Chapter Text
July 9th, 2014. 11:12PM EST
The Bronx, New York
Phil had been forcibly sent home after a psych evaluation was conducted. Showing signs of what Hill half called 'near death PTSD' (although he considered it normal for the job after all). He parked his car at the end of his urban New York home and fumbled with the keys. He slowed to a stop, seeing across the way his neighbor's lights mostly turned off.
Now he wasn't a snooper - Steve's vintage baseball cards didn't count - but he would've liked to believe that he knew his neighbors well enough to know, by now, that they've never been mostly off.
Not like this.
He rubbed his forehead and started across the street in stride. "Hello? Anyone home?"
Phil knew maybe a handful of things about the family - they were reclusive for sure. The mother Irene, especially condescending, wrapped up in images and perfection. The father Mark had his own troubles - Phil having overheard plenty of times him threatening to whoop his kid.
Coulson disapproved of it silently of course, but the weight of the mostly darkened house lingered on his mind. He started up the steps and knocked once, then thrice, before the door opened up a crack. A blue eye poking out, barely as tall as Coulson's waist.
Phil's mouth twisted down slightly, "Hey kiddo. Is it just you here?"
The kid shook their head, hesitantly signing, 'I'm not supposed to answer the door.'
Coulson crouched down, meeting the kid's height. "Well," He paused, "I was just worried; I live across the way. You alright?" He took in what view he had of the house - It's conditions uncharacteristically filthy. Right down to the way there was a stench lingering in the air.
The kid, their eyes heavy with eyebags, simply moved the door open more. Signing, 'Don't tell mom I let you in, she'd kill me.'
Phil gently nodded, "Of course, just want to make sure you're doing okay." He stepped inside, looking around to the mildew on the living room walls. "Are you deaf?" He made quiet conversation while tasking mentally how to move them out of their parents' care.
The kid just followed like a duckling, nodding their head simply. Coulson took note of how small they seemed, "Can you tell me your name kiddo?"
They signed back, 'Y/N. I'm seven.' concentrating on not flying their fingers too fast. They put their hands to their sides, eyes hardening with frustration and hunger.
Coulson exhaled softly, "C'mon. I can take you to work in a few days with me, how'd you feel about the Avengers?"
Over the next few days, Coulson, had many conclusions to draw about Y/N. Mostly how they preferred the sides of sandwiches cut off, had a night routine, and despised loungewear. All things Coulson's seen plenty of times in the field - across every country - but not the extent.
Y/N grunted, shoving loungewear back into his hands. 'I don't want this; can we get better clothes if you're going to legally kidnap me?'
Coulson choked on a laugh, biting out, "Attitude much? But sure, we can get something better." and pat them on the head. "That's incredible for someone deaf."
Y/N grinned toothily, signing dramatically, 'Thank you Sir Coulson.' and slid across the tile floor to the temporary room Coulson placed them in until SHIELD was properly informed. The windows rattled with hot gusts of air, but it would work.
In the kitchen, Coulson flipped through custody paperwork. The stack of child custody paperwork in front of him was endless, thick, uneven and frankly ridiculous in Coulson's opinion. He sighed about it and sent a text out to Hill, flipping his phone open and pressing into Hill's contact.
Hill, I've got a situation.
Weren't you supposed to be off?
I was but listen. It's my neighbor's kid, they were left in this disgusting house, and I think we gotta do something.
Details?
Y/N L/N. Appears around 7 years old, maybe 8. House was filthy, mildew on the walls, parents are known for abuse threats and currently nowhere in sight. I'd guess they've been left here a while atleast.
I'll get local CPS on the line when I finish the incident report.
Incident?
Tony blew up a microwave
Figures. He blame it on dumm-e?
You know it. Shoot me a text when you complete the custody papers, I'll fast-track them.
Love you Hill. What would we do without you.
Probably die <3 See you in two days.
See you soon.
Phil flung his phone shut with a smile, rubbing his face and getting up from the kitchen table. He jolted suddenly, "Shit!" when Y/N was already in the doorway. He swallowed, "Kid you good?"
They signed, 'I think you have rats.' and gestured towards a back bedroom. Coulson blinked once before grabbing a broom, "C'mon, let's teach you the fine art of ratbeating."
Y/N let out a sharp laugh in their chest, tailing Coulson down the hallway with their own crusty old broom.