Chapter Text
“So you decided I’m not some weird stalker then?”
“I haven’t decided anything yet...but I’d...like the chance to try.”
Clint holds out his free hand, "Hi. I'm Clint, thedogblogger."
Phil puts the tray down and takes Clint's hand in his own. "Phil, and I guess I'm The Dog Soldier."
The two men stare at each other for a few moments, hands remaining clasped in greeting, eyes conveying that which words cannot. There’s no mistaking the attraction between them; a stranger passing by would sense it.
Contact like this is unusual for Phil. He doesn’t like to be touched - painful associations - but several weeks ago when Clint held out his hand and Phil accepted it (albeit with a brief hesitation) he found he didn’t mind it so much. At least not with the man standing before him.
What’s even more unusual is, this time he's removed his glove. He doesn't do that with people he doesn't know or trust. Ever. He can feel the warmth of Clint's skin, the callouses on his palm (interesting) and the broad silver rings on two of his fingers (his rather strong and somewhat sexy fingers Phil notes with more than his interest piqued). The contact gives him a tingle of anticipation that makes his heart beat a touch quicker. The corner of his mouth turns up in a little half-smile. He likes it. Very much.
His smile widens at the grin on Clint’s face that he’s trying so hard to hide. That gorgeous crooked grin and his apparent shyness probably shouldn’t be as captivating as they are...but dear god they are! He’s never experienced anything like it before; the fluttering in his stomach, the dryness of his mouth and the inability to keep the stupid smirk off his face. Fuck! He feels like a love-sick teenager….probably. When Phil was sixteen he was too busy being an asshole. A joint smoking, car-jacking, know-it-all asshole but he’s pretty sure this is what a love-sick teenager would feel like. And he’s undeniably hooked.
It suddenly strikes him he’s been holding onto Clint’s hand far longer than is appropriate and with the slightest squeeze, lets it go. Now he feels like some sort of creeper and doubtless Clint thinks that too. A burst of insecurity hits him and he can feel heat spreading across his cheeks making the tips of his ears glow. He ducks his head, not sure what to say.
Neither is Clint. Much like Phil, he can’t keep himself from smiling. He’d more or less given up all hope of seeing adorable park guy again believing whatever had spooked him all those weeks ago would have kept them from meeting up again. He’s glad he’s been proved wrong though. He’s never been happier than when he looked up to see the ex-Army Ranger standing across from him all blue eyes, sexy dimples and stubble. Damn, he’s gorgeous!
He feels a little pressure on his hand and suddenly it’s been released. Shit! How long was he holding on to it? Mr Adorbs...no Phil...must think he’s a weirdo. Truth is he doesn't know why but it’s comforting having his hand in Phil’s. Reassuring even. Like coming home. How is that even possible?
Suddenly shy at the thought, Clint takes another sip of his coffee and looks at Phil over the rim of the cup. The other man’s head is down as he stares at his own coffee. That faint blush covers his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Fuck but that’s seriously hot!
“Thanks for the coffee. You called it right.”
Without looking up Phil smiles and nods. He takes a mouthful of his own.
The silence between them isn’t awkward as such but Clint still feels the need to fill it. He wants Phil to know he is capable of intelligent conversation as well as the inane drivel he spouted the first time they met. He sticks with coffee as his subject matter. Should be safe enough.
“In fact, my taste in coffee is kinda the same as my taste in men...strong, smooth and as hot as possible. I kinda like that combo in my mouth.”
Phil chokes and nearly spits out his drink.
“The coffee! In my mouth...not the… The coffee I mean!” The fuck?! Horrified, he snaps his mouth shut and takes another gulp giving himself a mental facepalm. Seriously! How could he do so badly with coffee? It’s coffee for fuck sake and he’s turned it into some sort of weird sex act. Completely mortified Clint closes his eyes, drops his head forward and sighs heavily.
Phil recovers first and thankfully, doesn’t appear to be offended - probably more amused than anything. He tilts his head and looks at Clint with raised eyebrows. “Pity. I was going to take it as a compliment.”
