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Clint is taken on a Tuesday.
Phil's at HQ, in a meeting with Fury and Hill about a potential permanent addition to the Agency, when his pager goes off, frantically vibrating against his thigh. After a moment, it starts ringing. Clint must have pressed the sequence for emergency, because that's the only way to get Phil's pager to come off its permanently silent setting. The spike of alarm never shows on Phil's face. The two others at the table sit in silence as he pulls out his communicator, a direct line to his husband.
"Hawkeye, report." A burst of static is his reply, before Clint's voice fills Phil's earpiece.
"Sir, I think we have a situation." One of his free hands, resting calmly under the table, clenches. Phil's voice remains even. He brushes off the concerned looks both Nick and Maria shoot his way. Wisely, they don't say a word.
"Level, Barton?"
"Straight past our normal 1-10 system and probably a bit worse than FUBAR."
Well, shit. Seeing as the archer's sense of danger is practically broken, him admitting to trouble is beyond a bad sign. Phil purses his lips, and across the table hears Nick curse colorfully. Truthfully, even so little a concession in his facial expression is like blaring alarm bells.
"Shit. Hill, rally the troops, Barton's going to need an extraction at least."
Phil ignores Fury.
"Are you injured?" He demands. There's a huff of laughter over the line, strained.
"Only bruises at the moment, but that isn't the problem." The burst of gunfire is sharp and loud, before everything washes out in static.
"Clint!" His husband's voice makes its way back onto the line, eventually. Phil tries not to exhale too obviously in relief.
"Phil, the tesseract acted up. We appear to have an alien on our hands." For a moment, Phil's shocked into silence. They dealt with some weird things, but even aliens aren't everyday (they're barely every other month). Since the events of New Mexico, Asgard has been quiet. Before Phil can recover, Clint continues. "And this guy appears to have a blue glow stick that lets him control other people's minds."
Nick and Maria turn to stare in shock as Phil devolves into cursing. Anything else Phil can handle. He's listened to Clint bleed out over the comms, watched him tortured. But fucking aliens? Messing with his husband's head? He's done, control broken. Phil takes a deep breath. He speaks calmly, ignoring that both Clint and his friends heard him swearing only seconds before. The fake neutrality is for his sake, not theirs.
"Can you get away?" Clint's voice is heartbreakingly gentle over the line.
"No. It's been near impossible to keep a step ahead this long. Phil, you know our deal, you have to promise me-"
"Natasha and I will recover you, I need you to tell me everything about this alien, quickly now and-"
"Phil!" Phil's voice cut off immediately. The silence rings. "Our deal. If one of us is ever compromised, the others promised to-"
"I'm not killing you, and that's final."
"Phil-"
"Enough, that promise was bullshit even when we made it. I expect your cooperation, Hawkeye." Phil basks in the resigned silence. A grim smile appears on his lips as he hears his husband's reluctant voice murmur over the line.
"He said his name was Loki, and that he was here to put humanity in its place. You know the type, long hair, horned helmet, magical powers, just like every other Tuesday."
The joke falls flat.
"Thor's brother." Phil raises a hand and scrubs at his forehead. If he was with anyone else, he wouldn't allow this brief concession. But Maria and Nick are his friends, and know him beyond his persona. "We will get you back, do you understand me? Just try not to piss the extraterrestrial being off too much, okay?" A snort.
"Can't promise." Clint's pause is heavy, emphasized by his burst of swearing. "Shit. I have to go, Phil. I love you, okay? This wasn't your fault."
The communication line cuts out. It's a final sound, too much a goodbye for Phil's liking.
"I love you too." Phil tells the dead air.
Nick and Maria go quiet across the table. Phil lifts his head.
"Your call, Coulson."
"We appear to have an alien invasion on our hands. Not that I don't appreciate a good enterprising villain, but this one wants to enslave the human race."
Maria scoffs.
"Haven't they learned that doesn't work out very well for them? SHIELD has managed to beat back the last few, and those fools can't handle tying their shoes in the morning."
"This one has something able to control minds, and most likely the tesseract, to back him."
"And he's got Clint." Nick finishes.
Phil nods.
"And he's got Clint." Nick stands from the table, and claps once. His eyepatch and trench coat make his expression seem all the more sinister as he glowers.
"Well, that simply won't do. He'll have to go through the Agency first."
"Nick-"
"Oh don't start with the nonsense, self-sacrificing bullshit, Cheese. I can declare war if I damn well want to."
"War?" Hill echoes.
"War." Nick assures her. He shoots Phil a smirk. "Punk-ass alien doesn't have a fucking chance against the Agency. Not when he's got one of our own. Anyway it's about time we spiced things up, did some world-saving for a change. Obviously, I couldn't give a damn about Barton."
"Obviously." Phil parrots. Nick smirks even wider.
"Call in your spider, and get to work Coulson. Hill and I can handle things at home, but I need my best operatives in the field if we want a chance to stop this attack before it begins."
Phil nods once, ignoring the worry twisting his insides. He raises his phone to his ear, knowing Natasha will drop everything for her partner.
Barely ten minutes later all of the criminal underworld jumps to attention. Every single mercenary, thief, criminal, really, worth their salt is at the beck and call of the Agency. And when the big boss tells all operatives to get to their stations? They damn well get to their stations.
Loki thought he knew what Earth had to offer, thought he had a grip on the biggest threats. Even the trickster forgot the power of the shadows. It will be much too late when he realizes the shadows have claws.
Nick and Phil first meet in the army. They're both officers, the best of the best, and they're picked to lead a specialized unit together. It's no secret that Coulson is aiming for the Rangers, and Fury government recruitment. Both have the respect of their men at least, and their fear.
Word around camp is that the two are ruthless bastards.
Word around the entire army is that they're the best damn superiors in the outfit.
Both are true.
Everything's great, their team the best. Phil is months away from the Rangers and Fury probably even less from the government. Then Uganda happens. Fury and Coulson disobey a direct order, and end up saving an innocent village. In the process, they stumble upon the higher-ups, illegally trafficking drugs, planning to use the murdered village as a cover. Because Phil and Nick are ruthless bastards, they kill every last officer in on the deal. Because they're the best superiors, they send their unit far away before they do it.
Standing over the dead bodies of a dozen men, Nick meets Phil's eyes. This man, unnoticeable to the masses, is cleaning blood off his knife and his gun, but completely ignoring the red seeping into his boots and hair and shirt. Even though Fury is equally as covered in blood, when Phil catches his eye, he smirks right along.
"I'm a little bit of a sociopath." Coulson offers. His teeth are red with blood. Nick grins. His are too.
"You're in good company." Fury kicks a duffel to Phil, and it spills out dozens of stacks of hundred-dollar bills. Coulson arches one dark eyebrow. Fury responds in kind. "Don't think the Rangers will be taking you now."
"No, but I'm sure the government will pass you over too."
"We have a couple million dollars here, Coulson, but I don't want to retire yet."
Phil tilts his head.
"Funny, me neither." Nick crouches, yanks the duffel bag up and holds it towards Phil. The green of the straps is somehow paler against Fury's dark, blood-crusted skin.
"We can change the world, you and me. We make a hell of a team." The duffel bag of money is everything Coulson has ever been warned against. It's the forbidden fruit, the devil; temptation at its finest. But Phil- Phil was raised a good catholic boy, but he's been sinning since he knew how to. He's never been able to deny himself something, because he's never had a reason too. Now, well now Phil fancies himself the serpent.
He takes the duffel bag, and they burn the compound to the ground. Nick and Phil don't look back.
The two of them find it difficult to be criminals. Not because it's distasteful, not because it's beyond them, but simply because the criminal world is terribly disorganized. Everything is back-alley meetings and shoddy information. Finding employers is difficult, doing things safely is impossible, and it's somewhere between Coulson picking up the moniker Cheese, and Fury losing his eye, that the idea for the Agency first forms.
