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The most disturbing thing to happen to Phil Coulson post Loki’s attempted invasion as far as he was concerned --well, other than being declared D.O.A., spending six months in a coma then having to deal with the entire mess of being brought to life on paper and among his colleagues once he woke up-- was Tony Stark going from regarding him with the lowest possible level of interest a human being could give another while interacting with him to giving Phil his complete attention.
All the time and everywhere. Even when Phil was several states away on his first assignment since being cleared for active field duty. Case in point, as soon as he’d pulled into a hotel in his rental car (both randomly picked for security reasons) and even before he’d reached the desk to check in there had been a suite waiting for him with the smiling receptionist. In his name and paid for by Tony Stark.
“The level of stalking has bypassed creepy and is accelerating, Mr. Stark,” Phil said into his cell phone, as he stepped into the room which wasn‘t the suite. He didn‘t need Stark buying him things.
Phil also hadn’t called anyone. There was no other noise audible through the phone. No icon showed a connection.
“Technically,” Stark said brightly, after three seconds of silence. Only familiarity with Stark allowed Phil to catch the slight embarrassment over his manic cheer. Embarrassment that Phil suspected had less to do with his behavior than him getting caught. “I‘m having Jarvis stalk you. He updates me on what going on in your life, Phil.”
And there was another thing which fucked up Phil‘s sense of reality, since his reintegration into the world, Stark had stopped insisting his name was Agent and started calling him by his first name. Phil preferred he went back to thinking he didn‘t have a first name. The sudden --to him at least-- familiarity made his danger instincts flare. He kept bracing himself for the other shoe to drop. This wasn’t exactly conductive to a full night’s sleep.
It wasn’t paranoia if they really were watching your every move.
Stark continued, “You don‘t write. You don‘t call. Really my feelings are starting to get--”
Phil not only turned off his phone he also pulled out the battery. He wouldn’t put it past Stark to find a way to remotely switch it back on. It was a StarkTech smartphone. He’d bet it could do that. Phil rolled his eyes as he mentally shoved Stark’s weirdly clingy behavior into a box to think about at a later time --while also ignoring the fact that so far ‘later’ had yet to come-- and settled into his hotel room with his rolling suitcase. He pulled his S.H.I.E.L.D. issued laptop out of its travel case since he wanted to review the mission files before he made contact tomorrow morning. The mission should be nice and easy, just an initial contact to assess the situation but there was always a chance an analyst missed something, leading to massive collateral damage. It had happened before.
He left it to boot up on the nightstand as he shrugged out of his suit jacket and his tie. Phil dropped both items of clothing on the chair by his bed before he slipped out of his loafers. He was in the middle of rolling back his shirtsleeves, exposing his arms when he heard Stark. Again.
“Yeah, take it all off, baby!” Stark called out loudly from the direction of the laptop.
Phil sighed and looked to see a window on the laptop screen with Stark‘s face leering at him. The laptop‘s indicator light for the built in camera glowed blue. It made his head hurt to think about how many levels of encryption Stark had to break to remotely activate a S.H.I.E.L.D. computer. It probably had taken him seconds.
“You know, Phil, this is the most bare skin from you I‘ve ever seen. I‘m kinda turned on now,” Stark said, grinning.
“Oh, my god, Tony!” Pepper Pott’s voice called out from off-screen. Her face appeared on the window as she shoved Stark aside making him yelp as his chair rolled out of view. Her cheeks were flushed pink as she stared at Phil with huge apologetic blue eyes. “I‘m so sorry, Phil. I didn‘t know he was going to do that.”
“Hello, Ms. Potts,” Phil said politely.
“Tell him to show us some ankle,” Stark called, still out of sight of the camera‘s lens. He chuckled as Pepper’s cheeks darkened. “Or get him to lift his shirt up; I think I have beads around here somewhere.”
Pepper shot Phil a mute long-suffering look which he returned with a raised eyebrow.
“Phil, if you want to file a sexual harassment suit, I‘ll help you,” Pepper offered.
“Ooh. I haven’t had one of those in almost a year now,” Stark said, coming back on screen over Pepper’s right shoulder. “I‘m sure I’m overdue. Don’t want to get my playboy card revoked. And I don‘t just mean my access to the Hughes’ mansion.”
Pepper continued as if he hadn‘t spoken. “I‘m authorized to give you a settlement of a twenty-five thousand dollars right here and now. Although, I could get you a few hundred more if he keeps this up.”
“Tempting,” Phil said wryly.
Stark pouted at Pepper. She grimaced at him. He rubbed his chin on the side of her neck making her yelp and bat at him with her hands. Stark grinned and stroked his goatee as he turned back to look at Phil. “But seriously, Phil,” Stark said, “Leave S.H.I.E.L.D. and come work for me! You can be my chief of security. There’s an opening since the last security breach. Jarvis and Happy can only do so much. Come on, I pay so much better. I’ll even get you a suit allowance! And you won‘t have to go off on your own anymore.”
