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Chapter Text

Phil had never described himself as a masochist, and no one else ever had, either. But as he watched Tony Stark navigate the crowd and felt that distant stir of warmth in his stomach, Phil decided that a masochist was what he must be.

SHIELD had a hefty file on Stark, who had been the wold's premier weapons developer only five weeks ago. Phil had seen the file a time or two before, and this morning he'd given it a cursory glance-over before attending this little soiree in order to prepare himself for the shit storm that was Tony Stark.

But as he eyed Stark's nervous energy and crowd-pleasing smile, as the man brushed Phil off with an I-know-what-you-want-and-you-can-just-fuck-off roll of his eyes, and as he watched the man shamelessly flirt with his P.A. while she wore a backless dress, Phil realized he'd need to prepare himself for a whole different ball game.

Stark gave Ms. Potts a wide smile, a true smile, and Phil decided he wanted that smile for himself.

The other guests gathered near the bar looked at him in alarm when he stated, “The Director's going to be pissed.”

“What the hell is going on out there?” Fury hissed. “You assured me you were writing him a script!”

“I did, sir. And he promptly discarded the notes I gave him when he reached the podium,” Phil calmly explained. “I suggest we register Iron Man as a Special and begin preparing for any legal ramifications.”

“Deal with it, Coulson.”

“I will, sir.”

Phil ended the call and turned back to watch Tony Stark's grandstanding. The man wore a proud, cocky smile and he was positively beaming as cameras flashed and reporters yelled questions at him.

Phil allowed a grin to briefly stretch across his lips because no one was watching, and because it would take at least a month, if not two, to clean up this mess and stabilize the situation.

Phil was a bureaucrat. He was also a seasoned SHIELD agent and one of the organization’s finest handlers, but he was primarily a paper-pusher. And he took advantage of every extraneous form and bureaucratic bull shit protocol that he knew of in order to ensure that he enjoyed an extended stay at Stark's Malibu mansion.

“After you're finished with the preliminary documents, you'll need to fill out forms A-7 through A-15 as well as CA 438 and D797 – and you'll need those in triplicate-”

“Pepper!” Stark whined, turning towards his PA. Ms. Potts was leaning against the bar with a martini in one hand and her cell phone in the other.

“Don't even,” the woman snapped. “We wouldn't have to register your Iron Man as an 'Advanced Technological Prosthesis' if you'd just read the note cards. And I wouldn't have to deal with the Board or the press. You dug your grave, now lie in it!”

Stark knew better than to argue further – the press storm following his announcement had swamped Ms. Potts, and she'd been short tempered and ill mannered towards Stark for the past week.

Tony turned back to the piles and piles of paper spread across his coffee table. There were seven distinct piles that he could see, not to mention a full box which Agent hadn't dug into yet.

Tony felt helpless in the face of all that Times New Roman. Baddies with guns and jack-ass business partners trying to kill him and steal his company, he could handle. But paperwork? Reading all those pages in order to make sure there wasn't any fine print stating that he would be selling his soul to the devil (or the government) was exhausting. Not to mention the fact that he couldn't sign papers with his finger or a stylus. His hand hurt after holding a pen for an hour. Seriously, people had to get over their sentimentality towards pencils and paper and start living in the future.

“Why do I even need to do this?” he complained. “Iron Man is my personal intellectual property. And I refuse to build any for the government-”

“But you're flying into foreign countries and engaging hostile forces in battle. Half of this paperwork is to absolve the U.S. government of any involvement in the event that Iron Man causes massive damage or starts an international incident,” Agent explained with a bland smile. “These,” he continued, “are for your insurance company. Those are private patents to insure that your private intellectual property remains your private intellectual property. Those pages are a formal registration of your Iron Man as an 'Advanced Technological Prosthesis.' These are property damage reports related to the destruction of Stark Industry's development facilities, and those are the damage reports in relation to the incident on the highway.”

“And those?” Tony asked, motioning to the untouched box of documents by Agent's feet.

“I've agreed to assist Ms. Potts with the transfer of Mr. Stane's property and holdings into your name.”

Tony's heart sank at the reminder of his dead business partner and (faux) friend. The jackass hadn't changed his will before orchestrating Tony's kidnapping and attempted murder, probably as a ploy to divert speculation and suspicion of his involvement if fingers started pointing towards him. Therefore, upon his death, Tony inherited the entirety of Stane's assets as well as his portion of Stark Industries.

“Are you ready to begin, Mr. Stark?” Agent asked with a small, bland smile.

Tony wanted to smack the man. Or dump his drink on that pristine, generic suit. Or any number of other impulsive, immature actions.

Except that when they'd sat down to begin their discussion, Agent had very neatly flashed the gun holstered beneath his suit jacket and the stun gun at his belt. Pepper only ever had those sharp stilettos that he had to dodge from time to time. It figured that Agent would have neater, more effective means of making him behave.

Tony decided he'd give the man an hour of his time before wandering off to his workshop and locking the place down.

Working with Tony Stark was certainly entertaining, Phil found. He thought of the whole thing as a game. Stark would play nice for thirty minuets or an hour at a time, reading over the pages Phil put in front of him and absentmindedly filling them out. Then, he would throw a small but distracting tantrum or claim he had more pressing matters to attend to or he would stand up for a cup of coffee and simply disappear. Phil would have to track him down, interfere with his projects or simply provide a distracting presence while Tony tried to escape to his workshop. Eventually, Phil would drag the man kicking and screaming back to the living room to fill out a bit more paperwork.

Phil didn't mind when Stark was evasive or dragged his feet. The billionaire’s tantrums were works of art, lacking in any true motive but full of loud words, wide hand gestures, and unfounded accusations, effectively working anyone in the vicinity into a light rage. It wasn't until latter, after everyone had removed themselves from the situation, that they realized they weren't really angry about some guy on twitter said or why aren't there more milkshakes in front of me right now or whatever benign comment Stark decided to use to initiate a confrontation. Phil soon realized that while SHIELD agents were highly trained in controlling a situation by always maintaining a level head, Tony Stark had learned to control situations by causing chaos. It was highly effective, and Phil considered teaching the technique to new agents.

Then, when Stark realized that Phil was onto the game and wasn't rising to the bait, Stark turned to complaining, which was fun in an entirely different way. Stark said the most entertaining things while he complained. He made up fantastic and exciting excuses to avoid anything he didn't want to do, and he pouted beautifully when Phil remained unmoved by his pleas for freedom.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” Stark groused as Phil revealed that he'd had all of the coffee pots removed from the premises save for one so that the only available taste of caffeine could be found sitting next to a number of forms Stark needed to fill out. “You're driving me insane! And you're doing it on purpose! I know you are!”

“For a genius, it took you an astounding amount of time to figure that out,” Phil said easily. “Of course, your avoidance is only making it worse, you know.”

“Wait, did you just admit to drowning me in paperwork on purpose? What is this, SHIELD's passive aggressive form of punishment for going off the cards? But wait, we finished filling out all that SHIELD crap days ago. So where did the rest of this come from – Have you literally been pulling paperwork out of your ass?”

“Not from my ass, no.”

