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“So, then I said, ‘Fine, see if I care,’” Leo says glumly, hands wrapped around his rapidly cooling mug.
Clint nudges him. The Summer Bistro Blend he’s perfected doesn’t taste half as good cold. “And then what happened?”
Leo obediently takes a sip. “What?” he asks, blinking. “Then nothing. I left.”
“Aw,” Clint complains, leaning away from the counter. “Really? I thought you said Mack was the best thing that ever happened to you.”
Leo slumps down further in his chair. “Yeah, so what?” he mutters bitterly. “I said the same thing about Grant, too. I say the same thing every time.”
“Well,” Clint admits, scratching his day-old beard, “you’re not wrong about that. I don’t know about Mack, though. I thought he was something special.”
Leo takes a dejected sip of his coffee. “He wasn’t. He lied to me. Just like all the others.”
Clint makes a face. Humans do tend to lie a lot - they lie and they cheat and they focus so much on the unimportant things, they miss the big stuff all around them. It makes Clint’s job harder. People can’t see the auras that surround them, the colours that shift when they meet the right person, two energy fields complementing each other perfectly. It means that so many times, two or three people who would be wonderful together miss their chance, because they don’t realize the possibilities all around them.
Clint doesn’t have an aura, because of what he is. He envies humans their chance for love.
Clint turns away from Leo and grabs a rag from the sink, wiping down the counter to give himself time to think. He’s not sure he can see a way out of this. Mack and Leo’s auras match up perfectly - a beautiful shifting combination of silver, blue, and green - but then again, so do a lot of people’s. It doesn’t make what Mack did any less wrong, or impose that Leo’s under any sort of obligation to forgive him.
Still, the possibility is there.
“Just think about it,” Clint says, giving the counter another pass. “Try to see things from his perspective.”
Leo nods glumly, but he doesn’t look up.
Clint sighs and goes back to his other customers. There’s a trio of ladies sitting on the couch by the window, all laughing and talking. Their auras are bright and shining - lots of pinks and greens and bright, aquamarine blues. They sparkle, but they don’t complement each other. Good friends, then, who enjoy each other’s company, but nothing that says they could live together and be happy for the rest of their lives.
An older couple sit together by the roaster. They’re regulars, married sixty-three years, and seeing them together never fails to bring a smile to Clint’s face. Their auras are so linked, they’re almost one shimmer - a beautiful, solid connection of a beautiful, deep green-gold.
At the end of the counter is another couple, awkward, on what is clearly a first date. The woman is new to Clint, her aura a shifting white-yellow, and she smiles like she’s enjoying herself, but her date clearly isn’t.
He’s a regular, maybe even a friend, and his aura is the same deep, dark purple that it always is. Clint winces. Purple and yellow - absolute opposites on the colour scale.
The man looks like he knows it. His smile is pleasant, but his shoulders are tight, and the look he shoots Clint over his shoulder is desperate.
Clint sighs. He’d left Phil to fend for himself while he talked with Leo. Maybe it’s time to rescue him, too.
“Hey, Phil!” Clint says, crumpling his dishrag in his hand and walking over. “I just remembered - have you seen the latest episode of Dog Cops? It was awesome. Man, I love that show.”
The woman wrinkles her nose. “Dog Cops?” she asks. “Isn’t that a little… juvenile?”
Clint doesn’t need to fake feeling insulted. “What? Who are you to - oh.” He backpedals, looking from her to Phil. “You’re on a date. I’m sorry. I’ll just - ” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Go back over here.”
The look Phil shoots him is nothing short of relieved, which quickly changes to a polite smile when the woman rounds on him.
Clint tunes out the rest of their conversation as he walks back to the counter, wiping the rag over his coffee machines until the chrome is gleaming.