Clint flicks his eyes up to glance at him, searching for any signs of ridicule. Seeing nothing but a mischievous glint in Phil’s eye, he responds optimistically, “Yeah? Good. I’d’ve meant it that way.” Under his breath he mutters, “With you anyway. Sure as shit not how I’d describe myself.”
But apparently, he’s not quiet enough. The other man smirks over his own cup at Clint, deepening the crinkles in the corner of his eyes and tells him, “I don’t know...two out of three isn’t bad. You could try a little harder at being hot, I guess. You’ve obviously nailed smooth.”
Clint snorts out a laugh. Maybe he should let Phil take over talking for now seeing his mouth isn’t trying to sabotage their relationship before it even gets started; unlike his own apparently.
The ice having been well and truly broken by Clint’s stupendous faux pas, the older man moves over beside the photographer on his hearing side, to lean against the rail of the bridge, close enough for Clint to get a faint wiff of his scent. And because that's all he needs, it pushes his libido into overdrive. Wonderful! Not only does the man look gorgeous, he smells it too. At least he can tell Natasha he had an excuse for babbling shit. Looks good, smells good, probably tastes good. He’d love to find out by licking every damn inch of him. Aww brain-dick no!
“So you wanted to know about Agent? For thedoggblogger.”
Phil’s soft, husky voice does very little to pull him from his lustful thoughts but at least the topic of conversation focusses Clint’s attention on the here and now which is probably just as well.
Giving himself a mental shake, Clint responds, “You’re okay with that?”
Phil hesitates for a moment, well aware of how he reacted when Clint asked the day they first met. He's had time to think since then. A lot of time. He quirks the corner of his mouth up in a smile and nods. “Yeah. I am. What do you want to know?”
Clint thinks for a moment. There’s so much he wants to know but the most pressing is how a dog who’s deaf can make it through what he imagines is fairly tough training to become a service dog. Being hard of hearing himself, he thinks it’s pretty damn cool but he doesn’t understand how that would work. Phil’s answer surprises him.
“She wasn’t born deaf. You can imagine, the breeding program for service dogs is really strict with a lot of screening and testing before the actual training even begins. And the training itself is rigorous.”
He takes another sip of her coffee and reaches down to scratch the back of Agent’s ear. In return she grumbles and leans against him getting into a better position. Clint looks at them with amusement as Phil continues.
“She was almost two years old when we were introduced and I went through a three week training course with her. We graduated as a team and she became certified as my service dog.”
“Three weeks? Shit!”
Phil grins. “I shit you not. Very in-depth. We’d been together for about five months when she got sick.” The grin drops from his face replaced with sad eyes and creases in his brow as he frowns in remembrance and he hesitates for a moment before taking up the story again.
“It turns out she’d picked up some sort of virus. We don’t know where from or how but it was touch and go with her for while. Between the veterinarian and I she was nursed round the clock for just over a week and, of course, my girl’s a fighter so she pulled through. But...her hearing was affected. Actually it left her almost completely deaf. The organisation who trained her was going to pull her from the programme.”
Phil feels Clint go tense beside him at what could have been a terrible injustice for the pair. Phil shrugs and smiles bashfully.
“I kinda kicked off. They had every right to take her back, rehome her with someone else, someone who didn’t need assistance. But...we’d bonded. There was no way I was giving her up. Not without a fight.”
Clint can hear the fierce determination in Phil’s voice as he recalls it. He can imagine the ex-Army Ranger in action and suppresses a shiver at the thought of it. He must have been pretty fucking formidable in his day. Probably still is if the circumstances are called for.
“Eventually, after a hell of a lot of persuasion and cajoling by me, my ex-CO and my counsellor, they gave me three months to prove she could still do her job. Fortunately her trainer was on our side and she did everything she could to help. According to her when Agent and I met it was love at first sight.” He shrugs. “What can I say, she's a romantic.”
Phil smiles gently as he remembers Audrey's exact words to the panel as she threw her support behind them.
