11. Chapter 11

Phil wasn't too sure what made Clint so skittish, but he figured a good breakfast would make any man feel welcome so he was in the kitchen, baking bacon and cooking a simple frittata they could split when it was done. They had gone another round in the early morning hours, Clint shoving Phil down and taking him hard from behind, using him in the glorious way that Phil loved best. He figured he was on deck to top soon and he was going to enjoy the hell out of that, but he loved being under Clint, who was amazingly strong and self-confident and downright ruthless when he fucked. Phil had to admit he was moving around the kitchen a little bit more slowly than usual.

"Hey." Clint was in the doorway to the kitchen, wearing jeans and his tee shirt and his sunglasses. He was still barefoot, though, so Phil mentally told himself to calm down.

"You don't have to wear the glasses here." Phil checked the frittata.

"I'm more comfortable with them on. In case I forget to keep my eyes closed."

"Your eyes don't bother me."

Phil gasped when Clint lunged across the room to grab him and kiss him. What should have been awkward and graceless was anything but with Clint Barton, who moved fast and with complete confidence in where he would land. Clint shoved into the kiss, his lips open enough to slip the tip of his tongue into Phil. He flicked his tongue along Phil's front teeth then bit down on his lower lip before moving on to kiss properly, holding Phil still with his hands while he took possession of his mouth. Phil's lips were still sore from all their earlier activities, though, so he pushed Clint away after a few moments. Clint's expression was just shy of blank, though, despite the passion he had poured into the kiss. It was hard to read Clint; he was honest but not expressive, always guarded in his interactions in a way that made Phil's heart lurch. He wondered how much of Clint's life was spent on the defense.

But then Clint gave him a sheepish smile, stepping backwards. "I guess I'm in the kitchen?"

Phil snorted. "You know you're in the kitchen, I'm not buying the 'lost blind guy' act."

Clint grinned and reached out for a counter, feeling it as he walked back towards the doorway, stopping at the refrigerator. "Smells good."

"Breakfast in ten." Phil ignored Clint taking off his glasses and carefully placing them on top of the fridge, a peculiarly safe spot that Phil guessed was a tactical move -- because everything was tactical with Clint Barton, he was learning. It was weird, though, to see Clint "looking around" as if he could see, clearly a habit left over from a former lifetime of sight. Clint had done it the night before, after pushing Phil down, standing there and looking at Phil as if he could see him before climbing onto the bed. But this time Clint's eyes were open and very obviously sightless. Phil wondered idly what could have caused such damage without requiring their removal, or leaving scars on his face. There were small scars pretty much all over his body, thin white silvery things that Phil knew damn good and well were from shrapnel. He decided never to ask.

Clint leaned against the door. "So you want to do this officially? Or are we off the books?"

"My life is spent on the books. This isn't the military, there are no regulations we're breaking here, and I'm not one to go skulking around, keeping my boyfriend a secret." Phil platted the frittata to let it rest before cutting and serving it. He kept talking while he pulled down plates and silverware. "But you're the one going on the road with the show. If you don't want the responsibility of a long distance relationship, I'd rather you tell me that now, before I get invested."

"That so?"

"Yes. I'm the monogamous type, and I'm pretty possessive."

"So am I."

"Ball's in your court then." Phil took the bacon out of the oven and drained it on paper towels. "Last night you said you wanted to try, and I'm hoping to God you haven't changed your mind, but now is the time to back out if you don't want what I'm offering." Phil stomach clinched up but he tried to keep his voice flat and level.

Clint was quiet as they settled at the dining table and ate. Every second was jarring as Phil waited for his response while acting as if he was cool with whatever Clint decided.

"You know how much Hill is looking forward to our national tour." Clint said, using his fingers to push a bit of the frittata onto his fork. Phil made a mental note to go with something more along the lines of finger food, like sandwiches, next time. If he was getting a next time.

"I think she enjoyed her last root canal more."

"Right. So why is Fury sending her out on the road, instead of you?"

Phil tilted his head. It had simply never crossed his mind to ask to be the road manager for the tour, assuming from the start that Hill would be Fury's best choice.

"You're a better choice to manage the team." Clint put down the fork and looked towards Phil. "Everyone likes you, everyone trusts you, and you can do the job blindfolded. And if you came with us, we'd bunk together. Every night." He smirked.