He sighs. He shouldn’t be so hard on Phil - it’s Clint’s own fault that Phil brought his date here. Phil’s been a regular since Clint’s early days of opening the shop, a security consultant who works for Stark Industries just up the road. Clint’s always encouraged him to view this place as a sort of second home. He likes the way Phil looks slumped in one of Clint’s chairs after a long day, likes the way his tie gets loosened and his cufflinks undone.
He likes the way Phil moans around his cup when he’s trying a new coffee, too. The way his mouth opens, tongue peeking out, eyes falling shut as his eyelashes quiver.
It’s ridiculous, of course. Phil’s a human - a mortal - and Clint’s kinda not. Still, when Phil had finally decided to get back into the dating game several years after a failed relationship, Clint hadn’t realized his comfort with the shop would mean he’d bring all his dates here.
This is the fifth one in as many weeks. Clint’s getting tired of it.
Over in the corner, the woman is shaking her head. Clint turns away. His daily dark roast is almost gone and he’ll need to fill another carafe. Emptying the remains into Phil’s favourite mug, he adds creamer and milk, and then slides the finished coffee into place just as Phil takes his regular seat with a sigh.
“Thank you,” Phil says, wholeheartedly, lifting the mug to his lips.
Clint smiles and doesn’t quite manage to look away fast enough, instead catching a glimpse of Phil’s pink tongue.
Behind him, the door chimes and the woman Phil had been on a date with leaves without a backward glance.
“Are you thanking me for the coffee, or the save?” Clint asks. He doesn’t mean his tone to come out quite so teasing, but then again, he’s always too honest with Phil.
“Both,” Phil assures him, lips curving upwards into a smile. In contrast to the expression he’d worn on his date, this one reaches his eyes.
Clint bites his cheek and looks away. “So, um,” he says, nodding towards the door. “Another crash and burn?”
Phil sighs, slumping forward in his chair. Clint’s coffee shop used to be a bar, and when he’d converted it, he kept the long wooden counter strung along the back. Clint likes it. It means that customers can sit in the scattering of chairs and couches he keeps by the windows, or perch on the barstool with their elbows on the counter like Phil is doing now.
“This one wasn’t my fault,” Phil defends. “Skye is the one who set me up with her, who said she’d be perfect, and that we’d have,” he sets his mug down so he can make air quotes, “‘plenty of mutual interests.’”
Clint makes a face. “Mutual interests? She didn’t like Dog Cops, Phil.”
“Yes, well,” Phil says, dropping his hands and smiling. “Most of my colleagues don’t realize I’m such a complete dork. That right is reserved for you.”
Clint can’t help but smile. “It’s good to know I’m special.”
Phil’s cheeks turn pink and he looks away. “You are,” he says softly, and then clears his throat. “Anyway, the date was obviously a disaster. I’ll tell Skye tomorrow.”
Clint nods, but then notices the way Phil’s phone is blinking steadily on the counter. Text is scrolling across it, almost faster than he can read. “Uh, you might not have to wait until then.”
Phil blinks and glances over at his phone. “What? Oh, my.” He picks up his phone and groans. “Skye.”
Clint chuckles. His eyesight, better than any human’s, can easily read the “OMG TELL ME HOW IT WENT” and “DON’T WORRY, I GOT ANOTHER SET UP 4 U NXT WK.” Embarrassingly, the phone chimes just as Phil turns the screen towards Clint. “YOU WILL NOT DIE ALONE. I GOT THIS.”
Phil frowns. He thumbs off the phone and tucks it away inside his jacket pocket. “I’m sorry,” he says, looking off-centered and embarrassed. “You didn’t need to see that.”
Clint smiles reassuringly. “It’s okay, Phil. Your friends are worried about you. That means they care.”
“I guess,” Phil says, with an awkward shrug. “To tell you the truth, I could do with a little less caring.”
“Aw, they just want to see you happy,” Clint comforts him.
Phil doesn’t say anything, just looks down at his coffee mug and fiddles with the handle.
Clint licks his lips. “So, um,” he says, grabbing his rag again. “If the dates haven’t worked out, have you ever tried ignoring their suggestions? Maybe Skye isn’t the best judge of character.”
