Wee, this is my 10,000th tumblr post! \o/ Naturally, I wish to celebrate with Clint/Coulson feels, so I made this.
Clint/Coulson AU - when SHIELD falls, Clint Barton barely makes it out alive, suffering retrograde amnesia in the process. Phil Coulson and his team find Clint, and attempt to teach him about the man he is, by showing him the man he used to be. However, in a misguided bid to spare Clint unnecessary pain and provide him with a fresh start, Phil decides to leave out a few details about their relationship…
THIS IS AWESOME. SO. Happy Birthday to you! This is based off what might have happened after GIF #8:
“Is it true?” Clint gets right up into Phil’s face, “Were we sleeping together?”
Phil can feel it, the cracks in the wall he’s kept up since before they recovered Clint from that explosion. “We were.” He gets it out, barely.
“How could you keep something so important from me?” Clint is angry, has every right to be angry.
…And yet. Phil doesn’t have the words. Just a bone deep instinct from a long time ago, a promise, a dedication, he could never take advantage. He could never hurt Clint and something about that first day, that first moment had made Phil take it all back. To be that steady, unwavering presence that the scared, untrusting, newly recruited, Clint Barton had needed. He feels his eyes prickle, because it hurts, had hurt, will always hurt, to spend days, weeks, months, walking around like he’s in a clear cage. Holding himself back, trying to do the right thing.
It hurts to see Clint stare at him with betrayal and anger. No matter how rightful and well deserved and to think he’d do it all over again because that’s what Clint deserves.
“I—,” Phil tries to get out, but he’s got nothing left, all his energy has gone into being normal and fine and now it’s shattered at his feet. A shaky breath, another, a third. Clint has caught on that something isn’t right and the anger is draining, leaving nothing but worry and Phil recognizes the signs of an imminent Barton Hug (an octopus in training really) and he can’t help but think he just doesn’t deserve it.
“You,” Phil finally says shakily, “deserved more.” The last word is swallowed by emotion and Phil has to turn on his heal, look away and fold his arms tightly around himself and hold on.
Behind him, Clint sighs. “Oh Phil,” he says, hands gently sliding down Phil’s arms. “Come here.” He fits himself along Phil’s back, so like the way he used to, solid and sure. Clint’s chin hooks over Phil’s shoulder and he presses their cheeks together.
They don’t speak again that night, but Clint holds on until Phil’s shaking breaths even out and the trembling in his body subsides. They start to heal just a little bit before its all over.
so I saw the new stills and…
“Why is this in the laundry?”
Clint glanced over. “Because it’s dirty?” He sensed there was more to the question than he was getting, but he often felt that way. He dumped the last of the towels out.
Phil gave him a look. “It passed dirty about two years ago,” he said. He held up the t-shirt, his mouth a thin line. “Clint. This thing has holes.”
“Pretty sure that’s normal.”
“A shirt should have four holes. One for your head, one for your waist, and two for your arms,” Phil deadpanned. “Any more than that, and you’ve entered a real fashion faux pas territory.”
Clint considered the faded blue shirt with its peeling logo advertising a bar-b-que joint that was probably still in business. Probably. Who cared, it had a funky weird picture of a dancing pig with a chef’s hat on the front, and that made up for a lot. Okay, so it was a little battered. But so was he, and screw it, it was his damn t-shirt. “Still good,” he said, reaching for it. “I’ll just wear it around the apartment.”
“Great, that means I’m the only one who gets to see it.” Phil held it out of reach without much difficulty, one hand on Clint’s breastbone, keeping him easily at bay. “Clint, it’s a dust rag with sleeves.”
“Give me my shirt.”
Finally finished Hawkeye the Hawkguy - stained glass edition! Inspired by the wonderful art of David Aja, and the amazing story of Matt Fraction. This particular frame is, to me, the quintessential Clint Barton - bandages everywhere and drinking straight out of the coffee pot, being all kinds of misunderstood and not taken seriously despite his best efforts.
The wonderful employees of Fantastic Comics of Berkeley have kindly agreed to display the finished piece in their store. If you happen to walk by, take a look-see and maybe find something you like! :DWOW! Gorgeous!
OH MY GOD.
Clint’s loft, sketches by Hawkeye artist David Aja
Aja you are an amazing person thank you for sharing this with the world because trust me, I needed this.This is like the perfect circle Venn diagram of my favorite things. Hawkguy and a building. All my favorites should come with blueprints.
#can we just take a moment to appreciate#that Clint#while holed up doing a job of watching all the scientists working away#managed to work out BEFORE the quantum physicist exactly what the fuck is going on#with the tesseract#by using pure logic#it also shows that even though Nick chastises him for doing his whole ‘brood in the rafters’ nesting thing#that Clint was paying attention the whole damn time#this is the guy who can fire arrows without looking#who can calculate on the fly the trajectory needed to lodge an explosive arrow into a propeller#I will punch anyone who says Clint is useless or a deadweight because he’s squishy-human and is only good for being a marksman#because he’s deceptively smart#and plays that close to his chest
He’s underestimated. And an underestimated assassin is the worst/best kind
He also has a disability. Hawkeye is deaf.
OH MY GOD YES THANK YOU “a superhero who lost 80-percent of his hearing and wears hearing aids.”