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Phil Coulson looked down at the man nestled at his side on the couch with his feet covered in fuzzy purple socks and a carton of Chinese takeout sitting on his stomach, a hand resting possessively around it. As always, Clint’s scruffy blond hair looked as if he’d just climbed out of bed and he wore pajama pants and a worn t-shirt with Darth Vader on the front while he mouthed the dialogue to the movie in time with the characters on the screen. Every now and then, Clint would give a low, obscene-sounding moan as he ate his sweet and sour chicken, pineapple pieces first.
If anyone from SHIELD, excluding Natasha, saw him now, they would never believe Clint was one of the most deadly assassins in the world. Phil would call him adorable in moments like this, just in his own head, but Clint would probably find out somehow and then make him pay for that. Or bring up the fact that Phil was sitting next to him in pajama pants that Captain America’s shield all over them.
“I should just buy you a pineapple for your next birthday, shouldn’t I?” Phil said dryly as Clint let out another low moan around a piece of pineapple; Phil did his best to ignore the way the sound was skittering up and down his spine.
Blushing faintly, Clint looked up from his food, a noodle still comically hanging out the corner of his mouth. “Um… okay?” he agreed.
God, he really was adorable sometimes.
“Man, this is the good shit,” Clint moaned, shifting deeper into the couch cushions. “And I swear to all that is holy, if SHIELD calls before I finish this, I’m going to do something permanent and messy with my chopsticks.”
Phil couldn’t stop the chuckle that erupted. He loved the time he got to spend with Clint, just the two of them, doing something that didn’t involve supervillains or things blowing up. With an impish smile, he leaned over Clint and speared a piece of pineapple with his own chopsticks. His grin turned triumphant when Clint tried to pull his food out of reach a beat too late. “Chopsticks off, man,” Clint grumbled half-heartedly, before he spoilt the effect with a sleepy smile.
“You know, we really should be asleep right now,” Phil mused, his eyes moving to stare at the newest Star Trek movie playing on the TV screen in front of them.
Clint grunted, before Phil felt him wriggle around until he was using Phil’s stomach as a pillow. Looking down, Phil found Clint’s blue eyes staring up at him with mischief and humour. And he was beautiful. Oh, Phil knew Clint could be stubborn, driven and determined when he thought he was right and wilfully insubordinate when he chose to be, but he was also loyal and giving and heartbreakingly brave and sometimes Phil wondered exactly what he’d done to deserve someone like Clint in his life. The fact that Clint had agreed to marry him and the proof glinted dully on his left hand just made it all the sweeter.
“Are you even watching the movie, Phil?” Clint teased, but there was a soft, warm light in his eyes as he looked up at Phil.
“I’m being serious, Clint. We should be sleeping.”
Gently, Phil allowed his fingers to slide into Clint’s hair and softly stroke his temple once before he moved his hand away again. Clint cuddled closer and muttered something incomprehensible into his shirt. Phil grabbed the chopsticks and takeout container from Clint’s lax grip and set them on the coffee table before he settled back into the couch. He barely noticed when his hand slid back into Clint’s messy hair, his thumb rubbing delicate circles on Clint’s temple.
Phil felt the weight of exhaustion pulling on his own body and knew it would be ridiculously easy to just curl around Clint on the couch and fall asleep. The trek down the corridor to the bedroom just seemed too far. Clint curled tighter against his stomach, one of his hands twisted in Phil’s Henley. His face was scrunched up, eyebrows slanted down and his mouth frowning as if he was trying to solve some sort of complicated quadratic equation in his sleep. Knowing Clint, he probably was. Clint was a lot smarter than most people gave him credit for.
Smiling slightly, Phil’s fingers lingered as they slipped down to trace along Clint’s jaw. “You’re going to miss your favourite part,” Clint said sleepily, his voice husky and his eyes still closed.
Reaching down and sliding his hand underneath Clint’s t-shirt, Phil ran his fingers lightly over Clint’s ticklish ribs. Clint squirmed away from the touch and glared up at Phil. “This isn’t my favourite bit,” Phil said.
“How would you know?” Clint grumbled, his eyes already sliding closed again. “You were watching me, not the TV.”