Phil chuckles. “I’m going to tell her you said that.”
Clint groans. “Please don’t. I like my bits where they are.”
Phil smiles. “Yeah,” he agrees, “she’s a hellraiser. As for dating, though,” he shrugs, “I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve had much luck on my own.”
Clint bites his lower lip. That’s certainly true. The people Phil had brought around had been just as wrong for him as this date had been. That’s Clint’s personal opinion, though. He can admit that maybe he’s not the best judge.
“Listen, Phil,” Clint says hesitantly. Phil looks so dejected that Clint has to try and fix this, even if he doesn’t want to. “Isn’t there anyone you want to go out with? I mean, really want to, not just think you should?” Most of Phil’s dates had been lawyers and librarians, and while they’d seemed like very nice people, Clint doesn’t think Phil needs someone like that. “Isn’t there anyone else you could ask?”
He’s been keeping an eye out ever since Phil had started coming around the coffee shop, but there’s never been anyone his aura had immediately clicked with. Clint hasn’t exactly been trying, though. It's always been so much nicer to keep Phil for himself.
He needs to stop being so selfish. Phil deserves to be happy, even if settling into the perfect life would mean a life without Clint. Clint wishes it could be different, but he knows the rules.
Cupids aren’t allowed to fall in love with humans.
Phil shrugs, his eyes darting to Clint’s and then away again. “Kind of,” he admits. “There’s no way he’d say yes, though.”
Clint can’t help the surge of possessive jealousy that runs through him. “Well, maybe you should ask him,” he says, instead of demanding the guy’s name and phone number. “Give it a shot.”
Phil makes a face and drinks the last of his coffee. “That was delicious, thanks,” he says. He slides off his barstool and pushes a twenty dollar bill across the counter. “Here, for this coffee and the two on my date.”
“Wait, I’ll get you your change,” Clint tells him, keying open the register, but Phil’s already walking away.
“Don’t worry about it,” Phil says, lifting a hand and avoiding Clint’s eye. “I’ll see you later.”
Phil opens the door and leaves, the tiny chime above the doorway ringing softly as he goes. Clint watches him hunch his shoulders against the wind, head down as he crosses in front of the big glass windows and walks away in the direction of Stark Tower.
“... bye,” Clint says, under his breath.
He doesn’t realize he’s staring until one of the ladies in the corner raises her hand.
“Hi, um, hello? Could I get another latte please?”
Clint shakes himself out of his funk and steps forward. “Yeah, sure,” he says. “Give me a second. Vanilla hazelnut, right?”
“Right,” the girl says with a smile, turning back to her friends. Clint takes a deep breath. Enough is enough. This has clearly gone on too long. Phil’s miserable, and Clint’s the perfect person to help with that. If he’s developed feelings for the mortal, well, then, that’s his problem. He’s not going to make it Phil’s.
Clint’s going to find him somebody. He is. He’s a professional, after all.
And he’s not going to think about the way the sight of Phil can light up his day, how bantering with him can put a smile on Clint’s face. He’s not going to think about how adorable Phil looks when he gets lost in a subject he’s passionate about, or how his hands will come up and his voice will lift. He’s not going to remember how sometimes Phil will look over at him and smile, and how it’s like the entire world, with all its heartbreak and problems, goes away for a moment when Clint smiles back.
Nope, Clint thinks, measuring and grinding the espresso. Not going to think about that at all.
*
“You are such a complete failure,” Kate accuses, stomping into the apartment and waking Clint from the light doze he’d managed to drift into.
Clint blinks himself awake. As a demi-god, he doesn’t actually need sleep, but he likes to catch a few zz’s when he can. “Good morning to you, too. What are you doing here?”
“Mother called me,” Katie says, kicking off her shoes before reevaluating the state of his floor and putting them back on again. “She says you’re in big trouble.”
