Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/434361.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Avengers_(2012)
  Relationship:
      Clint_Barton/Phil_Coulson, Clint_Barton/Natasha_Romanov
  Character:
      Clint_Barton, Phil_Coulson, Natasha_Romanov, Pepper_Potts
  Additional Tags:
      Bambi_Bravado, Clint_is_a_special_flower, hot_college_guys_do_it_better
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-06-15 Words: 2889
****** call me maybe ******
by foxxcub
Summary
     One time with his best friend on prom night after a little too much
     booze wasn’t really experience, but details weren’t important. He’d
     had sex, period.
Notes
     This is a sequel to listedheart's adorable kisses_on_the_necks_of
     best_friends. She mentioned Clint has a terrible crush on a college
     guy named Phil, so this is where my brain went.
     Bambi Bravado(tm) by aliassmith. <3
     Thanks to Tamsyn for the beta!
  This work was inspired by
      kisses_on_the_necks_of_best_friends by morphosyntactic
Clint thought he could feel the differences in himself, now that he wasn’t a
virgin. He could put his shoulders back and nod at people and think, I’ve had
sex. I’m an actual adult now.
Of course, Natasha thought he was crazy. “No one can tell, moron, it’s not like
it’s branded on your forehead,” she’d said with drawled affection.
But he could tell. Most seventeen-year-olds were supposed to have had sex,
anyway; Clint had hated feeling like a late bloomer. Now he felt like he could
look an attractive person in the eyes and not feel horribly awkward and young.
He could smile at them, bite his lip, and let them know he was experienced.
Well, sort of. One time with his best friend on prom night after a little too
much booze wasn’t really experience, but details weren’t important. He’d had
sex, period.
Except it kind of mattered a lot when he was face to face with Phil Coulson,
who was looking at Phil like he’d just started babbling in Portuguese.
“Uh, what?” Phil asked, and there was just a hint of amusement in his tone. He
thought Clint was being cute, and Clint wanted to die.
“I meant—just. You’re kinda dressed up.”
Phil raised an eyebrow. “I’m fairly sure Pepper would kick my ass if I showed
up in sweats to her graduation party.” He didn’t smile at Clint, but there was
a twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he was considering the possibility of
a smile. He eyed Clint up and down, and suddenly Clint felt horrifically out of
place in his jeans and plaid shirt.
Sometimes Clint sincerely wished he’d never gotten the opportunity to see just
how fucking hot Phil Coulson had gotten in the two years since he’d left high
school. He vaguely remembered seeing Phil in the halls, but Clint hadn’t really
paid attention—or maybe Phil hadn’t paid attention to him, being an over-
achieving senior and all. Then Phil had shown up to the homecoming dance as
Pepper Potts’ date, and Clint had about swallowed his tongue.
“That’s...wow, he’s, uh. He looks good,” Clint had stammered to Pepper like a
dork. “When did you start dating?”
Pepper had laughed and rolled her eyes. “I’m not really his type,” she replied.
“We’re just friends. You’d have a better chance with him than me.”
That had pretty much lead to a full-blown obsession that Clint was not proud
of. Especially considering he was only just now starting figure out that he
liked guys. A lot.
Now here he was, embarrassing the shit out of himself in Pepper’s back yard
while Phil politely tolerated him.
And god, but Phil looked hot; his white dress shirt pulled a little at his
shoulders and hugged his arms, and his collar was open. Clint couldn’t stop
staring, or wondering what Phil would look like naked. He was almost drooling.
So much for being experienced.
“Aren’t you graduating, too?” Phil asked.
Clint swallowed and nodded quickly. Maybe if he reminded Phil that, oh hey, he
was thisclose to no longer being a pathetic high schooler he’d overlook all of
Clint’s awkwardness. “Yeah, next week.”
“Where are you going to school?”
“Oh, I, uh—” He rubbed at his neck and blushed. “Haven’t really decided yet. I
might just work a couple years and figure things out. I don’t really have the
money to go to college yet, anyway.” Smooth, Barton, he thought with a wince.