Phil contemplated the horror of having Tony Stark as his boss and suppressed a full body shudder through sheer force of will.
“I picked this assignment, Mr. Stark,” Phil pointed out. He didn’t say that he’d wanted to do it alone. He needed it. To test himself. To see how he reacted back in the field. To see if his instincts were still sharp enough to trust with the lives of other agents. They hadn’t been good enough last time as the pull of the scar on his chest reminded him daily.
“Is that why I have a pair of moping ninja assassins hogging my personal bar? Huh, and here I thought they‘d found out the price of bullets, arrows, and explosives went up since last quarter.”
Phil barely kept from rolling his eyes. “I have an assignment to finish. Good night, Ms. Potts… Mr. Stark,” he said pointedly.
“Good night, Phil,” Pepper said, smiling.
“Good night, honey. Come home soon,” Stark chimed back sweetly. Phil closed the vid-chat window on Pepper rolling her eyes.
Phil focused on getting his reading done. Any thoughts he had about Clint and Natasha’s sulking when he refused to let them come along he shoved out of his mind.
The assignment took precedence.
*-*-*-*
The assignment turned out to be a young mutant.
Not exactly surprising. About half of the odd energy readings their satellites picked up or strange patterns (social or other) which S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were sent to investigate were the result of mutant activity, mostly natural born but sometimes self-inflicted. Occasionally it was a young mutant, whose power activated suddenly, leading to a loss of control and property damage but more often it was from a mutant testing out their powers.
S.H.I.E.L.D. had contact and security protocols for dealing with mutants and their families which pretty much broke down to: walk softly and hide the big stick… unless you really needed it.
So with the protocol firmly mind, Phil walked up to the house in a loosely fitting off-the-rack navy suit which was just a bit too big for him. He’d picked it because it made him appear less threatening and smaller as well as hiding his shoulder holster and S.H.I.E.L.D. issued body armor rather well. The suit worked perfectly as it got him through the front door and into the living room. Being inside the house gave him time to talk the parents down from their rising panic at having a government agency show up knowing about their son. Once they were calm enough he gave them the contact information for the Xavier Institute as well as the URLs for reputable websites which wouldn’t mislead them regarding mutants, their abilities, and the X-gene. The information led them relaxing their guard enough to give Phil to meet their son and quickly verify the mutant’s threat level.
It wasn’t much. The mutant was a boy (age 15) who had an intuitive connection to technology. No power blasts or super-strength or ability to kill people with a touch or his mind so Phil thought it was safe leaving him where he was. He also told the family to contact Charles Xavier for a more thorough evaluation of their son’s talent because sometimes a mutant’s power spiked beyond their control, especially during puberty.
He also left the contact number for S.H.I.E.L.D.‘s Mutant Response Unit. Just in case.
From what he’d seen of the boy‘s technopathy --for the lack of a better word-- if he’d been old enough, Fury would’ve been knocking down the door in person to recruit him into S.H.I.E.L.D. The kid’s instinctive understanding of technology and talent for both invention and innovation approached Stark’s genius without the obnoxious personality. Phil was already planning on recommending his future recruitment into S.H.I.E.L.D. for precisely those reasons. The agency didn’t discriminate against mutants or anyone else for that matter. They already had handful on the payroll. Getting more signed on to S.H.I.E.L.D. had been an official mandate from the Director in order to strengthen their response to major threats to global security.
Since his lone assignment ended early and nothing exploded unexpectedly, Phil stopped at a nearby dinner for lunch before returning to his hotel room.
The moment he stepped into his room he noticed a strange muted glow and he went for his gun. The light by the nightstand clicked on at once. Phil was pointing his 9mm at Stark who was sprawled on top of the bedcovers and grinning back at him. He was wearing a grey suit with silver threads and dark blue sneakers with tiny arc reactors designed into the heels. He pushed down the sunglasses on his nose to peer over the rims at Phil. “I know I got you a better room than this, Phil. This room doesn‘t even have a mini-bar. And this bed is way too small. The suite’s was king-size.”
“Stark, what are you doing here?” Phil asked warily. He didn’t drop the gun barrel. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d faced a shape-shifter. Although, he couldn’t image one who’d be able to mimic the arc reactor in Stark’s chest so well. But there was a first time for everything.
“Aw, Phil, aren‘t you happy to see me? Because I‘m happy to see you,” Stark leered, giving his hips a wiggle.
Phil could actually feel his blood pressure rise by the second. He throttled it down with smooth, deep inhales. “Not until you tell me why you‘re here.”
“To bring you back of course. I figured you had to be done by now. Only a contact mission, right?” Stark said cheerfully. “Anyway, you won‘t believe how much your pet assassins are pouting over you leaving them behind. Barton is making me sad with the pining. And if I‘m sad, my company‘s stock plummets, people panic, reporters go crazy. Pretty much, it will bring about the end of the world. So to save the world I need to bring you back. And you get a ride home! Win-win.”
Phil sighed and returned his gun to his shoulder holster. Yeah, it was Stark alright; he didn’t know anyone else who could annoy him so quickly. “I have a ride, Stark.”