When Nick does lose his eye, it takes months for him to relearn how to live. Phil of course kills everyone who gave them bad information, and makes concrete plans. Neither is ready to retire, so they set it up, originally nothing more than a go between for mercenaries and clients. All the Agency wants is a small cut, and they get it. Business is booming, and Phil splits his time between killing people and running the operation. Nick runs it full time.
Eventually, Phil gives a merc a piece of information his employer neglected to, and over the phone gets the man out alive. That's when the Agency expands, not only connecting people but also helping them through the hit, supplying them with information and tactics.
When the strain gets to be too much, balancing both the well-being of the Agency and the well-being of its consultants, Phil recruits someone else. Maria Hill, kicked out of the CIA for a sociopathic psyche file, and a frighteningly violent record. She's the best of the best, and when Phil offers her money and the ability to run the Agency, she accepts. Everything goes smoother from there.
A few months later, Phil works with a new mercenary, called Hawkeye. The man's been active for a few years, but unregistered. Normally that would mean an execution, but the merc hadn't been resistant to registering, and now Phil flies out to Dubai to supervise him. Hawkeye uses a distinctive bow, and while reluctant to trust Coulson at first, they end up saving each other's lives, multiple times. At the end of the week, Hawkeye (call me Clint, the archer whispered, some time between the first and second bout of sex) has a bullet wound in one shoulder, and the other helping Coulson hobble along. The knife had missed the artery but still hurt like a bitch. They patch each other up, stitches neat and practiced, and then they should go their separate ways.
"Clint, come back with me. Join the Agency."
Clint kneels before Phil, putting the finishing touches on his stitches. He freezes, and meets Coulson's eyes.
"I'm already registered."
Phil huffs and shifts, coldly cataloging the burning in his thigh.
"Not what I mean. Come back with me, and you can be a permanent part of it, you'll have a salary, together we could be a team." It's a risk, especially when Phil hasn't talked to Fury, but he knows it's the right thing. It will take some finagling, some hiring, but Phil thinks it could work out. Clint narrows his eyes, and inadvertently, all Coulson can think is that a beautiful man is kneeling between his legs.
"Is this because we had sex?" Clint asks, suspicious and wary.
"No." Phil says honestly. The sex was fantastic, but he knows better than to think with his lower half when it comes to business. "You're the best mercenary I've ever had the opportunity to work with, and we make a great team. Though, if it sweetens the deal, we'll be able to continue having sex." Half of his mouth quirks up. Clint considers.
"Alright. I'll think about it."
It takes not an insignificant amount of yelling and the hiring of a half-dozen people, but Phil gets Hawkeye, and they spend most their time having sex and completing contracts that even Fury thinks are certifiable.
The Black Widow contract comes around, and everything goes to shit. Natasha Romanov is unregistered, and the Agency probably would have taken her out soon anyway, but when someone offers money they don't hesitate. It's supposed to be difficult, so Clint and Phil go because they're the best. However, it's running smoothly until Clint refuses to take the shot and hares off on his own.
Phil is furious, and even more furious when Hawkeye scampers back with the Widow in tow. He doesn't kill them both immediately, can't, and it angers him even further, this evidence that Fury was right when he said Coulson was compromised. The gun stays up, however. None of his hesitation shows on his face.
"Give me one good reason that I shouldn't shoot you both and call this day a win." Phil asks coldly. Out of the corner of his eye, Clint flinches, and looks hurt, but Phil ignores it. He keeps his eyes on the fiery woman standing in front of him. She replies easily, voice tricky like a spider's web.
"Because, you won't have time to shoot us both." Phil's expression doesn't crack.
"You're wrong. Barton will hesitate, and as long as I kill you first it will be easy." Phil made sure that if he was compromised, then so was Clint. He can't actually kill either of them, but the Widow doesn't know this. Apparently neither does Clint.
"Coulson- Phil. Please, just wait-"
"Do you even know what you've done, Hawkeye? This will alienate one of our biggest allies, cost millions of dollars. Fury will have my head, and it'll be fair." Phil shakes his, for the moment, attached, head in disgust, and holsters his gun. Clint's trying desperately to meet his eyes, but Coulson doesn't oblige. He turns away. "I've got calls to make, and I want both of you out of my sight. Our flight is tomorrow at 0800." When Phil gets off the phone with Nick, both of them are gone. Coulson takes far too many Aspirin for his headache.
It works out, somehow. Coulson gains another member on his team, one even more damaged then he and Hawkeye. Natasha is a fantastic operative, skilled with a lack of morals. As a team, Coulson's sure they're breaking records. The Widow's more unstable than anyone Phil has met, but she seems to have taken a liking to Clint. Eventually Phil begins to trust her, against his will. They become something like friends.
"He's miserable without you." All three are just returned from the Middle East and taking a well-deserved break. Natasha is telling Phil this in Russian, and Clint is far below them in the makeshift medical wing. A surprising amount of doctors are willing to do shady things for money.
Phil says nothing.
"He's in love with you, you know."
Silence.
"Love is for children."
Phil finally speaks.
"Then why are you encouraging it?" He asks.
Natasha grins, even if her lips never move.
"You two are children."
The next time Phil ends up in medical, he calls Barton down from the ceiling. Wordlessly he kisses him, and Clint kisses back, desperate. Coulson forgives him, but not because he loves the archer. No matter what Natasha says, it's just for the sex.
They get married eventually.
Phil is thoroughly compromised, and reminded of this fact as Clint drops off the grid and his heart stops. Or perhaps it breaks.
It's painfully easy to infiltrate SHIELD. The Agency had undercover operatives working their way up the ranks for years, and it's a simple matter of dropping a little cash to get Natasha inside as Natalie Rushman. Phil listens through their comms as Nat charms her way through security and up to where the SHIELD Director, Tony Stark, and Captain America are apparently having a meeting.
Phil has eyes on them from outside, and no one looks happy.
"I can hear the bickering from here, sir. You positive we want to work with people who can't stop arguing long enough to get anything done?"
"It has nothing to do with want, Widow. They're the only ones with a facility that can hold Loki. We need them for now." Natasha huffs her disagreement over the comms, but continues nonetheless. Phil watches with professional horror as not a single SHIELD agent stops to question her, even as she opens the door to the Director's office.
"Coffee!" To Phil, it's obvious her voice is fake, far too peppy. The SHIELD Director is charmed, and Coulson's opinion of the man drops even farther, if possible. The man's eyes don't move above Natasha's chest.
Because she's a highly trained operative, she doesn't so much as flinch, and uses it to her advantage. Natasha's already at the windows before the Director formulates words. Phil shakes his head in disgust
"Coffee, we didn't order-" The man starts. Natasha rolls her eyes for Phil's benefit, and even though a million other things weigh too heavily on him to enjoy this, he lets his lips quirk.
"How about a little air? It's stifling in here!" Without waiting for a response, Natasha knocks out the window in a shatter of glass. Phil steps in.
When Phil said he had eyes from outside, he meant from the ledge beneath the window. Semantics. He notes with satisfaction that Captain America is poised with his shield ready to throw, and that Tony Stark has quite the grip on his briefcase. Even if the SHIELD Director is useless, these two have promise. With a deft hand, Natasha flicks a bit of dirt from the shoulder of his suit. Phil nods at her in thanks.
The window entrance was unnecessary, sure. But one of the many villainous perks is dramatics, and Phil wants to make an impression. Without taking his eyes off the three men in front of him, he tosses a jacket to Natasha. Her elbow brushes his in thanks as she covers up her rather risqué secretary outfit.
Phil switches his attention to Tony Stark, who stares at them both in dawning recognition.
"Agent? Natalie? What-"
Phil cuts him off.
"Mr. Stark, it's a pleasure to see you again." He says.
"Not the word I would use." Natasha murmurs. Phil muffles a snort.
"You don't work for SHIELD." Stark says. Rather than it being a question, it's instead an accusation. Captain Rogers and the Director, Collins, Coulson thinks his name is, look alternately curious and wary. Before Phil can respond, Natasha laughs. It's not a kind thing, and Director Collins flinches.
