likeyourwheels (likeyourwheels) wrote in colligo_threads, @ 2013-01-10 22:07:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | canton everett delaware iii, clint barton |
WHO: Canton Everett Delaware III & Clint Barton
WHAT: Clint was killed, and Canton is afraid he's not coming back. Luckily, his fears don't have to last very long.
WHEN: January 10th
WHERE: Canton's apartment
RATING: PG-13
STATUS: Log; COMPLETE
It had ended. Canton wasn’t really sure whether to count that as a bang or a fizzle as far as endings went, but either way, it had left him feeling wholly empty. He’d survived. He’d made it by the skin of his knuckles and the last bits of sheer determination that had been left in his body at the end of most of his fights, but either way, he’d come through the other end of the tunnel in one piece. But that didn’t help how broken things felt. So many had died, so many, including the one person there that he cared about more than all of the others that he’d known from his own reality. And as much as people kept saying that everyone would return once things were over, things were over...and Canton wasn’t seeing any sign of anyone returning.
He’d retired to his own apartment, though, rather than wait in public with everyone else to see what Asaph decided to return to them and what he didn’t. He’d even turned off his PDA and stuffed it very far down into the recesses of the couch just to make sure that he didn’t have to listen to the accidental voice posts that would flood through with everyone announcing their joyous return.
He didn’t want to have to wait only to find that Clint wasn’t one of them.
As ridiculous as it was to think that of all the people to return, Clint wouldn’t be one of them, Canton also knew that Clint’s luck here had been, well, terrible to put it mildly, and to have Asaph send him home after dying to either not return him at all, or, worse yet, return him as a clean slate with absolutely no memories of this place or anyone in it, just seemed like the sort of thing that would happen. And quite frankly, Canton couldn’t bear the idea of having to bear witness to that. He’d much rather just go to his bed and worry about whether he would still have the man he loved or whether he would have to set to mourning in earnest in the morning.
The funny thing was, or maybe it was only funny in a bleak sort of way, there had been a time when Clint wouldn't have cared whether he lived or died. There had been a few really. Just after he'd arrived in the city, when the trauma of what Loki had done had been fresh in his mind and he'd first learned that Coulson had died. In the aftermath of Moriarty's revenge. In the days after Meg had used him like a cheap suit. There had been plenty of times when he had just wanted to say fuck it and give up. But he'd gotten past that. He'd gotten to a place where he could honestly say he was happy with his life. Coulson was alive. Tasha was around. Things with Canton were so good that some days he wasn't sure it was real. He had a job he loved. It wasn't perfect, because life never was, but it was good. So, of course, that was when he ended up getting killed. And by a stray shot at that. Fucking seriously.
When he'd finally come back in the TARDIS, after hanging out for the remainder of the invasion in Asaph's weird afterlife waiting room with Bruce, he'd been confused at first. It was equal parts not quite realizing he was really back and never having been in the TARDIS before. Canton, of course, had described it, and Tony had talked about the show before, but hearing about it and seeing it in person were too different things. He wasn't ashamed to admit he got lost trying to get out, but he eventually made his way out and immediately headed to Canton's apartment.
He could have gone to Stark Tower, but seeing Canton took precedence over pretty much everything other than checking in with River - and he'd seen her on his way out of the TARDIS. Besides, he was pretty sure Bruce was reuniting with Kitty. Probably naked reuniting, and he was never thinking about that again. There were some things about Freckles he just didn't need to dwell on. The point was, the others couldn't exactly blame him for making seeing Canton a higher priority than seeing them. He was in love with the guy, after all.
Still, he found himself hesitating outside the man's door. Should he knock? Should he just go in? Should he leave, go up to the roof and come in through Canton's window like a socially inept creeper? Okay...probably not the last one. Was Canton even home? Should he have posted on the network first to let him know he was alive and see where he was? What was the etiquette for coming back from the dead and reuniting with you boyfriend? Person. He still hated the word boyfriend, because he wasn’t fourteen and hadn’t been for a while. And lover sounded like something from a shitty Twilight porn book. Partner had a different meaning for him, something that only applied to Tasha or Phil. So, person. He hadn't exactly done this before, so he really wasn't sure.
