om_main | Winter is Coming: Clint, Philip, and Agent Coulson

When S.H.I.E.L.D. Special Agent Julie Coulson shows up at the Stark Building with a texted announcement of her arrival, Clint and Philip scramble to look presentable. The reason for the sudden, unusual visit is soon revealed in the form of a last minute assignment in Russia - and she wants the two teens to go with her. Hawkeye is unimpressed.

It was, Julie thought to herself, very useful that Philip and Clint had space in Tony's building. She trusted that her son could have found a place at the school that could be secured as a place to talk, but this was a far better option. Tony could be a flighty little brat but he was a genius and an incredible engineer. Not that she would admit to having a bit of a soft spot for him, of course.

So she'd texted Philip to let him know she was on the way and was kitted out in her best soccer-mom look, with unassuming brown hair and an utterly forgettable knit shirt and capris in deference to the heat.

***

"So..." Philip said as he frowned briefly at his phone and moved to his dresser to put on some actual clothes. "I guess I should warn you that my mother is on the way here..."

Clint was sprawled across the bed in a pair of overly worn boxer-briefs, half-asleep, half-watching an episode of Ice Lake Rebels on television. He'd started to roll to one side when Coulson got up, about to try and drag him back...and froze. Head coming up, he found himself suddenly and startlingly awake. "What."

"My mom," Philip repeated. "She's on her way, she'll be here in about fifteen minutes. She said she wanted to talk about vacation plans with 'me and my friend' so it's probably not a social visit." He was entirely serious, as though the disconnect make total sense to him.

Stumbling off of the bed, Clint ducked down to fish his jeans out from under the bed. "That kind of sounds like a social visit!"

Philip just rolled his eyes as he started to button up his shirt. "She would never say, on a public phone network, that she's here for something fishy. Besides, it'll be the second time I've seen her in the flesh in... almost three years? Since the accident anyway."

Clint paused with one leg in the jeans, looking up at the other teen. "Seriously?"

Philip wasn't sure which part Clint meant but a 'yes' would cover it either way. "It was safer that way. We still don't know if what happened to Dad was an accident or not?"

"So you haven't seen your mom more than once in three years and she just out of the blue texts you to say she wants to talk to us? How does she even know I'm here?" he stared.

"My grandmother maybe?" Philip said with an unconcerned shrug. "She knows we're friends, obviously, and they talk. It'd have been easy enough to keep an eye on the building to see who comes and goes." And it probably said something about Philip's upbringing that he seemed utterly unaware of how not-normal that was.

Clint finished pulling on his jeans and looked around, searching for his t-shirt. It wasn't clean, but it was something. He hadn't exactly brought a spare pair of clothes over to Coulson's with him. "Maybe I should just hide in the closet."

"Check my middle left dresser drawer," Philip said. "There should be t-shirts that'll fit, they'll just be tight in the arms. And it really, really wouldn't help. Mom is..." Where could he even start?"

"Sir," JARVIS cut in. "There is a visitor at the door for you. Shall I send her up?"

Clint vaulted the bed and pulled open the drawer, grabbing the first t-shirt he could to pull over his head. Sadly, it was plain and white and boring, and he had to wrinkle his nose a little as he pulled it down his chest. It was definitely tight in the arms, but all his t-shirts were until he stretched them out.

"If you wouldn't mind, JARVIS. She can come right up. He straightened his collar and did a mental inventory of the apartment. It wasn't too much of a mess, it should be fine.

Clint grabbed a pair of Coulson's socks too, hopping about as he pulled them on. "This is bad," he informed his friend. "This is really bad."

"It'll be fine." Probably. "It could be anything, it could be harmless." Probably not. "There's only one of her?" Philip offered. "So it won't be as bad as my grandparents?"

He was saved, or not, by the chime at the front door.

"We're doomed," Clint stage whispered as he dropped into one of the chairs in the living room. At the very last second, he pulled his leg off from over the arm of the chair.

"It's fine," Philip hissed as he went to answer the door. "Hi, Mom," he said as he stepped back to let her in,

Julie swept into the room with a wide smile, every inch the suburbanite on a visit. "Philip! It's been forever since I saw you, dear. You're so tall now, when my mother told me, I could hardly believe it." She spotted Clint almost immediately and gave a cheery little wave. "Introduce me to your friend, would you? I've heard so much about him."

Equal parts terrified by the suburban act (because what the hell did he know about all that?) and disbelieving that she didn't already know everything about him, Clint swallowed heavily, sitting up a little straighter. "Uh. Hi...Mrs. Coulson?" And oh god, that sounded weird.

"Julie, dear," she said with another airy little wave. "My parents have already told me so much about you, I feel like I know you already." She looked Clint up and down with only the barest twitch when she reached his neck. "Philip," she said chidingly. "If you're going to keep that a secret, you really need to aim lower..."

