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Title: Piecing Each Other Together
Fandom: MCU
Pairing: Phil/Clint (established), Natasha/Clint/Phil
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Post Avengers. Natasha, Clint and Phil borrow Melinda May's house for a much needed rest.
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Marvel or their characters. This is just for fun.
A/N: Written for bluflamingo for the cc_exchange. A huge thanks to Angel Negra for the quick beta and letting me bounce ideas off of her. Also thank you to Pockysquirrel and M14Mouse for letting me bounce ideas off of them.
A/N2: I mention both May and Ward from Agents of SHIELD, but they aren't in the fic. Kate Bishop from the comics is in the fic, but I changed a few details, where she lives and that she's a kid in the fic and not a teenager. Phil also uses an incentive spirometer at one point and if you'd like more information this is a good source: http://my.clevelandclinic.org/services/surgery/hic_how_to_use_an_incentive_spirometer.aspx
Piecing Each Other Together:
Natasha knows that piecing people back together isn’t her strong suit. She can pull them apart, dig deeper than they even know. She can find what she needs from them and exploit it to her advantage. This is what she was raised to do. Fixing someone is a different matter entirely. She’s not even sure she knows where to begin. She understands there is a psychology behind it and she’s watched Phil work and as much as he says what they do is similar she doesn’t believe him. Then New York and the Avengers happen and she’s stuck. The two people she owes her world to are broken and on edge, it leaves her on edge.
Then Agent May gives her a set of keys and directions to a house a few states away. They leave as soon as Phil is released from the hospital. Natasha puts Phil in charge of snacks in the back seat. She snags Clint before he can put himself in the driver’s seat reasoning, “We’re not pulling over within the next five minutes because Phil’s pretending to sleep and you need to go sit with him.”
Clint doesn’t smile, doesn’t rolls his eyes; just concedes. This worries Natasha more than she’d like to put into words, but then Phil holds out his hand and very tentatively Clint takes it. The two very slowly renegotiated themselves until Phil is comfortably cuddling into Clint. Natasha lets out the breath she's been holding and let’s herself hope that they'll piece each other together without needing her. She feels a small flash of disappointment with that thought, she wants to be needed.
They take the drive slowly. She and Clint take turns behind the wheel and they meander at rest stops. There are tourist’s traps too. They joke about stopping at those, but it never turns serious. Their destination with its promise of rest is far more appealing.
The house May sent them to is small and green with white shutters. There is a stone walkway and several trees shade the front yard. The neighborhood is older if only for the fact that it’s not made of cookie cutter houses.
It’s late by the time they pull in. Despite Phil’s protests she and Clint don’t let him carry anything in. Clint nudges him towards the couch and Natasha hands him his incentive spirometer. Phil gives her a petulant look in return.
“Humor me,” Natasha urges, “I can’t very well see the competent Phil Coulson laid low by pneumonia, can I?”
Phil glowers, “Have to make sure my lungs are expanding.”
Natasha raises her eyebrows, “You haven’t touched it all day.”
Phil gives her an annoyed sigh, but brings the device to his lips. Natasha leans against the couch to watch him breathe in deeply so that the small yellow ball in the plastic tube rises to the correct level. Without removing the device from his lips Phil uses his free hand to sign that he knows to repeat the exercise ten times. Natasha thanks him and goes to help Clint finish bringing their bags in.
Needing time alone Natasha insists they put a grocery list together. She leaves Clint and Phil at the house so she can wonder around a store and see if she can find anything that might make them feel a little less lost in their own misery. She buys herself a new pair of earrings and finds the perfect shade of purple nail polish for Clint (she gets a nice bright red for herself). She buys Phil a few new sunglasses, he goes through them faster than he’ll ever admit. She lingers on puzzles, picking out four. She decides to wait and see what movies May keeps at her house before suggesting any. She saves buying the food for last.
Clint is sleeping on the couch when she gets back. Phil uncoils himself from the armchair he’s in, sets his book down and helps her bring the bags in. They’re starting to put the food away when Clint wakes up screaming for Barney. Clint brushes off their offer of reassurances and turns over on the couch. The tension in his back tells them he’s not sleeping, but they retreat to the kitchen.
“In all the time I’ve known him,” Natasha points out quietly, “I’ve never seen him cry out for his brother.”
“I have,” Phil admits just as quietly, “Why do you think he and Ward haven’t worked together again?”
Natasha raises her eyebrows in question.