“Yeah… about that, I told the very helpful concierge to take your rental back as soon as you got in.” Stark’s smile widened.
“Does Ms. Potts know you‘re here?” Phil asked, as he resisted the urge to rub at his now aching temples.
Stark ignored his question as he jumped to his feet, bouncing on his sneakers. He clapped twice. “Get your stuff! We‘re blowing this hot dog stand.” He wagged his eyebrows. “I brought my private jet. No pole dancers though. Pepper made me leave them behind.”
Phil considered the hassle of getting a new rental car and the long drive back. He gave up resisting. At least with a jet he’d be home in a couple of hours and he always had the option of tasing Stark. “Fine.”
“I knew you‘d see it my way. Everyone does. Hey… how up to date are your pole dancing skills?”
*-*-*-*
The problem with emotionally blackmailing a narcissist like Tony Stark to acknowledge the value of your existence (by dying on him) therefore forcing the man to admit he gives a damn was when you came back (from being dead to everyone for six months) he made the assumption that it made you his.
His ‘what’ exactly, Phil hadn’t figured out yet. And from all the disturbing flirting, it seemed that neither had Stark. At least, that was the theory Phil was holding onto with white knuckled fingers otherwise he’d have to acknowledge the possibility the flirting was sincere instead of Stark’s obnoxious attempt at getting a reaction.
“So, I‘ve decided it‘s better if you live at my Tower with the rest of the Avengers,” Stark declared, not bothering with such social niceties like hello as he burst through the doorway of Phil’s office in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s satellite base in New York.
“No,” Phil said promptly, not even bothering looking up from the report he was reading.
“Not only do I have plenty of rooms, I have entire floors. I can give you one so you‘ll have plenty of space to yourself… unless you want to share with your ninja assassin boyfriend? Girlfriend? Kinky S.H.I.E.L.D. threesome? I haven‘t quite worked out your relationship with those two.”
Phil looked up to stare at him in disbelief. “I‘m not dating either Barton or Romanov, apart or together.”
“Really? Huh.” Stark looked thoughtful. It made Phil worry. “I could‘ve sworn I caught Clint checking you out. More than once. Yeah. He did that only two days ago. Jarvis, bring up the vid for me.” He pulled out his phone and held it up. The screen folded out until a wide transparent panel showed Barton staring intently after Phil’s retreating figure.
Phil wasn’t surprised. “It doesn‘t mean anything. Barton stares at everyone. It’s his job,” he said in his driest tone. He looked down at the hardcopy reports he had to sign before they were logged both into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s mainframe and the archival records. Stark’s hacking of their systems all those months ago had made the director downright twitchy with paranoia over who else could get past their firewalls. Hence: hardcopies. He sighed. “And I‘m not moving into Stark Tower.”
Stark stood with his hands on his hips. The rock shirt of the day stretched across his shoulders. He was quiet for a moment then a slow wicked smile spread across his face. “Hmm, yeah, I don‘t think so.” Worried, Phil stared after him as Stark spun on his heels and sauntered away. “See ya, Phil!”
Phil looked back down at the report of the movements of suspected low-level Hydra operative which all of a sudden didn‘t feel quite so urgent. He dropped it and picked up the phone. It was time he used one of the debts Fury owed him (favors for the destruction of his vintage Captain America cards) to get a mission out of the country.
A mission far, far away from whatever Stark was planning.
*-*-*-*
It didn’t work. Stark got to Fury first, apparently he had no compunction about bribing the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. with a promise to personally upgrade the agency’s firewalls for the chance to steal Phil away. It surprised him. Not Stark using bribes, that was typical behavior from him, no… what surprised him was that it worked. On Nick Fury, of all people.
“Sir,” Phil said plaintively. He stood in front of Fury’s desk. His boss grinned at him with entirely too much wicked delight. “It‘s not actually necessary I move into Stark Tower. I have my own place.”
“I‘d almost believe that lie I didn‘t know you‘ve been living at the New York office instead of finding a new apartment.”
Six months dead to the world and everyone moved on, especially landlords. His reluctance to find a new place to stay came more from his indecision about remaining in New York. Since his ex had moved out he no longer felt tied down to the city anymore. He’d contemplated moving back to the Los Angeles office. The West Coast didn’t have its own team of Avengers. Yet. And he thought S.H.I.E.L.D. needed a heavier presence there until they found candidates for another special response team. The director knew of his concerns and agreed with him… up to a point.
“Coulson, I was going to put you in charge of wrangling those divas nearly from the moment we came up with the idea for the Avenger Initiative,” Fury continued. “The project is as much your baby as it‘s mine.”
Phil swallowed back a startled noise. “I thought-- wasn’t Hill tapped for that task?” he asked. “She has the higher authority.”
“Hill has threatened to quit if she‘s assigned the job. She wants nothing to do with them,” Fury huffed, equally amused and annoyed. “And you can‘t tell me you don‘t want the chance to play with your own life-sized superhero action figures. Don’t forget, I‘ve seen your collection.”