Finally, he just opened the door, making a mental note to tell Canton to lock the fucking thing. Seriously, anyone could just walk in. Tripod immediately darted over to him as quickly as her three legs could carry her, and he knelt down to scratch her gently behind the ears, overwhelmed with affection for Canton that he had thought to look after her in his absence. He stood again, looking around, and frowned as he spotted Canton on the sofa. The man didn't seem to have noticed his presence yet, too deep in his own thoughts. With a sigh, he made his way over, Tripod winding her way around his legs the whole way, and sat next to the other man. "So..." he said. "I think I probably owe you a pretty spectacular apology."
Canton had been trying to find the motivation to actually do what he wanted, to move himself from where he'd collapsed on the couch to go to the bed and lay down properly, but he couldn't seem to find it in himself to do that. There was no strength in his legs, to pull in the rest of his body, and as he slacked even farther down into the couch, the door opening didn't even register in his mind. Even Tripod's frantic dash across the apartment and the weight joining him on the couch didn't knock his mind out of the spiral that it had started to succumb to. It wasn't until he heard Clint's voice, that beautiful, painful, ridiculously good at understating things voice, that he turned his gaze from the spot it had been fixated on the wall to meet his.
"Yeah. Just a small one," Canton said, his tone utterly exhausted as he shifted on the couch to wrap his arms around Clint. The fear evaporated in that second, all worries about not getting him back, of never seeing him again, of having to press on without him here or with him hear but with no idea who he was. It was all gone in that quickest of moments, replaced with a chaotic mixture of relief and exhaustion. He'd had no motivation to get off the couch before. Now, Canton couldn't help but think that he might not have the ability to do it now. "Not that you could have helped what happened. Either of you," Canton murmured, his head pressed against Clint's shoulder. "I was just... I didn't know what I'd do if you didn't come back."
Even if Canton did know. He knew because he had had to do it when he'd arrived here. There was less permanence to losing his fiance from back home. There was no death, and their lives would continue whenever this place ended. But he'd still had to pick up and move on, figure out how to live again. And it had hurt. He'd survived, but that didn't mean it hadn't been the hardest thing he'd ever done.
He didn't want to have to do it again.
Clint felt like a monumental jackass. It was stupid, since it wasn't like he could have prevented his death. He hadn't thrown himself in front of a Dalek laser or done anything especially reckless. It had been a stray shot from a Dalek they thought was already taken out. The only way he could have changed things was not being out there in the first place, and he wasn't the sort of person to just sit back when people were in danger. And he knew Canton wouldn't expect him to do that. If he had, they never would have worked as a couple. The fact was that he had done what he always did, and this time it hadn't exactly worked out for him. But he was back now. So it all worked out in the end.
Still, looking at Canton and seeing how deeply it had affected him, he felt like the worst person in the world. Part of him wanted to be the sort of selfish person who could forget about obligations and the right thing and just not worry about fighting just so Canton would never be put in this position again. But the fact was he couldn't do that. He wouldn't be himself if he could. And he knew that his stupid, reckless need to do the right thing was part of what had made Canton love him. So it was pointless to even think about it. But he did think about it. He'd never had someone who made him even consider giving up fighting, but Canton did.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, just holding Canton for a long moment. "I'm so fucking sorry." He pulled Canton into a deep, breathless kiss to avoid rambling on about just how sorry he was. Or that was his excuse anyway. Really, he'd just missed kissing him more than almost anything else when he'd been dead. When they broke apart, he sighed, shifting closer to Canton and resting his forehead against the other man's. "That's never gonna happen," he promised, even though the uncertainty of the city made any promise of permanency stupid. "Never. I'm always going to come back to you. I don't care what it takes. I'm never leaving you. You're my person. So...you just have to accept that you're stuck with me. Okay?"