“I mean, when I see those piles of paper every day, I do notice that they're getting bigger, not smaller. That's an impressive skill set, Agent. Although I would have thought you'd want me out of your hair sooner rather than latter. Then again, I can understand why you'd want to live it up in my super amazing Malibu house for a while instead of sitting in whatever dank cubical your secret government organization gives you to work in. But still, I come with the house, and people usually only hang around me and my house for one thing and one thing only-”

Stark abruptly froze, his steps faltering, his eyes widening, and his mouth hanging open.

It was fun watching him work it out.

“Oh, Agent! You sly dog! Is this how you flirt with handsome, rich geniuses? Really, I'm flattered, but unless you didn't hear, I'm a pretty easy lay. Give me a drink and a leer and I'm good to go. You don't need to file and organize enough paper to kill a whole forest. Although I have to say, killing a forest is certainly one of the more impressive things anyone has ever done to get in my pants-”

“I'm not trying to get in your pants,” Phil said blandly. He kept his placating, unassuming smile glued to his face as he continued, saying, “At least, not yet.”

Phil was gratified by Stark's stunned silence.

Stark was much more accommodating when he knew that Phil was trying to flirt with him. Stark still didn't get much work done, now preferring to spend his time and energy coming up with paperwork related come-ons and innuendos. But he sat at his desk and fiddled with his pen and shuffled pages around and generally looked productive for most of the morning and early afternoon. However, he spent most of his time speculatively eying Phil rather than actually doing anything. Phil suspected that Stark didn't really believe in his intentions and was trying to test the waters to figure out how far he could push Phil until the man backed off or blushed or something equally as unlikely to happen.

Again, Phil didn't mind. Stark didn't seem to know what to do with someone who wanted to sleep with him but wasn't jumping into his bed. Phil knew from Stark's file that he'd never been in any sort of serious relationship for more than three months with someone who wasn't a super model or a self serving scientist looking for a foot up in the world. The man didn't know the first thing about healthy, normal relationships.

So Phil tolerated Stark's awkward flirting and stilted work ethic.

“So you're a super secret agent for a super secret spy organization, right?” Stark asked one day as he watched Phil double check some forms they'd just finished filling out. Stark had gotten bored of trying to make Phil blush, and when that happened he usually resorted to treating Phil with a bit of real conversation. “So shouldn't you be infiltrating evil government conspiracies or something? Do all agent spy people do this much paperwork?”

“No,” Phil said absently as he carefully whited out some machine schematics which Stark had drawn in the corner of one of the pages. “I was injured a few years ago and I was banned from active duty for a long period of time. I found that doing paperwork kept me from getting too bored and killing myself. I found it was also a fantastic way to keep tabs on my coworkers. At one point in time, I knew if anyone so much as sneezed while wandering around headquarters.”

“Huh. So what happened? Were you shot?” Stark asked.

“I was thrown out of a fourth story window and broke my spine along with several other rather important body parts.”

“Well crap,” Stark said sympathetically. “How long were you laid up for?”

“It was two years before I was pronounced fit for duty again. And in that time, I had become very comfortable with my desk job.”

“From getting thrown out of buildings to baby-sitting billionaires... Sounds boring.”

Phil gave Stark one of his most unimpressive smiles. “I find that there are certain perks.”

“So how does that work, going from regular ninja to paper ninja? If you're upset or angry, do you have to file your intent to punch someone in the nose instead of just going for it?”

“Sometimes,” Phil hummed as he made note of a section of paperwork where Stark had written an equation on the signature line instead of his name.

“Is there a form you have to fill out before you jump into bed with me?”

“No. I can fuck whoever I want. However, I'll have to write a letter of intent before properly seducing you. At which point I'll probably be called in for a psyche evaluation and drug testing. Once it's apparent that you aren't cohering me in any way, I'll be called in to defend my actions and decisions to the Director.”

“Sounds like a pain in the ass. I vote we skip the whole seduction thing and go strait to bed.”

Phil gave a bland smile before telling him, “Not until we're finished with your paperwork.”

Phil was heartened by the slight pout that Stark adopted.

“Tony tells me you're trying to seduce him,” Ms. Potts said in greeting. The woman looked thoroughly harassed. Phil recalled that she'd been spending the last two days liquidating Stane's assets and absorbing them into Stark's accounts. The Board of Director's of Stark Industries were in a tizzy about Stane's death, especially considering the man had done his damned best to lock Stark out of the company, and the Board held firm that this was still the best course of action, even with the reveal of Iron Man. Stark was very forgiving about the whole thing – the Board didn't know that Stane had been selling Stark weapons to hostile enemy forces. But Potts was the one left scrambling to appease the Board and ensure that Stark kept control of his company.

Phil gave her one of his warmer smiles as he told her, “Not yet, I'm not. I haven't submitted any letter of intent to my supervisor. And my interactions with Stark remain professional, except for some basic light flirting. Until we are no longer working together in a professional capacity, it would be best if some level of distance and discretion was maintained. I'm simply laying some groundwork at the moment.”

Pepper smiled, a small, bright, happy thing that made her appear years younger. “I was going to warn you off, but it seems like you know what you're doing.”

Phil nodded. “I've read his file and I've outlined a seven step plan. I anticipate settling into a steady long term relationship with Mr. Stark in six to eight months.”

Pepper's eyebrows rose. “Wow. That's... specific. Do you do this every time you have a crush on someone?”

“No, Ms. Potts. But I find that excessive bureaucracy simultaneously annoys and amuses Mr. Stark, so I've gone out of my way to create extraneous lists and filing systems on his behalf.”

With another small smile, Pepper said, “You'll do fine, I think. As long as you know what you're getting into... Has he been behaving during all of this? Do you need any help?”

“I was actually going to ask you the same thing,” Phil said, eying the deep circles under her eyes and her stiff posture.

Phil recognized the set of her shoulders and well-grounded stance. Ms. Potts had the look of someone who had grown accustomed to being attacked. Between the Board and the press, Pepper Potts was being run ragged.

“I've given Stark enough paperwork to keep me here and him busy for at least two weeks more. I suggest you take some time off.”

Pepper sighed. “I couldn't... I need to fly to New York tomorrow for another meeting with the Board, and there are several reporters who are making right nuisances of themselves-”

“They've been humored enough for the past two weeks,” Phil interrupted. “I suggest you let them sit on what they have for a few days and take some time for yourself.”

Pepper eyed him speculatively. “And you'd keep an eye on Tony?”

“Yes.”

“And I can trust you to keep an eye on Tony?”

Phil responded with a confident nod.

Pepper eyed him for a minute more. Then she straitened, saying, “Happy and JARVIS will be sending me regular updates and reports. Remind Tony that if he hacks my phone, turns it on, and calls me excessively, I'll make him attend every board meeting in New York for a month. Phil, it was a pleasure to see you again. I'll be back in five days, and I wish you luck.”

“Enjoy your vacation, Ms. Potts,” Phil said in parting.

