Clint felt himself choking a little as he watched his partner step into the room. This was wrong- so incredibly wrong. He should not be even remotely turned on by the sight before him. Not at all. But then again, beneath the blue cowl and red, white, and blue costume, it was still the man he loved standing before him and not his overly-patriotic teammate.

That's right, his lover, Phil Coulson, was currently striding into their shared bedroom dressed in a eerily authentic looking replica of his hero's costume. There was even a shield made from what looked like metal, though Clint would guess it wasn't vibranium. Then again, this was Phil- it very well might be.

As odd as it was seeing his lover dressed as his teammate though, Clint had to admit that Phil looked good in the uniform. Namely because it was skin tight and showed off the muscles he normally only got to see when his partner was naked. This way, he could see almost everything. Thank god the pants had a little room to them, otherwise Clint wouldn't feel comfortable letting Phil out of the house in those. Even if it was only a Halloween costume.

"What do you think?" asked Phil curiously and did he have to sound so excited? He literally sounded like a kid and the clashing images were screwing with Clint's head.

"Yeah, looks good," confirmed Clint, clearing his throat a little as he tried not to turn into a horny teenager as he looked at Phil's costume. "Really, uh, authentic."

Phil's arms dropped to his sides immediately, turning from the mirror to look at Clint with narrowed eyes. "Something's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong!" insisted Clint, panic momentarily flaring up as he gulped slightly at Phil's look. It shouldn't be hot! Phil looked like freaking Steve and Clint definitely didn't feel that way about his teammate. "It looks good. Really."

"Then why do you look horrified?" countered Phil, folding his arms in his 'tell me exactly what the situation is right this minute Barton, or I'll have you on paperwork for a week' look. And dressed like Steve, Phil went from looking like a dangerous office drone to looking like the all American hero giving him the look. Except it was still Phil's gestures and damn, damn, damn that shouldn't be hot.

"You look hot!" blurted out Clint, cringing as the words left his mouth. Oh god, that sounded bad. That sounded like he wanted to sleep with Steve, which he didn't. He was very much in love with Phil, there was no disputing that really. Oh god, Phil was going to hate him. He needed to make this clear, somehow. "In the costume! You look really hot in the costume."

One of Phil's eyebrows rose sharply as he pushed back the cowl to give Clint a 'are you crazy?' look.

And he wasn't getting it, of course. Great, he needed to find a way to explain this, otherwise Phil was going to think he wanted Steve and he didn't. "It's flattering. The tight fit and everything, it shows off your body in ways I don't normally get to see. It's hot."

For a moment, Phil just stared at Clint in clear confusion, which only made Clint more frigidity. Damnit, how could he make it clear to Phil that he wanted him and this weird attraction thing was to Phil in skin-tight material? He was pretty sure if he jumped Phil while he was dressed like Steve, it wouldn't help his case. He opened his mouth to try to explain again, only to be met suddenly with laughter.

Sure enough, Phil was doubled over, laughing, in the middle of the room. Which was definitely not the response Clint expected. What the hell had he said that was so funny?

Apparently sensing Clint's confusion, Phil tried to straighten a little and bring his laughter back under control. "I get it, Clint. You like the fit."

"It's tight!" repeated Clint, as if that was an excuse. Though really, Clint wasn't sure he needed an excuse. Phil always seemed plenty happy to peel him out of his tactical gear whenever he got home from a mission. "It's nice to see you in something that actually shows off your body rather than hides it."

Nodding a little, as if that somehow made sense, Phil strode calmly up to Clint, one hand rising so his fingers could curl in the other man's hair. He used that grip to bring their foreheads softly against each other, his eyes boring into Clint's own blue ones with a heat he didn't expect. "I get it, Clint. And now you understand why I half tackle you when you come home in your tactical suit."

"We don't always make it home," reminded Clint, relaxing as he realized whatever emergency he'd been imagining had been averted. "Remember the time on your desk-"

"Yes Clint, I do," growled Phil a little just before he kissed Clint hard. The kiss didn't last for longer than a moment before Phil pulled back again with a heated look. "I vote we recreate that incident here, now, on the desk I have here."

"Sounds like a party," agreed Clint breathlessly before he let Phil pull him from the room, still dressed like Captain America.

"Hey Clint." Steve's voice cut down the hall, causing Clint to pause in the hall. "Hang on, I want your opinion on something.

