Clint and Philip, New Year's Eve

[om_hawkeye]

Clint checks in with Philip on board Sirius' boat on New Year's Eve.

The boat was huge in Clint's estimation. It had more than one cabin on it - he hadn't actually found them all, and the deck was large enough to handle all the kids that had been invited. It was piled with food, and alcohol, and soda too, but this time, Clint had stayed away from the booze, nursing a coke with only a little cap of rum in it - hardly enough for him to feel, but just enough that people wouldn't question why he was avoiding that kind of thing on New Year's.

The truth was, as much as he hadn't been on a boat, he hadn't ever been to a real New Year's Eve party either. At least, not like the ones he'd seen on TV. Not with music and dancing, and fireworks. Carson's had its own traditions, and, yeah, Clint kind of missed them...he wasn't going to fool himself. But this? This was all new. Even if it was just in a private marina, watching the lights of New York reflecting off of the water, and feeling the boat shift a little under his feet...hearing the laughter and music drift off over the harbor...that was enough to get drunk on.

At some point, though, he found himself circling back around to Coulson, who wasn't easy to lose track of, even on a boat this size. Not with Clint's eyesight. He leaned against the railing, popping another little food pastry in his mouth that reminded him too much of lunch with Ivan, and grinned sideways at his friend. "This is a trip, right?"

"It's something alright," Philip said as he looked out at the students. He was in his regular 'uniform' at things like this, understated suit and tie. He'd make the rounds again in a little while, for now, this was a good spot to watch from. "Regretting keeping an eye on things with me, yet? It's not exactly fun."

"Nah," Clint shrugged. "I guess I'm not really much good at parties anyway. But it's fun watching the rest of them. And, you know, exploring Black's ship. Where the fuck do people get all this money?"

"In his case, it's old," Philip said with a shrug. "Inherited over generation after generation. So mostly by someone a long time ago doing a favor for someone else."

"I'm not even sure what I'd do with that much money. Probably put it in some bags and bury it under the house," Clint laughed into his soda.

"I wouldn't either, honestly," Philip replied. "I can't stand the thought of being weighed down like that."

"I was...that's what I was going to do with Buck. We were going to get good enough to put our own circus together - a circus of thieves. And then we'd pull jobs at night and do shows in the day. But I never actually thought of what I'd do with the money. It just sounded like a good living, you know?" Clint confessed.

"Would you have kept the purple spangles?" Philip said with a little smirk. "I got told about that."

Clint flushed bright enough for it to be seen even in the weird, moving shadows of the yacht. "They should have burned those pictures," he mumbled. "And no. I mean. Purple, sure. But no."

"Hey, you saw the most embarrassing piece of photo evidence of me that exists," Philip said. "I can give you a hard time about spangles."

Squinting, Clint ducked his head and scruffed his hand through his hair, sending it fluffing in all directions. "Yeah. I guess. You didn't see it though, right?"

"There was a scan of one marque poster..." Philip said with a downright evil smirk. "But nothing I've had in hand, no."

"Fuuuuck," Clint groaned, realizing that if Philip had seen a scan, then it was somewhere online, and anyone could get their hands on it.

"Don't worry," he said, taking some pity on the archer. "They might have really had to do some digging to find it."

Clint made a face, but managed to try and pull himself together a little, draining his Coke and hiding in the glass. Finally, he sighed. "Okay, okay. So we're even. You've seen that stupid costume, and I got to see you in the prince outfit."

"The best blackmail is mutual," Philip said with a smirk. "Mutually assured destruction and all that."

The archer narrowed his eyes at him, but snorted, leaning back against the railing. "So. I've been meaning to ask. I mean, since I'm staying and all, will Lucky be okay at Stark's place? Am I allowed to go visit him and stuff?"

"I certainly don't see it's a problem," Philip said with a shrug. "I doubt Tony will either, I'm guessing he's probably making some arrangements in his own... unique way. Or will be shortly. And I don't exactly live there, so as long as you're doing what you need to in school, I'm fine with you going over there."

Clint gave a jerky, uncertain nod. "I hate leaving him there. Not because I don't trust Stark or anything, although yeah, that's kind of a concern too, but I just hate having to stay at the school all week while he's stuck in the city. It was really nice out at Eagle's Nest."

"It's still better than the garage though?" Philip replied. "I mean, if you let Pietro or any of the others that spend more time there know too, I'm sure they'd be happy to give him some company. Your dog is a charmer and then some. He did seem like he was enjoying it though, especially the fireplace naps."

"This was easier when I didn't have anything I gave a shit about," Clint grumbled.

"Funny how it works like that," Philip said dryly. But he wasn't teasing, he was sincere. "I've had to get used to it too."

"My dog?" Clint asked, eyebrows lifting.

"Just being connected in general. It wasn't something I was really encouraged to do before the school," Philip replied.

"Yeah?" Clint rolled his head to look at him from the side, frowning a little. "Why not? I mean, it's not like you're in the life yet."

"It doesn't change that I was raised to it," Philip said with a shrug. "I grew up in suburbia, it was tough to have reasons why I couldn't get close to other kids."