"Work for these idiots? I would rather-" Natasha starts. Coulson lays a hand on her arm.
"Stand down, Widow. Better honey than vinegar." Coulson reminds her. Captain Rogers and Stark look mostly confused, but Coulson watches with no little glee as Director Collins pales. His breathing rasps far too loud in the quiet room, and Stark and Rogers' attention shifts. When Collins meets Phil's eyes, he grins, as empty and vicious as he can make it. It reminds him of the past, and the present, and the future, blood in his teeth and nothing better.
"Oh my god," The older man whispers. "You're the Black Widow and Agent." Stark is obviously fed up.
"Is that supposed to mean anything to us? Because it doesn't. Now I understand that SHIELD has trouble comprehending basic concepts-"
"For goodness sake, Stark, show some respect for authority." Captain Rogers snaps. Stark's laser focus turns to the Captain. Phil can't help but be impressed at the calculating look. Once again, he suppresses disappointment that Stark wasn't recommended for recruitment. He imagines that the Agency could have easily overtaken the world with Stark at the helm.
"Respect for authority? Oh I'm sorry, I forgot that you've been frozen for seventy years- or did you respect corrupt, useless old men back then too?" Phil can see Captain Rogers grit his teeth. It's an abrupt jerk back to reality, that Captain America is human, and perfectly capable of emotion. He wonders if Stark is trying to find where that iron clad control snaps, or if he's honestly just that clueless.
"We're soldiers, and soldiers follow orders, even if they're bad ones!" Rogers returns. Immediately, Phil winces.
"He shouldn't have said that." He tells Natasha. Instead of agreeing, she nudges him.
"He's your idol, Coulson."
"We are not soldiers-" Stark practically roars. Phil's attention abruptly slips past them to Director Collins, who's attempt at being sneaky is mediocre at best.
"Director Collins," Phil says. His voice, though not loud, cuts through the sound of arguing. "I would advise against what you're attempting. Let me reassure you, you will not reach either your gun or panic button before Widow shoots you in the face, or I release the toxic gas enclosed in the air ducts."
Collins pales even farther, before visibly gulping at the look Natasha sends him. Rogers and Stark have quieted for now, and privately, Phil is grateful. Even if the attention is back on them.
"Who are you?" Rogers asks. Director Collins looks ready to answer again, but Phil has just about had enough of the sniveling attempt of a man. He straightens, ignoring his inner child that squeals at chatting with Captain America, and puts on his best bland face.
"Quite frankly Captain, we're the biggest, baddest kids in the sandbox. My name is Phil Coulson, and this is my partner Natasha Romanov. We work for the Agency. I imagine you might not have heard of us, but I'm certain Mr. Stark has." Indeed, the man in question looks as close to shocked as Phil has ever seen him.
"The Agency-"
"Yes Mr. Stark, we had a hand in your escape from Afghanistan. The Agency doesn't take kindly to terrorists, especially not ones that neglect to register." Phil smiles blandly. "Acting unregistered is a death sentence, but I suppose we owe you gratitude for making our jobs all that much easier." Stark looks suitably cowed and unnerved, but Captain Rogers simply rises to new heights of irritation.
"Would someone explain this to me? Since I've been frozen for seventy years and all." Rogers manages, bitter. His eyes focus on Phil's, but it's Nat who responds.
"Think of it like this, Cap. You, SHIELD, and Iron Man are the heroes of this little narrative. Coulson and I, along with our associates, are the villains." Natasha barely gives that time to sink in. "Now, while I'm sure we'll spend plenty of time as mortal enemies, Coulson and I are here to propose a truce. We want your help with Loki."
"Loki, how in the world could you know about that?" Director Collins blurts. When Natasha turns her gaze to his, he flinches, Phil notes. Before she deigns to respond, however, Nat flicks her gaze to Phil, as if asking permission. He dips his head.
"Loki has stolen something very precious, and it is imperative that we get it back. Do you understand?" At the thought of Clint, trapped in his own mind, Phil's stomach knots. It takes will to turn away the part of him that just wants to rampage and kill until his husband is back in his arms. The only way to get Clint back is to turn that anger into something productive. Thankfully, Phil has practice.
"Yes." Collins says weakly.
"We don't need help your help." Stark snaps. Rogers appears to agree, for once.
"You appear to have misheard Natasha. Without us, Earth will be ravaged and enslaved. We don't need you to take down Loki. All we need is SHIELD's Hulk-containment unit. If necessary, the Agency will simply massacre all of SHIELD and both of you. In retrospect it might have been quicker." Phil arches one eyebrow. "Now unless you dislike living, you'll help us."
"Yes, yes, SHIELD agrees to a temporary truce, just until this threat is dealt with." Collins says, climbing to his feet. "Whatever you need, let us know." Miraculously, the man manages to offer his hand for a shake, even as Phil can read the terror in his eyes.
"Glad we could come to an agreement." He grips Collins' hand just a little too tightly. "We'll need the Helicarrier in the air by tomorrow, and the Black Widow will need transport to India to retrieve Bruce Banner." Phil tilts his head. "Well I'm sure we could procure a ride, but it's so much more fun to make SHIELD pay for the trip."
"You want to bring in the Hulk?" Collins yelps, yanking his hand back.
"No, I want to bring in Bruce Banner, the leading world expert on gamma radiation. He's going to be invaluable in tracking the Tesseract." With another glance at the three faces in front of him, Phil gives a satisfied nod. "We're done here. I expect a jet waiting for my operative by the time she makes it to the Tarmac."
They've made an impression. Perfect.
For all that Bruce Banner has managed to evade dozens of governments, it takes Natasha barely two hours to track him down. The man's good, sure, but she's better. With the Agency on her side and dozens of mercenaries obediently sending out feelers, tracking one man is child's play.
Natasha doesn't think that convincing him to come in will be any harder.
He turns into the Hulk, some giant green monster out of a nightmare. The world is afraid of him, but not Natasha. She knows a little too much about losing control. Natasha doesn't feel sympathy, but perhaps a little pity for Bruce Banner.
Her plan doesn't involve hurting him, and she boards the plane to Calcutta with little hesitation. When they land, a SHIELD contingent tries to accompany her. Natasha slips them far too easily, and wonders yet again why Coulson finds cooperating with these imbeciles necessary. She trusts him though, even if Clint has him too thoroughly compromised. There's a debt that she owes them both, but Natasha is not self-deluded enough to believe that's why she stays.
Both of them are her friends and she'll burn the world for them. It's very simple and very clear. If she ever has to kill either of them, she'll make it quick. To her, that's love.
Natasha approaches Doctor Banner alone, in public market place. It's for both of their safeties, because despite what everyone seems to think, the Hulk doesn't hurt innocent people.
Banner has the look of a tired man, a heaviness to his steps that Natasha knows. She bore that same weight, before Clint gave her a purpose. His clothes are ignored, but his hands are perfectly clean. Natasha remembers the rumors she heard, of a man who comes in the night and heals the sick for no money.
Natasha buys a pastry, and makes her way to him. Doctor Banner holds two squash in his hands, studying them intently. He doesn't bother to look up at Natasha's approach, but she's a professional, and reads the man's body language like a book. Banner's perfectly aware that she's there, and if her violently red hair isn't an indication that she doesn't belong, nothing is.
"Doctor Bruce Banner? My name is Natasha Romanov and I'd like a word with you." She says.
The man tenses, and Natasha watches curiously as his knuckles turn white, then faintly green, before settling to normal. When Banner says nothing, Natasha reaches around and drops in enough money to buy both squash and the entire stand. She's a millionaire, she can afford it.
"Please, walk with me." Natasha says. The Doctor complies, abandoning his shopping in the dirt.
Calcutta is beautiful, in its own way. Perhaps Natasha is biased. As an assassin, any mass of the living is extraordinary. A gift even, if Natasha's being sentimental. Watching the man beside her, she imagines that he finds the same attraction to places with so many people. It's a peculiarity of causing death.