Tony refused to touch the pages regarding Obidiah Stane. He would have put it off indefinitely, if his lawyers and Stane's weren't breathing down his neck to cross his Ts and dot his Is. They wanted their piece, and when push came to shove, Tony was happy to give them whatever little tidbits they could find, but that didn't mean he was eager to deal with the mess Stane left behind.

Luckily, the ever wonderful and amazing Pepper Potts (Tony made a note to design and build her a cabin on that lake that she always vacationed at when she had time to herself. And maybe he would buy her the lake as well, to be thorough) had dealt with most of the liquidation. Stane's properties were being sold off, Tony was now the sole CEO of Stark Industries, and Tony was playing hot-potato with Stane's money, handing it away as if it would burn him if touched.

But there were still those pesky Ts and Is to worry about.

Tony finished off a bottle of liquid courage at two in the morning and made his way to the living room, where he found a second bottle of liquid courage and a box full of Stane related paper work shoved surreptitiously under an end table.

So Tony sat down and began sorting through all of Obi's blood money and lies. And if he crossed those Ts and dotted those Is with a little more force than strictly necessary, well that wasn't anyone else's business but his.

“Need coffee? Whiskey? Both?”

Tony jumped as Agent wandered into the room.

It was the first time he'd seen Agent in anything other than that pristine, overly simple business suit he wore all the time. And Tony could only stare in mild horror at the Agent's matching two piece pajama set, his comfy house slippers (worn with socks) and the long blue night robe the man was wearing.

Seriously.

“What are you doing up and about, Agent?” Tony asked, his words lightly slurred. “Not waiting around for the Polar Express, I hope. Christmas isn't for another five months.”

“Couldn't sleep,” Agent answered. “I got up for some milk.”

Tony eyed the mug clasped in Agent's hand. “Warm milk?” he asked.

Agent nodded.

“Beaver called. He's suing you for copyright infringement. He'll be taking the milk and those slippers.”

“Beaver can have these slippers over my dead body. You can have the milk.”

True to his word, Agent dropped the warm cup of milk into Tony's hands and began sorting through the pages Tony had finished signing.

Curious, Tony took a sip of the drink in his hand. He found it to be just as appetizing as cold milk, which is to say it wasn't appetizing at all. Tony made his displeasure known by “accidentally” spilling some of the milk over Stane's documents as he set the mug on the table in front of him.

Agent actually chuckled a bit at Tony's childish actions. “He doesn't have a grave to piss on, so I suppose that will have to do.”

“Pepper says I'm doing a fine job of pissing away his money. I donated a couple of his favorite houses to an organization which boards refugees from war-torn countries. I donated another huge chunk of his fortune to some people who search for live land mines and deactivate them. How's that for a fuck-you-jack-ass?”

“Very appropriate,” Agent nodded. “And look, you actually wrote 'fuck you jack ass' under your signature on this one.”

“Huh. I don't remember doing that. Don't cover it up or cross it out or anything.”

“I won't, while you're looking,” Agent agreed.

It took longer than Phil thought it would, but Stark eventually noticed that something was off.

“Where the hell is Pepper? Why isn't she answering my texts? JARVIS! Where the hell is Pepper?!”

“Agent Coulson suggested she take a vacation. Ms. Potts will return from Brazil in six days, sir,” JARVIS politely informed him.

Stark spun around to point an accusing finger at Phil. “Saboteur! You're trying to kill me!”

“I'm not,” Phil argued, a smile quirking the corner of his lips.

“You are! Why else would you send her away?!”

“Ms. Potts has already been away for four days, Mr. Stark,” Phil calmly explained. “JARVIS and Happy have been keeping her informed of your health and continued sanity. And since you're doing well despite her absence, she decided to extend her stay.”

“Conspiracy!” Stark cried, furiously pacing from one side of the living room to the other. He was waiving his arms and flailing his hands. Phil found his antics mildly entertaining. “All of you are conspirators! JARVIS, I'm concerned for my safety! Call Pepper!”

“By your admission, sir, I'm included in your list of conspirators,” the A.I. pointed out.

“What did you do to JARVIS, Coulson? And why does Pepper get to go to Brazil? I totally deserve a vacation!”

“You'd deserve a vacation if you actually sat down and did any of the paperwork I've been handing you,” Phil told him, adding a note of stern steel to his admonition.

Stark paused, and a small, devious smile quirked the edge of his lips. “So, if I finish all of this paperwork, I can join Pepper in Brazil?”

Which suggested that Stark intended to finish all of his work within the next three or four days. Phil had estimated that he'd have two or so more weeks with Stark in Malibu before they were finished with their work at the pace Stark was currently working at. And on one hand, even Phil was getting a little tired of doing all of this extraneous paperwork. But on the other, he thought he'd have more time to lay some groundwork with Stark before telling Fury about his intentions and beginning to seduce Stark in earnest.

Que sera, sera.

“Yes, if you finish all of this paperwork, you can join Pepper in Brazil,” Phil told him.

“And you'll come with me?”

Now that was a pleasant surprise. While he knew Stark was no longer put off by his very presence, he didn't know that Stark found him agreeable enough to actually want them to spend time together.

And he'd never been able to enjoy Brazil before. Last time he was in the country, Phil had been too distracted by the former Nazi scientist he'd been sent to assassinate to properly enjoy the sights or culture.

Surely Fury would understand. Even he'd enjoyed Brazil in a non-work capacity a time or two.

“Deal,” Phil told him.

“You let Stark drag you to Brazil?” Fury said quietly, calmly. Which was a Bad Thing. “Is there anything you want to tell me, Agent Coulson?”

Phil was nervous, but he'd be damned if he let the Director know that. And so with the calm confidence he'd used to approach anything having to do with the situation thus far, Phil said, “Yes, Director. I intend to seduce Stark.”

Fury took a deep breath and let it out very, very slowly. “Coulson, tell me. Have you lost your god damned mind?”

“Quite possibly, sir.”

“You're going to compromise yourself for Tony Stark?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have half a mind to ship you to the facilities in Cambodia for an attitude adjustment, Agent.”

“Stark would track me down before the plane could take off, sir. I'm expected for dinner tonight. Apparently Ms. Potts makes an excellent Chicken Florentine.”

“If you don't marry this man, I will cut off your balls.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Get out of my sight. I don't want to see your face for at least a month.”

Which in Fury-speak translated to “I think you're crazy so take some time to figure your shit out. If you haven't gotten this guy out of your system by then, I'll maybe take you seriously.”

At least the psych eval and drug tests hadn't been demanded.

Yet.

At dinner, Phil played footsie with Stark under the table. It was the first time Phil had initiated any sort of physical contact with the other man. He knew Stark would love it because it was a form of attention and it was utterly juvenile.

Phil and Pepper talked about Italy and their haunts in Milan. Phil and Stark talked about Iron Man and debated whether Iron Man or super-secret-spy-man were greater heroes.

Pepper's Chicken Florentine was indeed delicious, but Phil preferred the part of the meal where Stark got bold and while Pepper's back was turned, he leaned over and licked a bit of sauce from Phil's upper lip and mumbled, “Yum.” Phil rewarded his boldness by trapping one of Stark's feet between both of his and keeping him pinned there for the rest of the meal.