Clint frowns, sitting up. “She did not.” There’s no way their mother would say something like that. He’s hardly her favourite, but he is her oldest, and that always counts for something.
“Okay, not exactly,” Katie admits. She walks to his kitchen and opens his fridge, scanning the contents. “Ew.”
Clint winces. He’s not proud of the state of his fridge. There’s a package of hot dogs, some hard boiled eggs, and an open can of crushed tomatoes that had gone bad a decade or two ago.
“Ugh, don’t you eat?” Katie demands.
“I live in New York City, I order out,” Clint grumbles. He levers himself off the couch and makes it to the kitchen in time to grab the tomatoes from her hand and pitch it into the garbage before she can comment on it. He doesn’t need to look to make sure it lands perfectly. He is Cupid, after all.
“Uh-huh?” Katie asks, closing his fridge. She leans back against the door and crosses her arms over her chest. “Look, Clint - Mother might not have said much, but she did send me, so that should tell you how much trouble you’re in. So come on, spill.” She makes a grabbing motion with her hands. “What’s the beans?”
Clint rolls his eyes. “You’re mixing your metaphors up again.”
“And you’re avoiding eye contact,” Katie accuses. She taps her foot impatiently. “So? What? Are your numbers down?”
Clint frowns. “My numbers are fine,” he insists. They are. His coffee shop is a great place for people of like minds to sit and connect. He might not be reaching the record levels he set in the Greek Golden Age, but he’s doing all right.
“Okay, then,” Katie says, leading him on. “So, what’s going on? Why did I get pulled from San Francisco for this?”
Clint shrugs and looks away, not sure what to do with his hands. Should he put them in his pockets? Should he clasp them behind his back?
“Please tell me,” Katie says, and her voice is lower now. “You’re my big brother. I want to help.”
Clint feels something crack in his chest. Mother-dammit. Now she’s going to know his weaknesses. He drops his eyes to the floor and tries to keep his voice even. “It’s nothing much, Katie-Kate,” Clint says. “It’s just I think I, I think - ” He sighs. “I think I might’ve fallen in love with a human.”
“Oh, Clint,” Katie whispers. She looks crestfallen. “What happened?”
Clint sighs. “I don’t even know,” he admits. “It’s like - ” He gestures with one hand. “One day he just walked in, and my whole world shifted. I didn’t even realize it at first.”
Katie bites her bottom lip. “That’s terrible. That’s worse than I thought.”
Clint nods his head and looks away. He doesn’t know what to say.
“It’s okay,” Katie promises, crossing the short distance between them and putting her hands on Clint’s shoulders. “I’m here now. It’s going to be okay.”
Clint can’t help but laugh. “Oh yeah?” he asks. “How? You know this is practically the worst thing that can ever happen to one of us.”
Katie sighs, because she does. They all remember the trials of Eros and Psyche.
“Okay, yes, this is bad,” Katie admits. “But it’s all above-board, right? No fiddling with the fates, no scratching yourself with one of your own arrows?”
“Ew, Katie, no, of course not,” Clint protests. “You know I don’t use those anymore.” The arrows had been a gift that had seemed perfect at the time, until he - and all the other Cupids - had realized that forcing two people who weren’t meant to be together to love each other until the end of time was a terrible idea.
“I know, I know,” Katie soothes. She’s old enough to remember those dark times. “Besides, if that were the case, Mother wouldn’t be sending me, she’d be coming herself.”
Clint shivers. “Yeah, I know.” Their mother had been the one who’d ordered them to stop using the arrows, who’d confiscated them and hidden them away in the deepest vault.
Clint loves his mother, but he wouldn’t defy her for anything. She can be terrible in her anger.
“Okay, so, we know it’s all right,” Katie says, reassuringly. “There’s still time to fix this. We just need to get this human happy and settled with somebody else. That’ll work. I know you won’t mess with a love match.”
Clint nods unhappily. “Of course not.”