Like Phil wanted to hear all that.
But Phil was actually smiling at him now, which was bad. It made his
ridiculously gorgeous eyes crinkle at the corners. “Good for you,” he said.
“Not many people our age want to work right after high school, y’know? It’s
like, get Mom and Dad to pay for everything for as long as they can and then
maybe consider a real job.”
Clint shrugged. “Yeah, well. Don’t really have a mom or dad to worry about, so
it kinda makes things easy, I guess.” He winced again. Fuck, what happened to
seducing the guy?
Phil’s smile faded. “Oh. Sorry, I—I didn’t know.” He looked genuinely contrite
for a second, and Clint just wanted to rewind their whole conversation and
start over.
“Look.” He took a deep breath, then tried to tilt his head just so and look up
at Phil from under his lashes. “What are you doing after this?” Clint prayed
hard that he sounded flirty and a little sexy and not drunk.
Phil blinked a few times, then laughed. But it didn’t sound like a mean laugh,
much to Clint’s relief. “I don’t know,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”
Holy shit, Phil was flirting with him. At least, Clint thought he was.
Probably. Maybe. Shit. He wasn’t expecting that at all, oh god. “I...we could
drive somewhere?”
“That park off Rollins Street is quiet.”
“Yeah,” Clint said articulately. He was too busy wondering if Phil wanted to
see him naked, too, and frantically tried to remember what color of boxers he’d
put on that morning.
Phil squinted at Clint, ran his teeth over the corner of his lower lip. Clint
could feel his heart slamming against his ribs, and it only got worse when Phil
leaned closer and replied in a low, smooth voice that made Clint shiver, “I’ll
drive. Give me five minutes, I’ll meet you out front.”
Clint didn’t reply because he’d gone breathlessly hard in his jeans. He was
reduced to nodding jerkily.
He was so out of his league, but he didn’t care. Clint hadn’t backed down when
Tasha had proposed that they have sex on prom night, and he wasn’t backing down
now. He’d managed to get a college sophomore who was hot as shit to agree
to...go to a park with him. It didn’t blatantly scream sex, but it was close
enough.
He almost tripped as he ran around the house to the street, texting Tasha with
shaking fingers.
I think I talked Phil Coulson into having sex.
She wrote back: With you, or just in general?
His best friend was such a dick, but he loved her anyway.
~
Phil’s car was clean and neat and the exact opposite of Natasha’s room in that
Clint didn’t feel comfortable familiarity here. He was too aware of everything;
how close the ceiling was, how little space there was between his knee and the
gearshift and Phil’s knee, how easy it would be to crawl over said gearshift
and straddle Phil’s lap.
It was easy to think all that stuff, practically run a lame porno through his
mind, but it was another issue entirely when it came to actually doing it. The
sun was going down and they were parked in the far corner of the park’s
deserted parking lot, not a soul in sight. The streetlights were beginning to
flicker on.
Phil turned the engine off and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.
Clint’s palms were sweating.
“So,” Phil said slowly before he looked over at Clint and gave him a lopsided
grin. “What do you want to do?”
What Clint wanted was to be seductive and smooth and slide across the seat like
a sexy jungle cat or something. He shifted in his seat, licked his lips slowly
and watched, fascinated, as Phil’s eyes dropped to his mouth. “Can I kiss you?”
he whispered.
Phil huffed out a soft breath. The lopsided grin faded. “C’mere,” he whispered
back, and then he reached over and cupped his hand around the back of Clint’s
neck, tugging him close as their mouths slid together. It was nothing like the
kiss he’d shared with Natasha; this was messy, deep, rough—the way two guys
would kiss each other.
Clint was completely unaware of the noise he was making until Phil jerked back
with a breathless laugh and said, “Easy, easy. It’s just kissing.”
He wanted to be mortified at how easily he’d gone to pieces, but Clint couldn’t
help himself. He’d never kissed another guy before, and Phil was—
“God,” Clint groaned, and tried to crawl over the gearshift all sexily. In his
head, he’d visualized slinking over the console and straight into Phil’s lap,
kissing him hard and fast as their hips lined up. But in reality, his foot got
caught in the cup holders and he nearly toppled face-first into the driver’s
side door. The only thing that stopped him was Phil catching him by the arms.