The corners of Phil’s mouth curled up. “No, I guess I can‘t.”
Because the opportunity was fascinating. The idea of pooling a group of people with extraordinary talents to create a response team like the Avengers had caught had his imagination like nothing else had in years, at least not since he first followed Fury into S.H.I.E.L.D. Add in the fact that one of those members was Captain America and others like Thor and S.H.I.E.L.D.’s top agents in Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov --both whom Phil considered friends and among the top ten deadliest people on the planet-- the possibility of being deeply involved nearly had him floating on air. At least until the reality of Tony Stark brought him crashing down. Hell, even the Hulk was more reassuring. Dr. Banner’s control was impressive.
“Just think of it this way, instead of replacing your cards I‘m giving you the real Captain America for your very own,” Fury continued, still grinning.
“Nice try, boss. But you‘re also giving me Tony Stark,” Phil said sarcastically. “And now you‘re also saying I have to live with him. That‘ll practically double the favors you owe me.”
Fury crossed his arms. “Well, it’s too late. I’ve sent orders to get your stuff trucked over. So you‘re moving in. Just tase Stark if he gets handsy.”
“Very well, sir,” Phil said blankly, not in the least bit surprised that Fury knew about his current Stark problems. If he didn‘t know better he‘d think Pepper Potts had been recruited as a spy. He made mental notes to keep his taser charged and on him at all times. “But I‘m only accepting it on a probationary period.”
“Fine, you get three months to decide,” Fury agreed. “If you still haven‘t made up your mind, we‘ll talk again.”
“Thank you, sir.”
*-*-*-*
Surprisingly, once he’d been forced to bow to the inevitable and move into Stark Tower, Stark backed off on the stalking. Although, the lack of him could have been because Phil spent all of the first day unpacking. Then all of the second day rearranging the furniture so his back was against a wall.
Then on the third day he learned --when he finally stepped out of the room-- to what Stark had assigned as his proxy to follow him around. Phil had been walking through the guest area down to the elevator which would take him to his office --Stark had set aside one for him in the lower floors-- when he realized he’d picked up a shadow.
“Jarvis is there a reason a robot is following me around?” Phil asked warily, as the robot he’d once heard Stark call ‘Dummy’ whirled and beeped happily when he stopped walking to turn to stare at it. It held out to him a plastic bottle of water in its single mechanical arm. When Phil didn’t take it, it made a sad whirling noise and the arm drooped.
Phil felt a twinge of guilt. He ruthlessly suppressed it.
“Master Stark has ordered the household to see to your every need, Agent Coulson,” JARIVS promptly. “Dummy has been specially tasked to assist you.”
“I see. Dummy.” The robot beeped in a noise Phil couldn’t help but describe as hopeful as it lifted the bottle up to him. “I don’t currently need anything, you can go.”
The robot whirled sadly as it drooped again and slowly wheeled away. Phil stared after it for a moment before he shook his head and got onto the elevator. He'd just made it to the office door when he heard the crisp click-clack of heels on polished white marble which heralded Pepper Potts as she came around the corner. They shared a floor which had surprised Phil when he’d found out considering she was the C.E.O. of Stark Industries and he… wasn’t. Yet this was the first time he’d seen her since his relocation.
“Phil! Just the man I wanted to see,” she said brightly. She was wearing a cool green suit with gold accents which brought out a shine in her hair. Yet for all her professional attire her hair was curled loosely over her shoulders. Either she had no serious business meetings planned for today or she’d just come from spending time with Stark and she was going to do her hair up as soon as she made it to her office.
“Ms. Potts, good morning,” Phil said, smiling in genuine delight. Ms. Potts was a refreshing person to talk to, bright and honest, in a way he usually didn’t run into too often in his line of work, with the added bonus of being calmly professional under the most trying circumstances a.k.a. Tony Stark. But it was her sincere personality which made her all the more valuable to him to have her as a friend.
“Good morning to you too,” Pepper smiled back. She tilted her head slightly to the side as she dropped her voice. “Could we talk in private? In your office?”
“Right this way, Ms. Potts,” Phil said politely.
“Thank you,” Pepper said, as he held out the door for her. She settled into the decadently comfortable black leather sofa along the right wall of the office.
Phil noted she left plenty of space for him and sank next to her so they faced each other with a good one foot of space between them. He ignored the itch between his shoulder blades. Phil asked, “How can I help you?”
“Hold on. Jarvis?”
“Yes, Ms. Potts?”
Phil suppressed a wince. He suspected the A.I. was monitoring him here although he thought he’d found and disabled all the surveillance equipment in the office. The evidence of S.H.I.E.L.D. issued scanners being unable to detect all of Jarvis’s spy tech was hard to swallow but hardly surprising when dealing with technology made by Stark. He made a mental note to pass along his findings to the R&D department.
“Turn off every camera and microphone you have in this room. And don‘t tell Tony about it, at least not right away,” Pepper said sternly.