The entire thing was very domestic, a word Phil never would have thought could apply to a situation involving Tony stark. But Tony spent the evening talking about Iron Man and Brazil. Pepper spoke about Stark Industries, and Phil didn't talk about SHIELD while wearing an enigmatic smile.

After dinner, Pepper left, and Stark had adjustments to make to his armor, so Phil joined him in the man's workshop and alternately gave his attention to a movie Stark put on for him and idly eyed Stark as he worked.

“If Stark Industries doesn't produce weapons anymore, what will your new claim to fame be?” Phil asked after the movie had ended. “You won't be producing a bunch of technological prosthesis, will you?”

Stark snorted. “No. I haven't exactly figured that part out yet, which is half of why the Board wants me gone. Weapons weren't the only things made by Stark Industries, though that was the most lucrative aspect of the company. I'll be giving more attention to our electronics and medical departments until I figure out SI's next big thing. It will probably be a couple of years before SI finds it's new niche and starts turning a real profit again.”

“And SI's weapons plants?” Phil asked. “And the employees who have found themselves without work?”

“They have work,” Stark said dismissively. “The plants are being outfitted to build electronics instead of weapons. And in the meantime... My dad had this idea for a giant science expo. Like a World Fair only with a more exclusive guest list. I'm thinking of putting some of my people to work on that while they're waiting around for the plants to reopen. Pep and I will be meeting with our lawyers and planning committees about it next week.”

“A science expo,” Phil hummed. “That would also be a fantastic place to scout for new talent and ideas.”

“Sure,” Stark said with a grin. “There will be several buildings dedicated to middle school and high school science fair projects, as well as amateur presentations. There will be all sorts of fun sciency ideas floating around.”

“And maybe you'll find a new niche,” Phil concluded.

“Sounds about right,” Stark agreed.

“Well right now, bed sounds about right to me. It's almost one in the morning,” Phil told him.

“Alright. Good night,” Stark absently replied.

It was fifteen minutes before Stark realized that Phil hadn't moved from his place on the workshop's couch.

“What?” Stark snapped in irritation when he noticed Phil. “Are you waiting for me or something?”

Phil gave him silence and a raised eyebrow as a reply.

“Oh. Oh,” he breathed. “So, like, tonight? We're finally going to pop this cherry?”

“Hardly,” Phil said, rolling his eyes at Stark's crude remark. “I just think it would be a little awkward if I went to sleep in your bed and you weren't in it with me.”

Stark stared at him as if the idea of bed minus sex didn't quite compute.

It made sense. Stark usually slept on the couch in the living room or on the rather comfortable looking cot in his workshop. His actual bed was generally reserved for other activities.

“You actually want me to sleep right now?”

Slowly, Phil stood. “I call dibs on big spoon.”

“Are you going to wear a matching pajama set?” Stark asked.

“Yes,” Phil replied.

“Huh.” Stark moved to stand, as well. He hesitated, though, glancing between Phil and the project he was working on.

“It will be there in the morning,” Phil promised him. “The same can not be said for me.”

“Well if you're going to twist my arm,” Stark grumbled.

“I could, if that would make you feel better about it.”

Tony gave him a small smile. Not one of the big, bright smiles he sometimes gave Pepper, but the curve of his lips and the crinkling at the edges of his eyes produced something very, very similar.

“I'll come quietly,” he promised. “No excessive force required.”

“Good,” Phil said with a smile of his own.

Despite Agent's bid for big spoon in bed, by three in the morning the two men were facing each other. Agent's arms were curled against Tony's chest while Tony had an arm tentatively wrapped around Agent's shoulders.

Tony couldn't fall asleep. He never could, when he consciously tried to. But usually he was kept awake by equations and blueprints. This evening, his mind was occupied by Agent's scent. And the collar of his ridiculous pajama top. And then the feel of Agent's skin when Tony pushed his hand against the other man's neck.

This was nice, Tony decided. It was quiet – the house was quiet, his machines were quiet, and his mind was quiet. And Agent smelled really good.

“Are you always this twitchy?” Agent murmured as his eyes blinked open.

“Yeah. Did I wake you up?” Tony asked.

“No. Internal alarm. I never sleep for more than three hours at a time.”

“That sounds horrible,” Tony said. When he passed out, he usually slept for 14 hours without interruption.

“I'm used to it. Combination of years of keeping on my toes during missions and avoiding nightmares. Do you want some milk?”

“God, no,” Tony huffed.

“Tea?” Agent tried.

“Doesn't tea have caffeine in it?”

“Not if it's decaffeinated. At least, not much. Relax. I'll bring you something bitter.”

Agent stood up, put on his slippers and robe, and he shuffled out of the room. Tony rolled into the warm spot Agent had left and breathed his scent until Agent returned.

Agent sat in bed for half an hour, reading through some secret internal SHIELD reports and sipping his drink. He didn't say anything about Tony's untouched mug of tea or how Tony just laid next to him, blinking up at the ceiling as the other man worked.

“You're smooth, aren't you?” Tony asked as Agent put his papers aside and situated himself back in bed.

“I shave every morning,” Agent informed him, the ass.

“You're trying to make an honest man out of me,” Tony accused as Agent easily maneuvered him to lie on his side.

“I've found that you can be brutally honest at times. I don't think I could handle you if you were any more so,” Agent told him as he assumed the position of big spoon. He curled neatly around Tony, back to chest, and his knees nestled into the back of Tony's. He pressed his palm against Tony's stomach, curling his fingers into the dingy t-shirt Tony wore to bed.

“I know what you're up to,” Tony groused.

“Then you'll know better than to put up a fight,” Agent breathed against the back of Tony's neck, preparing for another two-to-three hours of sleep.

Tony also settled, and when he closed his eyes, he quickly began to drift to sleep. Half way there, with his eyes closed and Agent pressed against his back, he remembered Agent's words – You'll know better than to put up a fight. Even in this happy place between alert and asleep, he knew that nothing was ever that easy, and a fight (probably a few fights) were inevitable. But at the same time, he thought Yeah, okay. Not fighting could be nice every once in a while.

As Stark fell asleep, he was incredibly pliant in Phil's arms, and the man didn't even notice as Phil slowly and gently turned the man so that they were facing each other in the bed.

Generally, he liked to sleep back to front with his bed partners (his SHIELD mandated therapist said it probably had something to do with protective instincts, when it had briefly come up in conversation once several years ago), but he was curious as to what Stark looked like when he slept. The other man very rarely sat still for any length of time, and Phil couldn't really imagine the man at rest.

Phil waited patiently for the man to fall into sleep. Stark shifted a bit, tilting his face down towards his chest, flexing his toes against Phil's calves, and occasionally releasing a breath that was more drawn out than his natural breathing yet wasn't quite a sigh.

Then, it happened. For a single, brief moment, Stark smiled, and Phil knew that it was one of Stark's true smiles, and it was just for him.

And Phil almost, almost had a panic attack. Because he was so compromised, and Fury was going to give him so much shit for this.

