t need to know anything else. That’s part of submission right? Giving up control?"
Phil rubbed his face. "I’m just.. I’m conflicted. I want what I’ve always had but.. it feels like I’m just over an abyss and I am shit scared if I fall I will never come back up."
Clint's gaze hardened. "You know I would never let that happen."
".. Clint, I’m scared I won’t want to." It’s hard to force the words out.
"Oh." He sat as Phil did, considering him for a long moment. ".. do you not want to go down, after you eat?"
He was quiet for a few minutes, focused on his food and humming in contentment. Its basic but it’s hot and delicious and he lingered on it, warmth pooling in his chest that Clint did this for him. "No. I want to." He admitted. "Need to really, what I did earlier.."
"I still don’t get that." Clint admitted around his grilled cheese. "I’ve never heard of a sub putting themselves into subspace. Finding you down and alone turned my stomach."
He shrugged weakly, staring into his soup as he stirred it. "I didn’t think anyone would understand."
"I’m trying to." He saw the look he got. "Yeah, I said this may be a bad idea earlier. You’re afraid you won’t want to come back up, I’m afraid I’ll like putting you down too much. We're both fuckups."
Phil laughed weakly. "Well now that we've established that..."
"Think we already knew that." The smile he got, as weak as it was, was worth it.
Clint cleared the dishes after while Phil put away the rest of the soup, and they ended up standing staring at each other awkwardly for a few moments before Clint stepped in closer. He kept his movements slow and obviously telegraphed, treating Phil like the on edge combat ready sub he was, sliding one hand to gently cradle along Phil's neck and jaw. Phil let out a little nervous broken noise, shuddering, and Clint felt his heart ache with it.
"Where do you want to do this?" Clint asked carefully.
"Um, living room. The easy chair. I, I feel like I should be on my knees, for this." Phil said slowly, sounding as uncertain as he felt.
"Sounds good." He dropped his hand and didn’t miss the fact that Phil leaned toward the attention for a moment.
Phil shook himself and led the way to his living room. The easy chair was a heavy leather thing, overstuffed and comfortable, and Phil grabbed a cushion from by the couch, carrying it over. Clint ended up sprawling in the chair with his legs open, the cushion on the floor between his feet. He offered a hand and Phil took it, letting himself be eased forward and down, kneeling between Clint's knees, shoulders tight and high with tension and unease.
Clint sighed and tugged Phil in further to lean against one of his legs. "Lean up against me. Like you were in your office." Some shifting later he'd coaxed Phil to tuck his face to Clint's hip and stomach, stroking his hair and neck, feeling him shiver. "Okay?"
He shifted, one arm slipping to wrap loosely around Clint. "Yes."
"Just close your eyes and breathe for me." Clint kept his voice even, thumb rubbing little circles at the base of Phil's skull. "I’ve got you. I’ve got you and I’m not letting go."
He whined, shivering again as he closed his eyes, feeling like he's at the edge of falling again.
"You can let go. Go down Phil. Nothing to be afraid of here. You’re safe."
He decided he was willing to believe that, and he felt his muscles release, tension unspooling from his body as he slipped down. The world faded to the borders, and everything went soft and dark and safe, brain rushing to a low endorphin haze.
"Oh fuck that is beautiful." Clint kept stroking Phil's hair, watching him go down with wide eyes. Yeah, its textbook, the way Phil's body went lax with a sigh, the way it seemed a decade eased off his face, and it’s a genuine pleasure for Clint to watch. His mind regeared, feeling like nothing but the proud happy dom he was.
Phil nosed Clint just barely, making a pleased noise at the hand in his short dark hair, so he kept it up with a smile. He tried to keep track of time, even as it seemed distant and like it didn’t matter. He let Phil stay like that a while, eyes closed and just sagged softly in subspace, before he decided they both needed to know where Phil's boundaries were.
He stroked along Phil's cheek, feeling warm skin and the start of stubble, breath catching when Phil's eyelids fluttered. "Phil. Open your eyes for me baby. You can stay down, just open your eyes."
Phil just barely stirred, opening his eyes slowly and staring up at him. Clint swallowed hard, staring down into his eyes and recognizing the haze of subspace, the glassy dark mirrors of it framed in by the barest ring of ocean blue. Phil's expression was a haze of bliss and adoration, and it made Clint's chest ache, wishing he could see that gaze and know it’s really for him.
"Are you verbal?"
"Yes." Phil's voice was soft and calm, not actually that different from his normal speaking tone.
"Can you tell me how you feel right now?"
His brow wrinkled slightly then eased out. "Safe." Clint caressed his cheek again and Phil made a little noise, nosing his palm. "I like this."
"Good." He started stroking through his hair again and smiled when Phil buried his face back into his hip. He let Phil stay down another fifteen minutes before he started rubbing the back of his neck and the base of his skull, humming. "Come up." Phil made a little derisive noise, but stirred and looked up at Clint, eyes starting to clear, expression going from calm to sheepish. "Left you down a bit more than half an hour. How do you feel?"
"Good." He pulled back slowly, sitting on his heels and clearing his throat. "I wish doms had something like that. Its.. calm. Centering."
"Well, a silver lining to this change then. You looked good, you know."
He laughed a bit, ducking his head. "Yeah thanks. I’m middle aged and broken, but at least i look good when I’m down."
Clint reached back out, cupping his cheek again. "Oh stop."
Phil went silent, staring at Clint for a long moment with a slight frown. Yeah, Clint has been nothing but accommodating during this, though his motives are clear. They’ve always gotten along, always liked each other really. They’re friends and as doms they’d talked shop sometimes. He’d never really figured Clint was interested in more though, but then he never really looked close.
It doesn’t take a lot to see a possible near future here.
"What’s on your mind?" Clint frowned back.
He sighed and clambered to his feet, popping his back. "Let’s say I ride this out. Try to adapt to being a sub. What is my end game here?"
"End game?" He blinked.
"I could probably get by with you easing me down sometimes but that’s not much of a life. That’s occasional snacks when life is a buffet." He shrugged. "If I do this.. I’ll probably want to scene and I won’t really know what I want. Would you want to scene with me?"
"Absolutely." Clint blurted, then looked a little chagrined.
"I’m not making any promises that this will happen."
"I’m not asking for any." He stood, looking Phil in the eye. "Just... keep me in mind if you start thinking about it?"
He gazed back then nodded. "Okay. I have a lot of thinking to do."
"That is more than understandable. Let me know if I can help at all."
He considered. "You could take me out this weekend."
"Take you out where?" His eyebrows went up.
He considered. "How about the Ivory Shackle club?" He'll have to wear a white ribbon though.
Clint grinned, surprised and pleased. "Yeah. I’d love to. Sounds good. You’re, uh, you’re up for that?"
Phil gave him a look. "Probably not but I’ve always jumped into the deep end. Might as well continue."
He laughed and pulled Phil into a hug, grateful when it was returned. "I'll be happy to show you a good time."
"Oh, lord." Phil scoffed but he returned the hug, starting to feel like it might be okay.