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It was a common belief among the Junior Agents that Agent Coulson didn’t have any family or friends and well, basically lived for the job.
His actions certainly didn’t do much to dissuade this belief, though his track record was, frankly astounding. He did spend more time in his office or on missions than any other agent, and only a select few agents had ever seen him without his tie on.
When Clint had first been recruited he had been cocky and brash and determined to discover which stories about the unassuming, handler were true. What can he say? He’d never had particularly good impulse control, and there was something about Coulson that challenged and irritated him. Which was how he found himself breaking into Coulson’s office to look for anything and everything personal. To his disappointment he had found only a drawer full of Captain America comics and a set of Army dog tags that definitely weren’t Coulson’s. That was also the day that Clint discovered he really didn’t like being electrocuted. TAZERS are pretty up there on his list of weapons to avoid.
It would take a lot of time and seemingly endless hours of smart-mouthed back-chatting but eventually Clint realised he was one of Coulson’s very small circle of trusted, regularly used, assets. Coulson forgave Clint’s frequent insubordination and actually asked for his opinion on missions. Clint had no idea what he did to deserve it.
Being in Coulson’s inner circle was the best thing that had ever happened to him. There was a sense of camaraderie and mutual trust that made Clint want to be the best. On non-urgent missions Clint learnt more and more about Coulson’s personal life. It was usually very small things, a favourite activity, a pet peeve, but over time it was enough to paint a picture of what his life outside of work was like. He had a brother who was divorced, a mother who was widowed and a niece and nephew.
The first year Clint counted him as a friend Coulson went home for thanksgiving, the next year it was Christmas. Coulson seemed to have unwritten rules about family, he never went home for more than a week he never talked about where he was going and while he was Clint’s only handler he had ensured that he wouldn’t be sent out on an overseas mission until Coulson was back at work.
Once Clint had reached level 6 he no longer required a handler and that was when he started the high-level infiltration and undercover missions. Clint’s first year as a Level 6 Agent he was sent undercover in Columbia with no one but Natasha for backup. That year Coulson returned to work to find Clint missing, Natasha in hospital and 17 people smugglers dead.
By the time Coulson was finished extracting him there were 30 dead and 5 captured. Clint just wished he had been conscious to see Coulson at work, he may have been Clint’s handler for years but no one was likely to forget that Coulson was a field agent first, not after Columbia.. That certainly wasn’t the first time Coulson saved his life, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last but that was the first time Clint was absolutely certain that Coulson was doing it to save him, not to save the mission.
Columbia changed things.
The next year Coulson went home for Thanksgiving, but this time he asked Clint to look after his cat and housesit for him. Clint suspected that he also pulled some strings to make sure Clint didn’t get sent out on a mission until Coulson returned. That level of control over Clint’s working life should have made him angry, but it felt good to have someone care that much about him. He was well acquainted with Coulson’s apartment, years of dinners with the likes of Natasha and agent Hill, and handing in paperwork at 4 in the morning
He wasn’t expecting however that in the week that he was gone Clint’s wardrobe, bow collection and DVDs managed to migrate to Coulson’s guest bedroom from Clint’s cramped S.H.E.I.L.D quarters. Every night as he wandered to bed Clint found himself stopping outside Coulson’s closed bedroom door, debating with himself whether or not he should go in, but each time he resisted temptation, Coulson deserved his privacy. Clint was pretty proud of himself he was sure his restraint must show some sort of positive character development.
Coulson’s cat, Nutmeg, was aloof for the first few days casting silent judgement on Clint with a flick of her tail and a haughty glance. After a few days though, his tempting warmth won her over and she often curled up beside him while he watched TV on Coulson’s ridiculously large screen. Clint felt more proud of himself than the situation warranted.
When Coulson came back he looked rested and he smiled roughly 45% more than usual. Clint noticed that kind of stuff. He also noticed that there was something about the softening of Coulson’s starched edges that was criminally attractive. Clint was pretty sure he was screwed, considering starched and buttoned Coulson was only marginally less attractive.
Coulson came home, looked at Clint on his couch patting his cat and gave a wry smile.
"She usually hates people."
"She’s a sucker for head rubs," Clint replied, demonstrating his point. Nutmeg purred loudly and Coulson laughed.
"You’re turning my cat against me, Barton. That’s hardly fair."
Clint smirked, “No one can resist my charm. Also I am very carefully not making an inappropriate pussy joke.”