Chapter Text

All SHIELD agents had to go through extensive psychological testing upon being hired by the organization, after every two years of employment, and after particularly nasty missions. Phil Coulson had been employed at SHIELD for almost twenty years, and he'd been involved in some of the nastiest missions there were. As a result, Fury knew Agent Phil Coulson almost as well as he knew himself, and he understood that Coulson was a romantic at heart. A soft bellied, bleeding heart, fucking romantic.

It hadn't been a problem up until now, because Phil Coulson had never been in love. His standards were so unreasonably high that Fury, Hill, and the psychologist responsible for overseeing Coulson's exams believed that the man never would fall in love. Because whatever perfect (Fury used to say woman, but those particular preferences hadn't been uncovered during any of the exams) partner Phil Coulson was looking for simply didn't exist.

SHIELD had rules regarding romantics for a reason. That reason being that romantics were insane and compromised in the worst of ways. Research showed that romantics were incapable of being reasoned with, plus they were impulsive, reckless, and general menaces to society (and SHIELD).

So yeah, when his third in command submitted the official paperwork stating that he was committing to Anthony Edward Stark, Fury was pissed.

"Code Red," Fury told Hill, and although she gave a curt, professional nod, the color drained from her face.

A team of five (including Hill and Fury) moved double time to make it to Malibu before sunrise. Fury was the only one to actually approach Stark's home (the others were only there for support, just in case Coulson or Stark put up a fight), and strode towards the front door as if he was striding into battle.

"Welcome, Director Fury," the computer said as it let him into the house (Fury was too professional to show his unease at the sound of the disembodied voice). "Agent Coulson said you might be visiting this morning. I'm afraid that he and Mr. Stark are still asleep, however."

Which was fine with Fury. He knew that Stark was too stupid to have shame and Coulson was too professional to show any, but appearing in their bedroom while they were sleeping (and probably naked) was a power play, since they would be in a vulnerable position, and Fury was a big fan of power plays.

A power play wasn't what happened, though. Upon entering the room, Coulson immediately awoke with a lazy stretch and a quiet greeting for Fury, and Stark didn't move at all.

As Coulson got out of the bed, Fury was disconcerted to find that a two piece pajama set, worn with socks and a long robe, hadn't been in any of Coulson's psych evaluations, either. And seriously, Fury knew that his agents were good, but SHIELD's psychologists were supposed to be the best. He should have known about this, dammit.

"I'm surprised you two don't sleep in twin beds on opposite sides of the room," Fury noted as he eyed Coulson's getup. He followed Coulson out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, where Coulson began making coffee and eggs. And good Lord above, Coulson was already comfortable in Stark's kitchen.

"Stark is going to love you," Coulson told him as he cracked eggs into a pan and added a dash of milk.

"You understand that this means I'll be revoking your clearance level, don't you?" Fury asked.

"Why?" Coulson asked absently.

"Because you've been compromised," Fury hissed.

"Yeah. And my boyfriend hacked SHIELD's firewalls twice. Yesterday," Coulson replied with an easy smile. As if he was proud of his boyfriend's highly illegal activities.

"Hacking SHIELD counts as treason," Fury pointed out. "I can have your boyfriend shipped to Guantanamo in a heartbeat."

"Boring," Tony Stark declared as he wandered into the kitchen and stole Coulson's half-full cup of coffee. "I escaped a cave, if you'd already forgotten. I bet I'd be out of Guantanamo in half the time it took me to do that."

"A forth of the time," Coulson promised the man, pressing a kiss to Stark's cheek as he moved to pour fresh coffee into Stark's cup.

Of course, because Fury couldn't forget that Coulson had been to Guantanamo dozens of times over the years, interviewing the prisoners there (and then the staff, after those incidents), and Coulson had made some friends within the prison because he was so infuriatingly good at his job.

Fury personally took Coulson's blood and hair samples, which would be sent to SHIELD for testing, and then he gave Coulson the schedule for his psych evals (because if Coulson was going to do this to him, Fury sure as hell wouldn't make it easy on the man).

As Fury and his people flew back to New York, Agent Barton asked, "So it's true? He's staying with Stark?"

"For now," Fury promised.

SHIELD's intelligence division picked up on a depot filled with stolen Stark weapons in Africa. Thus far, Stark had made good on his promise not to make new weapons, and Iron Man had made good on the promise to destroy any Stark weaponry still in existence.

As a result, Stark weapons were soon becoming a thing of the past, and the World Security Council was treating those weapons which remained as if they were an endangered species or the Holy Grail.

It was at the Council's command that Fury sent his people to retrieve the weapons.

Phil Coulson, who had returned to work nearly two months before this particular operation began, asked, "Are we calling Stark?"

And wasn't that a loaded question.

"If you don't, I will," Coulson promised, because the agent was compromised, dammit.

Finally, Fury said, "Forward the shipment to Council headquarters."

Let them clean up the mess after Stark went in guns-a-blazing, because Stark's boyfriend was a tattletale, and Stark had made his stance on his weapons clear, and if the Council wanted to play with fire, or iron, or gold titanium alloy, then so be it.

And seeing something explode would probably make Fury feel better, even if he was the one who had to clean up the mess afterwards.

"I'm inviting him to SHIELD's Holiday party," Agent Coulson announced as he and Fury walked into work one morning.

Fury stopped walking just outside the building's front doors. "You damn well are not," Fury informed him.

"In that case, the next time Stark wants me to go with him for a drive, or a walk on the beach, or to a restaurant, I'll be giving him the line to your personal phone, and you can listen to him complain about how he doesn't get to show me off to the world."

"Coulson, it's one thing that he tries to hack our systems on a regular basis just so that he can watch you file paperwork over the security feeds-"

"There's no trying about it, Director," Coulson interrupted.

"-but it's another thing entirely to have him physically in the building, where he will be able to gain access to our private servers and our paper files."

From the floor above, where Agents Barton and Conners were sitting atop the balcony's railing and blatantly listening to the conversation, Barton asked, "Will he bring presents to the party?"

"I could pass along any requests you might have," Coulson promised with an easy smile.

"Bring 'em," Barton demanded.

"Forget it," Fury decided.

Coulson didn't frown, or scowl, or express any disapproval to Fury's ruling.

But when Fury arrived home that evening, the voice mailbox of his home phone was full of three hours worth of voice mails left by Tony Stark, who spent the calls alternating his complaints between how he had to keep his boyfriend a secret and how he hardly ever got to see his boyfriend at all because Fury was a dick who made Coulson work too much. And Fury had to go through by hand and erase every single one, because he was expecting a message alert from the water department about a pipe shut off date and damn Coulson and his boyfriend.

The next day, Fury rewired his home phone to forward all calls to Agent Barton's apartment, because Barton took Coulson's side, and if he wanted Stark at the party, then he could find out exactly what it was like to have to listen to the guy talk for any length of time.

At the Holiday party that year, Coulson's small smile was positively blinding as he led Tony Stark in a dance in a crowded room full of his coworkers.

"Fucking romantics," Fury grumbled to Hill a he sipped at a (very) alcoholic drink.

"I never thought I'd see the day Coulson would pull rank in order to impress someone," Hill sighed in response.

