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Title: all dogs swagger a bit
Rating/Warning: PG
Wordcount: 1,500
Spoilers: None
Fandom: Avengers
Category: Clint/Coulson, Team
Summary: Where there is joint custody, Natasha being far too amused and general disobedience.
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.
AO3
"I swear he normally does it," Clint says, frowning down at the dog that can't seem to decide whether he'd prefer to chew on his own foot or Clint's. He looks like a dog Clint would own, which is to say he looks tough with his bullet head and powerful jaws but Phil suspects he's a mush ball underneath it all.
Much like Clint himself.
"Maybe it's because you called him Trevor," Phil says, watching in amusement as Trevor gets up, circles Clint's legs and flops again, back legs splayed out in a way that looks comfortable but isn't all that dignified.
"I didn't call him Trevor, that was just his name."
"Does your dog speak to you?" Phil asks with a sideways glance. When he says the word speak, Trevor lets out a game little whuff.
"Oh of course he listens to you," Clint grumbles, looking down at Trevor with exasperation.
"Well, at least that makes one of you."
"What I meant was, his name was already Trevor when I got him at the shelter. I didn't want to confuse him."
Phil tries not to find that endearing but it's pretty tough.
*
Trevor does tricks, just not for Clint. Phil has seen Clint patiently trying to get him to roll over, heel and even play dead which Trevor should be a natural at since he mostly lies on his stomach looking at Clint like he's disappointed in him.
Phil knows it's Clint-specific because he says sit out of the corner of his mouth as he passes and Trevor drops his butt and lets his tongue loll out the side of his mouth. He's seen Natasha get Trevor to drop it when Clint was trying to wrestle an arrow out of Trevor's jaws and Trevor had, like Clint hadn't been trying the same thing for fifteen minutes straight.
When Darcy finds a little hoop with glitter on it from somewhere and Trevor jumps through it on command, Phil sees Clint just roll his eyes and say, "Oh c'mon."
*
"I hate it when people call it babysitting when they're looking after their own children," Natasha says in response to Phil complaining that Clint had just dumped Trevor in his office and taken off to parts unknown. When Phil gives her a confused look, she just glances pointedly at where Trevor is stretched out over Phil's feet and then back up at him.
"He's not actually mine you know," Phil says stiffly and Natasha shrugs.
"It's cute that you have joint custody. They always say the kids are the ones to suffer when the parents can't get along."
"Natasha," Phil sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wonders why the stern voice doesn't actually work on her when it works on everyone else, and he means everyone. "Don't chew my shoes," he adds, catching Trevor out of the corner of his eye with his mouth open and hovering over Phil's toes. Trevor slowly closes his jaws, giving Phil a disappointed whine while he does it.
*
The Avengers are in constant danger, it's part of the job description. It doesn't mean it gets any easier and Phil's honest enough with himself to admit that he gets an extra special sick jolt to see a pile of rubble where Clint was last seen.
"He might not be dead," Natasha says beside him and Phil knows her well enough to be able to tell she's as upset as he is even though her tone sounds like she's commenting on the weather or something equally mundane.
Phil catches movement out of the corner of his eye and has to gape when it resolves itself into Stark striding in full armor trailing Trevor tugging at his leash. "Put him back in my car, dammit," Phil calls. He wouldn't normally bring Trevor to something like this but there had been nobody else at headquarter when he'd rushed down.
Well, he hadn't really bothered to stop and look, not after he'd received the news that they couldn't find Clint.
"My sensors are all scrambled from getting my bell rung pretty soundly. I know we're waiting on more agents with all kinds of equipment to find Hawkeye but this guy was going crazy."
"So?"
"So," Tony says and releases his grip on the leash. Trevor, showing speed Phil didn't think he was capable of, darts directly for the collapsed building. Phil makes towards him, means to grab the leash but Trevor dodges him and rushes headlong for smashed brick and broken glass.
"Are you crazy? He's not a cadaver dog," Phil yells.
"I should hope not," Thor says, watching Trevor pick his way through debris. "We wish for him to find Hawkeye very much alive."
Their attention returns to the dog and for a few minutes he seems to be aimlessly wandering. Phil's about to demand that Tony go right back over and pick him up, the last thing he wants to do is get Clint's dog killed because Clint is going to be fine and he'll be pissed dammit, when Trevor yowls and then starts digging on a particularly high and dangerously teetering section of rubble.
*
"He wouldn't even listen to me this time," Phil says when Clint cracks an eye open. He'd been out for three days in the SHIELD infirmary and besides a few cracked ribs and some nasty bruising, Clint was miraculously intact.
He might not have been if he wasn't found so quickly but Phil doesn't dwell on that.
Clint frowns but then understanding fills his face as he realizes that Phil is talking about Trevor who is up on the bed and had refused to move the entire time Clint was out. He's curled by Clint's side like he knows any weight on Clint's chest where he usually stations himself would be a bad idea. Trevor shifts his head up to carefully rest on Clint's belly so Clint can reach his ears to scratch.