It was the first time he'd made any suggestion that this was something permanent. It wasn't that he'd never thought about it like that, but he'd never really acknowledged it. Things for him rarely lasted, and the idea of having something he wouldn't lose was always a foreign concept. Still, with Canton, he really felt like he'd found something that would work out. It was a good feeling, and not one he had any intention of letting go of. And, judging by how Canton was acting, he didn't really see the other man objecting.
The fear of losing Clint, one way or another, had lingered in Canton's mind pretty much since the moment that they had realized they both felt the same way. It was an irrational fear, one built on insecurity and experience as well as the idea that Clint was more than capable of finding someone better than him. It had been a fear which had lingered constantly in his mind, but now, as Clint said those words, slowly started to fade from his mind. "I accepted that a long time ago," Canton said with a quiet chuckle as he raised a hand to lace through Clint's hair as he kissed him again, allowing the kiss to linger for a long moment as he drank the other man in. The closeness was comforting, the contact giving him even more reason to feel assured that Clint was back and here to stay. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."
The quiet comfort between them was interrupted, though, by tiny kitten claws digging into Canton's lap as Tripod half leapt, half climbed up in between the pair of them. Laughing despite the sting of pain, Canton grinned at Clint as he looked down at the kitten who was really starting to grow into more of a cat. "And I'm not the only one who missed you," He said. "Granted, there were more than just to the two of us, but we're the most important ones." There was a hint of teasing in that tone, a voice that made it obvious he knew that Nastaha and Coulson mattered as well, if not the other Avengers.
That thought crossing his mind gave Canton a secondary thought as he shifted slowly to grab his PDA from where he'd buried it, digging in behind the cushions in the couch until he could extract the item, "You should probably send Coulson a message though. Just...to let him know you're back and all right. He was a mess." Which, as much as Canton hated to admit it after all of the issues that he'd had with the man before, had given him pause to reconsider Clint's words about his handler. "He'd probably appreciate it."
"Good," Clint breathed against the other man's mouth between kisses, barely able to bring himself to pull away long enough to speak. "That's good. Really good. Because I swear to god, I'm not going anywhere. Ever." And then he was kissing Canton again, mindless of anything else. Clint had always thought that kissing Canton was his favorite thing to do, and he wasn't really changing his mind now. It was easy to get lost in the feeling of the other man's mouth against his own. He'd missed this more than anything else when he'd been dead and, if they hadn't had important things to talk about, he would have happily continued kissing the other man forever. Sadly, that was wildly impractical, and as much as he enjoyed impracticality he knew he couldn't indulge in it now.
As frustrating as it was to be basically cockblocked by a kitten, Clint was happy to see Tripod again. Laughing, he picked the tiny kitten up and cradled her against his chest, scratching gently behind her ears and smiling as she began to purr loudly. "Hey there sweetheart," he said softly. "Did you miss me? I bet you did. I'm so sorry for leaving you alone, but don't worry. I'm not going to be doing that again. I'm gonna be sticking around for a good long time. And so's Canton. Because he's not allowed to go anywhere either or I'll drag him back from the afterlife or his reality...or wherever he went...and kick his ass." He shot Canton a grin, softening the statement.
The expression faded though, as Canton told him how his death had affected Phil. Clint's eyes widened and he stared at his lover for a long moment, before a deep frown settled over his features. He was still getting used to having Phil around and acting like he remembered, without the uneasiness that had existed the last time the man had been in the city, but he hated the idea of hurting him, even unintentionally. "Is..." he paused. "What happened? Is he okay? He always...he takes things really hard. He doesn't like people to see how he feels...but he does. Every time me or Tasha got injured or...something bad happened on an op...he always acted like it was his fault. I don't want him taking responsibility for this."