"I did," Barton announced as she slid up behind the pair. "Although I can't believe he's doing it for Tony Stark."

"I can," Romanoff countered as she appeared beside Hill. "Coulson has always enjoyed a challenge."

"I don't see how getting into Tony Stark's pants is a challenge," Fury snorted.

Romanoff shook her head. "Tolerating the guy is the challenge," she countered (and of course she would understand, because she was just like Coulson).

The group watched the two men dance, their gazes intent as they watched Phil whisper something into Stark's ear. A moment later, Stark jabbed Coulson in the side with two fingers, in a spot which Fury recognized as one of three places on Coulson's body where he was ticklish (because yes, SHIELD had that information about their agents). Coulson gave no outward appearances that Stark's jab had any effect on him, and Fury couldn't see what Coulson did in retaliation, but a few moments latter, Stark let out a loud, indignant cry and pinched Coulson's arm.

"Ugh," Romanoff groaned. "They are too fucking cute." But Fury noticed that she watched them for most of the evening.

Fury knew that Stark had broken into the building, so he was expecting to run into the engineer at some point in the day. But he thought he'd run into Stark while visiting Coulson's office. Not his own.

Fury was careful not to show his surprise or anger when he found Tony Stark sitting in his chair.

"Get your damn feet off my desk," Fury commanded.

"G'mornin to you, too, Bright Eyes," Stark said around a mouthful of doughnut, but he moved his feet off the desk and showed Fury the box of doughnuts that he'd brought (as a bribe, Fury assumed. And of course of all the assorted doughnuts in the box, Stark had gone for the bear claw, the ass).

"What do you want?" Fury demanded.

"Your help," Stark respond. "Phil's birthday is coming up, and I want to throw him a surprise party. But my guy is kind of a spy, so the surprise part is proving to be tricky."

"I don't have time for this shit, Stark," Fury growled (which was a pity, because there really was nothing Fury liked more than pulling the rug out from under his coworkers, except for maybe pulling the rug out from under his enemies).

"I didn't say I needed your time," Stark argued. "Just your help! I've been talking to Barton, and he's going to be responsible for most of the set up. All you need to do is give Agent an assignment that will put him in Brazil on the 8th. Help me help you help me, Director."

And okay, that he could do.

"You mean to tell me that you're actually helping Stark with something?" Hill asked when Fury told her about Stark's plans.

"You kidding me? If I tried surprising Agent Coulson, he would shoot me. But Stark? That guy could give Coulson a heart attack and Coulson would pat him on his head and tell him he'd done a good job. Because Coulson is compromised, Maria, and I am going to take full advantage of that fact."

Phil Coulson and Tony Stark had officially made it to their first anniversary, and Fury was ready to throw in the towel (even if he wouldn't ever let Coulson live this down).

Coulson and Stark were throwing a quiet dinner party to celebrate the occasion (very quiet, considering the fact that only seven people were invited. And of those invited, only Stark's friends actually attended).

So Fury showed up after the dinner was finished and Stark's friends had left. This time, when Stark's computer greeted him, it was with an air of disapproval. "Director, I'm afraid that dinner is finished and Mr. Stark and Agent Coulson have moved their celebration to the bedroom."

"Perfect," he said with satisfaction.

When he walked into the bedroom, he found Coulson tying his robe closed (and Fury was unsettled to find that he was still wearing his damn socks) while Stark was hastily buttoning Coulson's night shirt to cover the arc reactor in his chest. Stark was pouting while Coulson presented Fury with the Disappointed Stare the man only could have picked up from some picture of Steve Rodgers in full Captain America Mode.

"Congratulations," Fury snarled as he dropped their present onto the bed.

"It's not another clock, is it?" Stark grumbled as he snatched up the gift and fingered the wrapping paper.

"Of course it is," Fury responded (although it wasn't cool glass or sleek metal like the clocks Stark's friends had undoubtedly given the pair, but instead it was cheep plastic with a gaudy caricature of Iron Man on the clock's face. Stark would love it. He'd especially have fun picking it apart to remove the cameras and microphones produced by Hammertech which Fury had hidden inside).

"You're only supposed to give us clocks as presents after we've been married for a year, not dating," Coulson said with the air of someone who had repeated this explanation several times in a short period of time.

"Tony Stark isn't sleeping with anyone but you, and he's mostly stopped drinking. If that's not marriage, I don't know what is," Fury responded. "Did you save me any dinner?"

"Of course we did," Phil told him.

Stark finally got the wrapping paper off of his present (Fury had been sure to use an annoying amount of tape to secure it), and the man gave a cry of joy at the tacky as fuck clock inside.

"Does it do anything cool?" Stark asked even as he grabbed a screwdriver (and who the hell keeps a screwdriver under their mattress?) and began to take off the clock's backing. 

As Coulson lead Fury to the kitchen, Stark's cries of, "Blasphemy! This is sacrilege, you son of a bitch!" followed them into the hall.

"I trust you aren't going to make a habit of interrupting our anniversaries, Director," Coulson coolly stated. Then, the man gave a great, heaving sigh as they came upon the kitchen and found Hill, Barton and Romanoff already seated at the bar, eating the reheated leftovers from dinner.

"Wha- who are you?" Stark asked as he appeared in the kitchen doorway behind them  (and didn't he look ridiculous wearing Coulson's pajamas) and saw three people sitting in his kitchen who he had never met before (because they hadn't been polite enough to introduce themselves at the SHIELD Holiday party, despite the fact that Barton and Stark spoke to each other on a biweekly basis).

"We're no one," Romanoff responded, even as Barton said, "Just think of us as the peanut gallery."

"Barton! You made it! I thought you were going to blow off our party, jerk!" Stark said with a grin. Then, even though he was still wearing his boyfriend's pajamas, and even though he still didn't know the two women eating in his kitchen, he helped himself to Fury's portion of dinner and sat with them.

Barton and Stark proceeded to make immature, inappropriate jokes about Coulson and Stark's "celebrations" while Romanoff listened with detached interest and Hill leveled them with a disapproving stare.

"Fucking romantics," Fury sighed as he watched the group.

"It's your own fault for hiring so many of them," Phil pointed out. "And don't forget, I've seen your psych evals. No one likes a hypocrite, Director."

"I'm not the one who's compromised, Coulson."

"If you say so, sir," the man answered with a smile which was enigmatic even to Fury. And damn him for that.

Chapter Text

Colonel James Rhodes had a file. It wasn't a big file, or particularly notable (his service record was impeccable, after all), but he had one. The paper copy was filed in conjunction with Tony Stark's, and was mostly filled with the documentation of the pair's adventures.

Colonel Rhodes' service record was impeccable, yes, but when he was off duty, he and Stark made trouble for themselves. That trouble was what Phil was interested in today.

Wild parties, car racing, quietly testing experimental Stark tech while drinking - the picture painted wasn't nearly as flattering as the man's service records. However, Phil had to give the man credit: there hadn't been any major incidents in nearly a decade, the Colonel's more uncouth impulses mostly subdued after he started rising in the ranks of the military. And the more reports Phil read (the more he read between the lines), the more he recognized that Colonel Rhodes had gone to great lengths to protect Stark from himself. Sure, most of the incidents were dangerous and ill planed, but they would have gone far worse if Rhodes hadn't been playing the part of Stark's conscience and caretaker.

