9. Chapter 9

The damage was done, Phil thought as he pulled Clint’s pants up over him and crawled off the bed. Clint was out cold, as knocked out as any drug could make him, and for that much Phil was grateful because it meant that Clint was out of pain long enough to get some real rest.

Phil stood there by the bed, the taste of Clint Barton on his tongue, wiping his chin of drool and semen. He had done what he swore he wasn’t going to do. But in that moment, when he had asked Clint about his pain and Clint had visibly retreated into it as a defense, Phil had been undone. He had wanted and he had taken and Clint might have agreed to it but that did not make it the right choice.

They were in it, hell or high water.

He went into the bathroom, ripped open his jeans and jacked off perfunctorily into the sink, grinding his teeth as he came, the musky, male scent of Clint still strong around him. Afterwards he washed up, rinsed his face and went back to the bedroom.

Clint was mostly sitting up although he had listed a little. He looked more vulnerable than Phil had ever seen him, which he supposed had something to do with his head being wrapped in gauze as much as his post-coital condition. Phil cursed himself and went for a distraction.

He picked another book off the shelf, some popular fantasy tome that had been out for a few years but that he had not managed to find time to read, and settled into the chair. He figured, given the pain involved, Clint would not stay asleep for long.

“Hey,” Clint said, startling Phil out of his book. He looked at his watch; it had been nearly two hours, which was more than he hoped for. “Phil?”

“Sorry, yes, I’m here.”

“Okay. Good.” Clint sounded firm and certain, although is movements were small and stuttered, as if he would be running out the door if he could see.

“Time for you meds. Can you unwrap the bandaging yourself?”

Clint pulled himself up into a fully seated position carefully then nodded. He unwrapped the blindfold and placed the bandages on the table next to him without pausing or feeling around. Phil watched carefully, and it hit him that even blind, Clint remembered distances perfectly. His aim was completely unaffected. Shaking his head, wondering what it would be like to be that gifted at anything, Phil got up and grabbed the eye drops.

He stood next to the bed, trying to telegraph his moves with sound. Clint seemed to gravitate towards him naturally, scooting over to the edge of the bed. His eyes looked normal, completely unaffected, except for the way they were unfocussed and moving around without any context to Clint’s environment. He turned his head towards Phil but his eyes swayed off to one side, not in the manner of eyes seeing movement but because they had nothing to focus on. It was eerie and disturbing for Phil to see Clint as a blind man, but he reminded himself of Clint’s moves only seconds earlier, sure and aware as he put his bandages on the side table. Clint was the same person, with the same skills and talents he always had, and Phil admonished himself to remember that.

Phil used one hand to tip Clint’s head back. Clint was pliant, following Phil’s lead without question, putting himself completely into Phil’s hands literally and figuratively. He gently held one eyelid open and then the other as he applied the eye drops. Clint blinked a lot when Phil stepped back, releasing him.

“Are we doing this?” Clint asked, still blinking, his hands twitching with the obvious need to rub his eyes. Phil grabbed a tissue and dabbed at Clint’s eyes cautiously, catching the overflow as Clint’s eyes watered up.

“We don’t have to,” Phil said calmly, leaving Clint an easy opt-out.

“It’s…bad timing.” Clint hedged.

“Isn’t it always?” Phil moved closer, holding Clint’s face in his hands. “We can do this, Clint, but I’ve held back for a reason. You never showed much interest and we work together. I never judged it a good time to make a move.”

Clint laughed, his eyes dancing wildly around. “I’ve wanted you for so fucking long. You were dating someone else. I’m not the kind of dick who would make a move on a happy man, okay?”

“So do you want this?” Phil rubbed his thumbs over Clint’s cheeks.

Clint laughed again, although this time it was a caustic sound. “Fuck, I’m on my way out, okay? You want to take up a lame has-been assassin? Sure, why the hell not.”

Phil decided not to answer that, leaning over to kiss Clint instead, keeping his face in his hands. It was their first kiss and the whole thing was ill advised but Phil was not a coward and neither was he going to humor Clint’s insecurities. He put everything he had into the kiss, pressing their lips together hard but not violently, gently smoothing his tongue over Clint’s barely parted lips until Clint opened for him and let Phil ravish his mouth as best he could, given the awkward angle and his own concerns about the pain he knew Clint was still in. Which meant less ravishing and more questioning, nibbling softly with teeth and then giving Clint a long, wet kiss that promised more.