Glancing back towards his teammate's voice, Clint froze with the greeting on his tongue, almost choking at the sight that cut through his mind. Steve was heading towards him in uniform. A uniform that looked a lot like the one Phil had been wearing last night. The blush that rose sharply across his cheeks almost burned with it's intensity.

Steve stopped a few feet from Clint, his brow furrowing. "You alright?"

"Uh, yeah, fine," confirmed Clint, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "Hey, this gonna be quick Cap? I've got to meet Coulson for a debriefing."

"I was hoping we could talk about some of your arrow designs," explained Steve with a frown. "I'd like a rundown of what you have so we know from a tactical standpoint what you're capable of."

"A rundown of my arrows?" asked Clint, his face flaming again as Phil's voice muttering something about his personal arrow echoed through his mind. Yeah, this wasn't a conversation he could have with Steve right now. Definitely not. "Uh, tell you what Cap, I'll e-mail that info to you." Turning away before Steve could argue, Clint pretended to look at his watch as he took off down the hall. "Later Cap!"

As soon as he was out of sight of Steve, Clint let out a heavy breath. His shoulders met the wall behind him as he tried to force the blush that was still covering his face to recede. That shouldn't have been as surprising as it was. Still, he was going to have to avoid Steve for a while. A week at minimum.

Pushing away from the wall, Clint turned and headed towards Phil's office. He'd hop in the vents and hide there for the day. There was definitely no way he'd run into Steve in there.

Steve stared at the spot where Clint had been moments before, utterly confused by whatever had just happened. It had almost felt like the archer was dodging him. But Clint didn't have a reason to dodge him, at least he didn't think the man did. Maybe the SHIELD archer was just having one of those days. But that didn't explain how red Clint had turned when he looked at him.

"Captain?" The familiar voice of Phil Coulson drew Steve from his thoughts, causing the man to turn and focus on the SHIELD agent. As always, Coulson looked completely at ease in his suit, perfectly composed and calm. The bland mask he seemed to constantly wear would have been a little disturbing, if his eyes didn't crinkle a little and start to shine when the man was taking to Steve. Yes, Steve noticed- it was a bit hard not to.

Truthfully, despite his somewhat disturbing hero-worship, Steve respected and trusted Coulson. It always felt like, if anyone could give him an answer, it was the high-level SHIELD agent. Plus, he seemed very close with Clint. Maybe Coulson could give him some answers. "Agent Coulson, you just missed Clint. He's on his way to your office."

"For?" questioned Coulson, one eyebrow raising in that calm manner the agent seemed to always carry around, save the one time with the cards. Or where classic cars were concerned. Steve thought the man might have some kind of a complex.

"A debriefing," answered Steve, his own brow furrowing as he confirmed that, yes, Clint's explanation had been an excuse. Obviously, he'd done something wrong. "Did I offend Clint somehow?"

For a moment, Coulson seemed to consider the idea, apparently equally perturbed by the idea that Clint was using him as an excuse to escape conversations. Then his eyes flashed, as if he'd realized something, his cheeks coloring just a bit. It was followed by a clearing of his throat as he straightened, shaking his head. "No, Captain Rogers, you haven't. Agent Barton is right, I do need to speak with him about a debriefing. There are a few holes in his last report that we need to patch up, I'd just forgotten the request."

And if that wasn't a cover, Steve didn't know what one was. Coulson never forgot anything. It was why he could still hold the whole 'you peed in your suit in front of a room full of people' incident over Tony. And how he always knew who'd emptied the coffee pot and hadn't refilled it. Obviously though, whatever Steve had done wasn't something Coulson wanted to share with him, which made him all the more concerned.

Sighing, Steve nodded as if Coulson's explanation were valid. "Alright, well, can you have him send me a list of his arsenal of weapons please? I'd like to know for future tactical reference."

"It will be printed out and on your desk before the end of the day," assured Coulson with a nod before he moved passed Steve towards his office. "Have a good day, Captain."

Groaning internally, Steve turned towards the gym with a sigh. Obviously, he wasn't going to get any answers out of either agent and clearly, whatever was going on wasn't going to get resolved. It was frustrating too- they had to be able to work together and that meant communicating when something was wrong. But it was pretty clear Clint had never received the memo and Coulson wasn't going to say anything- probably so Clint would eventually have to. That wasn't good enough for Steve though; if he needed to apologize for something, then he wanted to know what it was!

He was waiting for the elevator when an idea popped in his head then, eyes going wide. Of course, there was one other person who might know what was going on. And she might even tell him if he asked nicely enough.