"He got drunk and tried to call Pepper. I think you can probably take a guess where things went from there," Canton said as he settled back against Clint. Asaph seemed to love to publicize their weakest moments, to allow his little PDA 'malfunctions' to give the entire city a glimpse of something that was only meant for a few eyes. Sometimes it had beneficial results, like him and Clint finally realizing that they had both been dancing around each other and biting their tongues on feelings that were unexpectedly mutual, but most of the time... It hadn't been a pretty sight by any scope of the imagination, and even as someone who had still held reservations towards Coulson because of the behavior that he was used to seeing, it was enough to push Canton to start to readjust his view. "I tried to tell him that there wasn't anything he could have done, anything anyone could have done to make things go differently, but...I'm not really sure my opinion held much weight in the face of alcohol and grief."
Not more than anyone else's would have probably held to him if he'd actually found himself in the midst of that sort of reaction instead of the stoic emptiness and quiet acceptance that he'd lapsed into because of the inability to allow his guard to drop because of the danger.
"We've got plenty of time from here on out, Clint," Canton said, leaning up and kissing his lover before gently squeezing his shoulder. "Take care of your friend. He probably needs it more right now."
"Oh." Clint couldn't think of much else to say. Phil - his handler, Special Agent Philip J. Coulson of SHIELD - had been so upset over him dying that he had drunk-dialed Pepper. That he'd fucked up drunk-dialing her so badly that he'd somehow made it a voice post in a move Clint couldn't even begin to comprehend. How did that even work? He'd worried, of course, about how his friends had coped with his death, but he'd never thought that Phil would take it quite so hard. It wasn't that he hadn't thought he mattered to the other man, or that he hadn't realized the importance of their friendship. He'd seen how Phil had reacted after those times when he or Tasha had been seriously injured on a mission. He’d seen how he reacted to times when agents under his command. And yet, somehow he hadn’t expected his friend to be so devastated by his death, and the fact that he had been left him feeling like an idiot. "That's Phil," he said softly, looking down. "He's always taken it hard when things like that happened. I just didn’t think..." He shrugged. He hadn’t thought, after everything, that he still meant that much to the other man.
"I should talk to him," he said after a brief silence. "I...well...we both know I'm not exactly good with words...I'm fucking terrible with them, to be honest. I don’t even know how to fix this. But I should talk to him. Make sure he's okay...and just...see him." He was really worried now, and seeing Phil would be as much to ease his own anxiety as it was to reassure the other man.
"What about you?" he asked. "Are you okay? I know I'm back now, but...I'm not gonna pretend that just...undoes what happened. And I can't even imagine how much that sucked. I know how much it would wreck me if..." He couldn't even say it, taking a shaky breath as he tried to force the words past the tightness in his chest at the very thought of ever losing Canton, even just temporarily. "I can't imagine it being easier for you."
Even if part of Canton wanted to be selfish, to ask Clint to stay here with him, he knew that there wouldn’t be any reason to press that. He wanted Clint here, badly, but he also knew that sometimes, you just had to set aside your own desires for the greater good of a situation.
"I won't pretend like it was easy," Canton said, looking over at Clint. It still hurt. It would probably take awhile for the dull ache of having lost Clint to completely clear out of his system now that he was back. And as much of the fear over so many things that had lingered since they had gotten together now seemed ridiculous, Canton knew that there would be time for them now that he was back. There would be time. And Canton knew enough to realize that sometimes friendships just had to take priority over a relationship especially when they were friendships that had lasted as long and been through as much as Clint and Coulson had been through. "But I'm not going anywhere, Clint. I'll be right here once you’ve let him know you’re all right, whether you call or go over there. I'll be here."
Clint couldn't help but feel guilty, even though he knew logically that there was nothing he could have done to prevent what had happened. The funny thing about not allowing anyone else to blame themselves for his death was that he couldn't take any blame either without seeming like a hypocrite. Not that he wasn't, from time to time, but it seemed like poor form now. Still, he did hate that he'd hurt the man he loved.
