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“...I don’t think we can base this completely on brain chemistry...”
“...but, Fitz! Our dopamine levels are fluctuating wildly and...”
Phil Coulson suppressed a wince at the increasingly loud discussion taking place in the center of the lab. Fitzsimmons’ bickering wasn’t helping the sharp pounding in Phil’s head or the vague instinct that he should be doing something else. In his chest, Phil’s heart was beating like he’d been fighting for his life and no amount of slow, deep breathing was helping calm his racing pulse. Even Phil’s skin felt two sizes too small, like he was going to vibrate right out of it. Sucking in another lungful of air, Phil tuned out the arguing scientists and let it out slowly. He needed to hold on to the fraying edges of his control and keep his team together or they’d never figure out what was going on.
The last thing Phil remembered was waking up confused on the cold, cracked concrete floor of a deserted facility just outside of Tokyo. He had a hazy recollection of ordering the whole team off the Bus to gather information and samples from the building because they’d been sent there to investigate… something. Someone had tripped something in the main laboratory inside the facility, causing the whole lab to slam shut and a white gas to be pumped in through the vents. After that, there had been some bright flashes of light, but whenever Phil tried to concentrate on that -- or what they’d been at the facility for -- a sharp pain started drilling into his temples. That in itself would have been weird enough, but when Phil and the rest of his team had woken up from the effects of the drug on the cold, cracked concrete floor, they hadn’t been alone. Agents Clint Barton and Jasper Sitwell had also been trapped in the lab and knocked out by the gas, with no clear memories how they’d got there.
Phil had immediately ordered everyone back to the nearest biocontainment facilities he could think of -- Fitzsimmons’ lab on the Bus. However, even as large as the lab was, it hadn’t hadn’t been designed to house eight adults in comfort for an extended period of time, particularly when they were all under the influence as a yet unknown drug. Almost as soon as they’d sealed themselves in and sent a message back to SHIELD as per procedure, Fitzsimmons had started using what they’d gathered from the deserted facility to figure out what had happened to them. Jasper had commandeered a computer nearby, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses and his nose scrunched as he went over the data. Skye had flitted around for a while, alternately asking Fitzsimmons questions about the computer systems at the facility and interrogating Jasper and Clint for details on who they were. Phil had to admit, Clint’s confounded expression when Skye had worked out who he was had been priceless.
Phil just wished they’d made a little more progress in the last two hours.
All they’d managed to establish so far about the drug and the mission was that the more they tried to figure things out, the more Phil’s head had pounded and the more jittery he got. From everyone’s short and fraying tempers, he wasn’t the only one feeling that way, either. Now that they’d realised going over the mission briefing wasn’t helping, Melinda had retreated to lean against the wall at one end of the lab, her arms folded over her chest and her dark eyes watching everyone else and Clint had all but disappeared, which was impressive in the confined space. Agent Ward was pacing the longest path around the lab he could, his hands curling in and out of fists at his sides as he walked, carefully avoiding Fitz’s workstation. Skye was curled up in the corner of the lab, well away from anyone else, tapping intently on her phone. She was trying to appear as if she wasn’t paying any attention to Ward’s pacing, but Phil could see her twitch slightly every time the agent walked close.
“Oh my God!” Skye finally snapped, her voice rising above Fitzsimmons, who were still bickering loudly on the other side of the lab. “Ward! Seriously! The bathroom is over there,” she said, pointing.
Ward narrowed his eyes at her and frowned, but said nothing.
Reaching up, Phil rubbed a hand over his face. Stubbornly going over the mission briefing probably wasn’t productive, but Phil was determined to figure out why the facts he read kept slipping away from him. As a result, his headache was definitely getting worse and he doubted that was a good sign. Clint’s silent presence came up behind him a moment later and Phil only suppressed his automatic shudder because he’d had so much practice. Ever since Loki, he hated it when someone stood behind him where he couldn’t see -- even when that person was Clint, who Phil trusted with his life.
“Sorry,” Clint said quietly as he stepped carefully to the side.
Phil smiled ruefully. He was always amazed by how much Clint saw. “Is everything okay?” he asked.
“You mean aside from the fact we were all dosed with an unknown drug by a potential terrorist organisation we can’t remember and quarantined in a lab?” Clint shot back, his grin the familiar teasing expression Phil was used to, but Phil noticed the way the humour wasn’t reflected in Clint’s eyes.