Phil shrugs, “Ward is distant. I didn't perceive it to be a problem. Mission went bad, they got stuck together for three days. Clint refused to talk about it after, but kept waking up screaming. They both put in requests not to work with each other again.”
She’s edging towards bringing up both Thor and Loki when Clint stops trying to go back to sleep and pads into the kitchen. He leans in the doorway, watching them both. He opens his mouth, closes it, and then shakes his head.
“What do you want, Clint?” Natasha pushes.
Clint scrubs a hand down his face before he asks, “What are the sleeping arrangements?”
“You and Phil in the main bedroom, I’ll take the guest,” Natasha shrugs.
Clint presses his lips together. Phil frowns at Clint’s hesitancy and starts to turn back to the groceries. Natasha reaches over to squeeze Phil’s elbow.
“Do you want to sleep alone?” Phil asks.
“What?” Clint demands eyes widening.
Before Clint can backtrack Phil crosses the room and pulls Clint into his arms, “I misunderstood.”
Clint wraps his arms tightly around Phil’s waist and tilts his forehead into Phil’s shoulder. Phil cradles the back of Clint’s head with one hand while running soothing circles over his back with the other. Natasha leans against the counter trying to squash her desire to wrap her arms around both of them.
“I don’t want to be alone,” Clint admits, “I don’t want any of us alone right now.”
“All of us in the same bed might be a little crowded,” Natasha points out as she gives Phil a questioning look. Phil gives her an indulgent look in return. Natasha nods, “We can try though.”
“It’s a big bed,” Phil agrees.
Clint’s shoulders relax. They finish putting the groceries away before taking turns in the bathroom getting ready for bed. The three of them hesitate once they’re in the room.
“Clint in the center,” Phil decided, “Natasha and I on the outside.”
Clint crawls in and sighs happily when the two of them cuddle up on either side of him, “So much better.”
Natasha takes Phil’s hand and gives it a squeeze, happy when Phil smiles back at her.
Phil makes breakfast the next morning while she and Clint laze in bed. Clint’s hand rests lightly on her hip, his head pillowed on her stomach as she cards her fingers through his hair. Her eyes are drifting shut when he asks her, “Why is it so important to you that Phil and I work out our…”
He breaks off into a huff of frustration and she gives him a moment to finish, but he just sighs and gives her hip a squeeze. She doesn’t know what to tell him, is unsure she can touch those truths. She wets her lips and asks, “Do you still trust him?”
Clint’s fingers tangle with her own, “He almost died.”
“But do you still trust him?”
“I want to,” he manages, “and that’s worse, because I can’t look at him without realizing he almost died. I can’t not see that chest tube.”
“He’s still Phil,” she points out.
“I don’t know if I’m still me,” Clint admits.
Natasha squeezes his hand, waits for an explanation. The smell of coffee drifts into the room, the one thing Phil always makes last and is his way of saying the food is ready. They leave the conversation for another time.
Phil decides to take a walk after breakfast. Clint does the dishes. Natasha pulls out their foot baths and waits till Clint is curling up on the couch to show him the nail polish.
“I can’t believe you packed our pedicure supplies.”
Natasha shrugs and goes about giving her best friend a pedicure. He smiles at the color. After years they’ve finally found the right shade of purple, usually it takes the combination of more than one color. Afterward Clint returns the favor and gives her red toes. Phil returns just as they’re finishing up.
“You should let us give you one,” Natasha tries not for the first time.
Phil starts to give his standard protest that his toes wouldn’t look as good as theirs, but then shakes his head and shrugs. They don’t have a foot bath for him, but make do with his wash basin from the hospital. They each take a foot, but decide to alternate between their colors so that Phil ends up with red and purple toes.
“See they just don’t look as good as yours,” Phil observes when they’re finished.
Natasha smiles, “But it still amuses us.”
“My goal in life,” Phil amends with a small smile.
Clint makes popcorn and they spend the rest of the day watching movies curled around each other in a nest of blankets they make on the floor.
That night in bed it’s Phil’s nightmare that wakes all three of them. Phil always needs space afterwards. He apologizes as he snags a blanket and pillow. He gives Natasha’s shoulder a squeeze of reassurance before he brushes a quick kiss again Clint’s lips. Clint’s fingers linger on his lips long after Phil has left the room. Natasha pulls him back into her arms, but Clint is tense.
“We’ve slept on worse surfaces,” she points out.
