7. Chapter 7

Steve did not fall in love with Phil, even though his "partner" was a cheating bastard and Phil deserved someone with a sense of loyalty and who did not make out with his damn mistress in the hospital hallways.

He stood in shock, watching Clint drag Natasha closer, their kiss deep and dirty. She actually had the nerve to be holding a bouquet probably meant for Phil as she pressed up against Clint, pushing him into the wall as if she was the one with thirty pounds on him.

It had been over three days since Steve had left, and in a pique of guilt he had brought a portable chess board, hoping that maybe since Phil was off the heavy drugs he would be up for a game. He thought it might be a good way to put them back on a congenial, professional footing…at least for his sake, if not Phil's. Instead, he found himself standing in the hallway, watching his best friend cheat on Phil with, of all people, Natasha. Steve literally did not know what to do, other than drift into the shadows. Stealth was never his strong suit but he knew they had not seen him. Clint was facing his way but had been occupied when Steve walked up, and had his eyes closed.

Then Steve wondered if there was some kind of brain altering drug attack going on, because what they were doing—to each other, and to Phil—seemed impossible.

"Thanks, Nat." Clint pulled back, whispering and his eyes still closed, although Steve's serum-enhanced hearing picked up his words just fine.

"You need to calm down, Clint. You're not losing him."

"I know, I know! Just, God, I hate seeing him like this, but what am I supposed to do? Tell him no, man, can't help you pee today." Clint laughed caustically.

"Where the fuck is Rogers, anyway?"

"Hiding like a coward. Phil's injury hit him hard and—" He opened his eyes and looked straight at Steve. "Shit. He's standing right behind you."

Natasha, never visibly startled, slowly turned around. Steve knew he was caught out so he pulled his shoulders back and stepped towards them.

"Barton. Romanov." He nodded, knowing his anger was coming off of him in waves.

"Been days since you came by, Cap." Clint snarled, his hands still tight around Natasha's waist.

"Honestly I thought you had everything in hand." He dropped his eyes to Clint's hands, then back up.

"Not really my place, is it?" Clint pushed Natasha aside. Steve was surprised that she let him. "But you? You just ran away when he got out of surgery."

Steve opened his mouth, but Clint kept talking. "And Phil, he doesn't like strangers helping him, hates even the nurses touching him, so I'm here helping him out just like after he got stabbed and you waltz off like you don't even care which is a damn lie you asshole you need to man up and—" Clint's tirade snapped short when Steve picked him up by his arms and slammed him against the wall.

"Don't pin this on me, Barton." Steve snarled, his hands tight enough to leave deep bruises.

"Your no-homo freakout was breaking his heart before, and now you're just an asshole who used to be his friend!" Clint kicked him hard in the shins, but Steve had been through worse than that and shook him like a dog until he stopped.

Steve didn't even understand half of what Clint was saying, but it was enough. "You cheat on him with our team mate and you're tying to make me into the bad guy?"

"Let him down, Cap," Natasha snapped, her words cold and precise.

Glad to oblige, Steve spun then threw Clint down the hallway. Clint managed to save himself by rolling into it, but the nurses all scattered with shrieks and yelling. Clint stood up up and faced off with Steve, who was ready for the fight, but Natasha stepped between them. Steve had kind of lost track of what they were all fighting about, except for the fact that he wanted to hurt Clint for betraying Phil.

Phil's voice came from the door to his room. "Don't make me bring out a ruler to see who has the biggest dick."

Steve stood up straight and looked over at him. Phil was sallow-eyed and unsteady, one hand holding his IV drip stand with a white-knuckled grip.

"You know what? You two work this shit out. I'm done." Clint simply turned and walked off.

"Get your house in order, Rogers," Natasha snapped before following Clint to the elevator.

Steve looked over at Phil. "I don't really know what the hell just happened."

Phil tilted a little, alarming Steve enough to get him to move. He came over and wrapped an arm around Phil's waist and started shuffling them back into the hospital room. "You shouldn't have gotten out of bed."

"You two were about ready to wreck the whole floor. The paperwork alone would have put me back in ICU."

Steve couldn't help but laugh as they slowly crept up on the bed. When Steve had settled Phil on the edge, making sure he was not going to topple over, he knelt down in front of him. "We need to talk."

Phil took a deep, steadying breath before looking at him. "Do we?"

"About Clint? Yeah. I think so."

"Clint?" Phil blinked and shook his head. "Does this have something to do with the brawl you two had going on?"