“The moment they were introduced Agent pressed her shoulder against Phil’s leg and didn't move while I talked about what to expect over the next few weeks. Phil’s hand dropped to the top of her head and he rubbed behind her ear, her favourite spot, as if he'd done it a hundred times before. I was delighted but I kept it to myself. This was an initial meeting, early days yet, but right then I had knew that these two were going to be a great pairing. I wasn't wrong. I think if we were to break that bond now, it would cause a lot of harm…to both of them.”
“Audrey devised a programme for us. Donated a week of her time at the start. Constantly checked on us by phone and the occasional weekend visit. Thanks to her, we’ve been together nearly three years.”
He looks down at Agent fondly and she gives him the dog version of a grin; mouth open with her tongue hanging out the side. Her bright brown eyes have never left him. He bops her gently on her nose which makes the dog wag her tail.
“I really don’t know where I’d be without her. She saved my life.”
It’s said simply but with such love it leaves Clint speechless. He’d expected an interesting backstory but this? This was way beyond anything he could imagine. He could probably put together a book about Phil and Agent alone. Not that he thought the ex-Army Ranger would ever agree to it but...it did give him some ideas for the new thedogblogger book.
Still with thoughts of Phil and Agent in his head, he realises Phil has spoken again but he’s totally missed what he’s said. Way to show you’re interested.
“Sorry, Phil. I...you…”
Phil winces and shifts uncomfortably against the rail. “Too mushy? Sorry. Busted. I tend to get carried away where Agent’s concerned.”
“No. No. It was...nice?” As soon as he says it, he knows it's totally the wrong word and he cringes inwardly, never more glad he’s a photographer and not a writer, but for the life of him Clint can’t think of anything else. It was as sad as fuck that the two of them were nearly separated so early on but it was also incredibly touching the way that people had cared enough to make sure they stayed together. Phil himself must have put everything into it to make it work.
He shrugs apologetically. “Wrong word, I know. It’s just...you kinda floored me. I wasn’t expecting that. You’re a pretty surprising guy.”
“Pretty stubborn guy,” Phil corrects with a quick flash of that little half-smile Clint’s coming to recognise as a self-conscious gesture. Not wanting the ex-Army Ranger to feel any more uncomfortable, Clint changes the subject slightly.
“So the cues you use with her, is that ASL?”
“Good catch. A mix of ASL and hand signals from my time in the Rangers.”
Clint scrunches up his face. “Fuck! That must have taken ages.”
Phil almost misses what Clint says; he looks so damn adorable with his nose all wrinkled up like that. Fortunately, the higher functioning part of his brain kicks in and saves his ass.
“Ehhh...no. No. Not as long as you might think. Truth is, Agent’s a really intelligent dog - plenty of perseverance in short bursts, she soon picked it up. The worst bit was getting her used to being deaf. At first when she barked, it used to freak her out. She couldn’t understand why she couldn’t hear herself. She would just stand and bark constantly. Then she’d look at me as if I could do something to fix it.”
He pauses for a moment remembering how heartbreaking it had been to watch then shakes his head to clear it of the memory before continuing with a lighter tone.
“It took a lot of reassurance and patience to train her out of it. But we got there. And now she’s back to being her pain-in-the-ass self.”
He bops her on the nose again. She air chomps at him and nudges his thigh with her head which makes Clint chuckle - a deep, throaty sound that Phil’s delighted by. He looks at Clint and figures he could stand hearing that laugh again...and often. He also figures he better speak before he does something stupid, like kiss the photographer.
“Tell me about thedogblogger, Clint. How long have you been running it? How did it start?”
The younger man tries not to shiver at the way his name sounds on Phil’s lips. He also tries not to imagine him saying it under different circumstances...with Phil’s cock buried deep inside his ass just as he comes...y’know, as a for instance. Jeez Clint! Get a fucking grip.
He falters initially, for obvious reasons, but after a few seconds his brain comes (heh heh) back online again and his enthusiasm soon kicks in as he begins to tell Phil about the blog.