Clint tilts his head till he can see the clock, “Give him another ten minutes.”
Eight minutes later Phil apologizes and crawls back into bed with them. Natasha counts it as a win when he’s comfortable enough to let them cuddle him between them.
In the morning she helps Clint set up a target in the backyard. The tall fence around the yard will hopefully keep the questions to a minimum and Clint finds practicing with his bow relaxing. Phil stays in the house working from his lap top. Once Clint is set up she sinks down on the couch beside him and asks who he’s trading emails with at such a rapid pace.
“JARVIS,” Phil answers, then amends, “as well as Ms. Potts and Agent May.”
“We’re on vacation,” she points out.
Phil stops looking at his computer to look at her. She raises her eyebrows. He asks, “Movie?”
“My popcorn isn’t as good as Clint’s, but yes.”
Phil finishes the emails he was working on and turns off his computer before joining her in the kitchen. He gets out a bowl for the popcorn before pouring drinks. They’re settling in on the couch when he spots the brush she’s left on the coffee table. He picks it up and asks, “May I?”
“It’s been awhile,” she smiles as she settles on the floor in front of him.
“It has,” he agrees as the movie starts. Slowly he eases the tangles from her hair. She closes her eyes wishing that her hair was still longer, that this would take more time. It’s soothing. When he’s finishes he sets the brush back on the coffee table and she joins him on the couch. She’s cuddling into him when he tells her, “We’re going to be alright, all three of us.”
“I thought I was going to lose both of you,” she admits, “and that scared me worse than being chased by Hulk.”
“You didn’t lose either of us,” he points out, “We’re all still on edge right now, but we’ll work it out.”
“See that you do,” she tells him as she tightens her grip on his arm.
They’re just starting to relax when laughter drifts to them from the backyard. They both sit up slowly, listening. Neither of them has heard Clint laugh since New York. Phil pauses the movie and they head to the back of the house. Clint is laughing when they peer out. He’s also standing there with a young girl. She’s holding a bow and both she and Clint are taking turns practicing, all while chattering at each other.
“Typical,” Natasha observes.
“How so?” Phil asks as he pulls out some lemonade mix and a pitcher.
“He’s always making friends,” she continues, “If need be I can make myself disappear in a crowd. Clint’ll have a friend in that crowd that’ll want to help him disappear.”
“Neither is necessarily bad,” Phil points out as he begins mixing up the lemonade.
“No, neither is,” she agrees.
“Yours just makes you sound a little lonely,” Phil continues.
“No,” she disagrees, “I’m competent. Besides how can I be lonely when I have you two?”
The girl is Kate Bishop and she lives with her mother and sister a few houses down. Her father is away on business. Besides archery she likes fencing, jujitsu and boxing. Natasha isn’t quite sure what leads to her having an in-depth discussion on self-defense with a nine year old, but it’s fun. Kate reminds her of Clint in attitude, but herself when it comes to learning skills. She can stick around, if only for the fact that her presence is helping Clint relax. They call her mother and she stays for dinner, then promises to stop by the following day.
After she’s gone Phil curls up in a chair with his incentive spirometer and a book. Clint goes to take a shower and Natasha changes into her night clothes. Then she borrows one of Phil’s books and curls up on the couch asking, “Library tomorrow?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Phil agrees.
Clint comes back in wearing sleep pants and a loose t-shirt. He gives Phil a kiss and then joins her on the couch, cuddling against her back. Natasha pats his arm and asks, “Did you want me to take the guest bedroom tonight?”
Clint tenses up behind her. Phil lowers his book. Natasha frowns.
“I can’t imagine sleeping half as well without you there,” Phil protests.
“Me either,” Clint agrees.
Natasha sets the book down on the coffee table, then turns to look at Clint. She brushes at the worried wrinkle in his brow with her thumb, “I thought you two might like some alone time.”
“Not without you,” Clint attempts to explain.
“Phil?” she prods as her eyes dart over Clint’s face. She tries to keep the hope and want out of her tone, but she’s not sure she succeeds.
“We work better when it’s the three of us,” Phil answers, “We always have.”
As she sits up to look at Phil, Clint scoots closer, presses a kiss to her shoulder. She turns towards Clint, leans in and kisses him. Phil joins them on the couch. He kisses Clint first and then her. Natasha smiles feeling the knot of tension that had settled in her stomach when Phil had first told her Barton was compromised finally ease. They’re still hurt, they’re still a broken at the edges, but together they can heal.