Steve looked up at him, worrying his lower lip. "I saw…I saw Clint kissing Natasha. And maybe it's not my place to tell you but I can't sit by and let him treat you like that." He rested one hand on Phil's knee, hoping it came across as brotherly and supportive.

Phil squinted at him. "Treat me like what?"

"Uh. Well, you know, cheating on you. Your, uhm, your 'partnership.' He was being unfaithful, Phil." Steve tried to explain as gently as he could.

Phil opened his mouth and then closed it. He finally let go of the IV stand, putting his hands on the bed as if to push himself backwards. "Help me lie down before I fall on my face," he said, his voice tight. Steve knew how to take an order so he lifted Phil's legs onto the bed, then resettled him so he was sitting up.

"Okay. Sit down, Agent Rogers," Phil pointed at a chair. His hand shook a little, betraying the exertion, but the formal address and tone of voice told Steve that it was not a good time to point that out. He pulled the chair over and sat down.

"Now pay attention: Clint and I are not in a romantic relationship. He is a free agent, although as you discovered he and Natasha have an ongoing 'thing' that, honestly, just gives me a headache when I try to understand it. I am single. I am gay, but I don't date. I'm perpetually married to my job. I don't give a damn who Clint kisses in the hallway."

It was Steve's turn to open his mouth and close it again, buying his brain time to adjust. "He moved in with you."

"While I was recovering he stayed with me. I have a very short list of people I will let nurse me outside of a hospital, and his list of people he will let touch me is even shorter."

"That sounds pretty possessive for someone you aren't involved with."

"Steve, you're an orphan too, you should understand this about Clint: he is incredibly possessive of his chosen family."

"Oh."

Phil let him dwell on all that information. It took him a few moments to digest it, after accepting for so long that Clint and Phil were together. Phil melted back into the mattress, looking halfway to sleep, but then spoke up again. "The real question is why you care so much about the idea of Clint 'cheating' on me."

Steve looked down at his hands. "I know I shouldn't."

Phil sighed and closed his eyes. "I think that's the main problem."

"I'm sorry." It was a pat reply, but Steve meant it. He felt guilty both for prying and for making assumptions.

"That's something you will have to tell Clint, I think." Phil leaned back completely, closing his eyes.

"Yeah." Steve rubbed his face, wondering how anyone could think he was the leader of the Avengers when he was still so good at spectacularly screwing up his personal relationships. The super solider serum had not managed to fix that, at all.

"I know this is uncomfortable for you. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. I'm gay, and that's just how things are. A lot has changed but I'm never sure how much I can expect you to accept."

"I…what?" Steve stared at him.

Phil lifted his head. "That's the problem, isn't it? It bothers you that I'm gay."

"No."

Phil stared back. "Then I'm not sure I understand."

"I thought Clint was cheating on you. Doesn't matter if he's a guy or a gal, that's wrong. You deserve better than that."

Phil blinked a few times before answering. "I do?"

Steve flung his hands out. "Of course you do!"

"I mean, I agree with you, I just didn't think you'd…uh, care. About me." Phil's ears went pink.

Steve opened his mouth then closed it. He did care. He cared far too much, in fact, in the same way he had cared too much about Bucky—the way the skin around Bucky's eyes crinkled up when he laughed, and the way Bucky dated cheap girls who weren't worth his time and treated him like a dog. Steve cared in all the ways he wasn't supposed to, thinking too much of how soft lips might feel and the how the scrape of a cheek with scruff on it might burn his skin. He cared about the long motorbike rides that Phil joined in on and he cared more about what Phil thought of him than anyone else on the team.

Phil cleared his throat. "I'm flattered that you care, Steve. We're friends, and I value that."

"Clint said I need to get over my 'no-homo freakout'." Steve leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees.

Phil groaned. "He's on new recruit training exercises forever. Ohmygod." Phil covered his eyes with one hand. "The man has the tact of a skunk."

Steve had to laugh a little at that. "Yeah but it's not really a surprise, is it?"

"No." Phil sighed, looking at Steve with a wry expression.

"He's wrong, anyway. I mean if 'no-homo freakout' means what I think it means?"

"Er, usually it means that a straight guy is trying to prove he's not gay. Or conversely that a closeted gay man is trying to prove he's not gay. It's rather contextual." Phil wavered a hand to imply either/or.

"Ah. Then he's wrong, I'm not trying to prove I'm not gay."

Phil snorted a laugh, looked pained by it and shuffled around in the bed for a moment. "I think only very fringe elements of your fandom believe you could be gay, Steve. Your heterosexuality is not exactly something Captain America has to prove."