They're jostled as they walk, almost every few feet. Not once does Banner tint green. Not once does he stop watching Natasha in his periphery.
"Alright," Banner sighs. "Who do you work for, and what do you want?"
"Not who you think, and not what you expect."
Banner huffs, looking amused. He loses none of his tension, but he also never loses control. Reluctantly, Natasha is impressed.
"So, not a government agency that wants to pick apart my DNA and either replicate me or kill me?" Banner asks, like he already knows the answer.
"We have no interest in the former, and I'm sure by now you've concluded the latter is impossible."
For a moment, Natasha can see she's honestly startled the man. Banner gains control quickly, and quirks her a reluctantly wry smile.
"A well-informed government agency it appears."
Natasha shakes her head, just enough for the motion to register.
"No, I just know what I'd have done, if I was out of control." Natasha says.
Banner stops, and crosses his arms. They're out of the way now, standing in the shade of a large tree.
"Is that what you think I am? Out of control?" Despite the power of the words, Banner's voice stays light. Mild.
Natasha makes a production of looking the man up and down. She notes the order of his clothes, even through the grime. The way the Doctor distributes his weight to the balls of his feet, ready to run. Lastly, she meets the man's eyes. There isn't a hint of green.
"No," Natasha says slowly. "I think everyone has it wrong, and that you're in perfect control." Now she's honestly surprised him, and he stumbles. Doctor Banner can't conceal it, and Natasha waits patiently until the man regains his equilibrium.
"Not perfect. I'm working on it but," Banner shrugs sheepishly. "It's difficult being on the run, hard to find stability." He pauses, giving Natasha a stare of his own. Natasha returns it. "You were right, you know. I put a bullet in my mouth, and the Other Guy spit it out. So you should probably call off whatever men you have, their guns won't make a difference."
Natasha smiles, with far too many teeth.
"I came alone." The surprise is hidden quicker this time, and Banner gives her one more long look.
"Alright, I'll hear you out." Banner says.
"Even after I tell you I don't work for the government?" Natasha asks. Banner tilts his head, and abruptly Natasha is reminded that this man is no idiot. She doesn't often forget important things in the field, but until now, she's been catering to the man saddled with the Hulk. If she wants this to work, she needs to remember that Banner is a genius, and dangerous without turning green.
"I'll bite, who do you work for?"
Natasha smiles again, and Banner once again proves his intelligence. He flinches.
"On the run as you are, I imagine you've heard of the Agency?"
He pales.
"I've already told you that killing me won't work." Banner says instead. Natasha notes the distance the man's trying to establish and shakes her head.
"I'm not here to kill you, I'm here to ask for your help." Natasha says. "I may be one of the villains in this particular story, but for once our goals align with that of good. We want to save Earth from an invasion led by the extraterrestrial Loki." She briefly outlines the situation for him, highlighting the tesseract and the mind control. By the end, the Doctor is intrigued if not yet recruited.
"You expect me to believe that the Agency, the kings of the criminal world, wants to stop an enterprising villain. Save billions of people." Banner says flatly. He's skeptical, but Natasha is still in control, still knows what she's doing.
"To be perfectly honest, Doctor Banner, I couldn't give a damn about the innocent lives." Natasha shrugs, lets her face show honest emotion. "I don't kill when I don't have to, but I can't claim to care for every person on the planet. Usually, we just let SHIELD deal with invasions and the like, but they're in over their heads and Loki took someone important to me." When Banner still doesn't look convinced Natasha huffs, more emphasized than it needs to be, but still honest. "More importantly, the Agency runs Earth perfectly well and we aren't going to step back and let some outsider take control."
Banner considers, head tilting. He looks gentle this way, like every other distracted scholar. Natasha waits, because it's what she's trained for.
"I can believe that." The contemplative expression disappears, replaced by weariness. "So what? You want the Other Guy on call?"
Natasha smirks, all charm. Banner can see right through it, she imagines, because she's letting him. But it's better this way, better he not think her trustworthy.
"Not at all. We simply need you for your expertise on gamma radiation." Banner blinks once.
"You want me to track the tesseract." He says.
"Yes." Natasha waits.
"My control isn't perfect you know. It's a bad idea, I'll end up hurting someone." Banner looks like each protest physically hurts him. Natasha shakes her head.
"All due respect, Doctor, my kill-list is longer than yours. I'm much less obvious when I go on a rampage, and just about as unstoppable." She checks that she has his attention. "If I can control my bloodlust to keep Earth under human power, I'm positive you can."
All his arguments suitably dashed, Banner sighs.
"Okay. I hope you have insurance."
"Oh, that won't be a problem. SHIELD is hosting us."
Doctor Banner sounds as if he hasn't had occasion to laugh in a long while.
Phil is on SHIELD's Helicarrier, trying his hardest not to think. It's difficult, because his dog tags are warm metal against his chest, and with them is his wedding ring. Coulson is the Ice Man, he doesn't break, he doesn't waver, he doesn't show emotion. Clint is different, Clint is special, Clint is his, and Phil misses him like a limb. There's not many people he would miss, in fact he can count them on one hand. Clint is precious, even if the man himself would laugh at the sentiment.
Phil's trying his hardest not to think, but he sucks at it. Thinking's what he does, what he's best at.
When Director Collins finally finds him, coaching Junior SHIELD agents in hand-to-hand, it's a welcome distraction.
"How long have you been on my ship?" It's a screech, and the Junior Agents scatter. There were a few promising ones and Phil slipped them a business card. That being said, he stares at the Director, hoping his contempt isn't as sorely visible as he suspects.
"How weak is your security that you just found me now? You honestly should get on that."
It's much easier not to think when Coulson's being shoved into a conference room and told to stay put. He can't decide whether it's better or worse that both Captain America and Stark arrive shortly after.
"-and keep me apprised of who else he contacts. Yes, I assume you can hold a cover for several days. Don't worry, you'll be reimbursed." Phil glances at the two men studying him from the doorway. He finishes the phone call, voice as deadly as he can make it. "If you mess this up, I'll have your head." Phil snaps his phone shut.
Both Stark and Rogers look wary, but when Stark speaks he's just as annoying as usual.
"I'm sorry, did we interrupt something?" Phil raises an eyebrow at the vitriol.
"I'm a busy man, Mr. Stark. Not that you would know, but running an organization takes a lot of work." Phil says dryly. He takes satisfaction in the way the other man sputters. Rogers speaks before he can, looking a mix between horrified and curious.
"Is it standard procedure to threaten your employees with beheading?" The Captain blushes immediately, as if he didn't mean to ask that. Phil shrugs amicably. Internally, he's squealing. Suddenly, he's reminded that he's talking to Captain America, his hero, and it's hard to think of anything else.
"If you want to get anything done." Phil says, praying that his voice is level. The tips of his ears are burning though, and if Clint was here, Coulson would never hear the end of it. That thought kills the blush. Still, he can't give up this opportunity, meeting his idol while not trying to kill one another. "Captain Rogers, I'd just like to say, it's an honor to meet you, officially." When Rogers looks confused, Phil barrels on, ignoring the fool he's making of himself. "I sort of met you, I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping."
Stark snorts, but his expression along with Rogers' is honestly confused.
Coulson wishes he could stop talking, but the words keep spilling out, stripping his dignity along with them. He takes comfort in the fact that he could have the two other men killed if he wanted.
"I mean, I was... I was present while you were unconscious." Stark cuts him off, and Phil is grateful. He would be more grateful if someone would take mercy and shoot him.
"Seriously. First of all, how did you even get access to the good Captain? Second and more importantly, you're a Captain America fanboy? You?" Stark laughs once, short and sharp, while Rogers continues to look confused. "C'mon Coulson, you're one of the bad guys. You're not supposed to fawn over a hero!"
Phil arches an eyebrow.