“Yes, Ms. Potts. I will only be able to give you a window of twenty minutes. Starting now,” JARVIS said politely.
“That‘ll have to be enough,” Pepper sighed. “Phil, I‘m here to talk to you about Tony.”
Phil sat back against the arm of the couch and raised his eyebrows. “I‘m not exactly surprised.”
“I know Tony‘s been driving you crazy. But I want you to know it‘s not because he‘s trying to punish you.”
Phil nodded slowly. “I wondered. He wasn‘t exactly happy to learn the director had lied to him. I’ve seen the video. His anger left quite an impression on the bridge crew.” His mouth quirked up at the corners. “Although all the flirting and trying to buy me stuff didn‘t exactly mesh well with the theory that he was mad at me too.”
Pepper nodded. “Look, we both know Tony can be an idiot when it comes to dealing with people.”
“I’ve met the man,” Phil agreed dryly.
Pepper flashed him a smile before becoming serious again. “There‘s only a short list of people in his life which Tony cares about. I mean really cares about. There’s me, Rhodey, Bruce, Happy, the rest of the Avengers and you.”
Phil didn’t blink even though he wanted to. He known his supposed death had had an impact on Stark so this wasn’t exactly new to him. Yet it was disconcerting to get it verified from Pepper Potts, the closest person in the world to Stark. Very disconcerting.
“And he didn‘t even realized how much he‘d grown to care for you until…”
“I died on him,” Phil filled in.
Pepper sighed and nodded. She dropped her eyes to her hands and he followed the fall of her eyes to see how tightly she was holding onto herself. This… was important to her. “Fury‘s lie wouldn‘t have worked if there wasn‘t something in him which cared about what happened to you. And after the battle… when everything had a chance to sink in… he didn‘t react well.” She huffed a softly and humorlessly. “It‘s just as well we’d already called the construction company to begin repairs.” She looked up into Phil’s eyes. “You snuck into his heart,” she said earnestly. “But you were gone by the time he realized it. But now you‘re back and he‘s having trouble with that too. He‘s not used to getting people back.”
“He‘s overcompensating,” Phil said slowly. Huh. It shed new light on Stark’s behavior.
“He wants to take care of you,” Pepper said, leaning closer.
“He doesn‘t need to,” Phil said, incredulously. He added sarcastically, “I‘m a fully grown and responsible agent. I‘m allowed my own gun and everything.”
Pepper shook her head. “It‘s not about responsibility. It‘s not even about your ability to take care of yourself. It‘s about Tony.”
“Of course it is,” Phil sighed.
“By making you safe and happy, Tony‘s convinced he‘ll be safe and happy. I’m sure it’s all subconscious but he thinks that by protecting you he also protects himself, or at least he’s protecting himself from feeling pain by keeping anything bad from happening to you. That‘s one of the reasons I think that Rhodey still has War Machine. Tony hadn‘t been able to convince him to leave the Air Force and come work for him so he lets him keep the suit.”
Phil blinked again then smiled wryly. “Are you saying if I hold out long enough, Stark will make me a suit of my own?” he joked, deeply amused at the idea.
Pepper gave him a look that said she thought he was being slow on the uptake. “I‘m telling you… he‘s already working on one.”
Phil felt a jolt of surprise. He arched his eyebrows.
Pepper grimaced. “Or, from I could tell, he‘s working on the schematics. He keeps changing them to improve the strength of the armor to take hits. I keep hearing him muttering over how it could be stronger and vibra-something.”
“Vibranium,” Phil inhaled sharply. “That‘s the rarest material on the planet. Expensive as hell and nearly impossible to get.” Even with bumps in pay scale he received as a senior agent in S.H.I.E.L.D., Phil wouldn’t be able to buy a gram of the metal even if it took rest of his life to pay it off. Buying enough vibranium to incorporate into a suit of Stark’s technology would take a huge bite out of Stark’s budget for both the Iron Man suits and the Avengers. At least if Wakanda agreed to sell him that much. That kind of money could be put to better use than armoring up one aging S.H.I.E.L.D. agent with less than decade left of field work. Phil said, “I‘ll talk to him about it. That money could be better spent elsewhere,”
“I‘m not thinking about the money,” Pepper said at once. Skeptical, he raised an eyebrow. “Okay, yes, I‘m thinking about the money,” she admitted. “It‘s a lot of money. But I‘m mostly worried about Tony. You need to help him work this out, Phil.”
“I‘m not quitting S.H.I.E.L.D. for him.”
Pepper smiled. “I didn‘t think you would.” Pepper glanced at the slim gold watch on her wrist. Satisfied she had enough time she continued, “Just… show him you care for him back. Look, another thing that Tony does for people he cares for is that he gives them things. He gives Happy a brand new car every year, he gave me his company, he upgrades War Machine for Rhodey, he‘s given Bruce access to ten floors of labs and he‘s even redesigned a floor for each Avenger to have in the Tower. Floors which had initially been his.”
Phil frowned at her. “I already live here,” he pointed out.
