Work Text:
Clint had talked Phil into going out and buying hotdogs from a street vendor and eating lunch in the park. He didn't actually have to work all that hard at it, because they hadn't had very much time together lately, and it was a beautiful warm spring day, and Clint had a winning smile that Phil found hard to resist.
As they carried their food from the vendor's truck to a park bench, Clint took Phil's free hand, lacing their fingers together. Phil stiffened up slightly, just enough for Clint to notice. A few seconds later, Phil let go of Clint's hand to point.
"Do you want to sit on that bench, or that one over there?"
"Whichever," said Clint. "You pick."
They ate their hot dogs sitting side by side on the bench, shoulders just touching. Clint tried to relax and enjoy being outdoors with no one shooting at him. He finished his food, leaned back on the park bench and put his arm around Phil. Phil didn't flinch or stiffen up this time, and so Clint thought maybe he had been imagining things earlier. But then a few seconds later Phil got up to put their hot dog wrappers and napkins in the trash, and sat back down on the bench leaving an inch of space between them.
"Look, Phil, if you're so ashamed of me that you don't want us to be seen in public together, just say so." Clint's voice was quiet and sad.
"What? No. I'm not ashamed of you. Are you kidding? I... oh hell, Clint I'm sorry."
"Look, it's OK, I understand. I mean, I know I'm not..."
"Stop talking right now. Clint Barton there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. I'm not ashamed of you and I don't care who sees us together."
"Well, you sure don't act like it! It's like you don't want people - total strangers - to see us holding hands or even touching! You've moved away every time I've touched you."
"I know, and I'm very sorry. Come, walk with me." Phil stood up and very deliberately put out his hand for Clint to take. Clint looked at him for a minute, almost ready to shake his head and refuse, but Phil looked sincere, so Clint took his hand and stood up. Phil led them to the path around the decorative pond in the middle of the park. A mother and a child were feeding the ducks, and Clint felt Phil take a deep breath as they walk past, but he squeezed Clint's hand, and Clint squeezed back.
"I'm not used to being out," Phil said.
"Well then we definitely need to get away from the office more often."
Phil sighed. "I meant out of the closet."
Clint looked at him sharply.
"But, at work... Everyone knows, I mean, you don't hide it at all. I've heard you make gay dirty jokes in the coffee room!" Okay, so they were really, really subtle gay dirty jokes, but still.
"I'm out at work because Director Fury's ideas about an open and tolerant workplace are... aggressive. Outside work, well... it's kind of a long story." Phil said, and before Clint could say anything, he continued, "But it's important for me to explain, so please let me try."
"OK."
"You know I grew up in the Midwest, in northern Iowa. I was a kid in the '60s and a teenager in the '70s. But all of that hippie stuff about free love? Well, none of that made it to my corner of Iowa. All I knew was that I didn't feel the things I was supposed to feel for girls. I thought maybe I felt them for boys instead, and I knew that was wrong. I hid what I was all the way through high school. I went to college on an ROTC scholarship, so I had to be damn careful there, too. I had a couple of relationships in college, but they involved a lot of hiding and always having a cover story and never touching each other when we were in public together. I went straight from college to the army."
"Phil, I had no idea."
"I know. That's why I'm telling you. You can probably imagine what it was like in the army, back when being gay meant an immediate dishonourable discharge. Ever wondered why I'm so good at sneaking around?"
"Just thought it was because you were a Grade-A badass."
"Yes, well that too." Phil was quiet for a few seconds, and then "My family doesn't know I'm gay."
"Phil."
"I'm sorry. I should have told you that sooner."
"No, it's OK, I mean I kinda get how hard it could be... especially if they have no idea. I guess I never realized how easy I had it on that score, growing up in the circus. When the closest thing you've got to a family includes a bearded lady and a pair of conjoined midgets, nobody much cares who you want to have sex with."
"I've got all these old habits, these ingrained behaviours, and this little voice in the back of my head yelling that it's dangerous to let anybody see me holding your hand. But, look, Clint I'm going to work on this."
"Phil, you don't have to, just because..."
Phil cut him off.
"I do have to, for two reasons. First of all, if there had been gay couples walking down the street holding hands and kissing in parks when I was twelve, I would have been a much happier teenager. The only way to make it normal is to make it normal, you know?"
"Yeah. I guess that's true."
"But that's not the most important reason. The most important reason I need to do this, to fix this, is that it's important to you."
"Phil, I..."
"No, listen to me, Clint, please." Phil interrupted Clint a second time. He knew how much physical closeness meant to Clint.
"You put up with a lot from me. My rules, my work ethic, my tight-ass-ness. Hey, don't think I don't know how much of a pain in the butt I can be sometimes."
"Sometimes?"
"Don't push your luck. The point is, you deserve this. You deserve to have a boyfriend who will walk down the street holding your hand, who will put his arm around you in public, who will kiss you under an oak tree in a park. You deserve that, and I want to give it to you. Because I love you."
And as they stood under the oak tree in the park, with a mother and child feeding ducks, and teenagers skateboarding, and businessmen in suits sitting on benches eating lunch, Phil leaned in and kissed Clint. In public.