"Mom..." Philip groaned, covering his face with one hand. "Whatever you're thinking, whatever you're going to say, just don't. This is different, alright?"

Clint grabbed the collar of the t-shirt, hauling it up to his lower lip, feeling the heat rise along the back of his neck. "This is so not fine," he muttered at his friend.

And just like that, between one heartbeat and the next, Julie Coulson stilled. She let the housewife mask fall away, not hiding a thing as she crossed the living room and took a seat across from Clint. "Sit down, Philip. As entertaining as this is, and for whatever it's worth, I agree with their assessment and approve, I do have business to discuss with the both of you."

Philip just rolled his eyes and went to sit near Clint. He'd been expecting this.

Clint started to open his mouth to ask what their assessment had been, but snapped it closed at the business comment. He glanced at Phil, who seemed to think this was business as usual. "Are you kidding me?" he asked the woman. "This is the second time you've see him in like, I don't know, three years, and that's all you go with?"

"As opposed to what?" she asked with a raised brow. "I have to assume he explained when things went as they did."

"I get why you wouldn't see him," Clint's voice hardened a little as he dropped the hem of the t-shirt and shifted to the edge of his chair. "I just don't get why, when you get the chance to, you don't actually give a shit about him."

"Clint..." Philip started, he knew it wasn't the case, his mom was just... different. But he stopped as his mother shot him a quelling glance.

Julie shifted her attention to Clint, giving him another measuring look. "Mr. Barton, I am not a demonstrative person. As I would hope you've noticed by now, people raised to our life are not typical in how they approach other people. I certainly do care, that's why I left him at the school, that's why I dropped by the last time I did, I had some concerns that needed discussing.

This woman was certainly where Philip had learned the mask from, bland and unassuming, someone who'd never be picked out of a crowd, never noticed in the slightest until it was too late. And who currently had her undivided attention on her son's boyfriend, as she let just a bit of the fangs be noticed. "I'm here, I'm asking for his help, and yours. He knows what that means."

Clint refused to swallow again. Or shift back in his chair for that matter. He focused his gaze on hers, meeting her with a flint-eyed expression. For the first time, he realized how much of an orphan Coulson was. Sure, he had family, but they didn't care the way families were supposed to care. Not the way he'd seen on TV. That was normal. What he and Philip had? It was bullshit.

He finally snorted out through his nose. If she wanted business, then he could do business. He slumped back into the chair and dropped one leg over the arm. "Fine. What kind of help are we talking about?"

Well that was going swimmingly... Philip thought. He'd hoped with the way Clint got on with his grandmother that it'd be alright. Clearly he was going to have to explain a few things once his mother was gone.

Julie just gave Clint another measuring look and for just a second, blink if you'd miss it, the corner of her mouth tilted up. It vanished just as quickly as it came. "I'm sure you're both aware that your school is not the only institution out there for mutants. We're still assessing what to do about the Canada situation. It was brought to our attention via an information exchange that there is a program that was established in Russia that is far worse."

The archer glanced at Philip, then back to Julie. He wasn't sure what to say to that. He hadn't heard anything about the Canada situation, but from the vibe around the school, he knew it wasn't great. Philip had definitely said a few things in passing about Alpha Flight, but nothing in detail.

"How bad?" Philip put in. He'd heard about most of it, being security would do that. They were on his list of 'worry about."

"After that paper was published, governments started looking more thoroughly," Julie replied. "In this case, a small collection of orphans, already being educated by the state, were transferred to a different division for more... thorough training."

"What the fuck," Clint muttered under his breath. "What kind of training?"

"What kind do you think? These children have no parents, no families. It's simple enough to remove what records there are so they don't exist. They're of an age to be indoctrinated, molded, however you want to say it." She shot a pointed glance at her son. "It's probably very likely how he was raised, just without the ethics that went along with it. Which is why I am here," she continued. "If they were adults, it would be a different matter, but my employer and I both believe that using children that way crosses a line."

Clint raised an eyebrow. Pot, kettle, and all that. But this time, he kept his mouth shut, at least for Coulson's sake. He wanted to ask who her employer was, but figured she probably wouldn't tell him even if he did. "So what do you need us for?"

"Partially for cover," Julie replied. "A mother, son, and a nephew would raise less suspicion than someone travelling alone. Someone roughly their age might have a better chance of convincing them to leave, there's a good chance we're going to be met with some resistance. For the rest..." She gave Clint a faint smile, so very much like her son's. "Think of it as an audition."

And there it was, Philip thought. He had to wonder how Clint was going to react to that...