"I wanted to be Captain America, so I joined the army. I was good at killing people, excellent in fact, but then I broke the rules. Captain America broke the rules, stood up for what he believed in, and was lauded for it. I broke the rules, stood up for what I believed in, and was shunned." Phil shrugs, and his voice is bland, even as he discusses the turning point of his life. "You're who I would've been if things turned out differently, Captain. I held onto a certain fondness."
Rogers looks confused, torn almost. Phil hates that he's not good enough for his hero, but shuts his little boy mindset away. No, he isn't a hero, but he's a damn good villain and perfectly happy with what he's become. Phil knew he couldn't ever be Captain America the first time he saw combat, and killed someone. He never had a nightmare, never a regret. The blood sang in his veins and splattered on the ground and something in Coulson settled. No, he couldn't be Captain America,
"But I help people!" The Captain blurts. He looks like he thinks Phil is stupid, can't grasp how different they are. Coulson sighs internally, because my god, Rogers is still so young.
"So did I, Captain, and that nearly got me killed. I make the world safer, just by organizing the criminal underworld. I have more freedom and get paid better. As a hero you're vulnerable, weak simply from the rules you have to follow. The world's already given up on me, so I don't have to do anything I don't want to." Even Stark looks gobsmacked at that one. "You both have talent. If I thought you'd accept I'd offer you a position at the Agency."
Neither seem to know what to do with that.
Rogers gives Phil one last searching look, and turns his attention to Stark. Coulson supposes it's the enemy you know and all that. Clearly, the Captain has some anger issues to work through.
"How do you even know Coulson and Widow? Are you working with them?" Rogers snaps in Stark's direction. Stark freezes.
"Really, that's what you're going with?" Stark asks, voice dripping with derision.
"You've given me absolutely no reason to trust you. Stark Industries used to make weapons. What if you're just giving them to the Agency now?" Rogers asks. Stark whitens, and for a moment Phil can see the exposed nerve. It's not Rogers' fault, not really. He doesn't know about Afghanistan. Phil doesn't even like Stark but...
"Captain-"
It's like the younger man can't stop himself.
"You're a big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?" For a second, the silence lies heavy. But Tony Stark doesn't stay down long.
"Genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist." Rogers opens his mouth to retort, but Tony isn't done. "I'd watch yourself, Capsicle. Because everything special about you? It came out of a bottle."
There's really nothing to say after that. Phil says something anyway.
"We tried to recruit Mr. Stark. He was found unsuitable. The Agency doesn't bother with a certain type of person. There's only so much you can pollute." Both are watching Phil now, and he meets their eyes carefully. "There are heroes and villains, and Mr. Stark is unfortunately the former."
Rogers looks abashed, and thoroughly chastised. Stark is shocked, and uncomfortable, going by his expression. The Captain opens his mouth as if to apologize, and the other man deflects.
"Well what about you Coulson? You're a villain, Loki's a villain, why aren't you guys helping each other?" Stark asks. His eyes dart away from the Captain. Phil is fed up.
"Honestly," He snaps. "I don't approve of people encroaching on my territory. And even without that, he kidnapped my fucking husband, and if you think I'm not getting revenge then you're more idiots than I suspected."
"Husband?" Stark squeaks. Rogers just blinks, eyes wide and confused.
When his phone rings, it's a relief.
"Coulson."
"Sir, I've got Banner. We're en route now." Natasha says. Coulson takes a deep breath.
"Good work, Widow." Natasha hangs up instead of replying.
If Phil just ignores Stark and Rogers, he can almost pretend...
His wedding rings presses warm against his skin as he pockets his cell phone. It burns and Phil blinks a half-second longer than usual.
Clint.
Phil wishes he could stop thinking, or better, start shooting things. He's sick of dysfunctional superheroes, closer to little boys.
Natasha arrives on the Helicarrier with Doctor Banner, Bruce he said to call him, and is led to a conference room. Coulson has stress lines around his eyes, Natasha sees, and she imagines it has something to do with the way that Stark and Rogers refuse to look at each other across the table.
"Are you sure this is a good idea? I can feel the tension from here." Bruce whispers. He stands at her back, once again on the balls of his feet. They're in midair, however, so Natasha is curious where Bruce thinks he can go.
Instead of answering, Natasha walks in. She's never been one to let a little opposition stop her.
"Sir, Banner is secured." Coulson looks up, face firmly professional. Natasha can read the way he looks her up and down. It's Coulson's way of showing concern. Bruce slouches forward, appearing at her shoulder to give a hesitant wave.
Rogers opens his mouth to no doubt greet the man, but Stark beats him to it.
"It's good to meet you, Doctor Banner. Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled. And I'm a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster." Cautiously, Natasha watches Bruce's reaction. Truly the man's control is impressive. He simply blinks once, and says,
"Thank you, I think." Stark looks delighted.
Natasha lets her eyes drift back to Coulson. Even if he appears to be outwardly calm, Natasha can read the truth in the two coffee cups sitting in front of him. She digs in her pack, and removes the little plastic package.
"Sir." Too fast to see, she whips the bag of donuts at him. The room's gone silent, but Coulson's hand closes around the treat without a hitch.
"Thank you, Widow." Coulson arches an eyebrow slightly. It's a silent laugh, and he nudges one of the coffees towards her. "Report." Natasha complies, brushing his shoulder just barely as she snatches up the coffee. It's for show, because the way that the three men are watching them is quite frankly hilarious, but Natasha also offers it as a sign of support. She takes a sip of the coffee; just as she likes it.
"No trouble. I lost the SHIELD accompaniment, and approached the target in a public market place. I outlined the situation to him, and with a little persuasion he agreed to come in. He's aware of our somewhat irregular assistance, and exactly how dangerous Loki is." Natasha says, concise. She knows what Coulson wants to hear. "I assured Doctor Banner that we want him for his brain, not his," Natasha pauses. "Other abilities." Coulson nods once at her in thanks. He turns his attention to Banner.
"What Natasha says is correct, we only want you to track the tesseract, Doctor." Coulson says. "The Agency, at least, has no intention of making you change, though we can't speak for SHIELD." Natasha smirks seconds before Stark jabs Bruce in the side. There's a spark of electricity.
"Ow!" Bruce yelps. The other man gets close to his face, enthralled.
"Nothing?" Stark asks, sounding disappointed. It's true, however, there isn't a fleck of green on Banner.
"Stark!" Coulson and Rogers bark at once. Natasha smirks at the red tips on Coulson's ears, and reminds herself to ask later.
Banner shakes his head.
"No, it... It's alright. I wouldn't have come on board if I couldn't handle pointy things." Bruce says. Natasha smirks in his direction, and even if it isn't kind, Bruce returns it with a small smile.
While Coulson is distracted, Natasha snakes a hand toward the package of donuts. Even as he doesn't look in her direction, his own hand comes down in a sharp slap. Natasha withdraws, aware of Rogers' considering look.
"You've known each other a long time, haven't you?" Rogers says. Natasha dips her head.
"Upwards of five years, Captain." Natasha confirms. Rogers nods.
Looking at the package of donuts, Natasha changes tactics. She offers Coulson a sip of coffee when she sees him eyeing his empty cup. Gratefully, he accepts and hands her a donut. Natasha smirks in victory.
"I'm going to check-in." Coulson tells her. Natasha nods easily. He dials Fury one-handed, powdered donut in the other. As usual, not a single fleck of powder ends up on his suit.
While Coulson updates their boss, Natasha watches the other three interact. Rogers is introducing himself to Bruce, while Stark hovers around obnoxiously. They'd be an amazing team, she thinks, if they could figure out how to work together.
Seeing the three of them together makes Natasha miss her partner. Clint may be an idiot at times, and annoying too, but he's still her friend. Five years in, friend is still a novel term.
"Understood." Coulson says. Natasha looks to him, ready to move, to kill things. She's been told that violence is an unhealthy way to deal with emotions, but it's been working for Natasha so far. Coulson shakes his head imperceptibly. Natasha sinks back into her chair in frustration.