“Clint?” Phil said, turning to face the archer.
Clint folded his impressive arms across his chest and leaned a hip against the counter next to Phil. Phil pretended his gaze didn’t dip from Clint’s face. “Do you want to stop stubbornly reading all your mission files, Phil?” Clint said, his tone quiet and his eyes serious. “You’re head has to be hurting pretty bad by now.”
Phil sighed. “Yeah, it is,” he replied. “It’s just… we should be able to remember the mission details. You, Ward, Melinda, Jasper… we’re all experienced field agents.”
“Even the most experienced field agents can’t account for whackjobs and their designer chemicals, Phil,” Clint replied softly. “Neither can you.”
Making a wry grimace at the easy way Clint read what was really going on in his mind, Phil sighed again. “Maybe not,” he conceded, “but you can’t deny the details would be very useful right now.”
Clint shrugged, looking like he was going to reply, but a short chime interrupted them. Glancing at his watch, Phil realised they were due for another check-in and the familiar voice of Maria Hill echoed over the Bus’ radio. “SHIELD 616, this is HQ,” she said. “What’s your update in status?”
“The 0-6-9 is still ongoing,” Phil answered, using the SHIELD code for the situation. “We haven’t had much luck coming up with an antidote.”
“And your physical symptoms?” Dr. Streiten added from where he was remotely monitoring them via SHIELD Medical.
Phil nodded for Simmons to take over. “I’ve been able to ascertain that the drug is based on a cocaine derivative that triggers a large release of dopamine,” she said, her words speeding up as she got caught a little in her excitement. “However, after the initial dose, it’s like the dopamine is being inhibited somehow. We’ve all been showing the expected results of that -- impaired motor control, agitation, nausea and corresponding increase in all the stress hormones… It’s actually quite fascinating.”
“What about your headaches?” Dr. Streiten said.
“Well, no one’s head has fallen off yet,” Jasper said dryly.
Phil glanced over at his old friend and Jasper shrugged. “Anything on your end?” Phil asked Maria when it didn’t look like Simmons was going to add anything else.
“SHIELD hasn’t picked up any new chatter on the Black Dawn and we still haven’t tracked where they’ve gone,” Maria replied.
Phil frowned and beside him, Clint was doing the same. “The Black… what?” Clint asked, wincing slightly.
Over the radio, Maria sighed. “The Black Dawn,” she repeated. “You were investigating their facility when you were drugged.”
Irritatingly, Phil could feel the name slipping away almost as soon as Maria had said it. “I assume you’re still having trouble remembering the mission details?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Phil replied. “No matter how many times I go over the briefing information -- and I think it’s getting worse.”
Maria was silent for a moment. “Hang in there, Coulson,” she said softly, before her voice returned to its normal business-like tone. “I’ll check back in in another hour for a progress update. HQ out.”
Phil sighed and ran his hand over his face again. Clint shifted closer, his eyes concerned.
“So…” Skye said, breaking the quiet that had fallen over the lab. “This kind of thing happens often enough that you have a procedure for it? The 0-6… thing?”
“0-6-9,” Ward said as he resumed his pacing. “Agents exposed to an unknown drug or chemical.”
“SHIELD really has paperwork for everything,” Skye muttered.
“Oh, yeah,” Jasper said dryly. “Besides, bad guys love drugging people. Although usually it’s just some variation of a truth serum.”
“Ha!” Skye snapped. “I knew there was a truth serum.”
“Actually,” Simmons chimed in, looking up from her computer, “the application of truth serums was first documented 1930, by Dr. William Bleckwinn and they’ve been in use around the world ever since.”
Skye pointed her finger accusingly at Ward, but Ward cut in before she could do more than open her mouth. “That doesn’t mean SHIELD has a truth serum and uses it against its own agents,” he said.
Clint moved closer to Phil so he could lean in, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Did you do that trick when you pretended to drug one of your own team so your new stray would believe anything he said again?” Clint asked quietly, sliding his hand unobtrusively under Phil’s suit jacket to rest on Phil’s waist.
Phil could feel the warmth of Clint’s hand through his shirt and somehow, the touch pushed back the pounding at Phil’s temples. “Maybe,” he replied, clearing his throat a little when his voice came out a little hoarse.
“Sneaky ninja,” Clint said fondly.