"Look," Clint said after a minute. "Phil is...god...he's one of the most important people in my life. Him and Tasha...they're...there aren't really words for what they are to me. And I love that you get that. It's one of the things I love most about you. Aside from all those other things I love about you and...fuck...just loving you in general. But Phil is important enough that I'm absolutely going to put off amazingly hot resurrection sex to go talk to him and make sure he's alright and discuss feelings in a manly way...or whatever I have to do to help him get over me running off and dying like a jackass."
He sighed, trying to get his thoughts in some semblance of order. "But...jesus fuck...I died. And I'm not exactly...I'm really not as chill about that as I'm trying to be here. I wish I was, but I'm really not. And I want to be a little selfish, okay? At least for a little while. So...give me a minute to just be here with you before you go shoving me off to be a good person or a good friend or whatever? And maybe just kiss me. Because I died and it sucked and I fucking missed you. Okay?" So what if he was being lame and clingy and needy? He figured he'd fucking earned it.
There he went. Canton felt his heart swell as Clint rambled, the words coming out in a flood of emotion, one that Canton witnessed silently, a deep affection resting behind his eyes. He'd always found the torrent of words that came whenever Clint was feeling vulnerable, open, desperate, or confused to be painfully endearing. It was always as if he didn't quite know how to express himself without at least half babbling, the true meaning sandwiched between the flow of his words, and if there was anything that made Canton want to reach out and embrace him more than he usually did, it was these moments.
Which was why the second the last 'Okay?' had left Clint's lips, Canton was already leaning forward to pull the other man into his arms and fulfill his request. Lips captured lips, arms twined around his torso, and Canton slipped comfortably in next to Clint, leaving little to no room between them. "I wasn't shoving," Canton said, pulling back just enough to be able to flash Clint a smile. "Like I would ever willingly try and pawn you off on anyone else. Mmmm, nope. Sorry, Barton, but I'm going to be keeping you. Mutual ownership."
Kissing was good. Kissing was easy. He couldn't mess up kissing, the way he sometimes messed things up when words were involved. Kissing was just him and Canton and lips and tongues and so many good feelings he just couldn't get enough of. Not for the first time, he silently cursed the need to breathe, because he would have liked nothing more than to just keep his lips on Canton's forever. Even if that was a wildly impractical plan that would probably lead to the city burning down because of them not doing their jobs. Still, there were definitely worse ways to go. He knew from experience on that one. So, that was definitely a workable plan. Minus the whole pesky needing to breathe thing. They so needed to work on fixing that.
"Mutual ownership." He breathed out the words once he finally managed to break the kiss. "I like that. I like that a lot." He'd always had trouble articulating his feelings about Canton. He loved him, and he'd told him so on plenty of occasions, but that didn't mean he was good at putting what they were to each other into words. But that phrase fit in so many ways and, though some people would probably take it the wrong way, he liked it. Canton was his person. Canton was his. And he was Canton's. He'd never had much that he could call his own, and the idea that Canton, in a sense, belonged to him, struck a nerve inside of him. A very good nerve. "You're mine," he said softly. "You know that, right? You're mine and I'm yours and I'm never giving you up. And if anyone ever tries to take you from me...well...I won't let them." He never said he wasn't a possessive bastard.
"Arrow to the throat, hm?" Canton asked, a quiet amusement bubbling up in him at the thought of what Clint had said their first night, the evening that they'd actually admitted their feelings to each other. It had been a remark that Canton had dismissed at the time, as being something said within the moment or not meant with any seriousness, but he had only known Clint a few months then, hadn't had the chance to really get under his skin and understand him like he did now. And there wasn't a single bone in Canton's body that doubted Clint would do exactly that if anyone did try and take him away. Whatever methods they tried to use.
