Disclaimer: I own nothing and I sincerely apologize for the lateness of this second part. I wrote it forever ago and forgot about it. Blame issues with my meds and memory.

Chapter Two

He broke into Stark Tower as easily as before, but this time, asked to be taken to Agent Barton's rooms.

JARVIS complied without fuss, his protocols having been overridden and he discovered that Clint actually had an entire floor to himself. Phil crept along, taking it in. Except for a few purple touches here and there, the rooms were barren of anything that was in Clint's taste.

There were two empty bedrooms, an office and a long lane that ran from one end of the floor to the other for archery practice. Nice. The bathroom was gorgeous too and the living room and kitchen were the only rooms he'd found that actually look lived in. Clint always baked when he was stressed and Phil could see traces of flour on the countertops. He sighed and started for the room furthest from the elevator. He opened the door to reveal a large bed with a bright purple duvet, which he could see despite the darkness of the room. Clint was there. He could see the lump, smell his slight cologne.

Phil smiled and crept inside. He shucked his—Clint's—tac gear, leaving only the T-shirt and boxer briefs, and nudged it into a corner. Then he lifted the covers and crawled in beside his husband, ignoring the pain of the twin scars being stretched as he settled. The moment their hands touched, Clint's spun and gripped Phil's tightly. It was hot and sweaty but Phil didn't care. He lifted it and pressed a kiss to it in the grey dawn that peeked through the venetian blinds. Clint's eyes opened and he stared at Phil with sleepy eyes. "Hey, you found me. I didn't think you would."

"Of course I did." Phil leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I love you. I'll always find you."

"I love you too," Clint murmured. "I miss you so much."

"Miss me in present tense? But I'm right here."

Clint sighed. "Hallucinations don't count, my love."

That phrasing, the gently spoken endearment, pulled Phil up short. "You think I'm a hallucination?"

"Well, you've been dead for three months. I almost turned down a floor here 'cause I thought you might stop coming to visit once I left the Barracks." He smiled a bit raggedly and rolled onto his back. "Not that you should visit me. I don't deserve to see you again after what I did."

"What you did…last time I checked, you were an Avenger. I knew you would do it, even when Fury said, and I quote, Strike Team Delta is not allowed to join the Avengers. They need to stay anonymous. I told him you were perfect for the team, Natasha too. And I was right."

Clint snorted. "You're the sweetest man I know," he murmured, kissing Phil again before rolling over to look at the ceiling, their hands still clenched. "I miss you so damn much. I hate your being dead." He sniffed and Phil's heart stuttered. "I hate it! Please come back to me."

"I'm here," Phil whispered, moving closer and clutching at Clint's arm. "I'm here and I'm not dead and I love you."

Clint looked back at him. "This is a good dream," he whispered. Then a silly, slap happy smile graced his lips. "Can we make it better?"

"This isn't a dr—" That was as far as he got before Clint was on top of him. He leaned down and kissed the older man passionately, their hips grinding furiously against each other. Their tongues danced ferociously and Phil couldn't bring himself to make them stop, even as his chest wrenched angrily.

Then the door was flung open and the lights flashed on and Tony in full Iron Man get-up stormed in. "Hawkeye, JARVIS told me someone overrode his protocols to break…in…" He stared openly at Clint and Phil under Clint's covers. "Oh, I see."

"You see…You see?!" Clint yelped, looking down at Coulson. "You can see him?"

"The dead agent you're currently humping? Yeah. I see him."

"For the last time," Coulson snapped, trying to regain his patience. "I am not dead. Why do you keep saying that?"

"Because you did die?" Stark asked, eyebrows raised. "Loki stabbed you in the chest after you went after him on your own."

"What?" Phil sat up and Clint rolled off him. He wanted to ask when the hell Loki had come back from also supposedly being dead, but he had to prioritize. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"You don't remember?" Tony looked between the two of them. "Well, up until this moment, that was an answer I really wanted too, but now I'm willing to bet that it was because Loki kidnapped and brainwashed your boyfriend and then forced him to lead the attack on the helicarrier."

"What?" Phil asked again, looking horrified as he turned to Clint. "What is he…" He trailed off as pain erupted in his prefrontal cortex and memories swamped him. Clint being compromised, meeting Captain America properly on the quinjet, the helicarrier, Loki, Thor trapped in the Hulk's containment cell, the Phase Two weapon, the desperation to see Clint again, to save him from Loki. Then pain, lots and lots of pain.

When the current pain receded, he blinked a couple of times and looked at Clint, who was gripping his shoulder tightly and looking scared. "Love, I'm sorry. I woke up three days ago. The first thing I did was steal a phone to call you, but you didn't call back. Has it really been three months?" He realized that he hadn't actually checked the date on the paper, or on his stolen phone for that matter. What was wrong with him?

"That's my fault, actually," Stark said. "I was trying to make it better and it caught fire."

But he knew, Phil realized, completely ignoring Tony. He hadn't wanted to know how long he'd been gone. Didn't want to think about what it would mean for Clint and Natasha both to be absent from his side. "I remember now," he grumbled. "Everything. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry about what?" Clint asked. "I'm the one who got caught by Loki and ultimately got you killed."

"I'm not dead. I'm not. Who told you I was?"

"Fury," Tony griped.

Before anyone could say anything else, there was a loud thumping and Steve Rogers skidded into the room, in full Captain America regalia. Then he ripped off his mask and looked balefully at the two men in bed. "What's going on?" he asked. "Stark said there was an emergency." Then squinted at the bed and said, "Coulson? Is that really you?"

"Yes," Phil groused. "And I'd like to get some sleep…with my husband."

"Or get laid," Tony put in. The words sunk in and his eyes widened. "Wait, husband?"

"Mr. Stark!"

Tony raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, I'm going. Come on, Cap." He stalked out.

"Uh…glad you're back," Rogers said before hastily following the other man.

"What, no Natasha?" Phil asked half-heartedly.

"She's on a mission. Steve and Tony are the only ones in the tower apart from me. And now you." He turned his whole body to face his husband. "Is this real? Are you really real?"

Phil gave him a soft smile, one so rarely seen that Clint had to smile in return. "I'm really real and I really love you."

"You're not dead?"

"I'm not dead," Phil confirmed.

"Oh thank god," Clint whispered, collapsing on to his husband's shoulder. If Phil's shoulder was damp afterwards, they never mentioned it again. "I love you."

"Shh, I know. I love you too." He pressed a kiss to Clint's temple. "I love you." It was probably the most times they'd ever said that to each other, and that included their wedding night in Canada, the moment it was legalized and they could fudge the paperwork in '05.

"Can I kiss you?" Clint asked.

"Didn't you do that already?" Phil asked.

"Yes, but that was when I thought you were dead. So can I please kiss you?"

"You don't have to ask." Clint nodded and leaned to press their lips very gently together. He pulled back and stared into Phil's eyes.

Then they kissed again and Clint knew that, somehow, everything would be alright.

The End.

Alright, that's it, please let me know what you think. Reviews are love and thanks for reading.