Clint's hand drifts down to the purple and black dog jacket Trevor is wearing, tugs gently at the handle that's on his back and raises an eyebrow. "He looks like luggage," he remarks, voice gruff from the few days of disuse.
"He likes it," Phil says. He reaches out to rub over Trevor's head and his hand gets tangled with Clint's when he goes to take it back. Clint grips and Phil returns the squeeze.
"He likes drinking out of the toilet. He's not the best judge."
"That's true, he seems to like you a great deal," Phil says with a grin.
Clint rolls his eyes. "Ha ha, make fun of the guy in the hospital bed why don't you?"
"I just came by to say that you're not allowed to be in any more buildings that are collapsing."
"Is that an order?" Clint asks with a smirk.
"It's more a recommendation. I will write it into your mission briefings to remind you if I have to though."
"Better not, people will think you care."
"Yeah, well, we don't want that now do we?" Phil says, dry.
*
Natasha catches Phil with Trevor at his feet in his office for the second time. Clint is out doing recon work and she just raises an eyebrow when she sees that Trevor has his own bed under Phil's desk.
"Yes, alright," he huffs and she smirks at him before disappearing again.
*
"You're the cool dad."
Phil takes pity on Clint, who looks downright defeated with Trevor stretched across his lap on the couch. Clint is trying to keep Trevor off the furniture because Tony has all kinds of thoughts about that but it seems the only way he's been able to accomplish it is by wedging himself between said furniture and Trevor's draped form.
"I am cool," Clint agrees before he frowns. "Wait, what?"
"You can't sneak him bacon at breakfast and then expect him to listen to you when you try being stern."
"How do you know I do that?" Clint asks, looking guilty. "I'm like a ninja."
"You might be like an ninja with the sneaking but Trevor is certainly not with the eating." Phil sits opposite Clint, steeples his fingers and gives him his serious face. "You can't be the kind of parent who lets kids stay up late and eat ice cream for dinner and then complain when they don't brush their teeth and eat broccoli."
"You're creeping me out," Clint huffs, stroking an elegant hand over Trevor's head who whuffles in contentment.
Phil just sighs, stands up and says, "Trevor, down."
Trevor immediately levers himself up and drops off the edge of the couch, padding over to Phil and looking up at him like he's asking, yes okay, what else.
"It's a conspiracy. You've trained him not to listen to me," Clint complains as Trevor circles back to him, licks the toe of Clint's boot then flops in front of him.
"Don't worry," Phil says with a rare smile. "You can stay the cool dad. As long as someone is around to make sure he eats the broccoli every now and again."
Rating/Warning: PG
Wordcount: 1,500
Spoilers: None
Fandom: Avengers
Category: Clint/Coulson, Team
Summary: Where there is joint custody, Natasha being far too amused and general disobedience.
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.
AO3
"I swear he normally does it," Clint says, frowning down at the dog that can't seem to decide whether he'd prefer to chew on his own foot or Clint's. He looks like a dog Clint would own, which is to say he looks tough with his bullet head and powerful jaws but Phil suspects he's a mush ball underneath it all.
Much like Clint himself.
"Maybe it's because you called him Trevor," Phil says, watching in amusement as Trevor gets up, circles Clint's legs and flops again, back legs splayed out in a way that looks comfortable but isn't all that dignified.
"I didn't call him Trevor, that was just his name."
"Does your dog speak to you?" Phil asks with a sideways glance. When he says the word speak, Trevor lets out a game little whuff.
"Oh of course he listens to you," Clint grumbles, looking down at Trevor with exasperation.
"Well, at least that makes one of you."
"What I meant was, his name was already Trevor when I got him at the shelter. I didn't want to confuse him."
Phil tries not to find that endearing but it's pretty tough.
Trevor does tricks, just not for Clint. Phil has seen Clint patiently trying to get him to roll over, heel and even play dead which Trevor should be a natural at since he mostly lies on his stomach looking at Clint like he's disappointed in him.
Phil knows it's Clint-specific because he says sit out of the corner of his mouth as he passes and Trevor drops his butt and lets his tongue loll out the side of his mouth. He's seen Natasha get Trevor to drop it when Clint was trying to wrestle an arrow out of Trevor's jaws and Trevor had, like Clint hadn't been trying the same thing for fifteen minutes straight.
When Darcy finds a little hoop with glitter on it from somewhere and Trevor jumps through it on command, Phil sees Clint just roll his eyes and say, "Oh c'mon."
"I hate it when people call it babysitting when they're looking after their own children," Natasha says in response to Phil complaining that Clint had just dumped Trevor in his office and taken off to parts unknown. When Phil gives her a confused look, she just glances pointedly at where Trevor is stretched out over Phil's feet and then back up at him.
"He's not actually mine you know," Phil says stiffly and Natasha shrugs.
"It's cute that you have joint custody. They always say the kids are the ones to suffer when the parents can't get along."