“You live in the guest floor, Phil. You wouldn‘t take a floor of your own. And I know Tony had one set aside for you.” Pepper made frustrated noise. “Tony wants to give you stuff. And you keep refusing. So he keeps trying to find out what you want. Hence the stalking. But since you don‘t want anything he has then he keeps trying to give you the last thing he has. Himself. This is why he keeps trying to sleep with you.”
Phil looked away, feeling glad that the urge to blush had been died out of him over a decade ago. “I didn‘t think he meant that.”
Pepper snorted. “When have you ever known Tony not to be serious about sex? If you really want him to stop hovering then you should consider it.”
Phil blinked once. “I‘m sorry, I think I heard that wrong.” Pepper just arched her eyebrows. “You want me to sleep with your boyfriend,” Phil said in disbelief.
“I‘m not a jealous woman, Phil. I wouldn‘t have lasted as long as I have with Tony if I got jealous over sex. I loved him for years before he finally saw me. Really saw me. So, if Tony comes to you, please don‘t reject him out of hand… or at least let him down gently while showing him that you care for him back.” All of a sudden Pepper stilled as she looked at Phil with wide eyes. “You do care for him too, right?” Her right hand crept up to her mouth as she stared. “I‘ve been assuming that you did… but I never asked. Oh my god, I‘m sorry. I‘ve been acting like Tony, haven‘t I? Just assuming that everyone wants him.”
Phil wanted to laugh at her horrified expression.
She continued babbling, “I mean, I know you‘re bisexual, I read your file. But I didn‘t think to--”
“You read my file?” Phil interrupted. His amusement drained away as he tensed. “Those files are restricted access.”
Pepper’s cheeks turned pink. “Well… remember how I mentioned Tony didn‘t react well? He spent a lot of time reading them. Sometimes aloud… mostly out loud.”
Phil had to resist the urge to rub at his forehead, feeling a pounding beginning at his temples and behind his eyes. He would’ve been worried over why he kept getting headaches since his coma if he wasn‘t one hundred percent certain the cause of every single one of them was named Tony Stark. Fortunately, for his own peace of mind, there was nothing in those files he was hesitant about strangers reading. He’d always made certain to give truly sensitive information to Fury in person. And he trusted Fury to keep his personal secrets.
Finally, he said, “I need time to think about this.”
Pepper beamed and leaned forward to kiss his cheek, leaving a scent of something intriguingly spicy in the air. “Thank you. I know it seems like an odd request. But you have to know Tony to understand why he‘s acting like… well, Tony.” She gracefully got to her feet. Phil followed and saw her out of his office.
As soon as she was down the hall, he closed the door and collapsed onto his comfortable couch, not caring about wrinkles to his clothes. He stared blankly up at ceiling.
Well… he hadn’t seen that coming.
“The twenty minutes of blackout are over, Agent Coulson.”
“I know, Jarvis.” Phil got to his feet, straightened his suit and forced himself to focus on his work.
*-*-*-*
Phil would willingly admit --if any of his interrogators thought to ask-- that he shouldn’t have taken this assignment just to get a breather away from Stark. At the time, looking for a possible Ten Rings cell in the middle of Nowhere, Utah had seemed like the perfect idea. Until it wasn’t anymore.
At least Phil had been on his own when he’d failed to see the trap waiting for him and no other agents were captured along with him. Being incompetent was bad enough, being incompetent and also needlessly endangering agents under his command would’ve been unforgivable. He was more relieved than he could express that he’d managed to warn off Sitwell and Drew before both agents could come close enough to get captured with him. He was also rather content at how he’d taken out three of his captors before he’d been hit by the tranquilizer.
Waking up in a grimy shack of a building, and tied to an old and ripped dentist chair wasn’t the worse situation he’d ever faced. With Sitwell and Drew escaping capture then he was fairly certain S.H.I.E.L.D. would be by to pull him out before too long. He just had to hold out. And if he was willing to put an extra silver-lining on this, at least being captured gave him the time to think. And he could say this about Stark; the man had him so mentally off-balance that it was easy to focus on him than on the ham-handed way the interrogator was threatening him if he didn’t give up his S.H.I.E.L.D. codes and contacts.
He was especially grateful for something else to think about when the interrogator brought out the pliers.
*-*-*-*
The whine-thump of repulsor blasts took him completely by surprise. For a moment he thought his focus on Stark had caused him to hear things. Until he saw the Ten Ring operatives’ reactions.
The interrogator who’d was about to pull the nail off his right middle finger swore in a mish-mash of Greek and Spanish before he dropped the bloody pliers and tired to run out the open door, while the two guards raised their rifles and braced themselves to fire. A blue blast of repulsor energy caught the interrogator high in the chest and sent him smashing back onto the floor. Phil felt a surge of satisfaction as he groaned in pain.
Iron Man stepped into the room with ominous metallic clanks. Phil would never admit it aloud but a large part of him always got a thrill out of seeing Iron Man in action.