Phil was interrupted from replying when another argument erupted on the other side of the lab. Clint stepped away from Phil as if he was going to attempt to break it up and as soon as his hand left Phil’s waist, the throbbing pain in Phil’s head returned with vengeance and his thoughts turned fuzzy. With a start, Phil realised Clint’s touch had helped with both his headache and keeping his thoughts clear. Reaching out a hand, Phil grabbed Clint’s forearm and immediately, his headache started to fade again and if anything, the touch of his hand against bare skin made it even quicker than the first time. “Did you..?” Phil began.
“Feel that?” Clint interrupted. “Oh yeah.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Does this mean I can finally persuade you to take your shirt off?”
Phil rolled his eyes and turned to Fitzsimons, raising his voice to be heard over their loud and complicated discussion. “I have a new symptom,” he called out.
Jasper’s head snapped up as Fitzsimmons trailed off. “What kind of symptom?” he demanded.
“Touch seems to help,” Phil told him. “When Clint is touching me or I’m touching him my headache isn’t so painful and my thoughts are clearer. I can almost remember the name of the terrorist organisation we were investigating.”
Jasper narrowed his eyes. “Interesting,” he said.
“Oh!” Simmons said, blinking. “That might actually work!”
“What would work?” Fitz immediately asked her. “And this still doesn’t explain the subliminal commands or the fact that we don’t know what they’re telling us to do…”
Phil was about to ask Simmons for clarification on whatever it was she’d just worked out, when Melinda pushed off the wall she’d been leaning against and started stripping off her jacket and shirt. Fitz trailed off in the middle of his sentence when he worked out what was going on, his eyes going wide and even Ward stopped pacing as Skye scrambled to her feet. Clint, not to be outdone, stripped of his t-shirt too and sank back into the embrace as Melinda -- now clad only in her pants and bra -- wrapped her arms around him.
“Coulson’s right. It works,” she said after a moment.
Clint leered in Phil’s direction. “Want to join us Phil?”
“Well, I feel like I’ve just stumbled into the beginning of a porno,” Skye muttered.
Simmons turned to her. “Actually, it’s quite clever. Dopamine is a reward hormone, so the longer the brain goes without it, the more agitated we’re getting. All we need to do to remove those effects is inhibit the receptors with another large dose of dopamine, or better yet, oxytocin, which you can do through touch, or even sex.” Simmons cheeks flushed pink when she realised what she’d just said. “Obviously, touching it the better option. Platonic touching between consenting adults that is in no way inappropriate for the situation.”
There was a moment of silence as everyone digested Simmons’ words and she tried to hide behind her computer. “So we have to what? Cuddle?” Skye said skeptically.
Simmons nodded and cleared her throat. “Essentially yes,” she said. “The response will be even stronger with skin-to-skin contact.”
“Oh no!” Fitz yelled. “I’m not cuddling anyone naked.” He took a large step backwards until Simmons was between him and the rest of the lab. “And we haven’t even discussed what’s going to happen about the subliminal commands.”
Phil frowned. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned that,” he said. “What subliminal commands?”
“The ones we were given that’s making us forget the name of the terrorist group,” Fitz said. “I was analysing the device Ward found on the wall and it’s designed to admit a series of light pulses at specific frequencies that could be used to target certain areas of the brain.”
“Oh, that’s brilliant!” Simmons said. “Combined with the drug that would give the brain an incentive for the command to be followed and it would become increasingly difficult to resist.”
“What about removing the commands?” Clint asked.
Phil glanced over at the archer and took in the tension in his body and his hunched shoulders, no matter how much he was trying to pretend he was completely relaxed. Part of Phil wanted to walk over their and wrap his arms around Clint too, particularly considering his recent history with Loki. Phil might have a new team to worry about, but he’d never stop feeling like he needed to keep Clint safe.
“As long as we can cause a large release of oxytocin, it should remove the need to follow whatever instructions we’d been given and they’d cease to be effective,” Simmons said with an encouraging smile. “I think.”
“You think?” Melinda said, her dark eyes narrowed and her arms still wrapped tightly around Clint. Apparently, Phil wasn’t the only one who felt protective towards him.
“Well, without ascertaining the precise centers of the brain affected by the light pulses its hard to say anything with one hundred percent certainty,” Simmons said.
“What she means,” Jasper said, “is that it should work.”
