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Phil sat up suddenly, covered in sweat and covering his mouth, trying not to retch. He wasn't sure if he'd yelled "No!" out loud or only in his dream, but Clint immediately turned the light on.
"Babe, hey, it's okay," he said, reaching for his hearing aids. "It's okay, you're okay. We're at home, we're safe."
"Fuck," Phil said. He didn't realize how hard he was shaking until Clint pulled him into his arms. Neither of them said anything until Phil felt like he could breathe again.
"Want to talk about it?" Clint asked when Phil finally relaxed into his arms.
"I…" Phil said, but he couldn't get the words out.
"Hey, no worries, you don't have to," Clint said, kissing his cheek. "Think a shower would help?"
"Yeah, maybe," Phil said. He wasn't surprised when Clint joined him after a few minutes, nor when they got out and he saw the clean sheets on the bed. "Thanks," he said, trying to put all the love and gratitude he felt into that one word, hoping Clint could see it in the way he shaped the sounds with his mouth.
"Anytime," Clint responded, and Phil heard the same love in that one word, too.
When Clint reached for the light, Phil put his hand on his arm. "Should I put my aids back in?" Clint asked.
"No," Phil said. "I don't think I can say it out loud," he signed, "but I think I need to get it out of my head."
Clint nodded and signed, "Okay."
"Dream. Captain America," Phil signed, then shook his head and switched to Steve's name sign. "Steve. He…."
Clint waited patiently until he could continue. "Steve," he said again, "he was like Ward."
Clint frowned. "Like Ward how?" he signed.
"Hydra," Phil finally said, both in sign and out loud. "Steve was Hydra. From when he was a kid; he was undercover, like Ward, like we thought Jasper was, Steve Rogers…was Hydra." He felt close to retching again, even though he knew it was just a dream.
"Skrull?" Clint suggested, and Phil shook his head. "LMD?"
"It was Steve. Just him. He'd always been Hydra."
Clint didn't shut him down, didn't argue with him, didn't tell him it didn't matter, that it was just a dream. He put his hearing aids in again and got out of bed. "Come on."
T'Challa's palace was big, but it didn't take Phil long to realize where Clint was taking him. Fortunately, the guards didn't look twice at the two white guys in their pajamas; in fairness, neither he nor Clint posed much of a threat to the Dora Milaje both barefoot and weaponless. Phil wasn't sure they posed much of a threat when they were armed to the teeth, to be honest, but he was okay with that.
"I'm not sure how looking at Bucky is going to help," Phil said as they approached the door to the chamber where he was kept.
"No, but talking to Steve might," Clint answered, pulling the door open to reveal the man in question, perched on a rolling stool in front of Bucky's cryochamber, as he so often was.
"Something wrong, fellas?" Steve asked, turning the stool to face them.
"Phil had a nightmare," Clint said.
"Oh?" Steve said in his "I have no idea what this is about, but whatever it is, I am bound and determined to help anyway" voice.
"It's not important," Phil said. "Come on, Clint, let's go back to bed."
"I'm betting it is, or Clint wouldn't have brought you here," Steve said. "Besides, there's no one in this room who doesn't have them on a regular basis. Shit, I hope Bucky--"
"Bucky's fine," Clint interrupted. "Remember what the scientists said? What Bucky himself said?"
Steve gave Bucky's frozen form a glance over his shoulder, then squared up to face Phil and Clint again. "What was this nightmare about, Phil?"
"Tell him, babe," Clint said softly, his hand warm on Phil's arm.
"Okay," Phil said, folding under their matching concerned gazes. "It's ridiculous, though." He took a breath, frowning. "It was about you," he told Steve.
"Did something happen to me?" Steve asked. "Because I'm fine, Phil. We're all fine; we're safe here."
Phil shook his head. "It wasn't about that. You were Hydra. In my dream, you were Hydra, undercover like Ward was, like Garrett, like we thought Sitwell was. Like I told you, it was ridiculous."
"That's…that's very disturbing," Steve said, his face blank. "Are you sure I wasn't a Skrull or something?"
"Your mom helped recruit you when you were a kid," Phil said.
"My mother was Hydra?" Steve said, his face no longer blank. Phil had never seen Steve look so horrified. "That's disgusting!"
Phil couldn't help it--he started laughing. "No, no, it really is!" he tried to say. "It's completely disgusting! You would never--your mother would never--"
"My grandmother was Jewish," Steve said, and Phil stopped laughing. "She converted, for my grandfather, but after he died she went back to it, although my mom stayed in the church."
"I'm sorry, Steve, if I'd known," Clint started, but Steve cut him off.
"How would you?" Steve said bitterly. "I'm the Irish Catholic boy from Brooklyn; it's the way they wanted it during the war. For some reason they thought it would sell more bonds, more comics, more movies if their all-American hero was 100% Christian."
"I can't believe none of your biographers ever knew," Phil said.
"I should've spoken up about it more," Steve said. "For once in my life I kept quiet about something, and I've regretted it ever since. I was trying to do some research, but then everything happened with Bucky…."
"You're welcome to come to synagogue with me and Clint," Phil said. "And I'd be happy to answer any questions you have."
"Why don't you come to Shabbat this Friday?" Clint said. "Phil makes a mean brisket, and I'm not half bad at challah."
"False modesty isn't like you. Your challah is the best I've ever had," Phil told Clint. Clint preened a little in response, and Phil couldn't help but smile at him before turning back to Steve. "There's no obligation, of course, but you'd be welcome any time, Steve."
Steve looked at them for a moment. "I didn't know."
"I'm sorry we never told you," Phil said. "I made the same assumption as everyone else."
"I converted when we got married," Clint added. "I probably asked Phil a lot of the questions you have."
"That's--thank you," Steve said. "I'd love to come for Shabbat."
That Friday was the first of many Shabbats Clint and Phil shared with Steve over the years. Others joined them sometimes, but Steve, and later Bucky, not only came frequently, they eventually started hosting dinners in their own home as well.