Chapter Text
Epilogue.
Phil stretched as he woke, warm and content. The feeling was still new enough that Phil struggled not to indulge in it and attempt to lure Clint into spending the entire day with him in bed. Again.
(He was thankful Nick had organized a whole week’s vacation for both him and Clint, and not just because of Clint’s recent near-death experience.)
Rolling over, Phil came face to eye with the golden pile of fur that was Clint’s dog, Lucky. Although it was probably more accurate to call Clint Lucky’s human, because in the three days since Lucky had come to live in Phil’s apartment, Phil had never met a dog more prone to herding his human to bed when it got late. Lucky cracked open his lone eye and huffed, sprawled quite contendly across Clint’s half of the bed. Fortunately, Clint was not currently occupying it.
Or maybe that was unfortunately, because Phil enjoyed waking up to Clint’s bedhead and narrow-eyed disgruntlement at the sun.
“Good morning, Lucky,” Phil said, reaching out to scratch behind Lucky’s ear. “I don’t suppose you know where Clint is, do you?”
Lucky gave a loud doggy sigh and licked Phil’s wrist before going back to sleep. Phil smiled, because the mutt was cute, if decidedly less than helpful.
Clint’s footsteps padded towards the bedroom and Phil smiled as Clint appeared in the doorway, two mugs of coffee balanced in one hand and his phone in the other. With Clint busy frowning at the phone’s screen, Phil let his gaze wander down Clint’s naked chest to the jeans riding low on his hips. He really was an attractive sight.
“Is everything okay?” Phil asked when Clint’s scowl only deepened.
“Huh?” Clint said, glancing up and blinking. He smiled when he saw that Phil was awake. “Morning, Phil.”
He put his phone down on the bedside table, ignoring it as it buzzed twice more, and sat down on the bed so he could pass Phil one of the mugs of coffee. Phil pushed himself upright before he took it, wedging a pillow behind his back so he could lounge comfortably. “Mm, thanks,” he said.
Clint chuckled, sipping from his own mug, and glanced down at Lucky. “Are you gonna move over, dog?” he said.
Lucky didn’t even bother opening his eye in response. Clint huffed. “Guess not,” he muttered. “I should really take Steve up on his offer to take Lucky out running again.”
Phil laughed. He couldn’t help it. Somehow in the last three months, he’d acquired himself a boyfriend, a dog and a whole set of new friends to trade sarcastic quips with. Clint had bashfully introduced Phil to the A-team after Steve, Bucky and Sharon had dropped Lucky off on the second day of their vacation, and from there it had spiralled. Not that Phil minded the way Clint was opening up his life for Phil to share.
Clint raised his eyebrows. “You’re being sappy again, aren’t you?”
“Guilty as charged,” Phil replied, hiding another smile by drinking his coffee.
Clint groaned theatrically. “Phil, stop it,” he said, but he still got up and rounded the bed so he could climb up and straddle Phil’s lap, so that was a mixed message. “We both know I’m the one who makes bad jokes and puns in this relationship.”
Phil slid his free hand around Clint’s waist just as Clint’s phone buzzed another three times in quick succession. Phil glanced over at it, resigning himself for Clint needing to leave. “Do you need to get that?” he asked.
“Nah, it’s just Natasha,” Clint replied, settling down more comfortably to drink his coffee. “She’s bored.”
After the taskforce had taken down Hydra, Nick had wasted no time in assigning Natasha to a new case with Maria and Sam, and Phil wasn’t sure if he should be worried or not that Natasha was bored.
“Seriously, Phil, she’s fine,” Clint said, leaning in to put his empty cup down on the bedside table.
“Okay,” Phil agreed, willing to take Clint’s word on it. Clint, after all, knew Natasha better than he did.
Rolling his eyes, Clint tugged the coffee mug out of Phil’s hands and deposited it beside his, and leaned in for a long, slow kiss. Phil sank into it, sliding the palm of his now free hand up Clint’s back to tangle in his hair. Clint pulled away before Phil was ready to let him go, but Clint only chuckled and nipped at Phil’s jaw.
“So, are you going to have to face the Old Guys again today?” he asked, and really, the way his lips brushed Clint’s skin when he said that was blatantly unfair.
“No, I do not need to go and see the Old Guys,” Phil replied, using Clint’s ridiculous nickname for the Vampire Clan Council.
If nothing else, his and Clint’s week long vacation had given Phil enough time to help Nick with the inevitable shitstorm that had resulted from Hydra and Lord Pierce’s plans. The Vampire Clan Council had not been happy, but Nick had gone in prepared and Izzy and Lady Victoria had helped as much as they could. Phil was just happy he hadn’t been forced to fly to Europe for his testimony. Lord Pierce himself was dead, beheaded by Nick when he’d tried to kill Natasha, which was a relief. They were still untangling a lot of his influence, but thankfully, Justin Hammer, Aldrich Killian and Obadiah Stane were all behind bars awaiting trial.
It turned out that all three men had been seduced into helping Pierce with promises of even more power and eventually being turning into vampires, which was more than a little creepy and horrifying. Not that Phil believed Pierce would ever have made good on his promises. He would have been more likely to turn Stane, Killian and Hammer into his thralls. Rumlow and his partner, Rollins, had also been arrested on corruption charges, although Phil had a feeling the list of charges would be added to in the coming weeks.
Hydra, it seemed, was getting tired of always operating in the shadows, and this had been step one in a plan to take over the entire Clan Council. Phil was still a little hazy on some of the details, but he highly doubted that they’d discovered all of the members of Hydra.
But that was a problem for another day.
“Well, in that case,” Clint said, shuffling closer. “I have a suggestion on how we can kill time until we meet Fury, Jasper and Melinda for dinner tonight.”
“Oh?” Phil replied, arching an eyebrow.
Clint grinned. “Yep,” he said. “But you’re going to have to lose the pants.”
Phil’s laughter was swallowed when Clint leaned down to kiss him again, but Phil wouldn’t have it any other way.
Fin.