"But...you couldn't, because they'd start to ask questions. Like I'm doing," Clint realized.

"Exactly. And it's a lot harder for say, a ten year old to keep secrets than an older kid," Philip replied. "So I didn't get a lot of explanations on top of everything else."

"So if you've been keeping secrets so long, then...all this opening up to people lately has gotta be harder than a normal person trying to keep a secret," Clint reasoned.

"To put it mildly," Philip said with a sigh. "So I'll say upfront, I'm sorry if I end up keeping other secrets that piss you off. I don't do it without good reasons."

Clint rolled his eyes. "It was only because you dragged me to Eagle's Nest. I didn't get why you wanted me there if you didn't want me in the know. I get it now. You didn't want me in the know. Your gran just wanted to vet me."

"Well, no. It's not that I didn't want you to know, I just wasn't going to say anything until they had. Having them pissed at me would be so much worse," Philip grimaced at the thought.

"They're still kind of pissed at you," Clint pointed out, eyebrows lifting.

"They're pissed because I was sloppy and I could have gotten someone killed. I wasn't going to make it worse," It just did make it worse, somehow, that Philip hadn't been at all worried about himself.

Clint let that go, because that was all Philip getting down on himself, and Clint wasn't sure anything he said could change that. Instead, he turned his head toward the docks, nodding that way. "Black has some hotel he's keeping people up at. Are we supposed to keep an eye on that place too?"

"Sort of? I usually do at least a couple passes at the end of the night," Philip replied. "We're not technically supposed to be doing a lot of this but, well, money talks," he said with a vague wave around the boat. "I'm not so much looking into what anyone's doing in a room, just making sure no one's roaming the halls in any sort of trouble."

"I'm pretty sure the whole of that security gig ends when you step off the campus," Clint pointed out with a grin. The rest was all Philip.

"Regular teenagers get up to a lot of trouble," Philip replied dryly. "Add the extra effects into the mix and it can be a disaster. And I'm not interested in reporting a disaster to Lydia."

"So basically, 'make sure there isn't another mutant disaster', then," Clint snorted.

"You signed up for it," Philip pointed out. "And at least I was there when Pietro had his... issues."

"I like to actually have my bow when I'm signing up for these kinds of things," Clint pointed out, but then grinned. "I just couldn't resist going on an actual fucking boat. Ship? Dinghy?"

"Boat or ship," Philip said automatically. "A Dinghy is a specific type and size."

Clint didn't ask why there needed to be four or five different names for a boat. It was just one of those things he'd never understand. He did kind of duck his head, though, that Philip didn't smile or laugh at his mistake, but just offered the correct answer without judgment. "Got it. Boat."

"Random information is often useful," Philip admitted.

The archer rolled his eyes. "Random information is just random information. When am I gonna have to know the difference between a boat and a dinghy? An undercover guest appearance on Jeopardy?"

"You're down at the docks," Philip said immediately. "You're looking for a target, you were given a description of the vessel they're on."

"They couldn't have been a bit more thorough? Maybe the name of the boat?" Clint grinned at him.

"You underestimate how really boring people can be about naming things," Philip said wryly. "Especially when they have more money than sense."

"Fine. So, okay, boat and ship are the same thing, and dinghy is a size thing, so what's a yacht?" Clint asked, waving his glass around.

"A boat or ship with a lot of money, mostly. Though I'll admit, I'm not as up on the terms as I probably should be," Philip replied. "Stark and Black would have yachts. We'd have boats."

"Figures that there'd be a different word for a rich person's boat," Clint snorted.

Philip actually smiled faintly at that one. "It's definitely a different world. It'd drive me crazy, personally."

"The money or the world?" his friend grinned.

"Both," Philip said with a grimace. "The closest I got to it, I was a kid tasked with 'keeping an eye on' Stark. That was much too young to be worrying about gray hair."

"You had to babysit Stark?" Clint practically giggled.

"Mom was doing something for his father," Philip said sourly. "It looked better for me to keep him from underfoot, he's not that much younger than me. I thought I was going to lose my mind."

"Fuck, that's priceless. I kind of wondered how you two met. I mean, even if Stark wasn't all rich and famous, he's still...Stark. Was he totally self-absorbed at that age too?" the archer asked.

"Utterly fearless," Philip said with something like despair. "And trying to shake me like it was a challenge." He paused then, trying to decide how to say it or even if he should. "He's not, you know. Totally self-absorbed, I mean. Well, he is a lot, but it's not as total as he wants people to think."

"I know," Clint murmured. But Tony wanted people to think he was. And most of the time, his self-absorption was in his work, which was always pretty good for everyone involved, so it wasn't like Clint thought it was a bad thing. "He's just...single-minded. In a fucking complicated way."

Philip snorted, thinking of his various conversations with the budding engineer. "That is him exactly. He was as isolated as I was, in his own way, and will utterly deny that it affected him."

The corner of Clint's lips twitched, but he jingled his glass a little. "I'm gonna get a refill. You want one? It's just soda."

"Watch them pour it," Philip said absently. "A sealed bottle is better too."

Clint just raised an eyebrow at him, decided it was a damn good practice, and went to fetch drinks.