“Ehhh...sure. I guess the site’s being going about the same length of time you and Agent have been together. A friend asked me if I would do some publicity shots for a dog rehoming centre he was setting up.”
He looks at Phil with his own sad puppy dog eyes which makes the older man swallow thickly. It’s a look that could make the ex-Army Ranger say yes to whatever Clint was asking. Shit! What was he saying? Phil forces himself to listen instead of having inappropriate but not unwelcome thoughts concerning the other man.
“I’ve no idea how he does it every day. All those dogs abandoned or handed in or...Anyway, it made me think of when I used to take pictures of war zones and disaster areas, yeah? I had to shut down all my emotions and go for it take the best images I could. But these are dogs. They move around all the time trying to lick you, wagging their tails, barking, sniffing each other’s asses - y’know?”
Phil lets out a burst of laughter that sounds amazing to the photographer. God! It’s such a rich sound that resonates through the air and does magical things to Clint's cock. He hesitates for a second before turning the filthy thought filled smirk into a genuine smile and continues.
“So to get some practice I started taking photos of people’s dogs in that park and the streets. The first coupla times I did it the results were shit. Blurs, half-faces, butts, drool and nose prints on the lense...for a professional I really sucked at it. But I’m stubborn, like someone else I’ve been told recently, and I kept trying till I worked out if I startled them with a squeaky ball, or made kissy sounds, or generally acted like a complete dick it usually shocks them into staying still long enough for me to get the shot.”
Phil's giggling, honest-to-god giggling and Clint loves it. Fucking loves it. As much as he enjoys an appreciative audience he's never had such a sweet reaction to one of his stories. Sure, his friends all piss themselves laughing at his fucked up shenanigans but Phil's is…almost innocent in its joy. Once Phil sobers up, and sadly he does, Clint finishes the story.
“So then I ran the photos past Tasha and Katie, coupla friends with a good eye, and they both said I should set up a blog - that people would maybe get a kick outta seeing photos of cute dogs especially if they had like a background story. So for a bit of fun I did. I asked people for anecdotes about their pets and got their permission to post the photos. But I tell ya, it totally surprised me. What started out as a joke turned into thedogblogger, getting hundreds of hits a day and the photos getting likes and comments and being reblogged all over the world. It’s kinda awesome, y’know?”
Phil can see the excitement in the photographer’s face and body language - the sparkle in his eyes, the slight blush of his cheeks, the way he uses his hands as he describes things, even when he’s holding the coffee cup. It’s fascinating and he finds he really can’t get enough of it. Nor of those hands apparently. However that little nugget of information he keeps to himself for just a little longer. Instead he says gently, “You really love it.”
Clint ducks his head and looks up at the other man to make sure Phil’s not taking the piss. He’s not. He can see it in his eyes; warm behind his glasses, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deep and sexy.
“I really do,” he replies with a soft smile playing on his lips. Suddenly embarrassed he looks down at the ground again.
They stand quietly together for a few moments but it’s actually a comfortable silence rather than an awkward one as might be expected.
When Clint finally gazes back up, Phil’s looking at him as though he wants to ask him something. He drops his eyes to Phil’s mouth and the other man takes it as a cue to speak. It’s then Clint realises he’s been doing that since they first met. With being hard of hearing the photographer often picks up visual rather than verbal cues, even wearing his aid, and tends to look at people’s faces or mouths. Some find it off-putting but several times Phil’s waited until Clint was looking at him before speaking. He’s touched by the courtesy.
“May I?” he asks reaching out his hand towards Clint’s but not actually making contact with him.
Puzzled, he holds out his left hand which Phil takes and carefully turns it palm up. He holds his own right hand out the same way. Clint sees similar calluses to his but with subtle differences. He’s still not sure what the ex-Army Ranger’s getting at so he searches Phil’s face for an answer.
