The bar was crowded and noisy, cigarette smoke visible in wisps through the dim track lights. They'd taken a booth in the corner far away from the bar because it provided the advantage of visibility and a wall at their backs. Even off duty, SHIELD agents were cautious and suspicious.

Most of the TVs on the joint were tuned to various sports games, but the one closest to their booth was tuned to CNN and showing an almost continuous loop of Tony Stark declaring, "I am Iron Man". Every time Phil saw his face, he twitched a little bit.

"Honestly, Cheese, you should have just had Potts do a press release," Fury said, taking a long pull from the sweating bottle of beer clutched in one of his hands.

"Believe it or not, I was under the impression that reading from a card wouldn't be too much to ask of a genius," Phil responded dryly. "Can't we talk about something else?" He still looked stressed out and Clint rested his hand on the back of Phil's neck, partly as a comfort and partly as a warning to one of the assholes playing darts who kept looking over at Phil speculatively.

"Why would we talk about anything else?" Maria shot back, drinking straight up whiskey because she still felt like she had to prove she was tough enough for the Assistant Director gig. "It's not every day we get to see competent Coulson screw up. It's like Christmas."

"Tony Stark is difficult to corral," Phil admitted. "That doesn't mean I screwed up."

"Tony Stark is predictable and easy to manipulate," Natasha corrected. "He's just like Clint. Tell him no and he has to have it. Tell him he can't and he has to prove he can."

"Should I be offended?" Clint asked, raising a hand to his heart to illustrate his hurt. "Because I think I'm offended."

"Can you be offended if it's true?" Phil retorted with the tiniest of smirks.

"Hearsay!" Clint cried, slamming his palm on the table "You're supposed to be on my side! You're an awful boyfriend."

"I've had a terrible week, I'm allowed to be awful," Phil informed him, finishing the last of his beer. "And since you're a better boyfriend than I am, you're going to get me another drink."

Clint sighed, acting more put upon than he actually was, and stood up to do as Phil commanded. The trip to the bar took longer than it should have since the bartender was more interested in talking to a pretty redhead's boobs than serving anyone else drinks. It gave Clint time to scan the menu board, and what he found there was enough to make him forgive the bartender's inattention. It didn't stop him from pegging the man in the back of the head with some pool cue chalk to get his attention, though.

After some heavy glaring and creative maneuvering, Clint was back at the table and setting a mixed drink in front of Phil.

"What the hell is this?" Phil asked, looking dubiously at the red and yellow cocktail in front of him.

"Drambuie, grenadine, scotch, and orange juice," Clint explained. "An Iron Man."

Natasha, Nick, and Maria all started cackling loudly while Clint grinned, extremely pleased with himself.

"You're an asshole," Phil grumbled, grabbing Clint's newly bought Corona from between his fingers and taking a drink of that instead.

"Hey! That's mine!" Clint protested.

"Mine now," Phil shrugged. "You can have this." He pushed the Iron Man cocktail towards Clint.

"Aw, Phil you know I hate Scotch," Clint complained, poking at the orange slice perched jauntily on the rim of the glass.

"Should have thought of that," Phil said, completely unconcerned as he took another long drink of Clint's beer, despite how he usually complained that Corona tasted like stale tortilla chips.

"I knew I should have gotten you the Captain America," he grumbled, and Phil visibly perked up at that.

"I might have actually drank that one," he agreed.

"Should you really indulge his fetish?" Maria asked, propping her chin up on her hands an narrowing her eyes at Clint. "I know I'd be pissed if my boyfriend was obsessed with another woman. Especially if he was as open about it as Coulson is."

"To love Phil is to love his creepy Cap obsession," Clint told her solemnly while Phil glowered at him. "Besides, Captain America died long before either of us were born, I'm totally not threatened. If he was right here, I'd have no chance, but I'm okay with being second best when my competition is a ghost."

"You're such an ass," Phil snorted. Clint smacked a wet kiss on his mouth on response.

"Ugh, okay, if we've gotten to the point of Barton/Coulson PDAs, the night should be drawing to a close," Nick declared, draining the last of his beer and setting the empty bottle firmly on the table. He pointed at Maria and Natasha. "I'll see you two tomorrow. Coulson, Barton you two are on stand down tomorrow."

"Yessir!" Clint said quickly before Phil could protest. Fury left quickly after that, and it wasn't long after his retreat that Maria and Nat decided to turn in as well, and Phil and Clint decided there was no reason to stay in the noisy bar without them.

As they walked towards the nearest subway entrance with the fingers tangled together between them, Clint glanced at Phil and asked, "Would you ever leave me for Captain America?"

"In a heartbeat," Phil answered drily, rolling his eyes.

Clint laughed loudly, digging his elbow into Phil's side. "God you're such an asshole. I'm leaving you for someone who will appreciate me."

"Leave your key on the counter when you go," Phil responded.

"I love you," Clint told him as they headed down the steps to the train, despite Phil's seemingly harsh words.

Phil's carefully held deadpan expression slipped away for a moment and he smiled at Clint, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"I love you, too."

LINEBREAK

Clint groaned loudly as Phil's cell phone started chiming on his bedside table. A quick glance at his own phone revealed that it was five am, and therefore far too early to be awake.

"Just ignore it," Clint grumbled. "It's our day off, Fury said."

Phil ignored him and answered his own phone, managing to sound awake and ready for anything despite the fact that he had only had a few hours of sleep and was probably a little bit hungover. Clint groaned and rolled over, wrapping on arm around Phil's chest and leaning close so that he could pepper sleepy kisses against his neck in hopes that he might be able to convince his boyfriend to stay in bed and maybe participate in some lazy morning sex.

Phil ignored him like a pro, even when Clint stepped up his efforts and moved his kisses up Phil's jaw and towards his ear, and when Phil swore into the phone loudly, Clint knew there was no way he was going to convince Phil to stay in bed.