"I admire your restraint," Coulson replied dryly. "I’ve been driving for 5 hours, I’m going to go take a shower."
"Oh, of course. I can go," Clint said quickly, standing up suddenly to Nutmegs great disgust.
"No!" Coulson said quickly, gesturing for him to sit back down "That wasn’t me trying to get rid of you. Please stay for dinner."
"You just want me to cook so you don’t have to," Clint teased to cover his relief.
"I wouldn’t say no to your food, Barton. It’s a rare treat to eat food that doesn’t come out of a can."
Phil showered, Clint cooked and dinner turned into breakfast after they had a little too much beer for Clint to drive home. After that Clint tried to return to his quarters at SHIELD only to find that a pipe had burst in his bathroom and they had decided to renovate the barracks entirely and update the security while they were at it. It was going to take two weeks to find alternate accommodation for all the recruits and agents who had lived in his building so he resigned himself to staying in a shitty motel. When he went back to Coulson’s place to collect his things he couldn’t find his favourite bow. He looked everywhere but couldn’t find a trace of it, so he frantically called Coulson.
“Talk to me, Barton.”
“Do you know where my bow is?”
“Of course I know where it is,” Coulson replied calmly, “It’s in my office. I heard about the issues with your quarters. You’ll stay with me until they assign you somewhere new.”
“You kidnapped my bow to force me to stay in your house for two weeks? You could have just asked! What did Betsy ever do to you?” Clint raged, he was actually legitimately angry. No one messed with his bow, everyone knew that. Well they did by that point. He may have pulled a knife on the last recruit who tried to steal her. That got the point across. (It had become a kind of recruit hazing technique ‘show us how tough you are, steal Clint’s bow’ It was a point of professional pride that not only had none succeeded, those who tried had a 50% drop out rate, no one fucked with Betsy.)
“I think that kidnapped is the wrong word to use. I stole a bow, not a person.”
“Kidnapped,” Clint repeated stubbornly, “Give her back.”
“I will. Don’t worry, Barton. I’m quite fond of all my appendages so I wouldn’t take her away completely. I’ll bring her home with me tonight.”
Clint had no idea how it happened but he was never assigned new quarters at SHIELD so he just, never left. Coulson seemed to enjoy the company and they rarely got sent away together for long periods of time now that Clint was level 6 so there was always someone to look after Nutmeg, always someone to cook for the other after a long op. It was so comfortable and felt so right that Clint never stopped to question it.
Coulson was away on an op in Sri Lanka that Clint was meant to know nothing about when the apartment’s landline rang. It startled him because it had never once rung in the three months he’d lived there, but he answered it anyway.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is Phillip home?" A man asked. Clint didn’t recognise the voice and it immediately put him on guard.
"Unfortunately he’s unavailable at present, who is this?"
"Oh! Sorry, It’s Adam his brother. You must be Clint?"
"Oh… yes. I am Clint. Did you want me to give Coulson a message?"
"Nah, Just be sure to remind him that he promised Mom that he would come home for her 60th birthday. He told you about that didn’t he? Mom made sure to invite you. We’re all getting impatient, it’s about time we meet you."
"Invited?" Clint asked before he could stop himself, "Why?"
"He didn’t tell you, he should have. You have to come, our mother would never forgive you if you didn’t. She’s a scary lady."
Clint wasn’t really sure where the conversation was going, or why he was having it in the first place so he fell back on his best defence mechanism: snark.
"If she’s Coulson’s mother I am already scared."
"Just come with a healthy, respectful, fear and you’ll be fine," Adam replied with a laugh that Clint did not find comforting.
"I’ll have to talk to Coulson, I don’t know if he would want me to come."
"He doesn’t have a say. If you don’t come I’ll drive up to New York and get you myself."
"Okay, Okay. I’ll try my hardest to come. I don’t know if I can make it work with my job."
"Just try. It’d mean a lot to us."
"Okay. Well I’ll give Coulson your message when he comes home and I’ll have him keep you posted."
"Thanks, Clint. Hopefully I’ll see you in August!"
"It was nice talking to you," Clint said politely head spinning, surprised to find that it rang true. Adam seemed nice, funny and competent. Must be a Coulson family trait.
When Coulson got back he was exhausted but not bleeding so Clint figured it was an okay time to mention the strange conversation.
"While you were gone your brother called," Clint said casually while stirring the pasta sauce.
"Adam? What did he say?" Coulson asked without opening his eyes.