Fandom: MCU
Pairing: Phil/Clint (established), Natasha/Clint/Phil
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Post Avengers. Natasha, Clint and Phil borrow Melinda May's house for a much needed rest.
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Marvel or their characters. This is just for fun.
A/N: Written for bluflamingo for the cc_exchange. A huge thanks to Angel Negra for the quick beta and letting me bounce ideas off of her. Also thank you to Pockysquirrel and M14Mouse for letting me bounce ideas off of them.
A/N2: I mention both May and Ward from Agents of SHIELD, but they aren't in the fic. Kate Bishop from the comics is in the fic, but I changed a few details, where she lives and that she's a kid in the fic and not a teenager. Phil also uses an incentive spirometer at one point and if you'd like more information this is a good source: http://my.clevelandclinic.org/services/surgery/hic_how_to_use_an_incentive_spirometer.aspx
Piecing Each Other Together:
Natasha knows that piecing people back together isn’t her strong suit. She can pull them apart, dig deeper than they even know. She can find what she needs from them and exploit it to her advantage. This is what she was raised to do. Fixing someone is a different matter entirely. She’s not even sure she knows where to begin. She understands there is a psychology behind it and she’s watched Phil work and as much as he says what they do is similar she doesn’t believe him. Then New York and the Avengers happen and she’s stuck. The two people she owes her world to are broken and on edge, it leaves her on edge.
Then Agent May gives her a set of keys and directions to a house a few states away. They leave as soon as Phil is released from the hospital. Natasha puts Phil in charge of snacks in the back seat. She snags Clint before he can put himself in the driver’s seat reasoning, “We’re not pulling over within the next five minutes because Phil’s pretending to sleep and you need to go sit with him.”
Clint doesn’t smile, doesn’t rolls his eyes; just concedes. This worries Natasha more than she’d like to put into words, but then Phil holds out his hand and very tentatively Clint takes it. The two very slowly renegotiated themselves until Phil is comfortably cuddling into Clint. Natasha lets out the breath she's been holding and let’s herself hope that they'll piece each other together without needing her. She feels a small flash of disappointment with that thought, she wants to be needed.
They take the drive slowly. She and Clint take turns behind the wheel and they meander at rest stops. There are tourist’s traps too. They joke about stopping at those, but it never turns serious. Their destination with its promise of rest is far more appealing.
The house May sent them to is small and green with white shutters. There is a stone walkway and several trees shade the front yard. The neighborhood is older if only for the fact that it’s not made of cookie cutter houses.
It’s late by the time they pull in. Despite Phil’s protests she and Clint don’t let him carry anything in. Clint nudges him towards the couch and Natasha hands him his incentive spirometer. Phil gives her a petulant look in return.
“Humor me,” Natasha urges, “I can’t very well see the competent Phil Coulson laid low by pneumonia, can I?”
Phil glowers, “Have to make sure my lungs are expanding.”
Natasha raises her eyebrows, “You haven’t touched it all day.”
Phil gives her an annoyed sigh, but brings the device to his lips. Natasha leans against the couch to watch him breathe in deeply so that the small yellow ball in the plastic tube rises to the correct level. Without removing the device from his lips Phil uses his free hand to sign that he knows to repeat the exercise ten times. Natasha thanks him and goes to help Clint finish bringing their bags in.
Needing time alone Natasha insists they put a grocery list together. She leaves Clint and Phil at the house so she can wonder around a store and see if she can find anything that might make them feel a little less lost in their own misery. She buys herself a new pair of earrings and finds the perfect shade of purple nail polish for Clint (she gets a nice bright red for herself). She buys Phil a few new sunglasses, he goes through them faster than he’ll ever admit. She lingers on puzzles, picking out four. She decides to wait and see what movies May keeps at her house before suggesting any. She saves buying the food for last.
Clint is sleeping on the couch when she gets back. Phil uncoils himself from the armchair he’s in, sets his book down and helps her bring the bags in. They’re starting to put the food away when Clint wakes up screaming for Barney. Clint brushes off their offer of reassurances and turns over on the couch. The tension in his back tells them he’s not sleeping, but they retreat to the kitchen.
“In all the time I’ve known him,” Natasha points out quietly, “I’ve never seen him cry out for his brother.”
“I have,” Phil admits just as quietly, “Why do you think he and Ward haven’t worked together again?”
Natasha raises her eyebrows in question.
