Chapter Text
Clint catches sight of the man huddled by the front of Phil’s building from a block away. He can see him shivering from here, and flashes back to nights at the circus huddled in with the horses in an attempt to keep warm. Clint stops for a minute to consider and then taps his hearing aide to initiate the link to the comm he knows Phil still has in.
“Phil?”
A moment passes. “Clint?” Clint can hear the carefully concealed concern lacing Phil’s tone and winces.
“I’m fine, sorry. I just… do you have any food at your old place?”
“You couldn’t wait until you got there to simply check?” Phil’s tone is fondly amused now. “Or waited until after you picked up the papers and made it to the Tower?”
“It’s not for me.”
A sigh whispers across the line. “Clint what did you do?”
“Nothing. Yet. But there is a guy on the landing of your building. Looks like he is having a rough time. It’s snowing Phil. I was just gonna see if I would give him something to eat, maybe a blanket or something. Sorry. I’ll just leave it alone.” Clint feels the familiar sinking that means he has somehow missed another social clue and done something wrong.
“No, Clint, I’m sorry. That is a nice thing to do. I don’t think there is any food left at the apartment, but there should still be coffee from Tony’s last shopping spree. Why don’t you take him some coffee and a blanket. I think there is an old jacket in the closet you can give him if you think it would fit. I am just about done here so how about I go and grab something from Beth’s and meet you at the apartment?”
“Ok that sounds good. Will you get me some curly fries?”
“Of course.” Clint can practically hear Phil’s fond smile and relaxes.
“Phil?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“Always. I will see you soon.”
Clint taps the aide again to disconnect the link and resumes his walk to the building. Crouching near the man but leaving enough space so he hopefully won’t feel corned, Clint says “Hey buddy?”
There is no response, and Clint reaches out to gently shake the guy’s arm. The reaction he gets this time is startling. The guy scrambles away from Clint, pressing himself even further into the corner and whimpering.
“Whoa whoa whoa it’s ok! I am not gonna hurt you! It’s okay!” Clint says quickly, holding his hands up in a calming gesture. He takes a closer look and realizes the guy is younger than he thought. A lot younger. He is just a kid by the looks of him and Clint knows all too well what usually causes a reaction like that.
The kid has stopped scrambling away and is staring at Clint suspiciously, chest heaving. He doesn’t say anything, but looks poised to take off at the slightest provocation. Clint keeps eye contact with the kid as he slowly sinks from his crouch to settle on the sidewalk. The kid loses a little of his defensiveness at the realization that Clint has just put himself at a disadvantage.
“What do you want?” The hoarse whisper is resigned under a show of defiance and Clint’s heart clenches. He can hear Phil berating him now for what he is about to do, but he can’t help himself.
“To help.” Clint answers simply, and holds up his hand to stall the kid before he can protest. “Seriously. I know that sounds creepy and suspicious as fuck, but I really do just want to help. I have been where you are kid and I swear I don’t want anything from you. I am not going to try to do anything to you and won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
Something flashes in the kid’s eyes and Clint gives him a moment before continuing. “We have a couple options. My partner is on his way here with food. You can wait here for him, and I can run up and grab you some coffee and a blanket. Or you can come up with me and wait in the warmth. Drink some coffee or whatever we can find and eat something. Or you can tell me to fuck off.”
The kid hasn’t relaxed his posture any, but he is still watching Clint. He studies him another moment before whispering, “If I come inside - I can leave whenever I want?”
“Of course.” Clint replies. He hesitates and then reaches down to his boot with one hand while leaving the other out in a gesture of peace. Clint slowly slips his boot knife out and places it on the ground, sliding it across to the kid’s reach. He lets go of the knife and puts that hand up with the other. “Insurance.” He says to the kid.
The kid squints at the knife and then at Clint. Reaching out, eyes never leaving Clint, the boy grabs the knife and settles it in his hand. Clint isn’t sure what to make of the fact that the kid seems completely comfortable with the weapon. He can practically hear Phil screaming at him in the back of his head, but for some reason he can’t just leave this kid alone in the snow.
Keeping his motions slow and evident, Clint stands and offers the kid a hand. “What’s it gonna be?”