"I'll be right there, sir. Half an hour, tops," he promised, hanging up and immediately attempting to slide out of bed despite Clint's determination to hold him in.

"It's supposed to be our day off," Clint grumbled again in protest. "I had plans."

"It can still be your day off," Phil said, trying to wiggle out of Clint's hold. "But I need to go in. Let me go, please."

Clint groaned loudly, squeezing Phil around the middle a bit. "You have to pay the toll."

"And what's the toll?" Phil asked, sounding slightly amused. They both knew he could get out of Clint's hold if he really wanted to, but lucky for Clint he didn't seem particularly inclined to hurt him and was willing to play along. For the time, at least.

"Kiss," Clint said, offering his mouth up so that Phil could see the pout formed there. Phil laughed and rolled his eyes, but he still paid the toll. Clint sighed into Phil's mouth as their lips met, wishing there was something he could say to convince Phil to stay home with him.

"I suppose you're free to go," he sighed when Phil pulled away from him. "What's the deal, anyway?"

"It's Operation Icicle," Phil said, a boyish flush of excitement filling his cheeks. "One of Stark's teams found him."

"Holy shit," Clint said, suddenly understanding Phil's determination to be at SHIELD as fast as possible.

"I know!" Phil responded, full out grinning. "I've got to get ready. Go back to sleep, it's still early."

Clint obediently settled back down against the pillows, watching Phil walk naked into the bathroom for a shower, because that was a view he never wanted to miss. He dozed off again as the shower turned on, and was only a little bit aware when Phil leaned over him and kissed him on the forehead before he left, falling back asleep so quickly it may as well have been a dream.

When he woke again it was just past ten am, and he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep anymore, so he rolled out of bed, put on some boxers, and started looking for something to do without Phil there to entertain him. As soon as he opened the bedroom door he was met by Napoleon, Phil's orange tabby. Technically, they'd agreed to adopt a cat together, but Napoleon was absolutely Phil's cat. He rushed to the door when Phil came home and spent as much time lounging in Phil's lap as he could, and meanwhile he barely tolerated Clint. Clint suspected the small amount of tolerance he was afforded was only because Clint had thumbs and was therefore capable of opening the jar that held the cat food. Napoleon was watching him with narrowed amber eyes, his tail flicking back and forth in an almost irritated manner.

"Did Phil forget to feed you before he left?" Clint asked the cat, who meowed loudly and got up to trot down the hall. Clint sighed and followed when Napoleon stopped at the end of the hallway and looked back at him, as if to ask what was taking him so long. The cat sat in front of his food bowl meowing pitifully until Clint dumped the food in, and then he went back to ignoring Clint like he usually did. Balance was restored.

Clint sighed and glanced around the kitchen, grimacing when he realized that there was a fine layer of dust over everything. Contrary to popular belief, both he and Phil were capable of cooking, but there had been so much going on lately that Clint couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten something that hadn't come out of a take out carton. The whole apartment could probably use a cleaning, and he figured he might as well do it since his plans of lazing around were ruined.

He plugged his ipod into a speaker dock and went to work, starting with the refrigerator and working out from there. He washed dishes and dusted and scrubbed down counters, bleached the toilet and tub in both bathrooms, he vacuumed the carpet in the bedroom and by the time four o'clock rolled around he was dancing around with the broom and dramatically singing, still in his boxers. Over the thumping beat of Lady Gaga he heard his cellphone start to chime in the bedroom.

He rushed to catch it before it went to voicemail, and grabbed it just as the jingle was reaching it's end.

"Hello?" he asked, collapsing on the bed where he'd scrambled across it to reach his phone on the bedside table.

"Hey," Phil said, and immediately Clint smiled.

"Oh hey! How's it going? Did you get to play with the shield?" Clint teased, turning over onto his back so that he could stare at the ceiling.

"Clint," Phil said, and Clint found himself suddenly worrying. He'd never heard Phil's voice sound like that before, and he didn't know what it meant.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

"It's...they found the body in the arctic, buried in ice and they've been thawing it out all day, it's only about half done. But Clint...it's kind of a miracle, but he's alive."

"What?" Clint demanded. "How could he possibly be alive?"

"I don't know," Phil said, breathless. "I have no idea, but he's alive, he's got vitals and they're all good. He's unconscious but he's alive. Captain America is alive!"

"Holy shit," Clint breathed.

"Yeah, I know," Phil answered. "Listen I've got to go, but I just wanted you to know what's going on. Don't wait up, I won't be home until late."

Clint wanted to argue with that, but he knew it wouldn't really be of any use, so he just let it go.

"Yeah, okay. I mean...good luck with that? I don't really know what I'm supposed to say."

"Yeah, me neither," Phil responded. "Just. I'll see you later, I've got to go!" and then he hung up, leaving Clint laying in their bed, staring at the ceiling with a frown. He laid there for a few more minutes, his mind spinning around in circles before he rolled off the bed and started stripping the sheets. Phil wouldn't be home any time soon, so any plans he might have been forming about taking Phil out for dinner, or maybe even cooking for him, went straight out the window. He tried really hard not be put off by it, because of course he knew how important SHIELD business was, but when it came down to it, he couldn't ignore that it was less SHIELD business and more Phil blowing him off for Captain America. Who was alive.

He felt sick as he threw the bedding into the washing machine, and the good mood he'd worked up on his cleaning binge was just gone. He decided that he'd still go get food like he'd planned on before the phone call, because he wasn't the type of guy to hang around the house bored and waiting for his boyfriend to pay attention to him. He wasn't that pathetic.

He showered and dressed quickly, stepping into his boots and slipping his wallet into his back pocket simultaneously. He dug through the hall closet to locate the purple and black motorcycle helmet that matched the purple and black motorcycle he'd bought himself for his last birthday. He considered grabbing his leather jacket as well, because he'd promised Phil he'd always wear long sleeves and pants when riding, but as much as he didn't want to admit it he was feeling miffed with Phil at the moment and decided to just go out in his t-shirt.