"Apparently it's your Mom's birthday in August. For some reason he seemed to think I was invited. She will be incredibly disappointed if you don't go, and if I don't come with you, apparently."
"Oh," Coulson opened his eyes, "Don't worry about that. You don't have to come."
"I didn't say that I didn't want to come, do you not want me to come?" Clint said, turning back to stir the sauce so he could avoid eye contact. "I mean, I'd like to meet your family."
"What? No, I’d like you to come it’s just. They can be a bit... intense."
"I'm pretty sure I'm trained to handle stressful situations. I can be whoever you need me to be, if you're worried they can't handle me."
"I don't want you to be anyone but yourself, Barton. Why would you think otherwise?"
Clint couldn't help but smile dopily at that, but he ignored the question, "Then what's the problem? I'd like to come, you have no problem with me coming and I am invited. Why am I invited?" He asked as a side thought.
"I'm not sure. I think my mother is afraid I made you up. I don't talk about work or my friends often so when I do she sort of jumps on it and tries to wring as much information out of me as possible. She was an investigative journalist. She likes to interrogate."
"That must be where you got it from," Clint joked.
"She's the one who bought be my TAZER," Coulson said fondly.
Clint laughed, "So am I going to the party or not?"
"You should come. I'll talk to Fury about getting you the time off. You have enough leave saved up to go on a yearlong holiday to the Bahamas so I'm sure it won’t be a problem."
Clint snorted "I wouldn't pick the Bahamas, no way. I'd go to Canada."
"Canada? Really?"
Clint shrugged, "I like the cold. And I'd still be close enough if SHIELD needed me."
Coulson smiled warmly, "Aren’t we a pair."
"Let's hope the world doesn't end when we take our vacation days at the same time."
They ate dinner, Coulson fell asleep on the couch and Clint spent a good 20 minutes staring at him before he chastised himself for being a creeper and did the dishes. It was surprisingly easy to get leave approved when Coulson did all the paperwork for him. HR approved it straight away and three months later, in mid August, they packed up Coulson's old, very practical, Toyota and drove five hours to Richmond, Virginia. They arrived at a seemingly normal house in a normal looking suburb, but on closer inspection Clint could see a truly impressive security system. It wasn't surprising, when he thought about it. Coulson would want his family safe, and Clint wouldn't put it past the other Coulsons to be just as paranoid ("Cautious, Clint. Not paranoid.").
A woman who did not look old enough to be 60 greeted them at the door. She was tall, with sharply defined cheekbones and a smile that made Clint ache for his long dead mother. Her hair was long and silvery-grey and Clint thought she looked like some sort of elvish princess from the Lord of the Rings. Her eyes were Coulson blue and sparkled with intelligence and humour.
She hugged Coulson first and Clint was delighted to see him blush, but she quickly released him and hugged Clint. She hugged him like a mother hugs a long-lost son and Clint had to hold back tears, and cursed himself for being pathetic.
"You must be Clint!" She said when she finally pulled away, "I've been waiting for years for Phil to bring you home! He's always so cagey about his boyfriends."
"I... I’m not-" Clint started to deny it.
"Mom!" Coulson interrupted, "We're not... Clint isn't my boyfriend. We work together."
She raised a perfect silver eyebrow, "Really Phillip James Coulson, you shouldn't lie to your mother on her birthday."
"Your birthday is tomorrow," Coulson pointed out dryly.
"Excuses, excuses. Now come inside! I've got some cool drinks ready."
She led them into the house, past more security and biometrics, into the kitchen where there was a large jug of homemade lemonade. Clint pinched himself, nearly overwhelmed by the cosy domesticity. He had trouble with the idea that this was all real, that he was welcome in such a beautiful, loving family. He was amused to see several pictures of Coulson, at varying ages, dressed as Captain America.
They sat down and drank their lemonade and ate some chocolate chip cookies that Clint was fairly certain contained some sort of addictive substance. Coulson's mother, "Please you must call me April", asked intelligent questions about Clint's work and home life, which made Coulson flinch on several occasions. Clint was pretty sure it was against regulations to tell your family about your work with SHIELD but didn't say anything about it. After a while she shooed them upstairs to shower and unpack.
"I've put you both in Phil's old room. But don't worry Phil, I made sure not to touch anything. It's exactly like it was when you left after high school." there was a cheeky glint in her eyes that Clint didn't trust, but he dutifully followed Phil up the stairs into the first bedroom on the right.