Then, of course, there was the little fact that Colonel Rhodes had spear-headed the search and rescue mission for Stark while he was being held in Afghanistan. After seeing the violence and scale of the attack on Stark's convoy, most had written Stark off as dead. But Rhodes called in a considerable number of favors (including one to Stark Industries in order to gain funding for the operation, despite Stane's attempts to short change Rhodes at every available turn), and Rhodes' efforts were the only reason Stark was picked up or even found so quickly after escaping from the Ten Rings.

So when Stark announced that he wanted Phil and Rhodes to meet, "and get along," Stark pointedly added, Phil agreed.

"But only under the condition that Rhodes doesn't reveal that your boyfriend works for a government agency to the military," Phil negotiated.

"Rhodey's good people," Stark responded. "And he's been keeping my secrets from the military for years. He kept Iron Man a secret at my request, and believe me, he got some flak for that when I came out."

Phil had been dating Stark for almost five months at this point in time. He knew Happy, and he knew Pepper, but Phil had yet to be introduced to anyone else that Tony knew or worked with. It drove Tony up the wall, not being allowed to show off his amazing boyfriend to the world, and not being allowed to flaunt his relationship. Phil understood, really he did. Magazines and newspapers - the Stark Industries Board of Directors, even - delighted in bringing up Stark's past mistakes, including those mistakes in choosing the company he kept. Stark was in a monogamous relationship, and he hadn't even had a one night stand since returning from Afghanistan, but men were still claiming to have had hot, wild sex with him one day, and women were claiming to be pregnant with Tony Stark's child the next. For the first time in his life, Stark was in a healthy, committed relationship with someone he could be proud of, and he wasn't even allowed to rub people's faces in the fact that yeah, that's mine.

So if Stark wanted to brag about Phil to his best friend, Phil would let him.

When Phil's plane landed at the Santa Monica Municipal Airport, Phil almost immediately spotted the deep red Acura TL Stark told him would be picking him up. However, it wasn't Happy leaning against the driver's side door.

As Phil walked towards the car, Rhodes' eyes passed right over him at first (which wasn't unusual. His coworkers told Phil that he was a very average, unassuming presence at first glance). However, when the Colonel's eyes did settle on Phil as he approached, it was a full fifteen feet sooner than people usually noticed him.

Observant. Good, Phil thought.

"You must be Colonel Rhodes," Phil greeted with a bland smile and an outstretched hand.

"I am," Rhodes confirmed. His handshake was firm, but dismissive. "And you are?"

"Agent Phillip Coulson," he replied.

The Colonel's shoulders tensed, but he didn't abandon his relaxed stance. "Yeah? Agent of what?"

"I'm an agent with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division."

As usual, Phil's listing of SHIELD's full title was met with a raised eyebrow and baffled silence. But Rhodes soon recovered.

"Look, Buddy, I'm off duty," Rhodes began. "If you want to talk with me, call my office and we can put something on the books. If you want to talk about Tony Stark, forget it. If you want to talk to Tony Stark, you can make an appointment with his assistant."

"Stark didn't tell you?" Phil asked, his smile unwavering.

"Stark never tells me anything," Rhodes insisted.

"He told me you'd be giving me a ride to his home," Phil informed him. And, well, Stark hadn't said that exactly, but it was implied because of the red Acura TL.

"I'm giving his boyfriend a ride to his home."

"That's right," Phil confirmed with a nod.

Rhodes blinked at him. Then he stared. Then, he gave Phil the full head to toe look over. Then, he blinked again.

"No way," the Colonel finally stated.

"I assure you," Phil pressed, "Stark and I are in a relationship." And he announced this with glee, because for how much Stark craved to show off Phil to the world, Phil was just as proud to say yeah, he's mine.

"Jesus, does your dick dance?" Rhodes asked.

"If it does, it's nobody's business but Stark's."

At Phil's pronouncement, Rhodes seemed to realize what he'd said, and who he was talking to. "Sorry, sorry. It's just... you aren't generally Tony's type."

"I'm inclined to believe that that is precisely why our relationship works as well as it does," Phil allowed.

"Huh," Rhodes said, his expression speculative. "Yeah, okay. Well, Tony and Pepper are meeting with a planning committee for the Stark Expo, and Tony just called to say they wouldn't be wrapping up until dinner time. So are we going out to eat, or do you want me to take you strait to Tony's place?"

Phil almost wanted to decline the invitation to eat out - it made him feel guilty that it would be perfectly acceptable for him to be seen out in public with James Rhodes, but he couldn't do the same with Stark. Except, Stark spent a lot of time talking up the good food and good views of Malibu, so Phil could hardly be blamed if he wanted to see some of the sites. So really, it was Stark's fault that Phil couldn't pass up the opportunity to take advantage of his chance to do just that (and didn't that say something about how much time he was spending with Stark that Phil was beginning to use Stark Logic to justify his actions).

"Let's go out to eat," Phil decided. "We can pick up something extra for Stark and Ms. Potts while we're out."

Phil could understand why Colonel Rhodes was friends with Tony Stark. For the most part, the man was cordial and professional while they ate their meal together. He was smart enough not to ask Phil about his job, and he gave Phil only teasing little hints about his own work with the Air Force (and Phil had to wonder what the Department of Acquisitions was up to that they had to keep information on the DL from other governmental agencies). Throughout the meal, Rhodes watched Phil like a hawk (the man would get along well with Agent Barton, Phil thought), judging Phil's every word and action.

At least, Phil thought the man was judging him, until after they had finished their meals and Rhodes had had a few margaritas. At that point, Rhodes' tongue loosened considerably, just as Phil knew it would (because Phil had read his file, and he could guess why the man only ever got drunk with Tony Stark).

"Man," Rhodes sighed as he shook his head. "I just can't get a read on you. You have got to be one of the most boring, uninspiring people I have ever spoken with. And I work with a bunch of military bureaucrats."

"Ah. I can't tell you much about my job, Colonel, but I can tell you that a bureaucrat is exactly what I am. It's how I met Stark, actually. I was assigned to tidy up his paper trail after the incident with Stane," Phil revealed.

At the mention of Stane, Rhodes' mood soured. "I can't believe that fucker. We trusted him. After Tony and I became friends in college, Stane was the one to get me my internships with Stark Industries. Everyone thought I was riding on Tony's coattails, but if he'd had it his way, I would have been lounging with him at his beach house in the Hamptons rather than working in SI's R&D. And if not for those internships, I wouldn't be in Acquisitions with the Air Force, now."

Phil nodded. "Stane recognized your strengths and played them to his own ends. He was a master manipulator, and he took full advantage of those around him. Lucky for us, though, you were stronger than he was, which is why you came out on top, and he's dead."

Rhodes gave Phil a hard, flat look. "He hurt Tony. He tricked me into helping him hurt Tony. I was the one who told Stane about Tony's arc reactor," the man pointed out.