As he jogged down the steps of their apartment building and towards the underground parking garage where his bike and Phil's corvette lived, he texted Natasha.

"Dinner?"

"Shae's?"

"Sounds good. Want me to swing by and pick you up?"

"I'll find my helmet."

He grinned, glad that things with Natasha were just as simple as they always were, and got on his bike to go meet her.

Shae's was a little cafe in the Village that had the best damn curly fries Clint had ever had in his life. Sometimes when he went, they were all he ordered, and no amount of scathing remarks from Natasha could make him feel bad about it.

This time, he felt like he hadn't eaten anything leafy and green in a while, so he ordered a chicken pomegranate salad and a basket of fries to split with Natasha. The spinach tasted better than he had thought spinach could, and he thought maybe he should eat a little less take out. Both he and Phil were probably going to get scurvy if they kept it up.

"So what's the problem?" Natasha asked after they'd spent a few minutes eating quietly. One of her small hands darted to his plate and away again with a pomegranate seed, faster than he could move to poke her with his fork.

"What problem?" Clint said petulantly, even though they both knew that he'd taken her out so that they could have a Talk. Natasha didn't bother to respond, simply sucking the red juice from the pomegranate seed from her fingers and raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, okay," Clint sighed. "Do you know about Operation Icicle?"

"Oh yeah," Natasha snorted. "Coulson was in a tizzy when I brought him lunch. Didn't leave his side all day, as far as I could tell."

Clint frowned at that, remembering how eager Phil had been to leave their bed and his arms that morning.

"So he was pretty excited, huh?" Clint asked, poking at his salad with the tines of his fork. Suddenly it didn't seem quite as appealing as it had been a few minutes ago. He speared a few pieces of spinach and a hunk of chicken and shoveled it all into his mouth anyway. He had a thing about not letting food go to waste.

"Of course he was," Natasha said, shrugging delicately. "I bet the first time they talk, he'll full on swoon." Natasha dramatically put the back of her hand to her forehead as a demonstration.

"Yeah," Clint agreed, forcing a smile before taking a fistful of curly fries and tearing into them. Natasha chuckled a bit, but after a moment her eyes narrowed and she started scrutinizing him.

"You're really bothered by this, aren't you?" she demanded.

"No! Uh, well, kinda," Clint admitted, knowing there was no point in trying to hide it from Natasha. She knew everything and would just get annoyed if he forced her to drag it out of him.

"Phil loves you," Natasha pointed out.

"I thought you didn't believe in love?" Clint retorted immediately.

"I don't, really," Natasha said. "But I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one else is watching. If real love is possible, I think you two could have it. Having something like that would be nice, I think. If impractical."

Clint was kind of touched by that, knowing how much Natasha hated saying things like that. He grinned at her and poked the basket of fries towards her, like a reward system for admitting she had feelings. She took one and bit it in half, chewing slowly.

"You're still worried though," she pressed.

"Well, yeah," Clint said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean. He's been the object of Phil's fantasies forever, hasn't he? It never bothered me before because it was never gonna happen, you know? But now…"

"Now you think it could happen," Natasha said. "What, you think he's going to wake up and sweep Phil off his feet and they'll live in happy little perfect-American bliss?"

Clint had already imagined their perfect little ranch-style house with an American flag hanging proudly from the front porch and the perfect little white picket fence surrounded the perfectly green grass.

"Well, I mean," Clint said. "It could totally happen. Phil's always been obsessed, and I knew that. I always knew I was second best, but it never bothered me because it's easy to be second best when there's absolutely no threat. But now Phil can have first best, and why wouldn't he want that?"

"And what about Rogers?" Natasha asked. "Does he get any say in this happy little arrangement?"

"Well of course he does," Clint scoffed. "But why wouldn't he want it? Phil's perfect. He's smart and competent and so sexy. He's everything you could ever want in a man. Rogers would have to be crazy not to want him."

"Or straight," Natasha pointed out dryly. That simple statement made Clint's racing worries grind straight to a halt. Straight. Captain America was probably straight, right? Guys from the forties were totally repressed and all about women and missionary position. He'd been worrying about losing his boyfriend to a guy who wouldn't even be interested in him that way.

He laughed out loud, and Natasha rolled her eyes fondly at him.

"Not everyone's a fruitcake like you," she told him, and he stuck his tongue out at her.

"I'm so glad I have you around to knock sense into me," he told her gratefully, and she shrugged.

"Someone has to do it."

"I want a milkshake," Clint decided, thinking he needed to celebrate the fact that he wouldn't be losing his boyfriend. "Do you want a milkshake?"

"Strawberry," Natasha requested, and Clint bounded up to the counter to place another order. Everything suddenly looked much brighter.

Phil got home late, but Clint woke up as soon as the front door opened. He settled back down sleepily when he heard the familiar Phil noises of keys being set in the bowl on the hallway table, a coat being hung up on the rack, and the refrigerator being opened. He was peeking out through half-closed eyes when Phil entered the room with a bottle of water in one hand.

"Hey, did I wake you?" Phil greeted quietly, and Clint mumbled in response. "Sorry."

He stripped out of his clothes quickly, taking the time to hang the suit neatly and deposit everything else in the laundry basket before slipping into bed. Clint pressed into him immediately, kissing him sleepily, and muttering, "missed you" against his mouth. Phil laughed and returned the sweet kisses for a moment before pulling back kissing Clint's forehead.

"Go on, go back to sleep," Phil encouraged him, and Clint mumbled sleepily, turning his back on Phil and then pressing up against him. Phil took the hint, pressing his chest up against Clint's back and wrapping one arm around Clint's waist. Phil pressed his lips once more to Clint's shoulder and Clint was asleep before Phil's mouth left his skin.