He couldn't help but laugh when he walked in. It looked like a museum. On every wall, every spare space on the shelves, even the floor, was Captain America memorabilia. Even Coulson looked overwhelmed.
"I swear," Coulson said, turning to Clint, face aflame "it was not like this when I was in high school."
Clint could hear the laughter from downstairs. He wished that he’d been part of a family that played good-natured pranks on each other and greeted their relatives with hugs at the door. In a way Natasha was quite like a sister, a terrifying sister who threw random projectiles at him to test his alertness instead of embarrassing him in front of his friends. He decided he quite liked that but he certainly wouldn’t tell Natasha that.
"Your Mom is the coolest, Coulson," he said as he looked around the room. He chuckled to himself until he noticed the king sized bed. There wasn't a spare mattress underneath the bed, and Coulson's mother had clearly said that they were both meant to stay in that room.
"Um... Coulson. There's only one bed."
Coulson opened his mouth to reply but someone yelling from downstairs interrupted him.
"Phil! Come bring your boy downstairs! I want to meet him."
"That's Adam. He was a Ranger in the army for a while."
"Are those his dog tags in your desk?"
"Yes.” Coulson’s eyes narrowed “I should have tazed you on a higher setting for that but I didn't want to damage your fine motor skills. Your arms are insured for several hundred thousand dollars."
Clint laughed, but he wasn’t sure if Coulson was joking. He also didn’t really like being reminded that to Coulson he was just an asset.
They made their way downstairs and Clint was surprised to see a tall, well-built man with a large bald patch and at least 6 visible tattoos. It wasn't that he didn't think that was acceptable, it was more that it was in such contrast to Coulson's buttoned up competence.
"Hello Adam," Coulson said warily, "this is Clint. We work together."
Clint extended a hand but was pulled into another hug instead.
"It's lovely to meet you! I was wondering what kind of man it took to settle Phil down. You've got some excellent arms."
"Um... thank you Adam?" Clint said, taken aback, "It's nice to meet you. Are your children not coming?"
Coulson quietly extracted himself from the conversation and went into the lounge room, Clint cursed inwardly. He had no idea how to talk to Adam.
"Nick's getting his things out of the car and Adelaide is trying to get past the security in the back garden. It's a running family competition. No one's managed it yet, not even super-secret-spy Phil."
"Maybe I'll give it a shot sometime."
"Not this trip, we're adjusting it for the party so it's invalid after today. My dad designed the security and Phil upgrades it every once in a while, dad was a security specialist for the government. Unfortunately you’ll have to wait until Christmas to make your attempt, but I’m looking forward to it. According to Phil you’re quite the talented acrobat. It’d be interesting to see how the system handles your flexibility." He pulled a lascivious face and winked
Clint blushed but ignored the implications of the last part, focusing on the first. He felt a jolt of surprise that they'd already decided he would come for Christmas, but he was fairly certain that was due to their misconception that he was Coulson's long-term boyfriend.
"I would love to come for Christmas but-"
Adam cut him off, "Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed. You might want to spend it with your family."
Clint flinched despite his training, "I... I don't have any family. Just Coulson."
He didn't realise how that would sound until he'd said it, he blushed and opened his mouth to take it back but Adam interrupted again.
"Oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"It's fine, really. I'm... fine." he tried to reassure Adam, and he was pretty sure it failed miserably because Adam pulled him into another hug, this one even more bone-crushing, and repeatedly apologised before running off to the kitchen.
Clint sighed but didn’t follow Adam. He was used to people treating him differently because of his upbringing but thought that an ex-army ranger would be pretty comfortable around people who’d lost family.
“Don’t worry about him, Clint. He’s a bit socially challenged,” Coulson’s mother said from the doorway.
“I don’t mind,” he replied, “It was a long time ago. I’ve got Natasha and Coulson now, and that’s more than I had a few years ago.”
“Don’t forget us,” She said gently, “We may have only just met you but Phil’s been talking about you for years. I feel like you’re already part of the family.”
“But I’m not. Not really,” he argued, “I’m not involved with Coulson in the way you seem to think we are. I mean… we’re not together. I have no claim to this family, as much as I might like to.”
“Even if you weren’t with Phil I would welcome you. You’ve saved his life, you live with him and you protect him from harm. If you weren’t his boyfriend you could be his brother like Natasha is his sister. This family isn’t defined by blood.”
“Are you sure?” Clint asked softly, “I’ve done some terrible things. Things you wouldn’t be proud of.”
