3.1: Another Choice

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The side of the bed sank down and Phil rolled over automatically, making more room and opening his arms up. It took a moment before Clint actually laid down but as soon as his head was on the pillow he nuzzled into Phil. Phil closed his arms around the man and stroked his neck and the middle of his back in soothing circles.

Phil, Clint, and Maria had been tailing the Russian spy known as Black Widow for a month now. Watching her as she put all the pieces in place for something big. They still hadn't quite figured out what yet and the stress of it had started getting to them. It had made Clint needy for affection whenever he wasn't on active watch.

Phil would be the first person to admit the thing he had with Clint and Maria was weird. It was. They were together but they weren't. No one was willing to admit feelings. Though there were definite feelings. The feelings were why it kept happening again and again. Maria would blame the bonds of war. Clint would say the lack of options. They were there though because they kept coming back to it again and again. Even when they went out and picked up, or tried an actual relationship, they always came back.

It was sex, sure. But it was also this. Affection when you're lacking it. Reassurance when you're doubting yourself. Close bonds forged in fire.

"Maria's on watch?" Phil murmured as his finger ran up into Clint's hair.

"Yeah. The widow's sleeping. She's keeping an eye on it." Clint whispered against the skin of Phil's neck.

"We'll get her. She has to act soon." Phil said. He was already drifting back off to sleep, and his arm rested heavy across Clint.

Clint made a noncommittal noise. "I don't know. I don't know, Phil."

"Huh? She has to at some point." Phil mumbled.

Clint shook his head and took out his hearing aids, putting them on the plastic chair that was acting as a bedside table. He relaxed down and nuzzled back into his lover. The three of them had a job to do. They were good at it. There was an elite Russian assassin running about. They needed to work out what her orders were, stop them, and take her out. Only now Clint was starting to think she was working to stop her own orders and he was starting to root for her.

The following morning Clint woke up being spooned by Maria. A change of shift had obviously happened while he was completely dead to the world. He shifted and for a moment Maria's arms tightened around him before she relaxed and he was able to slip free of her. He made his way out to the kitchen, putting his hearing aids back in and beelined directly for the coffee pot. It was full and hot and Clint looked over at Phil and smiled. "You always take such good care of me."

Phil looked over from the window where he sat. "I just don't want to deal with Mr. Grumpy Pants." He said. "She's up, but just sitting by the window drinking coffee."

"My kinda girl," Clint said coming over and sitting next to Phil. He looked out through the holes in the curtain at the redhead currently sitting on her balcony drinking coffee as a black cat wound its way in and out of her legs. She was just wearing a singlet over underwear and her face was turned up to the sun like she was recharging from it. "God, she looks so normal. How can someone with her past look so fuckin' normal?"

Phil shrugged. "You ran away to the circus."

"I resent the implication that I look anything like a fully functioning human being." Clint scoffed.

The Black Widow got up and headed back into her apartment. "Alright, go get ready. She'll be on the move soon." Phil said.

Clint grunted and went and got dressed. He came back in jeans and a white t-shirt with a purple target on it. He picked up his bow and quiver. "Clint! You can't go out like that." Phil scolded.

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