When he woke up, Phil was gone.

It wasn't surprising that he was out of bed, because he always got out of bed before Clint did. Phil liked to take long showers in the morning and get dressed at a sedate pace, whereas Clint literally rolled out of bed and showered and dressed in less than ten minutes, so was able to sleep in later. But they always left together unless they had specific reasons not to and they usually mentioned it to each other if one would be leaving earlier.

But Phil had gotten in really late last night, and Clint had been more than halfway asleep, so maybe he had just decided not to mention it, thinking that Clint would forget anyway? Clint tried not to dwell on it as he got ready. In fact, he made a point to stop at their favorite bakery on his way to SHIELD HQ to pick up some cheese croissants for Phil for breakfast, because he didn't like to eat really early in the morning and had probably only had coffee so far that day. He also grabbed a banana nut muffin for himself, leaving it in the bag so they could eat together if Phil had the time.

He didn't find Phil in his office when he got there, but there was a post-it note stuck to the back of the door written in Nat's hand that read, "Check medical." For a moment, he thought it might be some trap to lure him into medical and then spring an evaluation or something on him, but then he remembered that Phil would be wherever Captain America was, and that Captain America was probably in medical on account of having been frozen for seventy years.

The room was an isolation chamber with a guard standing outside it, and Clint was pretty sure that the guard had no clue what was behind that door. It took him a few minutes of digging through his multiple pockets before he found his ID badge and proved that he was actually level 7 and therefore cleared to enter the room.

Phil was filling out paperwork on a tray table, but Clint was kind of distracted by Captain America. He was huge and blonde, but weirdly, kind of pretty. He had really long eyelashes and looked very young, no more than twenty-five at the very most. Clint wasn't sure he'd ever looked that young and innocent in his life.

"Isn't it amazing?" Phil asked, looking up at Clint with a boyish grin.

"Yeah, it's definitely something," Clint agreed. He couldn't stop picturing the amount of times he'd woken up to Phil in the same position, doing paperwork and waiting around so that Clint wouldn't wake up alone and panic. He felt oddly possessive of that habit, but he was trying to ignore it. He really doubted he was the only person Phil had ever waited in medical for, so there was no reason for him to feel so jealous.

"I brought you breakfast," Clint offered. "No coffee because I was on the bike…"

"That's all right," Phil said. "I have coffee. Thank you." He took the bag from Clint's hand and smiled when he saw the croissants. Clint couldn't help the thrum of pleasure that spread through him at the sight of that smile.

He'd just started tearing into his croissant when Captain America groaned and woke up. All three of them froze, Phil and Clint in minor shock and Captain America probably because he had no idea where he was.

"Captain," Phil spoke up, setting his food aside, and he sounded like he was trying very hard to hide the giddiness in his voice and not quite managing it. "Captain Rogers, you're safe. You're in a medical facility in New York City."

Rogers stopped pretending to still be asleep, because clearly Clint and Phil weren't buying it. He opened his eyes and looked at them and then swept the rest of the room, cataloguing exits. Clint could feel himself getting defensive and tense, preparing himself for the possibility that Captain America might attack them.

"What happened?" he demanded. "Who are you? How did I get here. The plane, the bombs…"

"Everything is okay, Captain Rogers," Phil said, finally having managed to get his excitement under control in the face of Rogers' obvious distress. "You stopped the bombs, the war is over."

"The war is...the war is over?" Rogers demanded, looking like he didn't believe that for a second. Phil very slowly reached over to the stack of papers he'd been working on and pulled out a very old newspaper with "JAPAN SURRENDERS: END OF WAR!" in huge letters across the top. He handed it over to the Captain carefully, trying not to spook him, and Rogers' eyes went wide.

"But...this newspaper is old," he said after a minute of silence. "Very old. What…?"

"Yes," Phil said. "You crashed the plane with the bombs into the ocean…"

"Yeah, I remember," Rogers said, still sounding shellshocked.

"Right," Phil said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Everyone thought you were dead, but apparently something to do with the super soldier serum saved you when you went into the ice instead of killing you. We found you and revived you obviously but…" Phil paused, suddenly realizing that he was going to deliver his childhood hero what could be considered devastating news. Clint took pity on him.

"It's been seventy years," Clint said. "It's 2012."

Rogers looked away from the paper and slowly up at Clint with wide eyes.

"You're shitting me," was all he said, and Clint had to admit that it was pretty delightful to hear the paragon of American virtue cuss.

"We're not," Phil said, and he offered his tablet to Rogers, open to the New York Times main page that showed the current date and time. Rogers stared at the tablet in shock for a long moment and then poked at the screen, starting visibly when he clicked a link and it brought him to a new page.

"What the hell…?" he muttered.

"It's a computer," Phil explained quickly. "Um. Well, it's a machine and it can access pretty much all the information known to mankind."

"And some pretty great cat videos," Clint added, because he couldn't help but be an asshole sometimes.

"You're pulling my leg," Rogers said, sounding weary. "There's no way…"

The door swung open and Fury swooped in looking annoyed.

"Coulson, I thought you agreed that you'd call me when he woke up."

"Sorry, sir," Phil said, his cheeks going just slightly pink. "I, um, got distracted."

"Yeah, I can see that," Fury said dryly, and then he turned his attention to Cap. "Captain Rogers, good to see you awake."

"What kind of funny farm are you running here?" Rogers demanded. "These two jokers are trying to tell me it's 2012…"

"It is 2012," Fury confirmed. "A lot has changed, Captain." He pulled up one of the holographic interfaces, and a lot of images of American cities flashed across the screen.

Rogers' face drained of all color, and he suddenly looked anguished. "You're not messing with me, are you? It...It really has been seventy years."

"I'm afraid we're not," Fury confirmed. "Agent Coulson is my most trusted man, he'll answer any questions you might have, and he can get you anything you need."