The two other men who’d been supervising his questioning fired once only to drop a second later as Iron Man shot them down. The hidden gun ports in Iron Man’s shoulders flipped back down. Even the interrogator had a bullet hole between his eyes.
“Did you leave anybody alive to question?” Phil asked lightly, ignoring the faint taste of blood --and all the memories of the last time which came with the copper-salt taste-- to focus on Stark. The blood wasn‘t important. It hadn’t come from losing any teeth because at least the interrogator had known Phil wouldn’t be able to answer his questions with a sore jaw. Phil merely had bitten the inside of his cheek when the toes on his left foot had gotten broken.
“No… I don‘t like it when people take my things,” Stark growled through the armor. The faceplate in the armor flipped back and dark brown eyes looked down at Phil.
Phil stared back, taken completely off-guard by the depth of worry and relief in Stark’s eyes. Last time he’d seen another person looking like that in his direction, he’d been bleeding out. He blinked and swallowed down the too familiar taste of copper.
Stark’s face paled noticeably as he caught sight of Phil’s bloody feet and hands and the obviously missing nails. The broken toes of his left foot weren‘t quite so noticeable considering how swollen they were. “Jesus, are you alright? Wait. Stupid question. Of course, you‘re not. You‘ve been getting your nails ripped off.”
“I‘ve had worse,” Phil said softly. Stark’s freaked out face was getting to him. Maybe because he was used to dealing with professionals who would have seen his injuries and known it could’ve been worse. A lot worse.
Stark’s mouth tightened but he raised his right hand and from his forearm a laser blazed red, cutting through the ropes binding Phil to the chair. Phil braced himself to stand up only to find himself scooped up into Stark’s armored arms as soon as he put weight on his feet.
“Hey, let‘s keep your feet off the ground, okay?”
Phil clutched at Stark‘s shoulder his fingers throbbing from his tight grip on the cool armor. “Stark! Put me down!”
“How about, no,” Stark said as he walked out of the room with Phil in his arms. “With your luck? You‘ll pick up tetanus, or salmonella, or flesh-eating bacteria, or Ebola. I certainly don‘t trust this ground.”
“I can walk,” Phil protested. He felt utterly ridiculous. He was a grown man being carried out like a child. He wasn’t even that badly hurt. The only broken bones were his left toes and he knew he could walk on those… hell, he could run. He wasn’t even bleeding much anymore. His fingertips and toes were mostly clotted up.
“You scare the hell out of me, you get to suffer the consequences,” Stark said grimly. “Consequence number one: I get to carry you out of this hellhole if I want.”
Phil thought about all the ways he could break free. He had his pick of choices with Stark’s head fully exposed but grudgingly admitted to himself that he didn’t want to walk. The floor of the building his captors had taken him was filthy, and stagnant water had pooled at the corners. Anyway hurting his rescuer just because his pride disliked the idea of being carried in Stark’s arms was the height of ingratitude.
“Exactly how many consequences are there?”
“A lot, I haven‘t counted them all yet. But trust me, there‘s going to be a lot of them.”
Stark got them outside the building which the cell had picked as their hideout and walked for a minute until they were before a flat clearing.
“Now what?” Phil asked dryly. Considering his position, Stark couldn’t exactly fly off. He needed his arms for stability.
“We wait. This area is flat enough,” Stark said. “Jarvis, how far away are the rest of the guys?”
“ETA is 5 minutes and 32 seconds, sir,” JARVIS answered.
Phil raised his eyebrows. Stark grinned back. “Steve, Clint and Natasha will be showing up any second in a quinjet. Those things really need an upgrade. They were ahead of me by a half-hour and I still got here first.”
“There could be more Ten Ring operatives around,” Phil pointed out. “It would be better if you put me down.”
“No way,” Stark said. “I‘m not putting you down on dirt. Anyway, there‘s no one around.” Stark’s expression hardened. “I made sure.”
“Oh,” Phil said. He heard the whine of a quinjet’s engine and looked up to see the small plane coming closer. His relief made him swallow heavily. Stark may have been rescue but the plane was evac. Evac meant leaving this dump. He looked back to Tony who was also looking at the quinjet. “Thank you, by the way.” Stark glanced at him in surprise. “For the rescue.”
Stark’s grin was blinding. “You know, usually the damsel gives the knight in shinning armor a kiss as a reward.” Phil rolled his eyes. Stark’s smile was even wider. “Come on, Phil. You can‘t say I wasn‘t your--”
Shutting him up with a kiss wouldn’t have been Phil’s first tactic of choice. But he didn’t have his taser on him… and Stark did have a point --a very small point-- about the rescue and his timing. Broken bones would’ve been followed with snipped off body parts. Phil had seen the shears.
He kept the kiss chaste, although Tony --if he was kissing the man he should at least call by his first name-- kept trying to deepen the kiss by sliding his tongue against Phil’s lips. The scratch of his goatee against his own stubble made as interesting rasp. Partially out of curiosity to see what Tony would do, Phil opened his mouth. Tony made a happy sound against his mouth and swept in his tongue.