“Good,” Katie says, stepping away and clapping her hands together. “Okay, I got this.”
*
“I don’t got this,” Katie groans, slumping over the bar at Clint’s coffee shop.
Clint sympathetically mixes her a latte, lots of milk and sugar, just the way she likes it. “What happened?”
Katie flaps a hand in the general direction of Stark Industries. “I went in and met the guy you’re hung up on. It wasn’t hard to get into the building - a quick sidle and a bouquet of flowers, easy-peasy. I was going to scope him out, see if any matches came up immediately, that kind of a thing.” She sighs. “I got nothing.” She makes a popping motion with her lips. “Zip, zero, zilch.”
Clint frowns. “What do you mean? His aura is - okay, it’s unusual, but - ”
“‘Unusual?’” Katie repeats with a snort. “Clint, it’s monochromatic.”
“No,” Clint defends. “It’s purple. A dark purple, I’ll admit, but - ”
“Maybe the darkest purple ever,” Katie snorts. She’s obviously thinking about it. “Okay, fine,” she admits after a moment. “Maybe it is purple, which, if it is, wins him points. Purple is an awesome colour.”
Clint raises his hand for a fistbump. “You know it.”
She knocks their knuckles together. “But, anyways, it’s still remarkably steady. No variation at all. That is unusual.”
Clint blushes. “Yeah, well, that’s one of the things I like about him. He’s steady.”
Katie rolls her eyes. “He’s boring.”
“Hey!” Clint defends. “He is not! He’s funny, and smart, and this huge, secret nerd, and sometimes we can just talk for - ”
Katie raises an eyebrow.
Clint fumbles. “For, for hours,” he finishes lamely. His stomach sinks. “Oh, Mother’s Heart, I’ve got it bad, don’t I?”
“So bad,” Katie agrees. She sighs. “Look, Clint - if I didn’t know any better, I’d say this boy of yours was asexual.”
“Maybe,” Clint admits. He’s wondered at that himself. “But if he is, he’s not aromantic. He was in a long-term relationship once.”
“I know, I did my homework,” Katie agrees. “And besides, I’ve set up asexual aromantics before - they’re now two very platonic, very happy roommates, and the last I heard they were buying a house together. It’s adorable.”
Clint huffs a laugh. “Okay, so, what’s your point then? You’ve obviously got this.” He avoids her eye and grabs a rag, turning around to start wiping down his espresso machine.
“Clint,” Katie says, reaching over the counter to touch the back of his hand. “I’m saying that Phil isn’t asexual, but I do think he’s demi.”
Clint blinks. “Demi-sexual? As in, he’s only attracted to people he feels a deep connection to?”
Katie nods unhappily. “Yes. And if he is, that means that setting him up for a long-term, fulfilling relationship is going to take time, a lot of time. I’ve done it, but it takes an investment - sometimes days, sometimes years. And I think it’s going to be harder on you if you see him every day during that time.”
Clint swallows. “But he comes into the shop of his own free will, I can’t just - ” The look on her face stops him. “What are you saying?”
She gives him a tight smile. “I’m saying I think you should let him go.”
Clint’s stomach sinks. “Close the shop?”
She shrugs. “Maybe.”
“But I - ” Clint looks around. He likes this shop.
Katie follows his gaze. “You’ve done a great job with it, but it was never going to be forever, you know that, right? We don’t deal in forever. Not when it comes to ourselves.”
“I know,” Clint confesses, because he does. He’s been around long enough, after all. “I just didn’t think I’d have to let it go yet. I thought, I don’t know, after a couple more decades maybe…”
Katie shoots him a shrewd look. “You just don’t want to say goodbye to Phil Coulson.”
“Of course I don’t,” Clint admits. “I was supposed to have more time. He was going to find somebody, a good somebody, and then he’d be here less and less, and it’d be - ”
“Easier?” Katie guesses.
Clint’s shoulders slump. “I suppose so.”