"Well, I promise, you're not going to have to worry about that unless I've been kidnapped," Canton said, grinning at Clint as he kissed him again, a brief action this time as he tipped his forehead against his lover's. "Then you have my explicit permission to kill as many people as you need to. They've only brought it upon themselves."
"Mmmhmm," Clint mumbled an affirmation against Canton's throat, where he'd been leaving a trail of lazy kisses, warmed by the other man's easy acceptance of what some might consider a fairly unhealthy possessiveness. Or written off as a joke. He wasn't sure which would be worse. It made him feel happy to know that Canton understood how very serious he was and accepted it without difficulty. He knew that it would probably disturb some people to know just how much he needed his lover, and what he was prepared to do for him, but Canton had never seemed to be all that bothered by it. It was nice to have someone who wanted him the way he was. He knew he didn't exactly have social skills in any real sense of the word, and he'd never been good at relationships, but none of that mattered when he was with Canton.
"Good," he said. Because he absolutely would shoot anyone who tried to take the other man away. "That's good." Then Canton had to go and talk about being kidnapped and Clint had to fight the sharp bite of anger he felt at the very thought. "I'd kill every last one of them," he said firmly, kissing Canton again to punctuate the sentiment. "And I'd make it slow and painful. I don't like when people touch my things." Okay. Maybe he'd spent too much time with Tony lately, because that was a Tony thing to say. "Not that you're a thing. You're a person. But you're mine. So...yeah."
Clint was a complicated individual. Anyone who spent enough time with him to see beyond the mask of flippant, playful sarcasm that he threw out knew that. But there were many things, buried in Clint's depths, that would send most people running for the hills. It made sense to Canton, after having gotten to know Clint that much more, why he would expect people to leave. Not only was his past dark, complicated, and baggage laden, but the way that he behaved now could be terribly off-putting to most individuals who claimed any understanding of normality. Luckily, though, Canton's life had been just bizarre enough that these things didn’t phase him, and the little statements and implications of less than savory behavior that would occur under certain circumstances didn’t take away at all from just how good a heart Clint had underneath everything.
He was a rare individual, someone who always wanted to do what was right and what was best no matter what that required, and that was perhaps one of the things that Canton loved most about him. As much as events here had ripped at him, torn him to shreds, and forced him to piece himself back together again, he hadn't lost that heart that made him who he was.
"Only yours," Canton responded, kissing Clint in return. "No matter what happens." Because God knows, there had been enough times here that they had very nearly been ripped apart. "We'll find a way."
Clint still half expected Canton to wake up one day and realize that he didn't want to be stuck with someone as messed up as him. He knew a big part of it was that he was attractive, but even that couldn't keep him on the right side of the Vicky Mendoza diagonal (What? He'd watched How I Met Your Mother with Tony. Don't judge.) forever. Eventually, he worried that crazy would beat out hot and Canton would finally see that he'd tied himself to someone who was seriously unstable. And then it wouldn't be long before he was running for the hills, like anyone with sense would have done months ago. But, with each day that passed that Canton stayed, Clint was starting to accept that maybe Canton wasn't most people. Maybe he was someone who could handle all of his messy issues. It was a relief, more than that really, because at this point Clint wasn't sure that he could handle Canton leaving him. He was too attached to the other man, too completely in love with him, to even think about letting him go.
The fact was, Clint was self-aware enough to know that he was screwed up. That he wasn't the sort of person most people would want. The fact that Canton wanted him anyway made him want to cling to the man, to hold fast to him in the hope that maybe he wouldn't lose him. That maybe Canton would stay. He wasn't sure he could take it if his lover ever had enough and left. Just thinking about it made him feel uneasy.