The kid doesn’t take the help, but does stand. “I’ll come inside.” He follows Clint into the building and up the stairs. Clint opens the apartment and walks in, leaving the door open for the kid. He goes straight into the kitchen to start up the coffee maker and get a pot going. Once the liquid starts trickling into the pot Clint heads to the linen closet in the hall and grabs two of the spare blankets. He makes his way over to where the kid is hovering halfway between the kitchen and living room. Clint offers the blankets and the kid reaches out hesitantly to take them. The kid doesn’t quite return the smile Clint offers, but his face loses a bit of tenseness.
“Alright I gotta hit the head.” Clint says, throwing a thumb over his shoulder at the hallway. “Make yourself comfortable. If the coffee finishes you can make yourself a cup - mugs in the cabinet over the machine and sugar is on the table. We don’t have any milk or creamer or anything like that, sorry.” The kid slowly nods and Clint gives him another gentle smile before heading to the bathroom.
As soon as he closes the door behind him Clint opens the link to Phil. “Phil? Don’t be mad.”
There is a harsh sigh and an indistinguishable mutter before Phil asks resignedly, “What happened?”
“It was a kid Phil. Just a teenager. I couldn’t just leave him out there. I brought him back to the apartment.”
“Jesus. Okay. I am just turning the corner now. Did you warn him I was coming?”
“Yeah I told him you were bringing food.”
“Alright. I will see you in a few.”
“I love you.” Some of Clint’s insecurity must leak into his voice because Phil’s voice is softer when he replies.
“I love you too Clint.”
Clint disconnects the line and flushes the toilet before washing his hands and exiting the bathroom. He heads back into the kitchen to find the kid has abandoned the blankets on the counter in favor of fixing a cup of coffee. The kid backs off when Clint makes his way to the coffee maker, keeping out of arm’s reach. Clint doesn’t comment as he pours himself a cup of coffee and turns to lean against the counter. The kid is cradling the coffee mug in both hands, curled around the warmth. They drink their coffee in silence until Clint hears the faint jingle of keys by the door. The kid hears it too if the tightening of his posture is any indication.
“It’s just my partner with food, remember? He won’t hurt you either.” The kid gives a stiff nod and Clint heads toward the door to meet Phil.
“Clint?” Phil calls softly as he carries several bags from their favorite diner in through the door.
“Hey -” Clint is interrupted by the shattering of a mug behind him. Both Clint and Phil spin to face the noise.
The kid had apparently followed Clint out of the kitchen. He is now standing in the mess of coffee and glass, ignoring it all as he stares at Phil. For the first time his expression is something other than wary. Instead a heartbreaking hope and fear are competing for dominance as he stares past Clint. The kid chokes back a sob and just manages to whisper “Uncle Phil?” before tears begin making their way down his face.
Clint is frozen in place at the question, but he hears a sudden sharp inhale behind him before Phil responds. “Stiles?”
The food hits the floor as Phil pushes past Clint toward the kid, who is now sobbing, arms curled around himself. “Uncle Phil, I - I didn’t - I…” The kid chokes out as Phil stops in front of him. Phil wastes no time in pulling the kid into his arms just as the kid’s knees gives out. He clings to Phil, burying his face in Phil’s shoulder.
“Shh. It’s okay, Stiles. I’m here, I’ve got you.” Phil murmurs to the kid, one hand cradling the back of his head as the other arm keeps the boy upright.
Clint blinks rapidly as he tries to absorb the scene in front of him. He knew Phil had family of course, a brother and a nephew that he had hidden all ties to. Clint is fairly certain he and Fury are the only ones who know about them, although he wouldn’t be surprised to find Natasha in the know. But they were supposed to be living in a small town in California. Whatever had happened to lead to Stiles huddling on Phil’s doorstep, Clint knew it couldn’t be good.
The kid’s sobs are starting to taper off, though he doesn’t appear to be letting go of Phil anytime soon. Clint quietly gathers up the bags Phil had dropped and takes them to the table before heading into the kitchen to put the kettle on. He is fairly sure they still have some of Bruce’s calming tea in the cabinet, and it looks like both Phil and the kid could use some. Clint can hear Phil trying to coax Stiles into moving into the living room. It sounds like he is making slow progress, the kid unwilling to release Phil long enough to walk to the couch but moving when Phil does.