"Stark, Captain Rogers. Loki has been identified in Stuttgart, you two are up." Both are nearly out of the room when Stark pauses.
"How do we know that we can trust you?" Rogers stops too. They both wait for the answer. Natasha smiles, all teeth.
"You don't." After one more considering look, the two are gone to deal with the situation.
Natasha leads Bruce to a lab, one that SHIELD designated for his work. Natasha turns to leave, but a light touch on her elbow stops her. Bruce watches her seriously.
"This is never going to work. We're a time bomb." Bruce says quietly. Natasha inclines her head.
"We're not here to fix you all, Doctor. Coulson and I just want to do our job, and then clear the area before you explode." Natasha responds. If anything, the answer seems to amuse Bruce.
"Fair enough." The touch on her elbow disappears.
When Natasha rejoins Coulson, he has the feeds from Stuttgart up on the holographic table.
Together they watch as Loki monologues about controlling humanity, and Rogers and Stark take him down.
"That was far too easy." Natasha points out.
Coulson nods.
"It's a trap, Loki wants to be brought back to the Helicarrier."
The truth hits her.
"He plans to take out SHIELD."
Once again, Coulson nods.
"We aren't going to warn them?" Natasha asks. Coulson meets her eyes.
"No, his attack on the Helicarrier will fail. It'll be our best chance to get Clint back." He says. Natasha gives her own nod.
"Alright." It isn't as if they care about SHIELD, maybe an attack would even knock some sense into them.
Bruce has rejoined Phil and Natasha when Stark and Rogers get back, with not one, but two aliens in tow.
Phil should have known that Thor would show up. When the blond god catches sight of him, his expression brightens.
"Son of Coul! What an honor to see you again!" Thor proclaims. The larger man near pulls Phil out of his seat to clap him on the back. He smiles slightly in greeting.
"Hello-" Phil starts. Stark breaks in, and Coulson quells the urge to both tase and eviscerate the shorter man.
"Seriously, Agent? You know Thor?"
Phil rolls his eyes impatiently.
"It's hardly my fault SHIELD is so incompetent. When Thor first touched down on Earth, I made myself part of the SHIELD detail. Hawkeye covered for me while we had a little chat." Just saying his code name hurts. The SHIELD Director, who Phil had politely ignored, makes an outraged sound.
"Now wait a minute, you-" Collins cuts off. Having the God of Thunder frown at you disapprovingly is quite the silencer, it appears. Phil tries not to smirk.
"Honestly, should you all not have more respect for the man that runs your realm?" Thor booms.
There's an awkward pause. Phil finds no reason to disturb it. Finally, Bruce takes the initiative.
"Uh, Thor is it? You realize that Coulson is a supervillain, right?" Bruce asks. Thor frowns, stormy and confused.
"I do not understand. Why is it then that evil forces control Midgard?" Thor asks. No one has an answer for him.
"We don't consider it controlling, Mr. Odinson, we consider it guiding in the right direction." Phil says blandly. Thor studies him a moment longer, before grinning broad and bright.
"A fair concept, from a warrior with a heart as noble and sly as your own." Thor says. Despite the ruckus his words cause, Phil can't help but feel pleased. Natasha stands in the corner, expressionless, but for how well Coulson knows her.
"Natasha stop laughing. I can have you killed." He snaps. Natasha arches an eyebrow at him, and Phil smirks just a little. Clint would enjoy this, and Phil aches in his absence. He can't wait to tell Fury that apparently he rules the world now. Phil imagines the bastard won't be surprised.
The heroes are arguing again, Phil finds, as he walks over to Natasha. It's quite a bit annoying, and he sinks down the wall to sit on the floor with her.
Most of the words are indistinguishable, but Coulson is pretty sure that he hears pathetic and tiny from Thor, and a practically screaming Rogers and Stark. Banner has removed himself to the side as well, wisely, but he doesn't come over to Phil and Natasha.
"Banner called them a time bomb, and he's right." Natasha tells him, as she removes a pack of cards from her pocket. After a minute, Phil shrugs, pretending to be uninterested as he studies the cards she's dealt him.
"Yes." He hums noncommittally.
They continue playing to the sound of shouting, not stopping when Banner makes his way over to watch. It's a violent, quick game, filled with copious amounts of cheating. Phil keeps an eye on the potentially unstable man, but Natasha was right, he has good control. The longer he focuses on the card game, the less tense he gets. Phil takes note of this, and ignores the disgruntled other men in the room.
They've been playing for an interminable amount of time, when Natasha abruptly stands. The cards are swept into order and put back in her pocket.
"I'm going to go have a chat with Loki." She tells Phil. He nods, and asks,
"Do you want me to come with you?"
Natasha hums.
"Possibly." She turns to the rest of the still arguing men in the room, and clears her throat. Phil observes the way Bruce watches her, almost in awe, and makes a mental note. Natasha speaks sharply enough to cut through the raised voices. "I'm going to speak with the prisoner. If you four can get your heads out of your asses long enough not to destroy the Helicarrier, it'd be appreciated."
"You're motives aren't clear, you're not getting anywhere near Loki unsupervised." Collins barks. Phil watches Natasha stiffen and glare at him dangerously.
"You think I would what, help him escape?" Natasha's voice indicates what the right answer is. Phil watches in amusement as Director Collins gulps.
"Not necessarily, but the prisoner is tricky, he could take advantage of you." Natasha's glare could kill.
"Are you implying I can't take care of myself? Because I could kill every last one of you with a paper clip." The frightening thing, Phil thinks, is that she could. However, Collins deserves it for questioning her ability.
"Let us go with you." Rogers interjects. "All of us." Natasha still looks dangerously angry, but she huffs her assent.
"Fine." She strolls out of the room. Brushing off his suit, Phil is quick to follow her. Extra tagalongs won't impede Natasha's interrogation. They're the best for a reason, and maybe this will help the others see why.
Loki sits in the container, apparently content with his imprisonment. Natasha plans on changing that.
Coulson is silent at her shoulder, while the rest chat quietly. Originally she wanted to go alone, but now, Natasha thinks this might be better. She can use them, these mismatched, broken people. Loki raises his head, and gazes at her with cold, clear eyes. Natasha returns it steadily.
"More SHIELD Agents I presume?" Loki says lazily, his eyes skipping over her and Coulson.
"Not quite." Natasha says. Loki huffs, as if she's beneath his notice. His eyes flick over her shoulder, and focus intently. Natasha doesn't turn, but she knows who's in that exact spot. Coulson shifts at her shoulder, and she knows that he's figured it out too.
"Your big plan is to release the Hulk? And then what, hope he takes the Helicarrier down with him?"
Loki stares at her. Natasha offers him a toothy smirk. There's an explosion of noise behind them, Bruce among it, sounding weary.
"You are hardly SHIELD Agents." Loki starts, unsure. Coulson speaks for her.
"We, Mr. Laufeyson, are the one variable you didn't account for." Suddenly, it's as if Natasha and Coulson are worth Loki's notice. He stares at them intently, as if he's peeling away their skin.
"Oh," Loki breathes. "You aren't part of this merry band of heroes, you're adversaries."
Natasha smirks again, knowing precisely how unnerving it looks. Loki, if anything, is delighted by his conclusion. Natasha hopes to destroy that smile.
"What can I offer you to free me? Together we can rule this pathetic planet." Loki urges. Natasha rolls her eyes. Everyone behind her has fallen silent, and the tension hangs heavy.
"You offer as if this planet isn't already ours." Natasha says, delighting in the way that Loki begins to look unsure. Coulson finishes what she started.
"The Agency doesn't work with amateurs. And beside that, you have something of ours, and we won't stop until we have him back or you're in a body bag." Coulson says bluntly. Loki blinks in shock. The snarl is expected, and Natasha watches in contempt. Honestly, this entire fiasco has been amateur hour, from idiotic heroes to self-entitled villains. The so-called god before them acts as if he'd have a chance ruling the Earth.