“Everyone has things they’d rather not remember. Me included,” She replied with a dark laugh, “that doesn’t mean you aren’t worthy of love.”
“I feel like I’m in a rom-com,” Clint muttered as he rubbed his eyes. He was getting a headache from all the emotional talk. He wasn’t good at that sort of communication.
She laughed happily, then. Clint was mortified when, a second later, she ruffled his hair as if he was a small child.
“You really are a good match for Phil. He always fidgeted through our emotional chats. You should have seen him when he came out to his father and I. He was tapping his feet and tugging on his shirt, he could barely look us in the eyes even though we already knew.” She looked wistful, and a little sad. Clint wanted to comfort her somehow, but he wasn’t sure how.
Eventually he put his hand on her shoulder and said very seriously, “Coulson is a good man, April. The best kind of man. You raised him well.”
“He should be proud of himself, and he should let himself be happy. He never thinks he deserves it,” She said, looking pointedly behind Clint. He turned and saw Coulson leaning on the doorjamb smiling.
“Thanks Mom, are you done embarrassing me in front of my colleague?”
Clint’s face fell at that particular phrasing. He was Coulson’s colleague, not his boyfriend or his not blood brother.
“I think so,” She said with a grin and walked back towards the kitchen.
“Thank god,” Coulson said.
“For now,” April called over her shoulder, laughing as Coulson blushed.
For a while neither of them said a word. They both listened to the surprisingly comforting sounds of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen and a low, melodious voice singing. Coulson’s mother was the best. She was embarrassing and witty, protective and kind and absolutely badass.
"I really like your family," Clint blurted out, "They're nice and they treat me well. Only... I think they are under the impression that we're together. Together in a 'committed romantic relationship possibly leading to marriage' kind of together."
Coulson suddenly looked incredibly awkward and seemed to have trouble holding eye contact.
"Yeah, sorry about that," he said eventually, "they're a bit crazy. That's a crazy idea."
Clint laughed awkwardly in return, "Yeah... Crazy."
They stood there in silence for a very long minute before Clint couldn't stand it any longer.
"They’re not crazy, though. Are they?" He could feel his pulse throbbing in his throat, heart pumping far too fast as adrenaline spiked in his system.
Coulson’s head jerked up and he looked at Clint with laser like intensity saying slowly, deliberately “No, I don’t think they are.”
"Shit, Coulson. When did we become a couple?" Clint asked, nervously running a hand through his hair.
"Maybe when I came home from that family thing and you didn't leave. We sort of live together, Barton. We spend all our time together, we steal each others clothes and I'm fairly certain we know more about each other than most married couples."
Clint swallowed and averted his gaze, but a strange fluttering of hope urged him into a full confession "And also... I might be a little in love with you. Since before I accidentally moved in."
"Really?" Coulson asked, Clint had to force himself to look up afraid that he would see anger, instead there was a soft sort of hope.
"Yeah."
"We are both idiots. I... I feel the same, Barton." He started edging, cautious as though Clint would turn tail and run at any sudden movement.
Clint felt giddy, "I think, if we're going to do this, you should probably call me Clint. Are we going to do this?"
"If by 'this' you mean attempt a committed, monogamous relationship involving sex than yes, Clint. We are going to do this," Phil said warmly as his arms wrapped around Clints waist possessively.
Clint was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt and the pounding if his heart spiked with a new heat as he felt the curves and dips of muscle beneath cotton. The word ‘sex’ was loudly repeating itself in his mind like he was 13 again.
"Phil?" April called from the kitchen.
"Yeah Mom, what?" Phil said, a little irritated by the interruption, arms tightening around Clint, hands brushing against the top of Clint’s jeans and lingering there for a moment before sliding down to cup his ass.
"You do realise you've been standing in front of a CCTV camera this whole time? Would you kiss already? It'll look much better in the video I play at your wedding. That was one of the most awkward, adorable things I've seen in my 60 years on this planet. By the way, congratulations and don't worry there aren't any cameras in your bedroom!"
Phil went bright red but Clint was too happy to be embarrassed.
"Natasha is going to laugh so hard at this." He said seriously, though he was smiling.
"Worth it," Phil replied, returning Clint's wide smile. And how could Clint resist kissing him after that?
Clint saw several flashes go off from under his eyelids as they kissed but he couldn't bring himself to care.. He'd get them back at Christmas.
And he'd beat the house security if it was the last thing he did, just wait.
-The End