Phil shrugs, “Ward is distant. I didn't perceive it to be a problem. Mission went bad, they got stuck together for three days. Clint refused to talk about it after, but kept waking up screaming. They both put in requests not to work with each other again.”
She’s edging towards bringing up both Thor and Loki when Clint stops trying to go back to sleep and pads into the kitchen. He leans in the doorway, watching them both. He opens his mouth, closes it, and then shakes his head.
“What do you want, Clint?” Natasha pushes.
Clint scrubs a hand down his face before he asks, “What are the sleeping arrangements?”
“You and Phil in the main bedroom, I’ll take the guest,” Natasha shrugs.
Clint presses his lips together. Phil frowns at Clint’s hesitancy and starts to turn back to the groceries. Natasha reaches over to squeeze Phil’s elbow.
“Do you want to sleep alone?” Phil asks.
“What?” Clint demands eyes widening.
Before Clint can backtrack Phil crosses the room and pulls Clint into his arms, “I misunderstood.”
Clint wraps his arms tightly around Phil’s waist and tilts his forehead into Phil’s shoulder. Phil cradles the back of Clint’s head with one hand while running soothing circles over his back with the other. Natasha leans against the counter trying to squash her desire to wrap her arms around both of them.
“I don’t want to be alone,” Clint admits, “I don’t want any of us alone right now.”
“All of us in the same bed might be a little crowded,” Natasha points out as she gives Phil a questioning look. Phil gives her an indulgent look in return. Natasha nods, “We can try though.”
“It’s a big bed,” Phil agrees.
Clint’s shoulders relax. They finish putting the groceries away before taking turns in the bathroom getting ready for bed. The three of them hesitate once they’re in the room.
“Clint in the center,” Phil decided, “Natasha and I on the outside.”
Clint crawls in and sighs happily when the two of them cuddle up on either side of him, “So much better.”
Natasha takes Phil’s hand and gives it a squeeze, happy when Phil smiles back at her.
Phil makes breakfast the next morning while she and Clint laze in bed. Clint’s hand rests lightly on her hip, his head pillowed on her stomach as she cards her fingers through his hair. Her eyes are drifting shut when he asks her, “Why is it so important to you that Phil and I work out our…”
He breaks off into a huff of frustration and she gives him a moment to finish, but he just sighs and gives her hip a squeeze. She doesn’t know what to tell him, is unsure she can touch those truths. She wets her lips and asks, “Do you still trust him?”
Clint’s fingers tangle with her own, “He almost died.”
“But do you still trust him?”
“I want to,” he manages, “and that’s worse, because I can’t look at him without realizing he almost died. I can’t not see that chest tube.”
“He’s still Phil,” she points out.
“I don’t know if I’m still me,” Clint admits.
Natasha squeezes his hand, waits for an explanation. The smell of coffee drifts into the room, the one thing Phil always makes last and is his way of saying the food is ready. They leave the conversation for another time.
Phil decides to take a walk after breakfast. Clint does the dishes. Natasha pulls out their foot baths and waits till Clint is curling up on the couch to show him the nail polish.
“I can’t believe you packed our pedicure supplies.”
Natasha shrugs and goes about giving her best friend a pedicure. He smiles at the color. After years they’ve finally found the right shade of purple, usually it takes the combination of more than one color. Afterward Clint returns the favor and gives her red toes. Phil returns just as they’re finishing up.
“You should let us give you one,” Natasha tries not for the first time.
Phil starts to give his standard protest that his toes wouldn’t look as good as theirs, but then shakes his head and shrugs. They don’t have a foot bath for him, but make do with his wash basin from the hospital. They each take a foot, but decide to alternate between their colors so that Phil ends up with red and purple toes.
“See they just don’t look as good as yours,” Phil observes when they’re finished.
Natasha smiles, “But it still amuses us.”
“My goal in life,” Phil amends with a small smile.
Clint makes popcorn and they spend the rest of the day watching movies curled around each other in a nest of blankets they make on the floor.
That night in bed it’s Phil’s nightmare that wakes all three of them. Phil always needs space afterwards. He apologizes as he snags a blanket and pillow. He gives Natasha’s shoulder a squeeze of reassurance before he brushes a quick kiss again Clint’s lips. Clint’s fingers linger on his lips long after Phil has left the room. Natasha pulls him back into her arms, but Clint is tense.
“We’ve slept on worse surfaces,” she points out.
Clint tilts his head till he can see the clock, “Give him another ten minutes.”