Clint catches the kettle just as it starts to whistle, pouring the water into two mugs and adding diffusers full of Bruce’s carefully mixed tea. He adds the last of the coffee to his mug and carries all three to the living room where Phil has gotten Stiles settled on the sofa. Well, Phil is on the sofa anyway. The kid looks like he is more huddled on Phil’s lap than on the couch. It should look ridiculous - the teen is nearly grown after all - but instead it just breaks Clint’s heart to see the kid curl himself into a tiny shivering lump.
After placing the mugs on the coffee table, Clint backtracks to the kitchen to grab the blankets he offered the kid earlier. He pauses when he reaches the couch again and raises a questioning eyebrow at Phil. Phil nods and Clint unfolds one of the blankets before gently wrapping it around the shaking kid. Stiles startles and Phil quickly soothes him. Clint hesitates now that he has run out of things to do. Phil catches his eye and nods to the armchair next to the couch. Clint nods and quietly settles in the chair with his mug.
It takes Phil quite a while to coax the kid into sitting back enough to accept the mug of tea. He refuses to let go of Phil, one hand taking the mug while the other clutches Phil’s suit jacket. Stiles doesn’t say anything, drinking his tea while tears continue to track down his cheeks. Clint can see the tea start to work as the kid slowly relaxes into the couch and Phil. He appears to be nearly asleep when he whispers, “Don’t tell anyone Uncle Phil.”
Phil stares down at his nephew. “Your dad - “
The kid lurches up to turn huge eyes on Phil. “No! Please Uncle Phil. You can’t. Please.”
Phil hushes the kid, murmuring reassurances as he guides his head back to his shoulder. “Okay Stiles, I won’t call him now. We can talk about it later, alright? Just calm down. Everything will be alright.” Stiles slumps in relief, melting back into Phil.
A few minutes later he is asleep. Phil glances over at Clint and asks quietly, “Can you help me get him to the guest room? We’ll stay here tonight.”
Clint nods and moves to the couch. He leans down and scoops the kid into his arms, heart sinking at how easy it is to do so. Stiles curls toward Clint’s heat, burrowing his face into the hollow of Clint’s neck. Clint swallows thickly and cradles the kid more securely as he takes him into the guest bedroom. Phil follows him through and pulls the covers off the bed so Clint can put the kid down. Phil tugs the comforter back up over Stiles as Clint retrieves the second blanket from the living room and returns to add it to the pile over the kid. Clint flips the switch on the small desk light as they make their way out of the room, leaving the warm glow to comfort Stiles when he wakes.
Phil starts pacing as soon as they are back in the main living space. Clint eyes him for a moment and then leaves him to it as he goes to collect Phil’s untouched tea. He pops it in the microwave to reheat, popping the door just before the cycle finishes to avoid the shrill alert tone. Clint places the freshly steaming tea on the couch before moving to intercept Phil’s path. Phil continues walking, running full into Clint and wrapping his arms around him. Clint wraps his arms around Phil in return and waits as he feels Phil start to shake.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Phil mutters, grinding his forehead against Clint’s shoulder. “I don’t know what the hell is going on Clint.”
Clint gently tugs Phil over to the couch with him and presses the mug into his hands. “Drink your tea. You promised you wouldn’t call his dad so we need to wait until he wakes up to get some answers.”
“I don’t like this.”
“I know. But I think for now you need to just wait and then talk to your nephew, okay? He came to you for a reason. You need to show you are on his side, which means honoring his wishes and keeping mum about his whereabouts.”
“Why wouldn’t Noah call me? You saw Stiles Clint. There is no way he just hopped on a plane and ended up here. He has to have been gone for awhile and I thought he was still safe in Beacon Hills.”
“I don’t know. We will figure it out in the morning okay?”
Phil nods and sips the tea as Clint sits next to him, running his hand up and down Phil’s arm. Eventually Phil’s body eases as he gives into the mild sedative effects of the tea. Clint sighs and tips his head back against the couch. Minutes later he drifts off as well.