He pulled back and instinctively focused on Clint’s eyes, which were directed at nothing and dilated. It threw Phil off a little but he did not move back or make a sound. Clint was panting. Phil did not let go of his face, holding it as gently and firmly as he could to keep Clint from trying to bolt.

“Agent, report.”

“I love you.” Clint sounded panicked, reaching up to grab at Phil, pulling to drag him down. Phil let him, climbing into the bed next to him.

“I just want to know if you’re in pain.”

“I’m in pain. My eyes feel like they have been replaced with glass shards and sand, okay? I’m in pain. Just don’t…don’t do that. Not when were like this, don’t back off. Fuck.” Clint breathed heavily, rolling to push his whole body into Phil’s.

“I’m not. I won’t. Calm down.” Phil hugged him tightly to his chest.

Clint breathed into his ear, making him shudder. “Fuck me? I want you to fuck me. I want you. I need this.”

“I’m not letting you do any more damage to your eyes.”

“My eyes are fucked already. Who cares? Fuck me, damnit.”

Phil pushed him back. “We have plenty of time. We don’t have to do this now. We can wait.”

Clint stopped, tipping his head so his forehead rested on Phil’s shoulder. “So you say.”

“Stop predicting the future, Barton.” Phil took a deep breath. “Unless this is just your way of blowing off steam.”

Clint was quiet for a long time, but Phil was used to waiting him out.

“Sort of, yeah, I guess. I’m blowing off steam but I want…I want you. If you let me. If I don’t drag you down. Fuck. Sorry.” One hand made an aborted move for his eyes, then dropped and clutched at Phil’s sweater instead.

“You said that before. Why are you sorry?” Phil adjusted himself so that were lounging together, Clint sprawled over him, curled up into Phil’s space, his head on Phil’s chest.

“Jesus, you have to ask? I’m just a sharp shooter. What the hell is SHEILD going to do with me if I can’t see? For fuck’s sake, what are you going to do with me? I’m on borrowed time, and we both know it. I’ll take what you give.” His voice was angry, his words hitting Phil’s chest like the arrows Clint shot so often.

Phil stalled, realizing for the first time how far down Clint’s fear ran. Phil ran his hands up and down Clint’s back. He took a deep breath, letting Clint feel his chest expanding and contracting, before talking.

“I need you to do something for me.”

Clint tensed up, his eyes still closed, but he nodded. “Sure.”

“This is important.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I need you to tell me how you really feel about this. About us.”

If possible, Clint’s body tightened up even further, but he did not move or let go of Phil. “Not sure what you mean, Sir.”

Phil cringed inwardly at the retreat to honorifics. Sighing, he sifted his fingers through Clint’s hair. “I’m not blowing off steam. I’ve wanted this for a quite a while. I’m what they call a serial monogamist; it may not last forever but while it does, I give it everything I have. I won’t make that commitment to someone who isn’t willing to give that much back to me.”

Clint was shaking, but silent, pressing his face into Phil’s chest. He wasn’t crying, and Phil guessed the shaking was a result of Clint trying to stay in control.

“What you have to do for me is tell me how you feel about me. I need that from you, because I’m in love with you, and if you don’t feel that way then I need to know now. I have too much of myself invested in you to walk away from this easily, Clint, whether you’re blind or not. You might think fucking tonight will give you what you need, but I’d rather make love to you for the rest of my life, if I can—” Phil was cut short by a brutal kiss, Clint whimpering into his mouth. The kiss was searing and raw, pure need and hunger, Clint pushing Phil down into the mattress, his hands heavy as he ran them over Phil’s shoulders and arms. Phil gasped for air and in the break pushed Clint back. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Fuck, you’re serious.”

Phil closed his eyes, knowing that Clint could not see the reaction even if he was trying. “Yes. I am. It’s easy to say something in the heat of the moment but I have to know, Clint.”

Clint was still shuddering a little, coming back from the edge of where ever his emotional cliff dropped off. He nodded, his forehead touching Phil’s, then moved his head so his lips were lightly pressed to Phil’s ear. “I love you?”

“Is that a question?” Phil smiled anyway.

“I don’t know why you’d stay. Whether I can see or not, I’m just a problem for you. Blind…I’m useless. But I love you, okay?” Clint whispered earnestly, his breathing fast and humid.

“I’d stay because I love you.” Phil moved a little, figuring he had the information he needed, and kissed Clint softly, with all the care he had, gentling Clint down with long, slow caresses until they both dozed off on top of the sheets with the lights on.