A knock on the door interrupted the teasing and Phil resisted the urge to sigh aloud. After a moment’s hesitation, Clint shifted so Phil could get up and he levered himself off the couch, mentally cursing whoever was at the door. “If that’s Sitwell, just dump his body in the bathroom. We can deal with it when we wake up again,” Clint grumbled behind him.
Phil was still smiling faintly when he opened the door to discover Steve Rogers on his doorstep. “Captain,” Phil greeted, blinking a little in surprise. “How can I help you?”
Steve looked a little surprised himself, as if he hadn’t expected to find Phil in a Henley and pajama pants in the early afternoon. Phil fought to keep the flush of embarrassment from his cheeks when he remembered what was on the pajama pants he was wearing. “I, ah, didn’t mean to disturb you, Agent Coulson, but I needed to get out of the Tower for a while,” Steve said.
Phil saw Steve’s eyes flick to his left hand which was resting against the door frame and the gold ring visible on his finger. “I was going to take you up on your offer to visit, but I guess I didn’t think it through,” Steve said with a rueful smile. “And I really didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Phil held the door open a little wider. “It’s a standing offer, Cap. I wouldn’t have made it if I didn’t mean it,” he said, gesturing for Steve to come in and ignoring the five-year-old boy inside of him who was jumping up and down and squealing with excitement at having Captain America at his door. “Clint and I were watching a movie.”
Clint grinned with amusement and waved from where he was leaning over the back of the couch as Steve paused awkwardly just inside the door. “Hey Cap,” Clint greeted.
“Barton,” Steve nodded back, before glancing at Phil. “I am interrupting.”
Phil gave in and rolled his eyes. “I already said you’re not,” he said.
He didn’t miss the way Steve’s eyes glanced at Clint’s left hand. Phil followed Steve’s gaze and realized Clint’s ring was still on the chain around his neck from the mission. He hid his smile at the suddenly confused look on Steve’s face and the unrepentant smirk on Clint’s. Taking pity on Steve’s hesitation, because no matter how much of a soldier he was, Steve Rogers still possessed the best manners of anyone Phil had ever met, Phil smiled. “There’s a coffee shop on the corner about a block down from here,” he told Steve. “How about I meet you there in two hours?”
Steve relaxed, but his expression was knowing as he smiled back at Phil. “How about we make that five hours?” he said. “You look like you need at least a couple of hours sleep. You work too hard, Phil.”
Phil’s inner five-year-old almost passed out from excitement at that and it took all the discipline Phil had to keep it off his face. “Barton, I’ll see you back at the Tower for breakfast,” Steve said. He paused and turned a teasing grin on Phil. “By the way, Phil, nice pajamas.”
And then he was gone.
Phil blushed and grinned stupidly at the door for a minute. “You are such a dork,” Clint told him.
When Phil turned, he found Clint grinning at him. “You opened the door to Captain America in Captain America pajama pants,” he said.
Phil tried to glare at Clint, but he could still feel his cheeks burning. He sighed. “It wasn’t my finest moment,” he agreed.
Clint climbed off the couch and walked over to wrap his arms around Phil’s waist and rest his chin on Phil’s shoulder. “Maybe not, but I knew you were prone to moments like that when I married you,” Clint said softly. “It’s a package deal. You put up with my strange and insane habits and I put up with your obsessive love of Captain America stuff.”
Phil relaxed back against his husband, just taking a moment. “You think Cap worked it out?” Clint said after a while.
“That we’re married?” Phil asked.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know,” Phil said. “Maybe. You’re not worried are you?”
Clint’s arms tightened around Phil. “Never. You’re more than worth it,” he said. “I was just wondering. I’m pretty sure Bruce has worked it out, but Tony is still ridiculously clueless.”
Phil grinned. The fact that Stark had yet to work it out would never stop being amusing. He felt the hands around his waist start tugging him backwards towards the bedroom at about the same time he realized Clint had already switched off the TV.
“Come on,” Clint said. “I believe Cap told you to go to bed.”
“He meant to go to sleep, Clint,” he said dryly, but he didn’t resist.
“Mmm, you can do that too,” Clint replied.