"You will regret not siding with me." Loki hisses. "Whoever he is, I will have him killed. But not until I make him kill you. Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear. And then he'll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams I'll split his skull!"
Coulson steps up to Natasha's shoulder, and in her periphery she can see her own rage reflected in his expression. She watches as he goes blank, hard and cold.
"And then, Mr. Laufeyson, there will be no place you can run. I will hunt you down myself, and if not me, the hundreds I command. I will find you, and I will break every bone in your body. Then, when you're screaming and crying for death, I'll experiment until I find the thing that silences you once and for all." Coulson says calmly. "You think you have the upper hand, you think you have the advantage. Let me reassure you, you're in over your head, and I'll take satisfaction in watching you die." Coulson takes another step forward. He's in his element, Natasha knows. This is how he earned her respect, originally. This cold, cruel efficiency.
Everything is quiet, and Natasha can feel the others holding their breaths. But she knows Coulson isn't done, not quite yet. He proves her right, seconds later.
"I've killed many people, Mr. Laufeyson, more than I imagine you can comprehend. Killing you won't be any different."
Natasha turns to see Thor stepping forward, a grave look on his face. The rest are spread out behind him, looking a mix between stunned and horrified. Thor dares to put a hand on Coulson's shoulder, and he doesn't end up shot. Count Natasha impressed.
"Son of Coul, I understand that Loki has much wronged you, but I cannot allow you to kill him. He is still my brother." Thor intones. Coulson doesn't look in his direction, doesn't so much as twitch.
Loki is irate.
"I do not require your protection, you giant-"
Natasha cuts him off.
"Clint is my best friend, and Coulson's husband. Understand, Thor, that if he is injured, there will be no way to save your brother."
Thor appears stricken, but when he opens his mouth to reply, Coulson cuts him off. His eyes are still focused on Loki, Natasha notes. She hasn't seen him this tense and upset since Budapest, and she wonders how much longer he'll continue on before someone gets hurt. Already, she can tell he's finding it hard to remain impartial.
"Well, this has been entertaining, truly, but I think we're done here. How long until your forces attack the Helicarrier? It shouldn't be a problem either way, but I admit to curiosity." Coulson says briskly.
"What?" Six voices chorus. Natasha rolls her eyes. Truly, amateurs.
"How did you know-" Loki begins.
"When were you planning on informing us-" Collins shouts.
"Brother, you act as cowardly as this-"
"I should really remove myself from this environment. All this shouting is doing nothing for my tension levels." Bruce has come up behind her, and Natasha hears him take slow breaths in and out. The tablet he brought with him is clasped in a white knuckle grip. Natasha lays a calming hand on his elbow.
"Relax." She advises. Bruce stares at her incredulously. Before he can reply, the tablet in his grip lets out a blast of sound. Bruce glances down at it, and then freezes in shock. Natasha glances at it herself, and notices what looks like the tracking program for the Tesseract.
"Oh my God." Bruce whispers.
As if in answer, the Helicarrier judders with an explosion.
Phil feels the Helicarrier jerk under his feet, and even as he stumbles, he has never been more relieved. Loki's forces are attacking, Clint among them, and now everything can fall into place. Thank god, because Phil isn't sure how much more of this he can take.
A quick glance reveals Natasha to still be on her feet, and calming Banner. Excellent.
Phil reaches towards his ear, and taps the comm there on. It clicks satisfyingly.
"All units, cease the attack on SHIELD and secure the packages. Bring them both to containment cell one. If either has a single scratch, I will have your head." He orders.
Immediately, he gets dozens of confirmations.
"Affirmative, securing package one now."
"Package two secured."
"Heading to your location, sir."
Phil smiles, sharp and sincere.
"Good work, everyone. The funds will be wired to your various accounts. If SHIELD Agents attempt to stop you, you are authorized to use only non-lethal force." Phil says placidly.
"Yes, sir."
Phil leaves the comm on, but shuts off his end of it. He turns to Collins, surrounded by Stark, Rogers, and Thor, all three looking bemused.
"Director Collins, please clear several planes for landing, and inform your agents that the men coming aboard are not hostiles. The Helicarrier can sustain itself on one less engine, correct?"
Dumbly, Collins nods. Slowly, he removes his communicator and relays Phil's orders. The others haven't stopped staring at him, confused. Natasha catches his eyes, and smiles, small and genuine. Phil smiles back, because while improvising has its charm, plans actually going to plan are satisfying.
"What just happened?" Stark asks finally.
Phil looks at him, and blinks.
"I dealt with the threat." He says.
Stark huffs, exasperated.
"Yes, whatever, I get that part. But how?"
Phil shrugs.
"Loki, thinking Clint was a SHIELD agent, told him to contact mercenaries, enemies of SHIELD, to lead the attack. He must have had some measure of control, because the only people he contacted were under the Agency's payroll. It was quite simple from there, I'm sure you can figure it out."
Stark blinks, honestly startled, and going by his expression, awed.
Loki makes a whimpering sound, and Phil turns to watch utter devastation overtake him. It settles a part of him, the part that desperately wants Loki's blood. The god of mischief looks so confused, so lost. It's incredibly satiating.
It's Captain Rogers who speaks now.
"But if you've known all along, why didn't you just take, Clint is it?, back and stop the attack on the Helicarrier?" The Captain asks.
Natasha answers for him.
"We can't allow sentiment to rule our actions. We needed to make sure Loki was truly defeated before we bailed. There's not much we can leave for you to do." She says. Several outraged voices pipe up, but it all cuts off when a struggling Clint and a padded case is dragged into the room.
Just the sight of his husband, even as out of control as he is, knocks something loose in Phil's chest. He takes a full breath for what feels like the first time in ages.
Natasha approaches Clint, though his eyes are ice blue blankness. He doesn't recognize her, but she can deal with it. There's a reason Phil doesn't join her. There's simply only so much he can handle.
"Clint. Barton, can you hear me?" Natasha asks. Phil watches as she grips Clint's jaw, bringing his face close to hers. He struggles and spits. She sighs, and mutters something in Russian that Phil can't catch. She turns towards him and meets his eyes.
"Go ahead." Phil says. Immediately, Natasha turns back around and smashes Clint's head into the wall. He goes down like a rock.
"What just happened?" Bruce asks the ceiling. Phil glances at the faces of the others and sighs.
"It's called cognitive recalibration. Or, a hard hit to the head." Phil explains. All he wants to do is run to Clint, hold him tight, but he limits himself to a fast walk. "It works in most cases of mind control that we've dealt with."
"Most cases." Rogers mumbles.
Phil ignores him, and everything else. Kneeling by Clint's head, he brushes back a piece of wayward hair. Natasha hadn't hit him that hard, he should be alright Phil knows, should even regain consciousness in a few minutes. In the background, he hears Natasha coordinating things for him. Loki and the Tesseract are going immediately back to Asgard, where they belong. The Agency consultants are being dismissed, and she's keeping everyone away from Phil and Clint.
It's a relief.
Watching his husband's eyes flutter open is a gift; seeing them normal, muted blue is a blessing.
"Phil?" Clint rasps. Phil presses a kiss to his hair, inhaling his husband and allowing himself to believe and trust that it's all okay.
"I've got you." He hushes, hand curved around Clint's jaw. "Talk to me, Clint." Phil isn't as young as he used to be, he can't maintain this position for long, but for now Phil curls his body over and around Clint, blocking out the world. Clint's face tucks against his neck, and Phil absorbs his huff of breath.
"Well, Phil, it seems I had an alien encounter." Clint quips. His voice has gotten steadily stronger, and when he pushes to his feet, Phil helps him.
"I love you." Phil whispers into Clint's ear. He can feel the smile.
"I love you too."
Neither one is prone to public displays, and Phil gathers his dignity around himself like a cloak. He has plans for his husband, later. For now, he can get them out of here and home.