Eight minutes later Phil apologizes and crawls back into bed with them. Natasha counts it as a win when he’s comfortable enough to let them cuddle him between them.
In the morning she helps Clint set up a target in the backyard. The tall fence around the yard will hopefully keep the questions to a minimum and Clint finds practicing with his bow relaxing. Phil stays in the house working from his lap top. Once Clint is set up she sinks down on the couch beside him and asks who he’s trading emails with at such a rapid pace.
“JARVIS,” Phil answers, then amends, “as well as Ms. Potts and Agent May.”
“We’re on vacation,” she points out.
Phil stops looking at his computer to look at her. She raises her eyebrows. He asks, “Movie?”
“My popcorn isn’t as good as Clint’s, but yes.”
Phil finishes the emails he was working on and turns off his computer before joining her in the kitchen. He gets out a bowl for the popcorn before pouring drinks. They’re settling in on the couch when he spots the brush she’s left on the coffee table. He picks it up and asks, “May I?”
“It’s been awhile,” she smiles as she settles on the floor in front of him.
“It has,” he agrees as the movie starts. Slowly he eases the tangles from her hair. She closes her eyes wishing that her hair was still longer, that this would take more time. It’s soothing. When he’s finishes he sets the brush back on the coffee table and she joins him on the couch. She’s cuddling into him when he tells her, “We’re going to be alright, all three of us.”
“I thought I was going to lose both of you,” she admits, “and that scared me worse than being chased by Hulk.”
“You didn’t lose either of us,” he points out, “We’re all still on edge right now, but we’ll work it out.”
“See that you do,” she tells him as she tightens her grip on his arm.
They’re just starting to relax when laughter drifts to them from the backyard. They both sit up slowly, listening. Neither of them has heard Clint laugh since New York. Phil pauses the movie and they head to the back of the house. Clint is laughing when they peer out. He’s also standing there with a young girl. She’s holding a bow and both she and Clint are taking turns practicing, all while chattering at each other.
“Typical,” Natasha observes.
“How so?” Phil asks as he pulls out some lemonade mix and a pitcher.
“He’s always making friends,” she continues, “If need be I can make myself disappear in a crowd. Clint’ll have a friend in that crowd that’ll want to help him disappear.”
“Neither is necessarily bad,” Phil points out as he begins mixing up the lemonade.
“No, neither is,” she agrees.
“Yours just makes you sound a little lonely,” Phil continues.
“No,” she disagrees, “I’m competent. Besides how can I be lonely when I have you two?”
The girl is Kate Bishop and she lives with her mother and sister a few houses down. Her father is away on business. Besides archery she likes fencing, jujitsu and boxing. Natasha isn’t quite sure what leads to her having an in-depth discussion on self-defense with a nine year old, but it’s fun. Kate reminds her of Clint in attitude, but herself when it comes to learning skills. She can stick around, if only for the fact that her presence is helping Clint relax. They call her mother and she stays for dinner, then promises to stop by the following day.
After she’s gone Phil curls up in a chair with his incentive spirometer and a book. Clint goes to take a shower and Natasha changes into her night clothes. Then she borrows one of Phil’s books and curls up on the couch asking, “Library tomorrow?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Phil agrees.
Clint comes back in wearing sleep pants and a loose t-shirt. He gives Phil a kiss and then joins her on the couch, cuddling against her back. Natasha pats his arm and asks, “Did you want me to take the guest bedroom tonight?”
Clint tenses up behind her. Phil lowers his book. Natasha frowns.
“I can’t imagine sleeping half as well without you there,” Phil protests.
“Me either,” Clint agrees.
Natasha sets the book down on the coffee table, then turns to look at Clint. She brushes at the worried wrinkle in his brow with her thumb, “I thought you two might like some alone time.”
“Not without you,” Clint attempts to explain.
“Phil?” she prods as her eyes dart over Clint’s face. She tries to keep the hope and want out of her tone, but she’s not sure she succeeds.
“We work better when it’s the three of us,” Phil answers, “We always have.”
As she sits up to look at Phil, Clint scoots closer, presses a kiss to her shoulder. She turns towards Clint, leans in and kisses him. Phil joins them on the couch. He kisses Clint first and then her. Natasha smiles feeling the knot of tension that had settled in her stomach when Phil had first told her Barton was compromised finally ease. They’re still hurt, they’re still a broken at the edges, but together they can heal.