Katie gives him a small smile. “Look at it this way, Clint, if you - ”
The chime of the door opening cuts her off.
“Hello?” Phil asks, poking his head into the shop and looking around. “Clint? Are you open? I - oh.” He stops, catching sight of Katie sitting at the counter, her fingers still resting on Clint’s hand.
“Phil!” Clint says, jerking his hand out from Katie’s and stepping forward, only to forget the counter is in his way. “Oof.” He stops. “Um. Hi. I’m not really open, but - ”
“No, it’s fine,” Phil says, interrupts. His eyes keep darting between Clint and Katie. “I’ll come back later.”
“I - ” Clint starts, but Katie cuts him off.
“That would be great, thank you,” she says, catching Phil’s eye.
Phil nods and backs away, blushing slightly. “Of course. I’m sorry, I - bye, Clint,” he says. The door closes. Through the windows they can see Phil hurrying away.
Clint feels nausea rise in his belly. “Oh, goddess.”
“Huh,” Katie says, still staring at the door. “That was interesting.”
“Interesting?” Clint demands, whirling on her. “He thinks we’re sleeping together! Which - ew, but also...” His shoulders slump. “Also nothing, I guess. It doesn’t matter. He’s going to be nothing but a memory soon, anyways.”
“Well,” Katie says, thoughtfully, “I guess that depends.”
Clint slumps over the bar. He feels sick. “Depends on what?”
“Depends on whether or not you’re willing to risk it,” Katie finishes.
Clint sighs. “What are you talking about?”
Katie shakes her head. “He’s attracted to you.”
Clint blinks and straightens. “What? He is not.”
“Oh yes, he is,” Katie assures him. “It’s not his aura, obviously, since you don’t have one and there’s nothing for his to complement, but it’s his mannerisms - the way his eyes dart to yours, the way he unconsciously licks his lips. Did you see the moment of unbridled hostility in his gaze when he looked at me? An emotion that was dampened immediately by the mistaken opinion that you aren’t interested in him.” She hums. “In fact, I’m willing to bet a decade’s worth of Cupid duty that he thinks you’re incredibly out of his league. He’s convinced that he’s never going to have a chance with you, and so he takes every platonic moment with you that he can get.”
Clint feels like he’s standing on quicksand. “Wait, but if he’s demi, then that means - ”
Katie nods. “He must have felt like this for some time. That’s probably why his aura never changes, because it’s already settled - on you.”
Clint feels sick. “But if that’s true, Katie, then we’re doomed. Both of us. There’s no way this ends happily. You know the stories.”
Katie sighs. “I do,” she admits. “I don’t know what you’re going to do, Clint, but if you want to try, maybe I could - ”
The door opens again.
“I’m so sorry,” Phil says, hands up as he leads the way into the shop. “I tried to tell her you were closed, but she insisted.”
Clint straightens automatically as a beautiful, red-headed woman follows Phil into the shop. He doesn’t recognize her face - her face always changes - but there’s no mistaking the look in her eyes, the presence, the familiarity in her smile when she looks at him.
“Mother,” Clint whispers.
Katie’s mouth drops open, but she valiantly steps in front of Clint. “Mother, please,” she starts, hands rising in front of her chest. “I know this looks bad, but this is all above-board. Clint swears - and I believe him - that nothing - ”
“Shh, child, I know,” Aphrodite says, stepping forward and linking her arm with Phil’s. Phil looks surprised, but he hides it well. “I’ve been watching the situation unfold. I know it’s unusual, but, well, I’m glad to see it’s not undeserved.” She pats Phil’s arm fondly. “Phil and I have been getting to know each other. He’s a very interesting individual.”
Phil, for his part, looks confused. “We’ve… been having lunch meetings,” he explains to Clint. “Ms. Romanova is a new employee at Stark Industries, and we’ve been trying to integrate her into the security measures.” He looks at Clint and mouths mother? where Aphrodite - were she human - couldn’t see.