“Careful,” Phil said, laughing again, softer this time. He scrubbed his hand
through Clint’s hair like he was petting a puppy, and Clint scowled.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I was—that went differently in my head.”
“I get it. It’s really cramped in here.” Phil reached down beside the seat and
hit the recline button, and soon Clint has stretched out over Phil, his knees
bracketing Phil’s hips. “Better?”
At this angle, Phil’s shirt pulled tight across his chest. Clint wanted to open
the buttons with his teeth, but he had a feeling that was probably a little too
ambitious. “Yeah,” he breathed.
Phil tilted his head back against the headrest and smiled like he had a secret.
His eyes were stupidly blue, with long lashes that were too pretty to be on a
guy. Clint’s heart thumped hard in his chest.
“You’ve done this before, right?” Phil asked.
Clint snorted while his cheeks bloomed with heat. “Sure, why?”
“Just curious. You’re kinda really—” He bit his lip, and for the first time
since they’d started this, Phil actually looked shy.
“Kinda what?”
Phil shook his head. “Nothing.” His hands suddenly tightened at Clint’s hips,
thumbs hard against his sides, and then there was friction.
“Shit,” Clint hissed, because he’d never felt anything like that with Natasha.
There had been something sort of similar, but this—this was something else
entirely. He gave a little experimental roll of his hips, ground down against
Phil, and he wanted to fist bump the universe when Phil groaned deep in his
throat.
“That feels good,” Clint heard himself say, and strangely, saying the words out
loud made Phil’s breathing speed up. He forced his eyes open and reached down
to splay his hand over the front of Phil’s pants. “Wanna touch you, feel you in
my hand,” he added. For as much as it sounded like porn, it didn’t feel cheesy
to say in that moment, especially when Phil grit his teeth and gave a sharp
jerky nod of his head.
Clint had never touched anyone’s cock other than his own. Ever. He felt a
second of anxiety just before he pulled down the zipper of Phil’s pants, but it
all vanished when he got his first glimpse of the shiny, thick head peeking out
through the slit of Phil’s boxers. Clint swallowed a moan, his mouth going wet,
and he thought, I want to taste that. There wasn’t room in the car, however,
for him to get a proper angle, so a handjob would have to do this time.
This time? Clint was getting ahead of himself. Sex in a car didn’t
equal...well, anything, really. It wasn’t like he’d be Phil’s boyfriend after
this.
Funny how his chest went uncomfortably tight at the thought of not seeing Phil
again.
He was thinking too much. Phil probably did this sort of thing all the time,
and he didn’t need some high school kid getting all emotional over a handjob.
Clint could have a one-night stand just like anyone else.
Carefully, he wrapped his fingers loosely around the head and drew Phil out of
his boxers. He was bigger than Clint had guessed; the heft of him in Clint’s
hand was in total contrast to everything he’d done with Natasha. Phil was thick
and hard where she’d been soft and slick. Clint realized with a start that
while he’d liked the latter, it was the cock in his hand he really preferred.
Phil seemed to be getting impatient with Clint staring in fascination at his
dick. “A little tighter,” he whispered. “Squeeze your hand.”
Clint did exactly as he was told, and Phil just moaned, his hips spasming as he
pushed up into Clint’s fist. “Yeah, yeah, fuck, just like that.”
He needed to be doing more, so Clint pressed up and kissed Phil sloppily, tried
his best to keep the rhythm of his hand going. It startled him when he felt a
hand sink into his hair and hold him in place while Phil panted into his mouth.
“Keep going,” Phil gasped, and hazily Clint could feel him growing impossibly
thick in his hand. He wasn’t quite prepared when Phil suddenly jerked against
him and came in a wet, messy burst over Clint’s fist, hitting both their
shirts.
“Holy shit,” Clint said. He’d made Phil come. Maybe he wasn’t so terrible at
sex.