Rogers didn't answer, continuing to stare at the flashing images. Or maybe he was staring at the holoscreen itself, Clint didn't really know.

"Barton, with me," Fury said, and Clint followed him out of the room with only a moment's hesitation. He really wanted to see more awkward Phil, but Fury wasn't the kind of person to push the limits of unless Clint was really looking for some retribution. He wasn't, so he followed.

"What are we gonna do with him, sir?" Clint asked as they walked, and Fury heaved a huge sigh.

"I have no fucking clue."

In the week since Captain America had woken up, Clint hadn't seen Phil at home unless he happened to wake up when Phil was crawling into or out of bed. He tried not to let it bother him too much. Steve, as he insisted they call him, was in a new place and he'd just lost everything he'd ever known and loved. That sort of thing was tough, and Clint understood that. Phil had been spending all of his time with Steve: talking to him, giving him history lessons, updating him on current events, and basically just being around for Steve to talk to if he was needed. Apparently Fury had decided he liked the idea of Steve creating a bond with Phil, probably to gain his loyalty, and had cleared Phil from field work for the immediate future. Phil, for once in his life, hadn't argued and seemed content to be stuck with deskwork, which he completed while in Steve's company.

Clint had spent a few hours with Steve and Phil as well when he wasn't doing actual work. He only ventured in when he was really bored or very desperate to see Phil. It wasn't Steve. Steve was a good guy, funny, and endlessly positive, despite all he'd lost. The problem was, he was a little too friendly, particularly towards Phil. Clint wasn't sure if they noticed that they flirted pretty much endlessly, but it made him crazy. He tried to not take it too personally. Some people were just flirty. Hell, Clint was flirty and Phil had never been threatened by that, so Clint shouldn't have been either. But he thought it was pretty fair to say that, of the two of them, Phil was much more secure and confident.

Still, he tried his best to be nice to Steve. He introduced him to the basic functions of a tablet, and then made the mistake of showing him how to play Candy Crush. He felt a little bad, getting an American Icon addicted to a stupid facebook game, but it was also kind of funny to watch the paragon of American virtue cuss at his tablet. The problem was that he liked Steve, and it made it really hard to resent him for stealing away Clint's boyfriend.

Clint snapped out of his thoughts when he reached back for another arrow and found that his quiver was empty. The foam target at the other end of the range had a little star made of arrows right in the middle of it, looking suspiciously like Steve's shield. He scowled at it and called the target forward so he could get his arrows back. Shooting usually cleared his mind, but it was obvious that this whole thing with Phil and Steve was bothering him more than he was admitting even to himself.

He decided to drop in on them, just to assure himself that everything was fine. Today was his and Phil's five-year anniversary, after all, and they had agreed to have a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant to celebrate. Clint had finally decided that he would ask Phil to marry him. He'd been terrified of it before, because he always got left and he was terrible with commitment, but he and Phil had made it five years and he wasn't so scared anymore.

When he entered the isolation chamber that still made up Steve's room, his gut wrenched when he saw how close Steve and Phil were to each other. Closer than was appropriate for people who were just friends, he thought. Their faces were close together and Phil was holding Steve's hand, but Steve looked kind of sad. Phil was probably just comforting him. By being really close to his face. Right.

"Hey, Clint," Phil greeted, not looking guilty at all. He smiled fondly, and Clint smiled back. He hadn't walked in on anything illicit, after all. Just Phil comforting a friend who was having a really rough time. Phil was kind and compassionate, and Clint loved that about him. He couldn't expect him to not be that way towards Steve and still be the guy Clint loved.

"Hey, Phil, Steve," Clint greeted, feeling pretty awkward.

"Hey," Steve greeted, and his voice sounded rough.

"I can see that I'm interrupting," he said quickly, wishing that he could insinuate himself into their intimate little moment and not feel like a complete and total asshole about it. "I just wanted to stop in and see how things are going…"

"They're okay," Steve answered awkwardly, because clearly they were not.

"Right," Clint answered. "I'm gonna go. I'll see you tonight, Phil?" He offered up the reminder just in case Phil had forgotten, but Phil smiled at him and nodded.

"Yeah, of course. I'll see you later."

"Like about six? I'll see you there?" Clint prompted.

"Yeah, sure. Six," Phil answered, waving Clint away. Clint tried not to be offended at the dismissal and went off to go harass some juniors. That always put him in a good mood.

Clint arrived at the restaurant they'd agreed on, an upscale Italian place that they'd both wanted to try and had never had the chance to before, at 5:45. He was a bit uncomfortable in the shirt and tie he'd worn, but he knew Phil would like it so he tried not to fiddle too much with the collar. It kind of felt like it was choking him, but it was only for a night. A very important night. He could handle it.

He kept tucking his hand in his pocket in panic to make sure the ring box was still there. He'd chosen something simple and understated: two plain matching platinum bands with their initials engraved on the inside. He knew Phil would like them. He just hoped that Phil would agree to wear one. He ordered a bottle of moscato while he waited, and had finished most of his glass before he looked at the time and saw that it was almost 6:30. Dread filled his stomach, and he decided to call.

"Hey, where are you?" he asked when Phil answered.

"With Steve, where else?" Phil asked, like it was a ridiculous question even though Clint had reminded him that afternoon.

"We uh...we had a date, remember?" Clint pressed, suddenly realizing that Phil didn't remember at all. He'd forgotten their anniversary, and suddenly that felt like a huge deal. He was sitting by himself in a nice restaurant waiting for his boyfriend to show up so that he could ask him about marriage, and Phil didn't even remember. He wouldn't have forgotten if Captain America didn't take up all his time.

"Did we?" Phil asked, and Clint could practically hear his frown. "I'm sorry, Clint, I forgot."