“What the hell, Stark!”
Phil jerked back, to Tony’s complaining grunt, to see Clint --in full uniform-- stalking out of the open quinjet, followed by an amused Natasha and blinking Captain Rogers.
Captain America had just seen him kiss Tony Stark.
Goddammit.
“He kissed me, Clint,” Tony grinned, openly gloating as he walked towards them. Phil considered squirming to the ground but Tony’s armored arms had no give. “Maybe if you hadn‘t stopped by to primp then you would’ve gotten a ‘thank you for the rescue' kiss too.”
Aggravated, Clint threw his hands into the air. “I‘ve never gotten a thank you rescue kiss! And I‘ve saved his life… 15 times!” Clint looked pointedly at Phil. “I‘m owed kisses, sir.”
Incredulous, Phil raised his eyebrows at him. “You can‘t be serious.”
“Completely serious, sir.”
“Pining,” Tony whispered in Phil‘s ear. “Remember?”
“By that logic, he owes me 23 and you owe me 42, Clint,” Natasha said thoughtfully. “And you owe Fury…”
“Whoa, whoa, don‘t bring Fury into this,” Clint yelped. “I‘m talking only about Coulson.”
Natasha’s smirk was dangerous and amused, as she cocked her eyebrow at Clint. Before she turned to Phil. “What are your orders, Agent Coulson?”
“Stark‘s taken care of the cell,” Phil said. “But we still need a S.H.I.E.L.D. clean up crew in here.”
Natasha nodded. “They‘re on their way. They should be here within the hour.”
“Then considering how remote this place is, and since there isn’t anyone left to question” --Natasha shot Tony an annoyed look--“we can leave,” Phil said.
They returned to the quinjet where Tony finally put Phil down onto the right-side passenger seats. Clint complained loudly over his lack of properly expressed gratitude as he strapped into the pilot’s chair. Captain Rogers brought the first aid kit and sat beside Phil. Phil didn’t protest or wince as he began cleaning the blood from Phil’s fingers.
Tony smirked at Phil as he sat down on the opposite seat before he looked towards the cockpit. When the quinjet was up into the air, he called out over Clint‘s grumbles, “You know I can‘t help it if I‘m Phil‘s favorite.”
Clint sputtered and jerked around to glare. “You--You are not his favorite! I’ve known him longer! He’s been my handler the longest. I’m his favorite!”
“Yeah but do you get kisses? No? I guess I win,” Tony said smugly.
“You‘re both wrong,” Natasha cut in with the kind of smile which made people pale in fear. She turned in her seat and nodded towards Phil and Captain Rogers. “Captain America is his favorite.”
Phil was glad for the umpteenth time he’s lost his ability to blush. On the other hand, Captain Rogers turned such a bright tomato red that he blushed enough for the both of them.
“Thank you for that, Agent Romanov,” Phil said dryly.
Natasha flashed him an impish grin. “You‘re welcome, Agent Coulson.”
*-*-*-*
The only drawback of kissing Tony Stark was that the man up and moved Phil’s belongings from the guest room he’d accepted and up into an entire floor right below the rest of the Avenger Initiative team members (the eighth floor from the very top). The reason Phil didn’t fight it was because he’d finally accepted the permanent post of being the team’s S.H.I.E.L.D. liaison, coordinator, and handler from a smug Director Fury.
Phil agreed because… well, seeing how worried he’d made Tony had finally cleared up that nagging feeling about the other shoe dropping which he’d been having. How they related to each other had changed since Phil had ‘died’ and it felt like he’d finally caught up to the changes. It no longer worried Phil that JARVIS was tracking his every waking moment or having Tony contact him just to flirt or Tony randomly showing up in his hotel room on the occasional assignment which took Phil out of New York.
Hell, it no longer took him aback when the man showed up on his bed in the Tower. Although first time Clint did the same, Phil had thought he ended up in the wrong room somehow. It took a long conversation with him before Clint convinced him as to why he was there. Because all joking aside, Phil hadn’t expected that either. Nor did he expect the depth of how much Clint came to matter to him beyond what he always thought as friendship.
These days whenever he got headaches Phil no longer blamed them on Tony Stark.
He did, however, blame them on the entire Avengers team.
End
*
*
*
RANDOM EXTRA (which didn’t fit the rest of the story but insisted it be writ.)
Phil wished he could stop the competition Tony and Clint had developed over who was Phil’s favorite Avenger. According to their rules, Captain Rogers was out of the running because childhood heroes weren’t allowed to compete.
They kept score with kisses which didn‘t make sense in the least to him until Clint had pointed out that since Phil was letting them get close enough to plant one on him without him promptly killing them then it counted as a point in favor of the kisser.
It didn’t take long for the rest of the team --amused by the whole thing-- to decide to join in.
Since he couldn’t stop them at very least Phil wished they would stop trying to slip him some tongue. So help him, Phil was going to taser them all. One day. When they least expected it.
Even if they were all his favorites.
End