Clint didn't say anything. If anything, he shut down, face blanking out as he watched her, keeping an eye on Philip out of the corner of his eye. He hated this. He hated her knowing so much about him and him knowing nothing about her. He hated that she was so much like Phil when he really wanted to hate her guts. He hated that some secret organization wanted to rescue kids being trained for...whatever...while sending two kids on the same 'audition'. Clint didn't know a lot about hypocrisy, but he knew that the whole situation was a load of shit.

On the other hand...he knew what Phil's reaction was going to be, and he didn't want to let him run off to Russia alone. He also knew that he wasn't your normal kid - neither of them were - and whatever this stupid audition was for, it was probably the best prospect he had for the future. But most of all? He knew there were orphans being hurt and he didn't want to let that happen. Not if he could help stop it. So...he kept his mouth shut and let Philip speak for them, because he already knew how it was gonna play out.

Philip glanced between Clint and his mother, he could almost see the wheels turning in Clint's head and for not the first time really wished he was a telepath. That his mom was getting on Clint's nerves wasn't that much of a surprise either, Philip knew how she was but it could be pretty off-putting on first meet. There was a reason the suburban mom was her favorite cover, it was much easier to get along with.

"The difference is, we can say no," he said, looking at Clint. "I mean, I won't because they're in trouble but we can. Nobody's going to lock us up or brainwash us or whatever if we say no."

"I'm not going to let you go without backup," Clint snorted softly, and he knew that Phil's mom knew that. She probably also knew he'd never refuse helping kids in trouble.

"But we're still choosing it," Philip said with a shrug. "Like I said, nobody's going to lock us up if we say no or beat us. Emotional manipulation," and he shot a sour look at his mother, "Isn't quite the same thing, Welcome to the life."

Clint shot him a look. He didn't need the recruitment speech from Phil too. "I said, I'm in."

Yeah, they were going to have to talk about this later, Philip thought. He just waited then, looking back at his mom.

"Excellent," Julie replied. "Clear your calendars, plan to be gone for at least a week. I'll have identification prepared for you both before we leave, Philip can tell you what to pack. We'll be picking up additional gear once we're there."

"When are we leaving?" Clint asked skeptically.

"It will take a few days to arrange things." Julie looked at him, measuring. "If you like, I can arrange special permission to store archery equipment in the cabin. Cold and pressure are very bad for strings, as I understand it."

The archer eyed her, still unwilling to like her, but shrugged and nodded lazily. He'd feel a hell of a lot better with his bow in hand. "Sure. Whatever."

"And as I assume Tony's been providing toys, I'll make sure there's something interesting for you when we get there," she said as she got up. There was that faint smile again that flicked away as quickly. "I'll send a message when we're ready to go."

"Okay, Mom," Philip said as he got up as well. He was a little surprised that there hadn't been any other questions about them being a them but... he wasn't going to argue.

Clint got up too, mostly because it felt weird to keep sitting when everyone was standing, but he didn't say anything, just leaning on the chair as they moved to the door.

It probably was a little creepy, how the mask slid right back on from one step to the next. Julie gave them both the bright, perky smile as she headed for the door. "I'll let myself out, boys and let you talk. Or whatever it was that I interrupted. Philip dear, do remember you're supposed to be cousins on this little trip, hmm?"

"Mom!" he hissed as the flush started creeping up the back of his neck. "I remember, go!"

Clint quickly checked that the t-shirt was up high enough, scrunching it in one hand and hauling it up to his chin. There were so many things that were wrong with this day that he kind of wanted to climb back into bed. His own or Phil's, it didn't matter.

"I'll talk to you later," Philip said firmly as he ushered her out. "We'll be ready when the time comes." For now, he had a... Clint. A Clint to sort out.

As soon as the door closed, Clint grumbled, "J? Never let that woman back in the building."

"Please don't do that," Philip said with a sigh. "She'd just escalate... somehow. And Tony likes her. She's not actually that bad, Clint. You're just seeing things most people don't."

"Yeah, that's kind of my thing," Clint wrinkled his nose and headed to the fridge for the beer he'd stashed there. "Doesn't mean it's not still there!"

"I didn't say that," Philip said as he followed him. "I know she can be pretty abrasive when she doesn't have a face on."

"Don't talk to me like I haven't met your family," Clint made a face and handed Philip a bottle, taking one for himself. "Your family I get. Her? Nope. No."

"What don't you get?" It was an honest question, Philip's family was his normal and he didn't always quite understand the disconnect.

Clint smacked his forehead, then spread his arms. "My mom let my dad beat the crap out of me and I still felt more love coming out of her than that robot out there. How does that not bother you?"

Philip just stared at Clint for a few seconds, clearly not understanding what he meant at first. His expression cleared as though light had dawned with a started "Oh!" He set the beer down and turned to his room. "Hold on a second, I need to get something." It didn't mean he hadn't heard all of what Clint had said either, but he needed a few minutes to process that too. And wrestle down wanting to murder a dead man.