Simmons grinned, looking impossibly excited for a moment, before her cheeks went pink again. Phil had to stop himself from smiling at the sight. Both Fitz and Simmons had been excited to meet Jasper when they realised who the other agent was and Phil was beginning to think there was a little more than just respect for a fellow scientist of Fitzsimmons’ side.
“Okay,” Skye said. “Looks like we’re cuddling.”
Ward backed up a step when Skye turned in his direction. “Are we sure there’s not another solution to this?” he asked, his eyes faintly beseeching as he glanced at Phil.
“There’s got to be a different way to release oxytocin,” Fitz chimed in, nodding.
Simmons rolled her eyes. “It’s the simplest way, Fitz,” she said. “And it’s not like we haven’t done worse at university. Like that time in the physics lab…”
Spinning around, Fitz shoved a hand over Simmons’ mouth. “You promised we were never going to talk about that!” he hissed. “Ever.”
Skye immediately looked interested. “Talk about what?” she said with a grin.
Phil knew this was probably the moment to take charge of the situation before anyone went looking for youtube videos. “Is there any particular way we should do this?” he asked.
Simmons removed Fitz’s hand from her mouth. “I think just as much skin contact as everyone is comfortable with should be enough,” she said. “Oxytocin is sometimes called the cuddle hormone. The only factor that would make the release larger is well…” Simmons trialled off again, blushing.
“Is what?” Ward asked, his eyes narrowed.
“Arousal,” Jasper said dryly, his eyes dancing with amusement. “So maybe try your half-naked cuddling with someone in his room you’re attracted to.”
Phil arched his eyebrow as Ward and Fitz immediately looked in opposite directions to each other. Skye was openly grinning, her eyes darting between Ward, Clint and Melinda. Simmons shrugged, before catching Fitz in a tight hug before he could escape anywhere. Clint waggled his eyebrows at Phil again. “Now you have no excuse not to come and cuddle with me,” he said with a grin.
Giving in with a sigh, Phil slid off his jacket and started unknotting his tie. Half the lab went still at his movement, including Fitz who watched with wide eyes as he clung to Simmons. Clint looked mildly disappointed that Phil wasn’t taking off his shirt, too, but happily pulled Phil into an embrace when he walked close enough.
“You know, before I signed up to SHIELD, I would never have believed anyone who told me this would ever happen in my life,” Skye said, reaching for the hem of her t-shirt.
“I think that describes most people’s lives before the join SHIELD,” Jasper told her.
“That’s true,” Simmons agreed.
“We should totally call this cuddle pollen!” Fitz exclaimed suddenly.
“Fitz!” Simmons said. “You can’t call it cuddle pollen!”
“Why not?” Fitz shot back.
“Well, for starters, it’s not even pollen! You’re being ridiculous…”
Phil sighed, trying to decide whether it was worth the bother of trying to stop Fitzsimmons from arguing again. Despite the cost to his professional reputation, he was actually pretty comfortable where he was, Clint wrapped around him on one side and Melinda on the other. It didn’t hurt that they were both still shirtless, either. Warmth was soaking in through the cotton of his shirt, easing his headache and for the first time since he’d been drugged, Phil felt truly calm instead of just faking it -- which was probably why he only rolled his eyes at what Clint’s fingers were doing. “Do you mind?” he asked dryly, grabbing Clint’s hand as it wandered in the direction of his groin again.
Clint gave him a slow, wicked grin and propped his chin on Phil’s shoulder. “Come on, Phil,” he coaxed. “I promise you’ll like what I’m going to go with my fingers.”
“That may be so,” Phil replied, “but there are some things I would prefer not to do in front of my team.”
Leaning in, Clint pressed a kiss to Phil’s throat above the collar of his shirt. “Okay,” he agreed, settling down beside Phil again.
Phil was a little wary at the easy compliance, but he let it go. He also ignored the way Melinda’s slim hands had slipped in between the buttons of his shirt to rest against his chest. It was helping. Instead, he turned his attention to the other side of the lab where Ward was keeping a sharp eye on Fitzsimmons, clearly expecting someone to leap towards him, despite the fact that Fitzsimmons were still discussing the merits of actually referring to what had happened to them all as ‘cuddle pollen’. Jasper rolled his eyes beside them all. “You know, the cuddle solution only works if you all actually cuddle,” he pointed out, stripping off his shirt and tie.