“Yes, well, I confess that I had an ulterior purpose, Mr. Coulson,” Aphrodite informs him. “You see, Clint here is very dear to me. I’ve been worried about him for a number of years, but I’d noticed a change recently. You’ll understand my trepidation when I realized the cause of that change was you.”
She turns to look over her shoulder and smile at Kate. “I sent my daughter, Clint’s sister, to investigate the situation and see if she would come to the same conclusion. She has. Independent verification is always for the best, don’t you agree?”
Phil blinks. “Yes,” he agrees, “of course. When dealing with sensitive matters, independent verification usually is, but I fail to see - ”
“I know you do,” Aphrodite interrupts. She squeezes Phil’s hand and then steps away. “I’ll leave it to Clint to explain.”
“Mother,” Clint starts, hesitantly, eyes darting to Phil’s, and then to hers, and then back again. “I can’t. You know - we all know - that I can’t, couldn’t ever - ” He stops, and tries again. “Phil’s human. He’s mortal.”
“I know, my dear,” Aphrodite says. She takes Phil’s hand, leans forward, and presses a delicate kiss to his cheek.
Both Clint and Katie gasp. Phil just looks dazed.
“There,” Aphrodite says, satisfaction clear in her voice. “That should give you some options, at least.” She looks back at Clint and Kate. “Son, Daughter. We’ll meet later in the week for dinner, if you don’t mind.” She steps away from Phil, and without her presence at his side, he sways. “Mr. Coulson, I’m afraid we’ll have to reschedule. I look forward to seeing you again, and I hope very much that you’ll consider calling me ‘Mom.’” She winks at Clint before turning and walking out of the shop. The door chimes pleasantly as she goes.
Clint blinks, and then hurries forward to catch Phil before he can fall over. “Whoa, whoa, hold on there,” Clint says, maneuvering Phil into a chair. “Are you okay? Hold your breath for a second. That’ll help.”
“Uh - yeah - sure,” Phil says, and then clamps his lips shut. After a moment, colour comes back into his cheeks, and he breaths out. He looks up and meets Clint’s eyes. “What the hell just happened?”
“Well,” Clint says, nervousness bubbling up in his chest. “I guess I have a few things to tell you. It’s probably a good thing you’re already sitting down…”
Epilogue
“Well, I’m glad to hear the two of you had a wonderful first date,” Aphrodite says, her eyes twinkling as she raises her espresso to her lips.
Clint rolls his eyes, but he can’t stop the smile that feels permanently glued to his face. “Like you didn’t have spies in the restaurant, reporting on our every move.”
“Spies?” Aphrodite says with wide-eyed innocence. “Really, Clint. I can’t help it if small, pleasantly invisible fairies tend to follow new lovers around and comment on them occasionally to me. They are simply looking to curry favour. It would be cruel to deny them.”
“Uh-huh,” Clint says, and then shakes his head. “Okay, okay, enough about me. Let’s talk about Katie. I hear she went back to Stark Industries and spent two hours chatting with Phil’s protégé the other day, a cute computer hacker named Skye.”
“Oh, stop,” Katie says, rolling her eyes. She dunks her biscotti in the coffee Clint’s made for her before taking a bite. “It’s always nice to have connections in the human world.”
“Yeah, sure,” Clint teases. “If that’s all it is. I don’t know, Katie-Kate, I think love could be in the air.”
Aphrodite smiles. “With the two of you around - three,” she amends, as Phil steps through the door. “I hope so.” She smiles as Phil walks towards them, grabs a chair, and drags it next to Clint. “I most certainly do.”
Clint grins. Around them, the coffee shop bustles. The atmosphere is warm, friendly, and conversation flows easily. Couples meet, and kiss, and link arms, and good friends laugh and pass the time. The door chimes, and another smiling customer walks in.
“Thanks, Mother,” Clint says, tangling his hand together with Phil’s under the table. “I do, too.”
~ The End