"Oh," Clint said. He knew Phil had forgotten, but it hurt more to hear it out loud. "That's okay. I can…"

"Can we reschedule?" Phil interrupted Clint's offer to wait for him. "It's just that...Steve's having kind of a rough day and I'd feel bad if I left him alone."

"Oh, yeah," Clint answered. "Yeah, sure. We'll reschedule."

"Are you okay?" Phil asked. "You're not mad are you?"

"No," Clint said. "I'm not mad." And he wasn't mad. He was really fucking hurt, and he hated it, but he wasn't mad.

"Good," Phil answered warmly. "I'm really sorry Clint. I'll see you later. Maybe not tonight because I'll probably get in late, but definitely tomorrow."

"Yeah, bye." Clint answered. "I lov-"

Phil hung up before he could finish his sentence, and it took everything Clint had in him not to go marching down to SHIELD to demand to know why Steve was more important than him. Instead, he called Natasha.

"Hey, want a free dinner?"

Natasha made it to the restaurant in less than half an hour, and she'd dressed up in a nice green sheath dress that she'd probably stolen from the costume department at SHIELD.

"Hey," he greeted forlornly when she sat down and poured herself a glass of wine.

"So he forgot, huh?"

"Yeah," Clint sighed. "I guess I shouldn't be mad."

"I would be," Natasha said, sipping from her glass and arching an eyebrow. "Phil doesn't forget things like this usually, and he blew you off for Spangles. I'd be pissed."

Clint didn't know what to say, so he just watched her as she scanned the menu and then made a motion for the waiter once she'd decided. The waiter looked relieved, probably because Clint had been taking up one of his tables for over an hour and all he'd ordered was a mid-priced bottle of wine. He wasn't hungry anymore, but he ordered anyway just because he felt bad.

"I just…" Clint sighed. "I'm losing him. He hasn't been home for more than a few hours a night for the past week. He forgot our anniversary. He's been getting really close with Steve and Steve doesn't seem to be bothered by it at all."

"Have you said anything to Phil about it?" Natasha asked, taking another sip of her wine and leaving an imprint of her lipstick on the rim.

"No," Clint grumbled. "What do I say without seeming like I'm clingy and paranoid. It's not like he'd ever cheat on me. He's too good for that. But if I bring it up, it'll give him an opening to break up with me, and I don't know if I can handle that."

He dug the ring box out of his pocket and slid it across the table to Natasha. She opened the box and her eyebrows rose once more.

"I'm flattered," she said dryly, but Clint didn't laugh.

"I just feel really stupid," Clint admitted. "I thought it was really serious and that we could be together forever, but it's been less than a week with Captain Perfect around and he's already forgotten about me."

Natasha didn't say anything, just closed the box and gave it back to him as the waiter approached with their food. They ate quietly for a few minutes before Natasha spoke again.

"We still don't know that Steve is even interested in men," she pointed out. "And do you really think that Phil would leave you for him if he was?"

"He said he would," Clint said, and Natasha's face went murderous. "I mean. We were kind of joking about it and he said he'd leave me for Captain American in a heartbeat. But what if he really meant that? What if it wasn't really a joke, but like one of those things where you say true stuff and pretend it's a joke?"

"I don't know, Clint," Natasha sighed. "Phil wouldn't do that to you. He's such a good guy."

"Yeah," Clint agreed, coming upon another, possibly worse, revelation. "He wouldn't leave me because he'd feel obligated to stay. But I don't want to be an obligation. I love him, and I don't want him to be miserable. So...I guess if he wants to be with Steve I should just let him, right?"

"If that's what you want to do," Natasha said. It wasn't what he wanted to do. He wanted to put himself between Steve and Phil and growl like a feral dog, because Phil was his. But he couldn't live with Phil hating his life because he was stuck with Clint when he could be with the person he really wanted to be with. It was easy to be second best to a ghost, but Steve was no longer a ghost.

"It's for the best," he said, and he knew he didn't sound that convincing.

"Well, at least find out if Steve is even interested in men before you make any rash decisions," Natasha advised. "I think you're really upset right now, and you should sleep on it."

Clint nodded in agreement, and was pretty quiet for the rest of their meal.

When Phil got home that night, Clint was still lying awake, staring at the ceiling and praying for sleep.

"Hey," Phil greeted quietly as he undressed and slipped into bed. "You will never guess what I found out today."

Not even an apology for missing their dinner, or an acknowledgement that he had finally remembered that it was their anniversary.

"What's that?" Clint answered, hoping that it was something way more important than their five years in a relationship. Admittedly, he was feeling kind of petty.

"Steve is bisexual," Phil informed him gleefully, and Clint's heart shattered.

"Oh yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah," Phil said, his voice low even though they were the only two people in the apartment. "Apparently he had a thing with Bucky Barnes and Peggy Carter. Who would have seen that coming?"

"Not me," Clint answered weakly.

"I can't even believe it," Phil was gushing. "That's why he was so upset today, it was Bucky's birthday. I should have remembered that."

"Yeah," Clint said. "Forgetting a lot of things lately, aren't you?"

Phil frowned at him. "Is this about the date? I'm really sorry I forgot, Clint."

"It's fine," Clint answered shortly, because if they kept talking about this he'd get upset and he didn't want to be anymore sad than he already was. "Good night."

He turned his back on Phil but didn't press against him like he normally would, because he wanted to see what Phil would do. For a minute he thought that Phil would keep questioning him, but then he just sighed and settled down against his pillow. Phil didn't reach out for Clint, and that was when he knew it was over.

Clint decided it would be better if he secured a new place to live before he let Phil go. He could stay in the SHIELD barracks, but honestly he knew he was going to be a mess for a while and he wanted to have his own space to break down in. It would be better if he could leave as soon as he and Phil broke up. He wondered if Steve would move into their apartment and sleep in their bed, but he didn't want to think about it so he tried not to.