Before anyone could answer him, Ward yelled and jumped about three feet away from the lab bench. Phil felt one of his eyebrows rise as Ward glared accusingly at Skye, who was standing nearby smirking. “Cuddling does not involve my ass,” Ward growled.
Skye shrugged. “What?” she said when she caught Phil looking. “Like there aren’t other people in here who would have tried something.”
“You know,” Jasper said, surveying the lab. “This would probably be easier if we had something comfortable to sit on.”
“Good idea,” Ward said, leaping towards the supply cupboards.
It didn’t take them long to gather what they needed and by the time they’d built a nest of blankets in a corner of the lab, even Fitz was starting to look a little less freaked out by the idea of cuddling with his team mates -- although Phil suspected this had something to do with whatever Simmons was whispering in his ear. Phil decided to ignore it, because he didn’t really want to know what the two geniuses were planning. Fitzsimmons might not have been as destructive as Stark and Banner, but Phil still didn’t want to deal with it when they either tackled Jasper or Ward.
Phil was distracted from that a moment later when strong arms settled around his waist and pulled him down onto the nest of blankets. Blinking, he looked up at both Melinda and Clint as they poked and prodded him until he was where they wanted him. Pulling his shirt out of his pants and undoing a few of the buttons, Melinda curled protectively around Phil’s back, one of her hands sliding underneath his shirt to rest on his ribs. Phil involuntarily tensed at having someone behind him, before he let Melinda’s familiar scent remind him that he was safe. “Easy, Coulson,” she said softly in his ear. “I’ve got you.”
“We both do,” Clint agreed, settling down against Phil’s front.
Clint hooked one of his legs around Phil’s, slipping his hand under Phil’s shirt to tangle his fingers with Melinda’s and pressing his face into the space between Phil’s shoulder and neck, his warm breath teasing over Phil’s skin. Clint’s solid weight was reassuring and Phil wanted nothing more than to let his eyes drift shut and enjoy the heat of Melinda and Clint curled around him and the way his agitation and headache were fading with every breath -- but he had to check on the rest of his team first. Clint huffed as Phil shifted, but let him sit up slightly, because Clint knew better than most about Phil’s need to keep his team safe and happy.
Jasper, naked to the waist, was snuggled up behind Melinda, with Simmons pressed up against his other side. He and Simmons had their heads dipped towards each other and from the hand gestures and grin on Simmons’ face, they were clearly talking about something scientific. Fitz was holding one of Simmons’ hands, looking torn between joining in her hushed conversation with Jasper and staring at Ward, who had also lost his t-shirt. Skye was prodding Ward in Fitz’s direction impatiently, stripped down to her jeans and bra and completely ignoring the faint blush that was covering Ward’s cheeks. When she finally deemed him to be close enough to Fitz, she smiled and latched onto him like an octopus with a smile. Phil had to bit back a grin at the way Ward finally gave in with a sigh, before shooting a very shy look towards Fitz. Gazing over his team, Phil noticed that they were all starting to look more relaxed, lines of tension fading from their faces at the shared contact.
Settling back down and feeling Clint curl around him tighter, Phil was struck by a thought. “How long do we have to stay like this?” he asked.
“Are we keeping you from something important, Coulson?” Melinda said pointed, her eyebrow arched slightly, but knowing amusement lighting her eyes.
“No,” Phil replied, shifting a little closer. “Just wondering what I’m going to tell Maria when she radios for check in soon.”
He felt Clint smile against the skin of his throat, Clint’s face still pressed into the space between Phil’s shoulder and neck. “Hours,” he muttered. “I vote hours.”
“Hours?” Ward said a little plaintively from the other side of the nest.
“Give it up, Ward,” Skye said. “You love it.”
“It’s fun,” Simmons said brightly. “Just like a giant sleepover, only with less popcorn and movies. And honestly, I don’t think it will take more than two hours, maybe three, to get our brain chemistry stabilised again.”
“That’s if this actually works,” Fitz grumbled.
“Fitz!” Simmons huffed.
“Look at it this way,” Clint said, rolling his hips against Phil’s before Phil could stop him. “If this doesn’t work we can always move onto Plan B.”
“Just like the old days,” Melinda agreed.
Helplessly, Phil laughed as Skye, Fitzsimmons and Ward all erupted into questions behind him, warm and more content than he’d been in a long time. “Yeah,” he agreed as he let his eyes shut. “Just like the old days.”
Fin.