It wasn’t over, though, apparently. Clint had mostly forgotten about how hard
he was, too focused on the task of getting a super hot guy to come with his
hand. But when Phil sat up, his hair falling over his forehead and his cheeks a
bright pink, and said in a wrecked, sex-drenched voice, “Now it’s my turn,”
Clint remembered that, yes, he desperately needed to come, too.
He watched, almost dizzy with want, as Phil ignored the mess between them and
tore into Clint’s jeans like a pro, zipper and button opened within split
seconds and Clint’s boxers shoved down his hips. He took Clint’s cock with both
hands (Please let him think I’m big, Clint thought frantically) and started a
quick, devastatingly efficient rhythm, his thumb swiping over the head as his
other hand slipped down to cup Clint’s balls.
Clint lasted all of two minutes. He considered that a huge accomplishment.
They were both covered in come now, their hands sticky and gross. Clint sat
back on his heels, sucking air back into his lungs as his vision cleared. He
couldn’t remember the last time he’d come so hard it had nearly hurt.
Phil was looking up at him with something like dazed amusement in his eyes.
Sweat gathered in the hollow of his throat, and Clint wanted to lick it up.
“Can I ask you something?” Phil asked, and fuck, his voice. He sounded raw and
fucked out.
Clint swallowed hard, giving his cock a firm warning not to get hard again this
soon. “Okay.”
Phil pushed his sweaty hair off his face, and then reached up to do the same to
Clint. “Was this your first time?” he said softly.
The embarrassment that rolled through Clint at the question was muted, mostly
due to the phenomenal orgasm Clint had just had. He ducked his head, wincing as
he tucked his dick back into his shorts. “Does it matter?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Was it yours?”
“No,” Phil replied, like he was answering a question about the weather. It made
Clint want to scramble away and hide.
But when he huffed and tried to slide off Phil’s lap without another word, Phil
caught him by the wrist. “Hey, look at me.”
Clint shook his head. “Let go. We’re done here.”
“I’m the one who’s driving, and this car isn’t going anywhere just yet. You
didn’t answer me.”
“You wouldn’t be asking if you didn’t already think—” Clint tugged hard against
Phil’s hold, but he wouldn’t budge. Fuck, he was so stupid. How the hell had he
ever thought he could just seduce a college guy and not be fucking obvious that
he was still basically a virgin?
Phil sighed, and slowly he released Clint’s wrist. Clint started to crawl back
to his seat, but suddenly Phil sat up and cupped Clint’s cheek, kissing the
corner of his mouth gently.
“I’m asking because I’m kind of at a loss as to how a guy as hot as you has
never been with someone like this before,” Phil whispered. “I would’ve thought
you’d be fighting off guys with a stick.”
That...was not the response Clint expected, to say the least. “What?” he asked.
Phil grinned and bumped his nose against Clint’s. “Did I mention you’re kinda
adorable, too?”
“I’m...” Clint couldn’t think straight after orgasms followed by Phil holding
him like they hadn’t just fucked in his car. Like they were...more. “You think
I’m hot?”
“Maybe we ought to continue this conversation when we’re not fucked out and
covered in jizz, yeah?” He placed a smacking kiss against Clint’s chin and
nudged him toward the passenger’s seat. “C’mon, scoot over. I’m going to
pretend I’m a gentleman and take you home, and then you’re going to change and
meet me at IHOP in an hour.”
Clint blinked. “IHOP?”
“Yeah. Unless you have a problem with pancakes?”
Phil Coulson was basically asking him on a date. With pancakes. After sex.
Clint sat back in his seat and beamed out the window at the streetlights.
“You’re super romantic, Coulson.”
“College does that to you. Fair warning.”
Clint bit his lip against another stupid, dopey smile as he sent Tasha a text.
Lost my virginity. Again. Also getting taken out to IHOP.
She wrote back just as Phil pulled into Clint’s driveway, Maybe this time it’ll
be a love story. :)
You’re hilarious, Clint wrote back, his heart beating full and happy.
 
 
end.
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