Phil fought down the flush of heat the words stirred in him and forced himself to think about the suggestion. "Fury will fight the idea, I'm his one good eye. But you're right, I'm the better choice for it."

Clint blinked a couple of times. "Am I looking at you?"

"Yes."

"I thought so." He frowned. "You don't care."

"No. I told you your eyes don't bother me. And when you chose to be expressive, you are pretty easy to read."

Clint was quiet again for a while, picking up his fork again. His sense of place was preternatural, he knew exactly where the fork was and his movements were so sure and certain that if he had been wearing his glasses, it would have been easy to assume that he could actually see. Phil dragged his eyes off of his lover to focus on his own plate again.

Clint cleared his throat. "It could be a test run for the first couple of months. You could always switch out with Hill when you get tired of taking care of the useless blind guy." Clint smiled, as if making a light joke.

Phil breathed in carefully through his nose, trying to keep his temper down. "I'll talk to Hill about it later tonight. It's a better idea than trying to drag her across the country, and if I can spend that time with you then it's the job for me."

Clint shook his head. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Phil went back to eating. The silence was still a little tense, but Phil at least felt better about the direction they were headed so let Clint mull things over without interference.

Clint helped with clean up, then stood in the kitchen looking confused while Phil put away the dishes. "You driving me home?"

"Sure, if you want."

"Just, usually, I'm not stuck the next day trying to score a ride." He shifted from foot to foot.

Phil walked up and pushed Clint up against the counter, bracing his arms on either side, fencing him in. "I believe we just agreed to live together for the next six months while the show tours. I've made it pretty clear that I'm falling in love with you. You've spent a lot of time talking around the issue, but it was your idea for me to switch out with Hill so we could bunk on the road." He leaned in and kissed Clint, dragging his lips over Clint's mouth and slowly, slowly pressing up close until their bodies were flush. When he pulled back, Clint's arms snapped up and snared Phil in a tight embrace. Phil shuddered into it.

"I don't get you at all," Clint whispered, nuzzling at Phil's ear.

"You've got me, one way or the other." Phil kissed his neck, tender and sweet.

"And you win the corny line contest," Clint snorted.

"I was trying to be romantic," Phil sighed, stepping away.

Clint laughed. "Yeah, not something you have to worry about." He reached out and put his palm on Phil's chest, holding it there, seeming to dial all of his attention in on feeling Phil breathe. "You know I'm a fuck up, right?"

"How can someone with perfect aim be a fuck up?" Phil stood still, letting Clint feel him up. It was as if Clint was taking inventory, which was not too sexy, but appeared important.

"Dunno." Clint sighed, moving his hand up Phil's neck to his jaw.

"Maybe you haven't had the right thing to aim at."

Clint snorted, but then stopped and nodded. "Maybe so. The accident took away the only thing that made me important, you know? I just became a crippled vet living on disability. Now I have the show, I can do that, I can perform." He stopped again. "Is that what you like? The way I do it?"

Phil placed his own hand on Clint's chest. "That's a bonus, but what I like is you. Just you, as you are, a smart ass trouble maker."

"Uh, most people kind of think the other way about that part." Clint smirked again, his posture relaxing.

"I like a challenge."

"Oh." Clint's face fell. "So that's it? I'm difficult and blind, you want to tame that or something?"

"For fuck's sake." Phil rubbed. "I guess I'm glad we're talking about this but damn it, I'm not sure how I can get through to you that I'm falling in love with you. With Clint Barton, and I don't care about the fact that you're ex-military or blind or a stripper or a pain in the ass. Fuck." Phil stepped and turned to lean against the counter next to Clint. Their shoulders rubbed, and Clint did not pull back, so Phil considered it a win.

"I might have low self-esteem issues," Clint offered, his voice controlled and raw.

"You think?"

Clint laughed. "You're calling me the smart ass?"

Phil risked linking their fingers together. "I'm calling you my boyfriend, or my partner, or whatever you like. If you'll stop second-guessing everything and let me do this."

Clint chewed on his bottom lip, closing his fingers around Phil's. "Partner. I like that. Means a lot of things."

"As long as all of those things are me, I'm okay with that."

Clint was silent for a while before he nodded and rolled towards Phil, pushing up against him and grabbing his waist with his strong hands. "So how long we have until we're due at the club?"

Phil kissed him, letting Clint control the kiss but putting everything he had into it showing him that Phil meant everything he did with his mouth, words and actions both. "Long enough."