Chapter Text
Skrulls are far too well trained for them to not notice his approach but they honestly don’t seem very bothered (to be fair, Phil wouldn’t prioritise himself over the enormous blue Skrull-smashing alien either) so Phil actually makes it all the way up to about ten feet away and fires a shot before a Skrull looks over at him.
It helps that Phil has excellent aim, and that shot went through its kneecap. (It doesn’t help that Skrulls have accelerated healing, and therefore it will be completely fine in about two minutes.) It works perfectly for the purpose Phil intended though, which was to distract a Skrull for long enough that the blue giant alien swings an enormous hand, and smashes him into unconsciousness.
Phil and Jasper swing into action, each pulling out nets and alien-tested cuffs. (Tailoring does wonders to hide odd bulges.) The Skrulls snarl, fighting their way over to their fallen comrade, but they forget about the cats. Someone should really have warned them about the cats by now, thinks Phil bemusedly, but he supposes that a race as intimidating as the Skrulls have a difficult time believing in the danger of the small fluffball.
Steve leaps in first with the others rallied behind him - how Jasper coined the codename ‘Captain’ for him, Phil is told - and retains the speed of a kitten as he slashes and then runs back to Phil. Phil takes the chance to reach into the pack strapped around Steve for a new clip, and reloads before shooing him off to Jasper for the same. Phil would marvel some more at how reliable Steve is and how well he takes to carrying supplies in a little reinforced kevlar outfit, but he really can’t spare the brainpower right now.
Natasha is like black lightening, zipping through legs with claws outstretched. Clint is the overhead equivalent, leaping from shoulder to head and going for ears, noses and eyes. Thor and Tony are both all over the place, not remotely worried about stealth, and seem to be having quite a lot of fun. Bruce placidly sits and waits for a Skrull to get close enough and then darts out and clamps his jaw around some stray fingers, or an ankle. Phil finishes up his cuffs and adds in a quick gag and blindfold too. He and Jasper exchange looks for a second.
“I’ll carry, you cover,” said Jasper with a huff, because they’re both trained to carry people and Phil is a better shot. He swings the Skrull over his shoulder and lifts from the knees. Phil angles his body sideways, keeping one eye on Jasper and one on the action, backing away with his gun raised. The Skrulls are scattering, unable to hurt the giant blue alien and presumably to find better weapons. It’s a good chance to get out of here now.
“Assemble!” He yells at the cats as they back toward the car. The cats stop chasing after the Skrulls (reluctantly though) and head back with the lone exception of Thor. “Thor!” Phil yells, exasperated, because he does not have the time for this. Jasper dumps the Skrull into the car, a feat made easier by the fact that one side of the car is now missing, thanks to Loki, and secures him down.
Thor is still in the square, and has padded up to the enormous alien-previously-Loki-and-a-cat, and.. and... whines. He rubs his head against what he can reach of the giant’s foot and cries. Phil groans, even as he straps fake-him’s shoulders down.
Instead of what Phil expects to happen, which is the alien shuffling his foot to the right and squashing Thor, there’s a bit of a shudder, and then the alien is falling, falling - no. Shrinking. Until all that’s left is a black cat that looks like Thor that comes running toward them, Thor in its wake.
The cats pile into the car and Jasper hits the road, already on the comm and asking their contact for location they can drive to that’s not so crowded with people. The shredded car and green-tinged person tied up in the back seat means they want to draw as little attention to themselves as possible.
Jasper heads for outer London, a GPS signal for an MI6 safehouse in place, as Phil pulls out the equipment stowed in the car looking for something suitable. “You, come here.” He leans into the backseat and points sternly at Thor. Thor’s ears droop as he slinks guiltily into Phil’s lap. He looks so very woebegone that Phil wants to cuddle him better. That’s not the point of this though; Phil just knew that Loki would follow him. And as soon as Loki is also in his lap, Phil flips him over and snaps a set of restraints around his legs.
“I don’t know what you are. And I don’t care how adorable you are. I don’t even care that you’re clearly just here for the Skrulls. It’s my job to take you in.” Phil says, feeling foolish for talking to a cat even though 1) he knows very well it’s not a cat and 2) he talks to his actual cats all the time.
“Alright, you lot. Anyone else secretly an alien, you can reveal yourself now.” He glares at the rest of them, thoroughly unimpressed. (Clint doesn’t like it when he’s grumpy, and claws his way across the car to hide in his usual place behind Phil’s back, a quivering lump behind his kidney.)
“Phil.” Jasper looks pained as he glances over from the driver’s seat. “Can you not at least contain the crazy to off-mission?”
“You’re the one who used cats instead of actual trained agents to rescue me,” says Phil. (Phil: 1, Jasper: 0, cats: perpetually 3,000,000) He strokes Loki’s long fur, even though he knows its actually an enormous hairless blue alien, and watches as Loki struggles, sometimes managing to turn a little blue. The restraints around him are the most advanced SHIELD tech there is right now though, and it changes shape to contain the alien. It was originally brought along in mind for the ferocious Skrulls, but it’s doing quite well with other shapeshifters too.
MI6 is suspiciously less bothered than Phil would have thought about the destruction of buildings possibly older than the entire history of the USA. “Not our problem for once,” says a grizzly looking agent with satisfaction. “Within the British borders is MI5’s problem, and off-planet is MI7’s. My only responsibility is you, and neither of you are dead, so we’re good.”