"Sorry, Nat." Clint says. It hurts, every foot they separate, but Phil stays strong and doesn't let it show. He watches his family with affection, as Natasha socks Clint in the arm.
"Don't let it happen again." She orders. Clint nods.
"I'll try."
Finally, Stark speaks up. Phil itches to tase him, just itches to.
"So, you're Mrs. Agent. We've heard so much about you!" Stark leers. Clint rolls his eyes, and smirks. It's a beautiful thing to see.
"So, you're Tony Stark. I'm honestly surprised Phil or Nat hasn't killed you yet. I've listened to hours of rants, and some very detailed plans." Clint says. Stark only grins at Phil
"I knew you talked about me." Phil rolls his eyes. Clint's laughter is worth it.
He watches Clint shake hands with Doctor Banner, and then Captain Rogers.
"Even if we're not on the same side, I'm really glad you're okay, Clint." Rogers says earnestly. Clint blinks, before glancing back at Phil.
"Thank you, Captain. When I try to kill you in the future, trust that it isn't personal." Rogers looks startled, but before he can fumble a response, Clint continues on. "I don't suppose Coulson asked you to sign his cards? They're vintage, he's very proud of them." Phil feels his ears turn red, and shoots an insincere glare at Clint's back. Rogers looks uncomfortable.
"No, I- what?"
Natasha laughs quietly.
Director Collins makes himself known then, clearing his throat.
"Well not that this hasn't been very heartwarming, but I'm afraid that we have to get back down to business." The man says. It takes all of Phil's control not to punch him, and that's before Collins keeps talking. "I'm placing the three of you under arrest, and the Tesseract will be contained within SHIELD."
Just about everyone turns to stare at him.
"You're going to arrest us, after we saved the world single-handedly." Natasha says flatly.
The Director flinches, but holds his ground.
"Yes."
"Everyone on this Helicarrier who isn't of the Agency will die as soon as I give the order. My personnel outnumber yours. Are you sure this is a game you want to play?" Phil asks calmly. Director Collins visibly winces.
"Also, I think arresting them would make me very angry." Bruce offers. Director Collins takes a wary step back.
"I would be very disappointed in you." Rogers says in his best Captain America voice. Director Collins wilts even farther.
Everyone looks at Stark expectantly.
"Oh, fine. I don't think it would be very sporting. I'm looking forward to taking the Agency down in a fair fight."
Director Collins throws his hands up.
"Fine." The man storms out.
"Natasha, would you get everyone off the Helicarrier before that idiot changes his mind? And make sure Thor takes both Loki and the Tesseract back to Asgard. I have something to take care of." Phil says. He wraps a hand around Clint's bicep, tugging him out of the room.
His husband brushes against Natasha in Phil's haste, but Clint doesn't resist. If the way he leans into Phil's grip is any indication, he's nowhere near protesting.
"Of course." Phil can hear the smirk in Natasha's voice. He ignores it.
Phil brings Clint a few hallways over, to a door marked Maintenance.
"Really, sir?" Clint teases. Without responding, Phil tugs open the door and shoves Clint in.
"Shut up." Phil hisses. "Just- I need-"
Clint smirks.
"Make me."
With a growl, Phil slams his mouth into Clint's, kissing him savagely, painfully. He takes Clint's bottom lip between his teeth, and bites down a touch too hard. The coppery tang of blood fills both their mouths and Phil breathes a little easier, tasting that Clint is really here, really okay. Clint groans into Phil's mouth, and his hands come up to grip Phil's shoulders, crinkling his suit beyond repair.
Gasping, Phil pulls back. Clint whimpers. Phil brushes a thumb over his husband's cheekbone, and for a moment, he is overcome.
"Shh, baby, let me." Phil whispers. The brief fluttering kisses he presses to Clint's lips are different, gentler. Clint still whimpers when Phil pulls back the second time.
Without hesitation, Phil drops to his knees.
Before he's even fumbled Clint's belt open, his husband is gasping, desperate. A litany of Phil spills from Clint's mouth, and he doesn't waste time. There's later for slow, sweet sex. Now- now Phil just wants to convince himself that Clint is really here.
Both Clint's pants and his briefs are pushed down to his ankles, giving Phil a perfect view of his length. Clint's hard and weeping already, and Phil takes a moment to nuzzle the hair at the base of his cock. Clint's hands fall back down to Phil's shoulders, and one moves to card through his hair. Phil nearly purrs at the sensation, and gets down to business.
Lovingly, he presses a kiss to the underside of Clint's erection, and is rewarded with a breathy gasp. Phil looks up from under his lashes, and memorizes his husband's flushed face. Then, he sucks Clint down in one fell swoop.
The taste is salty and familiar, like coming home, and Phil groans. Clint's knees go out from under him at the vibration. Phil's hands grasp Clint's hips; both pinning him to the shelves and supporting him.
"Phil, oh my god, Phil." Clint whimpers. "Please, it's so good."
Phil pulls back a little, to suck at the head. He gets a strangled groan and a spurt of pre-cum for his efforts.
This is something Phil enjoys, giving blow jobs. There's a sense of stability to it, a grounding in the moment. Clint is heavy and warm in his mouth, therefore, his husband can't be anywhere else. Clint is here, Clint is okay, Clint is safe.
With that, the last barrier is broken. Phil takes Clint into his throat, as deep as he can. He employs every trick he knows, teases every sound out of Clint possible. And when Clint finally comes with a strangled scream, pulsing into Phil's throat, Phil swallows every last drop.
Clint goes limp with the aftershocks, and Phil carefully lowers him to the floor. He presses kiss after kiss to his husband's sweaty brow, and does his best to ignore his own straining erection.
When Clint's eyes flutter open, satiated but aware, every one of Phil's nerves light on fire. It's an awkward position, involving far too much contortion, but Clint smiles, large and mischievous, and says,
"Let me return the favor."
After, when Phil is busy trying to stay conscious through the wave of pleasure, Clint will climb into his lap and kiss him.
Phil will taste himself, and will share with Clint his own taste. They'll kiss and kiss, until each is convinced that they're together again, safe again. It might take a few days, it might take a few weeks, but Clint isn't going anywhere, and neither is Phil.
They're villains, sure, but they're humans too.
They court in dead bodies and give anniversary gifts of blood, but they still know how to love.
Epilogue
Bruce joins everyone on the deck to say farewell to Coulson, Barton, and Natasha. It's a little surreal, okay a lot, to think that the next time they meet they'll probably be trying to kill each other. For now, Captain America shakes Coulson's hand.
"Thank you for everything you did. If you ever want a change of pace..." Steve trails off. Coulson shakes his head, but Bruce sees the small smile on his lips.
"Thank you, Captain, but I've been told not to fix something that isn't broken."
Steve grins ruefully, then withdraws a small stack of cards from his jacket, pristine and signed.
"Here, uh, the Widow had me sign them. Take care of them." Coulson's hands close around the cards, sunny smile on his face. Bruce's lips twitch involuntarily.
"Thank you, I will." Without another word, Coulson joins Barton on the plane. Natasha slips on too, but Bruce manages to catch her eye. The stare holds and holds until the door of the plane cuts it off.
Bruce watches as the jet with Natasha, Coulson, and Barton disappears into the sunset. It's ironic, so he doesn't think about it.
Tony breaks the silence, because it's always Tony that breaks the silence.
"You know, if they ever decide to publicly take over the world, we're fucked." Instead of sounding alarmed by this, Tony sounds merely contemplative. If Bruce were to stretch, he'd say resigned.
"Yeah, we are." Steve says.
Bruce stands behind them both, and doesn't say anything, but silently, he agrees.
Back in his temporary quarters, Bruce takes out the slip of paper Natasha gave him before they left. On it is a phone number. Bruce traces his thumb over the digits once, twice, before ripping it into tiny pieces.
If this was a comic book, that's what the hero would do. This is who Bruce is now, this is what he's chosen to be.
But then again, this isn't a comic book, and Bruce can't really claim to be a hero.
He memorizes the digits, just in case.