“I was curious.” He drops his eyes to Clint’s hand and runs the tip of his middle finger lightly across the ridges of thickened skin causing the photographer to shiver. Phil flicks gaze to Clint’s face and gives him an apologetic smile. He hopes he's not crossed a boundary with his touch. He hasn't. In fact, it's much to the younger man’s regret, that Phil lets his hand fall away.
“I felt these when we shook hands. You don’t get calluses like that from taking photos.”
He doesn’t ask Clint how he came by them. Just leaves the observation open. If he wants to tell him, fine. If not that’s okay too. His eyes return to Clint who gives a little smirk.
“I’ve a feeling not much gets past you if you don’t want it to. I...do archery in my spare time.”
Phil was prepared for a number of answers but that didn't even make the top five. It does however explain the impressively muscled arms and shoulders. And those strong, sexy fingers.
“Now who's a pretty surprising guy?” he asks. There's a warmth to his voice that gives Clint hope that perhaps their meeting today won't be the last.
Phil’s cell phone picks that moment to burst into life with Marvin Gaye’s ‘Sexual Healing’. He freezes and just stares at Clint who raises an eyebrow in return. Slowly and without breaking his gaze from the photographer, he reaches into his pocket to remove the offending item and slides it to ignore.
“My friends are assholes,” Phil deadpans shoving it back into his jacket, blushing furiously.
Clint bites his bottom lip trying not to laugh. He nods. It’s the kinda shit Tasha would pull.
“You don’t like Motown?” he asks innocently.
“On the contrary. It holds a special place in my vinyl collection,” Phil tells him with a slight smile playing on his lips.
“Vinyl huh?”
And Phil feels like such a grandad! Of course Clint will have CDs or, more likely, downloads his music. Although he feels slightly better when Clint adds, “A purist? I should have known.”
Phil’s phone starts again. This time it’s ‘Let’s Get It On’ also by the Motown legend. He closes his eyes and sighs. Fuck Hill and Fury and the horses they rode in on. Every visit for the last few weeks they've been changing his ring tones whether he hides his cell phone or not so he stopped bothering. Last week had been a Barry White love fest. He slides it to ignore a second time.
“Did I say my friends are assholes?”
“You may have mentioned it.”
“Clint…?” Phil hesitates. He looks away and frowns, clenching his jaw hard enough to make the muscle bunch up.
It's obvious to Clint that he's trying to come to some sort of decision and his heart thumps in his chest with anticipation. Again, he gets a little thrill with the way Phil says his name but the pause worries him. He desperately hopes Phil won't bolt like the last time. He waits, unwilling to rush the older man; he learned his lesson first time around.
Decision apparently made, Phil swallows and returns his gaze to Clint. His expression shows a complicated array of emotions; worry, hope, fear, determination and maybe a few others that Clint can’t quite distinguish.
“I've…enjoyed this morning. Would you...would you like to do this again?”
The photographer lets go of the breath he didn't realise he was holding and grins.
“Thank fuck! Yeah, Phil. I'd really like that.”
It's wonderful the way the ex-Army Ranger visibility relaxes at Clint's response. And maybe a little sad too. Like he's expecting the worst possible news but he's been given a lifeline when Clint says yes. It makes the younger man want to reach out and kiss him until neither of them can breathe. So he's actually pretty relieved when Marvin interrupts them once again.
Phil rolls his eyes.
“And pretty persistent.”
Clint holds out his hand for the phone. Intrigued, Phil hands it over noting the Jolly Roger image (complete with eyepatch) as he does so.
The photographer raises his eyebrow to ask for the caller’s id - he doesn't think the person's name is really Captain Eyepatch, Space Pirate - and slides it to accept keeping his gaze on the other man.
“Hey, Nick. Sorry Phil can't come to the phone right now. He's busy working out where he's taking me on our first date. I’ll be sure to tell him you called though. You wanna leave a message?”
He watches to see if he's crossed a line but going by the huge grin that's threatening to split Phil's face in two, he thinks perhaps he's said the right thing. It's further confirmed by the deep guffaw that comes from the phone. Yeah, Phil's friends are assholes but thankfully they seem to have a sense of humour.