Clint stared after him, then popped the top on his beer and took a large sip. "Is it a slingshot? I think I might still have line of sight to her car!"

"Ha ha," Philip called out from the other room. He came back out and laid a pair of sheathed knives on the counter. The sheathes themselves were custom work, the pair his grandparents had given him over Christmas. "Take a look." The blades themselves were matte black, heavy but well balanced and made for business. They were both obviously well kept, with just enough wear on the hilt-leather to be perfectly broken in but one was brand new, the other was not. There were scuffs and nicks and dings on the minimal guard and the hilt-wrapping had obviously been replaced more than once.

"Not sure these will go far enough," Clint commented, setting his beer down to carefully handle the knives, weighing them and flipping them in his fingers. Despite the wry commentary, he could see what Philip wanted him to. One clearly hadn't been used by his friend. It was too worn, despite the care taken to preserve it. It had been used by someone who'd seen a lot of action. He ran his fingers over the wrapping, then glanced up at Coulson in question. "So, what, she gave you her knife?"

"Eighteenth birthday present," Philip clarified. "When, legally anyway, I was able to decide if I was in or out. This is her watching my back because she can't be there. I don't know if there's words to explain it," Philip said as he reached for the beer again. "This is one of the most paranoid people I know leaving me in a place where she couldn't watch me, where I was a hallway away from telepaths, because it was the safest place she could think of after Dad died. She feels it, Clint, she just doesn't show it like typical people."

Clint rolled the knife in his hand, watching it quietly. The more he thought about it, the more he understood. The weird thing was that he could understand it, and still not get it. He took a deep breath, then slipped the knives back into the sheathes. "Okay," he sighed out. "But I still don't like her."

Philip just shook his head with a faint smile. "I don't think there's many that do, at least not when she's got her real face on. For whatever it's worth, there's not many that she lets see that." He hesitated then, playing with the label on the beer bottle a little. "If you ever need or want to talk about your family, you know I'd listen, right?"

Clint knew that the flinch showed on his face, and, yeah, that had kind of come out without him realizing, but it wasn't like Philip probably hadn't already guessed. "Not much to say," he shrugged. "They're dead. Better off that way."

"I'm just saying," Philip replied. And because he could, he got up again and moved over to Clint, getting in his personal space. "You don't have to, just if you want to sometime."

The archer sighed and stepped back. "Yeah, okay. Can we talk about Russia instead? Because fuck. What do we tell the others?"

"I'm just going to say I'm going on a vacation with my mom without specifics," Philip said with a shrug. "I'll let them know at the school because I work there and I should let Tony know, probably just a dropped email so he'll know I won't be around. You just need to arrange for Lucky. You're welcome to say you're tagging along with me?"

Clint wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, okay. I guess I can see if Sharon and JARVIS and...maybe Maximoff will keep an eye on Lucky."

"With any luck it'll be an in and out." Philip made a face then and crowded back into Clint's space. "Keeping my hands off you for a week isn't going to be any fun."

This time, Clint set the beer aside, hands sliding to Philip's hips. "You mom is a great deterrent though," he pointed out.

"Well, and Russia," Philip pointed out. "We could get ahead of things..."

A small grin twitched at the archer's lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Philip said as he leaned a little closer. "I'll tell you what we've got to get ready later."

"You're trying to distract me," Clint pointed out, because yeah, he was starting to get a handle on Coulson's tactics. "It's working."

"Good," Philip said as he leaned in to bite Clint's cloth-covered shoulder. "Because we're going to have to talk about shopping later."

"Shopping?" Clint asked, getting his hands up under Philip's shirt, pushing it halfway up his chest to run his thumbs over the hard ridges of his abdomen. "For what?"

"Supplies for the trip. Don't worry about it, I'll tell you later," Philip murmured against his shoulder. If he wore Clint out enough, he might not even complain. Much.

"There's a sale at Bass Pro," Clint nipped at his ear, backing him toward the couch.

"It's a place to start. Trust me, I've got a list," Philip said as he went willingly.

"I just...blew my allowance...on Abby," Clint confessed in between investigating Phil's mouth with his own. He pushed the other teen down, then climbed right onto his lap, too distracted to care what it might look like.

"Understandable... all things considered," Philip said as he grabbed onto Clint and pulled him closer. "This is mission planning, I'll take care of it. No complaining, I know what I'm doing."

Clint grinned against his mouth. "Yeah? All I gotta do is get Lucky set? You got the rest?"

"I've got it." Philip said before letting his hands wander. That shirt looked... really good on Clint, clinging in just the right places.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but your OCD is kind of sexy," Clint hummed as he ducked his head to get at the older teen's throat.

Philip tipped his head to obligingly to the side and ran his hands over Clint's ribs. "I'll keep that in mind. And it's being properly prepared." The lofty tone probably lost something when it was swallowed by a groan.