Hopping in the elevator, Steve pressed the floor for the acrobatics training level and prayed that Natasha would be there.

The speed with which the ex-Russian spy moved always amazed Steve. It shouldn't; he knew the program she'd been put through was beyond brutal. She never talked about it of course, but he saw it in her eyes sometimes when they were out. It was a type of broken no one should ever bear.

"Steven?" Natasha's calm lit cut through the room, startling him a little out of his thoughts. Despite the fact that she was sweaty, hair flying around like crazy, he still found her beautiful. "If you've come to run the course, you might want to hurry. There's a team coming in to use the facility in about ten minutes."

"No, um, I was looking for you actually," replied Steve, rubbing the back of his neck a little. It felt intrusive and noisy to ask Natasha what was wrong- a feeling that hadn't hit until right that moment when he was actually faced with talking to her about Clint. Still, he needed to know what was wrong. Their team could depend on it.

"Me?" questioned Natasha, one eyebrow raising slightly in surprise. "Why?"

"It's about Clint," admitted Steve, his feet shuffling a bit as he tried not to feel awkward asking about his teammate's issues.

Natasha rolled her eyes a little, like this was a common response in her life. "What has he done now."

Well, that wasn't the response Steve was expecting. "Do you get asked this question a lot?"

"More than you'd like to know," sighed Natasha as she moved away towards where her things were sitting. With one hand, she motioned for him to follow, snatching up her things with the other and heading for an unmarked door.

Steve followed her through, though he nearly bolted back out when he realized it was a locker room. "Uh, Natasha, is this the women's locker room?"

"No," replied Natasha, rolling her eyes a bit as she disappeared around a corner ahead. "It's the men's. You'd never go into the women's, however I want a shower and whatever it is Clint had done likely needs to be resolved immediately. So, please, explain while I shower."

Panic began to itch along Steve's skin as he edged towards where Natasha had disappeared, if only so he wouldn't have to shout. It wasn't like he hadn't spent time traveling with a bunch of women during World War II who had a propensity to change in front of him or anything. Really, this wasn't much different when he thought about it. It had just been a very long time since he'd had to share a space with a changing woman, that was all.

Stepping around the corner ahead, Steve spotted Natasha's clothes sitting outside a running shower and almost immediately relaxed. He still wasn't comfortable being in the locker room with her, but at least he wasn't going to have to watch while she changed. Natasha's lack of self-consciousness was a little much for his sensibilities at times.

"So what has Clint done," prompted Natasha, as if she could sense him outside the shower.

Moving to sit on the bench in front of the running stall, Steve rubbed the back of his head as he tried to figure out how to voice his concerns. "I think he's avoiding me, but he won't tell me what I did to make him angry."

"He's avoiding you?" questioned Natasha and he could almost hear the furrow in her brow. "Since when?"

"Today at least," stated Steve, shaking his head a bit. "He made up an excuse about needing to debrief with Coulson to get away. Coulson ran with the excuse, but it was pretty clearly a lie."

Natasha audibly snorted. "If Agent Coulson wanted to lie to you, you'd never know it."

"I don't think he was expecting the lie," admitted Steve as he scrubbed a hand over his face. "I just noticed it today. Has Clint said anything to you?"

"About being mad at you, no," stated Natasha, her voice a little distant as if she was considering something. For a moment, they were both silent as Steve let her wrack her brain for what could be wrong. Then, a sudden peel of laughter broke through the room.

It was so surprising that Steve actually jumped. What the heck? Had Natasha lost her mind? "Uh, Natasha?"

"Clint isn't mad at you, Steve," assured Natasha as she stuck her head out from behind the curtain. "Don't worry about it. It'll pass."

"But I don't get it," repeated Steve, his brow furrowing further. "If he's not mad at me, then what did I do?"

"You didn't do anything," dismissed Natasha, though he could see she was trying to contain her mirth at whatever had clearly happened. "Coulson just got his Halloween costume in the mail yesterday."

A Halloween costume? What on Earth did that have to do with anything? "I still don't get it. What does a Halloween costume have to do with Clint dodging me?"

Shaking her head, Natasha disappeared back inside the shower. "Think about it for a bit, Steve. You'll figure it out eventually."

Steve was browsing the internet that night, searching for his own name combined with Halloween costume to see if the internet would offer any solutions, when he finally got it. He spent nearly a week dodging both men as hard as they were dodging him after. Natasha spent the week laughing at them all.