"That's the problem, I think. Back in my day if a guy swung that way he was just kind of weird. I mean people thought it was wrong, but it wasn't what it is today. A guy could help a guy out and not take it too seriously. I mean, if he had a girl back home, everyone knew it was just a way to let off steam. I never figured it was a big deal, it was fun with the right guy."

Phil sat on the bed with his mouth open, a blush blooming over his face. "You. Are you? Did you just come out to me?" He looked thunderstruck.

Steve lifted a shoulder. "I guess?" He rubbed his hands together, his nerves finally getting the best of him. "It's not something guys are supposed to talk about, is it? Or was it? I don't know. It's just a thing."

"A. Thing. With guys. A thing with guys."

"Uh, you okay?" Steve looked him over, because Phil was looking flush and wild-eyed.

"I think you should leave."

"What?" Steve stood up, his heart sinking. He had not thought Phil would throw him out for admitting that much, but he wondered what else he could have expected.

"I'm having a totally inappropriate reaction to this situation, it would be best if you just go away. I'm going to blame the pain medicine, okay?" Phil nodded a little too quickly. "Come back tomorrow when I'm…when I'm feeling better."

"You're mad at me?" Steve shook his head, refusing to leave.

"What? No. Uh, no, that's not the inappropriate reaction I'm having. I'm not mad at you I promise. Could you go? Please?"

Steve's senses were as enhanced as the rest of him. His hearing, his eyesight, and his sense of smell were all hyper-aware of everything around him. He had learned to tune out most of it because it was overwhelming, but he had also learned how to dial in to specific targets when necessary. He looked and listened and smelled. Phil was curled up into himself, his knees bent and his heart thundering, and Steve placed the smell: musk. Phil was turned on, sweating sex out of his pores.

Steve was many things, but 'coward' was not on the list. He stepped up to the bed. Phil startled, trying to shift backwards, but Steve reached out and wrapped his hand around the back of Phil's neck to pull him forward, just a little, and kissed him.

Steve swallowed the gasp of surprise that met him. Given his own lackluster experience in the area, he thought he was doing pretty well at it, mashing their lips together wetly. He remembered "practicing" with Bucky once, and his first/last kiss with Peggy, and he thought this one was ranking right up there.

Then Phil reached up and tilted Steve's head by moving his chin and pressing gentle fingers against his cheek, and Steve's knees went weak. Phil owned the kiss, nudging at him a little to soften it before parting his mouth and slicking Steve's lips with his tongue. Steve fell forward, catching himself with his hands on the bed as Phil tugged him down. Phil leaned back onto the mattress and the resulting angle was not the most comfortable for Steve but he really, truly did not care as Phil sucked on his bottom lip and pushed his tongue into Steve's mouth and groaned under him.

Steve was vibrating and clumsy. He knew he had lost all semblance of control and he even whimpered an embarrassing noise when Phil sucked on his tongue, pulling it into his mouth in a way that was blatantly suggestive of other activities that Steve had only ever fantasized about.

Phil pushed Steve backwards, their mouths parting with wet sounds. He took a slow, deep breath, staring at Steve with a wide, boyish smile. "I'm not really up for much. In fact 'getting up' is not on the menu right now. Meds." He glanced down at his lap.

Steve grinned and shoved a hand down under the sheets to hold Phil's dick. It was plump but not hard, despite leaking a little pre-cum, which wasn't surprising given Phil's medical condition at the moment. Phil sucked in a huge breath and groaned at the touch, though, his eyes rolling back as Steve gently stroked his member. It twitched but that was as far as it could muster, so Steve took mercy and let go, swiping his thumb over the wet tip as he released. Phil looked at him in wonder as Steve brought his thumb up to his mouth and sucked it clean.

"Shit, shit, shit, you can't do that, oh fuck." Phil reached under the sheets and grabbed himself.

Steve laughed. "I can do more than that."

"Oh god," Phil collapsed against the bed again, his eyes wide and bright. "I can't believe this is happening."

Steve held Phil's face in his hands. "Me either. It's okay, though?"

Phil looked at him for a long time, not pulling out of Steve's light hold of his face but not reacting either. It looked like he was trying to memorize every line of Steve's face.

"Phil?"

Phil put one hand over Steve's. "It's okay. Whatever you want, Steve, it's okay. This is more than I ever asked for." He turned and gently kissed the palm of Steve's hand.

Steve had no idea what Phil was trying to say, but he was happy to accept the words at face value for the moment. He sat on the edge of the bed and carefully leaned over Phil, bracing his arms up and over Phil's head, then kissed him again.