He grabbed as many newspapers and hardcopy housing ads as he could find, because he didn't want to risk Phil noticing if he used their shared laptop. He didn't want to make things awkward between them. Or, any more awkward then they were. Since their anniversary, Phil had kind of withdrawn and avoided him. Clint was pretty sure he didn't come home some nights at all. Despite that, he needed to make sure they stayed civil to each other. He needed Phil to stay his handler, because Strike Team Delta was bigger and more important than their individual drama. It was very important that he let Phil go at the right time and assured him that he wasn't angry, so Phil couldn't find out before Clint had sorted everything out and decided what to stay.

Natasha was helping him look for places as well, but she didn't seem that happy about it. She'd offered him her spare room, but he'd declined. He depended too much on her, and he for some reason he really felt like he needed to be able to live on his own, maybe to prove to himself that he didn't need anyone to be okay. Besides, Natasha was very private and she liked to have her own space. Clint didn't want to intrude on that.

"Hey Clint, wait up!"

Clint considered speeding up for a moment at the sound of Steve's voice, but then firmly reminded himself that it wasn't Steve's fault and that he had to act like an adult. He slowed to a stop to wait for Steve, who had finally been allowed to leave his little isolation room, since medical couldn't seem to find anything wrong with him and couldn't come up with any more excuses to keep him there.

He was wearing SHIELD issue blue track pants and a t-shirt that was way too small for him. It looked amazing on him, and Clint wanted to hate him for it, or maybe buy him a t-shirt that actually fit right. He was suddenly aware of his own shirt and how tights it was around his biceps, and he wondered if anyone ever hated him for how tight his shirts were. Not that his looked painted on like Captain Tightpants', but still, it was very similar.

And that was part of the problem. They were similar, except that Steve was better in every way. He was taller and broader and nicer looking. His nose was normal sized and his eyes were clear, bright blue, unlike Clint's weird greenish-blueish-could-never-really-decide-what-color-they-were eyes. He was golden blonde to Clint's dirty-blonde, cheerful and friendly where Clint was snarky and disagreeable. And mostly, he was a great person. Clint had always tried to do good and help people, but he'd never really managed to pull it off. Steve had punched Hitler in the face and fought for freedom and puppies and Christmas. Clint could never compare to him in a million years.

"Hey Steve," he greeted tiredly. The worst part was that he couldn't hate Steve, because he was so nice and good. He made Clint want to be better just by his mere presence, and it was really hard to dislike someone like that.

"Hey, did you want to get some lunch with me? I'm starving but I kind of hate going to the cafeteria alone. Everyone stares at me."

"Uh, yeah, sure," Clint said, even though getting lunch with Steve was the absolute last thing he wanted to do.

"Great!" Steve said enthusiastically, starting off in the direction of the cafeteria.

"Where's Phil?" Clint asked hesitantly.

"Oh, he had a meeting with Director Fury," Steve said. "I was going to wait for him, but I'm pretty hungry."

"I'm sure he won't mind," Clint answered mildly. They weren't too far off from the caf, and it was an off time of day so there was hardly any line. Clint watched incredulously as Steve loaded his tray up with all sorts of food.

"You ever think they stare at you because you eat enough for three?" Clint asked, and Steve blushed.

"I'm always hungry, ever since the serum," he admitted, looking sheepish and uncertain. "Phil said I could eat till I was full, because there's no more rationing…"

"Yeah, man, go for it," Clint said, feeling like a dick. "Eat as much as you want. I'm just saying, most of us can't put away that much food and not puke, so that could be the reason for the stares."

"I guess I hadn't really thought of that," Steve said thoughtfully as they made their way to a table. Clint had gotten the macaroni and cheese, which was easily the most delicious thing the cafeteria put out, even if it had a bit of a gluey consistency.

They were quiet for a few minutes and Steve ate faster than anything Clint had ever seen. He put away almost half the tray in less than ten minutes before he slowed down to a more sedate pace.

"So, Phil told me that you guys are dating," Steve said, and Clint felt dread in the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah," he said. "Five years as of last Thursday."

"Wow," Steve said. "That's really good."

"Yeah," Clint answered noncommittally, wondering if this was the part where Steve would tell him to watch his back because he was going to steal Clint's boyfriend. Except that this wasn't a teen movie and Steve wasn't an evil cheerleader, so he didn't say that at all.

"He's been spending a lot of time with me lately," Steve pointed out.

"Yeah," Clint agreed.

"I hope that doesn't bother you."

"Nope," Clint lied. "It's fine. Phil's a big boy."

"He is," Steve agreed with a smile, and Clint had to wonder if that was some sort of double entendre. He wondered if punching Captain America in the face would do more damage to his hand than Steve's face. "He's been very good to me since I woke up."

"Well, Phil's a good guy," Clint said, suddenly really done with this whole conversation. He was relieved to see Phil enter the cafeteria, because it meant he could escape, but also he was loathe to leave them alone. But in the end, that was kind of the whole point and Clint would have to get used to it.

"Look, Steve, I've got to go. I just remembered I have a thing," Clint offered awkwardly. "I'll see you later."

"Oh, okay," Steve said, looking confused. "Bye!"

Clint was out the cafeteria doors before Phil had even gotten through the practically nonexistent line. He didn't know how he was supposed to work with both of them in his face all the time. He'd have to get a better hold of himself or everything would fall apart.

Clint came awake to something soft smacking him in the face. He reached for the gun in the holster welded to side of the bed frame and panicked when he found it wasn't there.

"What, are you going to shoot me?" Phil asked, and whacked him in the face again with whatever was in his hand. With the second soft whump, Clint realized that it was the classified ads that he'd been looking at before bed last night with prospective apartments circled in red. He realized he must have fallen asleep and not put them away, and Phil had obviously come in and and seen them. So much for telling him when he had the right words.

"What the hell is this?" Phil demanded when he saw that Clint was completely awake.