It makes sense, Phil supposes. They get on to a charter plane back home with no problems, at least. He and Jasper take turns guarding each of the aliens. They have to be kept at opposite ends of the plane, because Loki tries to eat the Skrull’s foot if he’s put within reach. Phil takes the first shift with Loki, and Jasper gets the Skrull, who is thankfully still unconscious and hopefully going to stay that way if they remember to inject a sedative into him every few hours. It’s disconcerting because even when green, he looks just like Phil.
The cats split, evidently knowing that work-time is over and nap-time is now okay. Thor accompanies Phil to Loki and mewls pitifully, rubbing his head against Phil’s thigh. After his third static shock, Phil forgives Thor just to make him stop. Then Thor goes to give Loki the same treatment, this time looking very disappointed.
He’s too close to this case to be able to interrogate their Skrull prisoner, apparently although Nick clearly didn’t think he was too close to it to hunt him across the atlantic ocean. In any case, after a very quick round in Medical, Phil is done as far as this case is concerned, which means that his mandatory leave of 48 hours has kicked in. It’s a policy that SHIELD sticks to after any case with personnel injury or harm. Being kidnapped counts, even if Phil tries to complain that giving him more free time is the last thing he needs.
After mandatory leave kicks in, their security securances automatically start locking them out of places, so Phil is refusing to leave his office because he knows he won’t be able to get back in for another two days afterwards.
“Phil, piss off,” Jasper yells from outside his door. (Now that their rightful Phil is returned, all states of truce between cats and Jasper are off.)
“Make me,” says Phil, copying files onto his laptop as quickly as possible. He has no delusions that he’s going to get thrown out at any moment now, but he’s going to do as much as he can before that happens.
The cat flap rattles open. “Are you FIVE?” snaps Jasper, sticking his face in quickly and then dropping it again as Tony presses his face close and sniffs. Phil dearly hopes that all the junior agents in the office pen outside his office have cleared out.
“Five and a half,” he yells. (His computer is 93% done with copying the files he’ll need to remotely access the details of the ongoing investigation. He just needs to stall a tiny bit longer.)
He hears Jasper snort, and starts packing everything. Suddenly, the door swings open to reveal Jasper sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Steve, who looks very amused, and Nick looming in his doorway .
“Phil. Take your cats and get the fuck out of my building,” says Nick. Phil can see past him - the floor is completely empty. He wonders vaguely where on earth all the agents who should be working are.
Phil opens his mouth, but Fury cuts in before he can make his smartass remark about magic words. “Please.” He glares at Phil with his one eye.
“Sir, yes sir,” says Phil, but only because his files are done. He slips the laptop into his briefcase. Nick eyes him because Nick knows exactly what he’s up to, but he doesn’t say anything which is good because then Phil would have had to fight the Director of SHIELD in the doorway of his own office and probably lost his job, even if he’s been friends with him for decades.
“I don’t want to see a single fucking whisker in the next two days, all right?” Nick stands in his doorway. Tony is especially obnoxious around Nick, and leaves a lovely furry layer over his leg as he cheerfully weaves his way out. Phil follows him out without saying a word.
Past the open office and into the corridor, Phil hears the thrum of conversation in the break room. He slips his head in. Aha, there all the missing agents are. It looks as though they were corralled out of the way, as they’re looking around curiously. “Alright, back to work,” says Phil quietly, and at least three mugs of coffee slosh as people start. He makes his way out, furry entourage included, as they stare after him.
Phil still doesn’t know what to do with free time now he has some, but at least home is more comfortable than the cell he’d been in. He collapses on the couch, Clint darting in to take his pride of place in the crook of Phil’s arm, and Natasha over his shoulders. Thor flops over his legs, ensuring that Phil will probably not get up again for the rest of the day. Steve is a comfortable weight on one foot, Bruce is tucked behind the other and Tony stretches out across them both.
For the first time in possibly years, Phil turns the tv on. He is greeted by the face of a screaming child. Phil leaves the channel on. (Children are very rarely a part of his job, and Phil honestly considers them to be a doddle compared to cats, agents and aliens.) “Wake me up when it’s time for food,” he murmurs, his hand sunk in Clint’s uneven fur, intending to fall asleep to the tune of... what is this he’s watching? Some show called Supernanny, apparently.
Three hours later, Phil has discovered that 1) there is a Supernanny rerun marathon on, 2) he hasn’t dozed at all because it is highly addictive, 3) there is apparently seven seasons of this show, so he’s probably got enough material to keep him occupied for at least the next two days and 4) his fingers haven’t twitched for his laptop once, and it’s not even anything to do with the fact that Clint sinks his claws into Phil’s hand if he tries to take it away.
He could do this some more, Phil thinks. Even if his left foot is dead under Steve, his arm is aching under Clint and he actually now really needs the bathroom but Thor shows no sign of budging. He can do this thing where his job doesn’t entirely eat his life and sometimes he comes home to his loved ones, even if they are a bit furry and a whole lot anti-social. It’s nice knowing that they care about him enough to come all the way to Canada to get him (Canada is really far away for beings the size of a pillow, okay) and he’d probably shoot an alien for one of them.
Phil leans back, and watches a child wail from its naughty corner. He tickles the bottom of Clint’s chin and he purrs, rubbing his face all over Phil, and Phil lets himself just relax for the first time in far too long, content to revel in doing nothing but watching addictive tv and enjoying the company of his family.
His SHIELD phone rings. Phil closes his eyes, and gives a very brief sigh. He reaches for the phone, ignoring Clint as he nibbles on the corner of it. “Yes?”
“We need you in.”
Such is the life of a SHIELD agent. "Come on, you lot. Suit up."