"Natasha," Phil sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wonders why the stern voice doesn't actually work on her when it works on everyone else, and he means everyone. "Don't chew my shoes," he adds, catching Trevor out of the corner of his eye with his mouth open and hovering over Phil's toes. Trevor slowly closes his jaws, giving Phil a disappointed whine while he does it.
The Avengers are in constant danger, it's part of the job description. It doesn't mean it gets any easier and Phil's honest enough with himself to admit that he gets an extra special sick jolt to see a pile of rubble where Clint was last seen.
"He might not be dead," Natasha says beside him and Phil knows her well enough to be able to tell she's as upset as he is even though her tone sounds like she's commenting on the weather or something equally mundane.
Phil catches movement out of the corner of his eye and has to gape when it resolves itself into Stark striding in full armor trailing Trevor tugging at his leash. "Put him back in my car, dammit," Phil calls. He wouldn't normally bring Trevor to something like this but there had been nobody else at headquarter when he'd rushed down.
Well, he hadn't really bothered to stop and look, not after he'd received the news that they couldn't find Clint.
"My sensors are all scrambled from getting my bell rung pretty soundly. I know we're waiting on more agents with all kinds of equipment to find Hawkeye but this guy was going crazy."
"So?"
"So," Tony says and releases his grip on the leash. Trevor, showing speed Phil didn't think he was capable of, darts directly for the collapsed building. Phil makes towards him, means to grab the leash but Trevor dodges him and rushes headlong for smashed brick and broken glass.
"Are you crazy? He's not a cadaver dog," Phil yells.
"I should hope not," Thor says, watching Trevor pick his way through debris. "We wish for him to find Hawkeye very much alive."
Their attention returns to the dog and for a few minutes he seems to be aimlessly wandering. Phil's about to demand that Tony go right back over and pick him up, the last thing he wants to do is get Clint's dog killed because Clint is going to be fine and he'll be pissed dammit, when Trevor yowls and then starts digging on a particularly high and dangerously teetering section of rubble.
"He wouldn't even listen to me this time," Phil says when Clint cracks an eye open. He'd been out for three days in the SHIELD infirmary and besides a few cracked ribs and some nasty bruising, Clint was miraculously intact.
He might not have been if he wasn't found so quickly but Phil doesn't dwell on that.
Clint frowns but then understanding fills his face as he realizes that Phil is talking about Trevor who is up on the bed and had refused to move the entire time Clint was out. He's curled by Clint's side like he knows any weight on Clint's chest where he usually stations himself would be a bad idea. Trevor shifts his head up to carefully rest on Clint's belly so Clint can reach his ears to scratch.
Clint's hand drifts down to the purple and black dog jacket Trevor is wearing, tugs gently at the handle that's on his back and raises an eyebrow. "He looks like luggage," he remarks, voice gruff from the few days of disuse.
"He likes it," Phil says. He reaches out to rub over Trevor's head and his hand gets tangled with Clint's when he goes to take it back. Clint grips and Phil returns the squeeze.
"He likes drinking out of the toilet. He's not the best judge."
"That's true, he seems to like you a great deal," Phil says with a grin.
Clint rolls his eyes. "Ha ha, make fun of the guy in the hospital bed why don't you?"
"I just came by to say that you're not allowed to be in any more buildings that are collapsing."
"Is that an order?" Clint asks with a smirk.
"It's more a recommendation. I will write it into your mission briefings to remind you if I have to though."
"Better not, people will think you care."
"Yeah, well, we don't want that now do we?" Phil says, dry.
Natasha catches Phil with Trevor at his feet in his office for the second time. Clint is out doing recon work and she just raises an eyebrow when she sees that Trevor has his own bed under Phil's desk.
"Yes, alright," he huffs and she smirks at him before disappearing again.
"You're the cool dad."
Phil takes pity on Clint, who looks downright defeated with Trevor stretched across his lap on the couch. Clint is trying to keep Trevor off the furniture because Tony has all kinds of thoughts about that but it seems the only way he's been able to accomplish it is by wedging himself between said furniture and Trevor's draped form.
"I am cool," Clint agrees before he frowns. "Wait, what?"
"You can't sneak him bacon at breakfast and then expect him to listen to you when you try being stern."
"How do you know I do that?" Clint asks, looking guilty. "I'm like a ninja."
"You might be like an ninja with the sneaking but Trevor is certainly not with the eating." Phil sits opposite Clint, steeples his fingers and gives him his serious face. "You can't be the kind of parent who lets kids stay up late and eat ice cream for dinner and then complain when they don't brush their teeth and eat broccoli."
"You're creeping me out," Clint huffs, stroking an elegant hand over Trevor's head who whuffles in contentment.
Phil just sighs, stands up and says, "Trevor, down."
Trevor immediately levers himself up and drops off the edge of the couch, padding over to Phil and looking up at him like he's asking, yes okay, what else.
"It's a conspiracy. You've trained him not to listen to me," Clint complains as Trevor circles back to him, licks the toe of Clint's boot then flops in front of him.
"Don't worry," Phil says with a rare smile. "You can stay the cool dad. As long as someone is around to make sure he eats the broccoli every now and again."