"Classifieds," Clint said defensively.

"Yeah, with apartments circled. What, you were just going to leave me and not say anything?" Phil demanded. He looked angrier than Clint had ever seen him, and he wondered how this had gotten turned around. Phil had no right to be angry. Clint was doing this for him. Hell, if anyone should be angry, it was Clint.

"I was gonna say something," Clint said, letting himself feel the anger he'd been pushing back for two weeks. "But I was gonna wait until I had a place to go. Didn't want to be in the way if you decided to invited Steve to move in with you right away!"

"What the hell are you even talking about?" Phil demanded. "Why would Steve move in with me?"

"Because you're obviously in love with him!" Clint yelled back. "I figured I would step aside and let you have the guy you really want…"

"Oh, fuck you!" Phil growled, throwing the ad down on the bed. "If you want to leave me, you fucking own up to it! If you want to break up, then fine, but you don't get to blame it on me!"

"I'm doing it foryou!" Clint argued. "You'd obviously rather be with Steve, and he's all bi now, so you can be. I don't want to stop you from getting what you really want. I'm trying to step aside gracefully here and you're just being an asshole."

"What makes you think I want to be with Steve?" Phil demanded, sounding more tired than angry now.

"Well, there's the fact that you've wanted to date Captain America since puberty, and that you told me you'd leave me in a heartbeat for him, literally the night before he was found…"

"Jesus Christ, Clint, that was a joke!" Phil protested angrily, turning his back on Clint so that he could pace across the carpet. Clint felt vulnerable still sitting in the bed, so he got up too. It made him feel a little bit in control even though he was only wearing a pair of boxers.

"Well how about the fact that I've barely seen you since he showed up, and that you completely forgot about our anniversary dinner because Steve was having a bad day!"

Phil stopped his pacing and paused for a long moment before he turned to look at Clint, a guilty expression on his face.

"Fuck," he said.

"Yeah," Clint answered quietly. "I was gonna ask you…no, nevermind. Just that I realized that I was really invested in our relationship, and after the whole anniversary thing I thought it was pretty obvious that you weren't. And I get it, really. He's everything you've ever wanted and I could never measure up to him. I get it. I love you and I'm trying not to be a selfish asshole for once in my life so I'm letting you go."

"What were you going to ask me?" Phil asked quietly.

"It doesn't matter," Clint said, wishing he hadn't said anything. He didn't want to admit how far he'd fallen.

"I think it does," Phil said. "God, Clint. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I made you think I don't want you. Captain America is an idea I've looked up to and respected since I was a kid, and I admit that I've always kind of had a crush on that idea. But I'm not in love with Steve Rogers. I only think of him as a friend. And I'm sorry I've neglected you, and that I forgot about our anniversary. I just kind of got swept up in my excitement, I guess."

Clint had to look away from him then, not sure of what to say. Phil approached him cautiously, like he was afraid he might spook Clint off. When Cling stayed there, Phil wrapped his arms around Clint's shoulders and pulled him close, stroking a hand over the back on Clint's neck in the way that he liked. Clint couldn't help but melt into him.

"I love you more than anything in this world, Clint," Phil told him quietly. "Please don't leave me. I'll be better."

"I don't want you to be better," Clint mumbled against Phil's shoulder, a wave of relief crashing through him as he started to realize how serious Phil was. "I just want you to stop spending all your time with Steve."

"I can do that," Phil agreed. "I'll just tell him that our friendship is affecting my relationship with you, he'll understand…"

"God Phil," Clint snorted, looping his arms around Phil's middle and squeezing him to show how much he appreciated the gesture. "I don't want you to stop being friends with Steve. God knows he needs good people like you in his life. I just want you to remember that you have a boyfriend who loves you and misses you when you're not around. And who might be kind of insecure."

"Okay," Phil said, pulling back a bit so he could kiss Clint. "I can do that. I'm so sorry, Clint. I've been awful to you."

"It's okay," Clint muttered. "I guess I was being pretty passive aggressive myself."

"Well, I forgive you, you forgive me, everything's okay, right? You won't move out?"

"Yeah," Clint said, smiling. "Everything's good. I'll stay right here."

"Good," Phil said, dragging his fingertips through the hair at the nape of Clint's neck. "I don't know what I'd do if you left me."

"I wasn't really sure what I was going to do either," Clint admitted. Phil pulled away and dragged Clint over to sit on the bed with him.

"So what were you going to ask me," Phil prompted again, and Clint shrugged.

"It doesn't matter," Clint insisted, but Phil looked at him seriously, and Clint knew that Phil knew.

"Please, Clint. Ask me," he said.

"Okay," Clint said, wishing that he wasn't in his boxers and they hadn't just had a fight. He leaned over to retrieve the ring box from his bedside table and offered it to Phil. In another circumstance, he might have gotten down on one knee, but it didn't feel quite right in the early morning light in their bedroom.

"Will you marry me?" Clint asked as Phil opened the box to inspect the ring.

"Of course I will," he answered simply, and Clint didn't know what else to do but kiss him, so he did.

Phil pulled him closed and they tipped over sideways onto the bed, laughing and kissing. Clint felt lighter and happier than he had in weeks, and he berated himself for almost ruining everything. Just as things started to get really hot and heavy, Phil's phone rang. Clint groaned, knowing that he was going to answer it.

"Coulson. Ah, hey Steve." Clint narrowed his eyes, because of fucking course Steve would call right in the middle of their moment. Phil grimaced apologetically at him.

"I'm actually right in the middle of something," he said. "I'm not going to be able to make it in today. You'll be okay, right? Yeah, I thought so. I'll see you later. Yeah, bye."

As soon as he hung up the phone, Clint stole it from him and tossed it across the room, not caring if it broke.

"No more phone. You owe me two weeks worth of attention," he growled, pulling Phil back to him.

Phil laughed the entire way.