"We will," he agreed. "We always do." He wanted nothing more than to stay there and kiss Canton - and do other, more naked things with the man - all day, but he finally pulled away with a sigh, resting his forehead against Canton's. "I should go and make sure Phil is okay," he said, hating the part of him that was a good friend and a responsible, unselfish adult. It could go fuck itself. "I'll be back though. Soon. Really soon. And then I'm all yours. Okay?"
It had almost slipped Canton’s mind that he’d told Clint to go and take care of Coulson, but the second the words left Clint’s lips, he remembered. A selfish minute together and then, Clint had to go and be a good friend, and as much as Canton wanted to keep Clint here for just a little bit longer, he knew if they kept putting it off eventually they wouldn't have any time left to really spend with each other, having wasted away the minutes with filler time waiting for something else to happen.
"I'll be here," Canton said, slipping a hand from where it was wrapped around Clint’s waist to settle on his arm, giving it a light squeeze as he smiled. "I'll even get some food in while you’re out. Then, the rest of the night is ours once you get things settled."
Sometimes, Clint really didn't want to be a good person. Sometimes, like now, he just wanted to be selfish, to do what he wanted and forget about the rest of it. But he'd never been the sort of person who could actually do that. And, even if he was, Phil needed him. Phil, who had always been there for him and who had stood by him and supported him through so much. He'd be the worst sort of asshole to turn around and leave him on his own when he needed that same support in return. Besides, Canton would be waiting when he got back and that made it easier to leave.
"That sounds just about perfect," he said, pressing one last kiss to Canton's lips before getting to his feet. "I'll go take care of this, and then food, sex, shower, and sleep. Deal? Not necessarily in that order." More likely, it would be 'sex, food, more sex, shower with option for sex, and sleep'. What? He liked sex. Canton liked sex. They were good at sex. Not to mention they were coming off a two week deficit. What was the problem?
“Deal,” Canton said, a playful smile on his features as he looked up at Clint. “I’ll get everything ready. You, you go and take care of that friend of yours.” Because really, Canton had seen just how bad Phil had gotten, how horrible it had been, and even though he’d hated the man when he was here last time and openly wondered just how Clint could care about someone like that, he could see it now. Coulson was a decent guy, and he deserved to know that his friend was all right.
Besides, there was plenty of time for them later. They had the rest of their lives.
"You," Clint said, leaning down for one last kiss which - unlike the other 'last kiss' - was absolutely going to be the last one before he left, "are amazing." He honestly didn't know what he would do without Canton. The other man just had this way of keeping him grounded, no matter what happened. It was a nice thing to have, and he wouldn't have traded it for anything else in the world. Taking a few steps, he looked back at Canton and smiled.
"I'll be back soon," he told the other man. "So don't go running off or anything. I have plans for you when I get home, mister." He stopped. Huh. Home. That was different. It wasn't that he thought of Canton's place as 'home', but he realized as he stood there that he had begun to think of Canton himself as 'home. The thought was comforting and unsettling in equal measure. Fuck it. He leaned down and kissed Canton again - really the last time this time - and pushed himself away before his resolve crumbled and he just stayed.
"Actually leaving now," he said with a grin, still struck dumb by the thought of having a place, or a person, to call home. The grin stayed even as he walked out the door.
Home. It was a comforting thought, to have someplace that they could both feel like they belonged. It had been a long time coming for Canton, to have some place where he could wholly and completely be himself, but here, here, there weren’t the time of boundaries or limitations that he was used to. There wasn’t the judgment, scorn, or disgust, and he didn’t have to try and shape himself to anyone else’s preconceived notions in order to not create a fuss. It was an odd thought to have, that this place had become home after all it had put him -- them -- through, but as it was, Canton felt more at peace here than he had anywhere else his entire life even with all of its oddities and bizarreness and random attacks on their person.
And Clint was the icing on the cake because even as much as they had struggled to get through their own issues, they were at a place now where they were comfortable and together and chinese food followed by an entire night in bed was an acceptable set of plans.
Speaking of, Canton needed to figure out where that takeout menu was.