Phil shook his head. "But you were also the one who picked Stark up in Afghanistan, despite Stane's every attempt to shut down your operation. You kept the secret of the arc reactor and the Iron Man armor from the military, so that Stark had the time and the privacy to properly refine his technology. And in the end, you were the one who had Stark's back and kept the military from interfering when Stane attacked him with the Iron Monger. You do realize what would have happened if the military had started shooting missiles at him that night, don't you? His suit and his armor ran out of juice while he was fighting Stane. If he'd had to take on the army, as well, he wouldn't have made it."

From the look on Rhodes' face, he hadn't known about the failed power source.

Slowly, Rhodes asked, "Does he talk to you about this stuff? I mean, I've asked, but... he shuts down pretty fast."

Phil shook his head. "I know some about what happened in Afghanistan, but only because it's my job to know. And the rest... I was there the night of Stane's attack. I was one of the men to initially confront him, and I witnessed most of the following conflict. So no, Stark doesn't talk to me about any of what happened to him any more than he talks to you. You have to understand, though, that Tony Stark is a man of the future. He believes in change for the better, so he doesn't like to think about the bad of the past."

As Rhodes waved down their waitress for the check, he said, "Okay. I think I can understand why Tony keeps you around. You have quite the way with words, Agent Coulson."

Phil rewarded the man's statement with a minute quirk of his lips.

"Honey, I'm home!" Stark called as he and Ms. Potts made their way into the mansion.

Perversely enough, Phil knew that Stark wasn't calling out to him.

"Tony!" Rhodes greeted, standing from his place at the couch to greet his friend. "I picked up your boy toy like you asked me to. Although the introductions would have gone a little bit better if you'd warned me that he wasn't a boy, and he doesn't like to be toyed with."

Stark gave Rhodes a dangerous, devious grin. "Were you subjected to his mad hand-to-hand combat skills?" Upon giving Rhodes a once over, Stark pouted and decided, "Nah. You'd be nursing some bumps and bruises if you had."

Giving Rhodes' shoulder a solid clap, Stark finally turned to search for Phil, who was standing at the kitchen bar.

"Agent!" Stark cried with enthusiasm, quickly moving towards the older man. But when he went in to give Phil a hug, Phil held up a hand to cease the man's advance.

"Arms above the waist," Phil demanded.

"Why? What's wrong?" Stark asked as he settled his arms around Phil's shoulders.

"A bullet grazed me last week. It's still tender," Phil informed him, moving to place a chaste kiss at the edge of Stark's mouth. When he moved away, Stark was scowling.

"You said you weren't doing any field ops for another month," he accused.

"I'm not. But the Director is still angry at me, so he had me doing sidearms training with the new batch of tech support recruits, which I had forgotten is just as dangerous as being in the field."

Stark rolled his eyes. "Want me to install a porn Trojan in his computer?"

"His personal laptop, please," Phil allowed. "It would be too easy for something like that to spread to the rest of SHIELD."

Tony grinned and gave a conspiratorial wink. "I can also hack the security feed so we can watch tech's reactions to it when he makes them clean it up."

"It's a date," Phil promised.

"Speaking of dates," Stark said, wiggling his eyebrows and turning his head to look between Phil and Colonel Rhodes. "How'd your lunch go?"

"It's a good thing he's got you to talk about," Rhodes answered, "Because apparently he's not aloud to talk about anything else."

"Why would you need to talk about anything else?" Stark countered.

That evening, when it was time for Colonel Rhodes and Ms. Potts to return to their own homes for the evening, Phil said his goodbyes to Rhodes while Ms. Potts badgered Stark about coming into work the next day.

"You can't just drop off the radar every time your boyfriend comes to town!" Ms. Potts was saying.

"I can and I will! You have me all to yourself whenever he leaves for work, that more than makes up for the day or two-"

"Weeks!" Ms. Potts corrected.

"-that I don't come in!"

To Rhodes, Phil said, "It was good meeting you, Colonel."

"Likewise. Thanks for lunch," the man returned.

Phil's reply was drowned out as Stark and Potts' arguing rose a decibel. For a moment, Phil was worried that a real fight was about to break out, and he called out, "Tony, you can stand to go in for an hour tomorrow and do what needs getting done so that you can take the rest of the week off."

"You always take her side!" Stark whined, which incited another argument between himself and Ms. Potts.

Rhodes shook his head as they watched Stark attempt to escape to his workshop while Ms. Potts followed hot on his heels.

"You're good for him," Rhodes finally announced.

Phil hadn't realized that he was nervous about hearing the man's final judgment until the words were said, and a weight was suddenly lifted from his chest.

Strange, he had forgotten what it was like to be nervous. He still did emotions like scared and angry from time to time, but he thought he had conquered his nerves long, long ago.

"Thank you for saying so," Phil replied with a nod towards the other man.

"And on that note..."

"You have a gun and a shovel?" Phil guessed.

Rhodes shook his head. "No, Agent Coulson. I have Virginia Potts and the army. And I will give the army to her to use at her discretion."

Huh. Now Phil had been made to feel nervous twice in one day.

Colonel Rhodes was good.

Chapter Text

Phil tried. He really, really tried. But Tony knew him, and Tony knew that SHIELD had stopped keeping electronic records of truly important information (because Tony hacked SHIELD's servers so often it was embarrassing), and Tony knew that Phil had a secret.

Tony sat on him. Literally sat on him, while they were in bed after having several very enthusiastic rounds of intercourse, so Phil was hazy and sexed out, and Tony started prodding him between the ribs where Phil was most ticklish, and Tony demanded, "Tell me. Tell me what you're hiding. Tell me, Phil."

Tony could see his excitement, and when Phil was excited about something, Tony always became a little giddy himself. So he was grinning, smiling Phil's favorite smile while sitting on Phil's stomach, naked, with wild hair and red kissed lips, with bright eyes and that smile-

Then, Tony poked him again in that spot that sent shudders up Phil's back.

Phil had been trained to withstand countless forms of torture, but this wasn't one of them.

The words came tumbling out of his mouth without his conscious consent. "They found Steve Rogers. He was frozen in ice. SHIELD started thawing his body so that he could be given a proper burial, and they found a heartbeat. He's alive."

Tony stared at him.

And stared.

And stared.

And stared.

"Phillip. Steven. Coulson," he finally said, slowly.

Phil's smile abruptly disappeared. Because... something was happening.

"The underwear," Tony said next.

Phil blinked. "What?"

"The underwear. The red white and blue underwear."

Suddenly, Phil remembered. Tony had been in a silly romantic kind of mood, and he'd decided that they should buy underwear for each other. He'd gotten Phil silk in the same shade of blue as the suits he wore to work. Phil had gotten Tony something in red white and blue.

"Comic Con," was Tony's next realization. "Comic Con with Clint, for three years in a row."

Oh. Oh no.

"The movies," Tony hissed.

Those were especially incriminating, because Captain America's movies were obviously war propaganda, and cheaply made war propaganda, at that. They were far from cinematic masterpieces, and no one paid money for them, let alone sat around and watched them in their spare time. No one except for Phil.

Phil watched as Tony's lips stretched up into a smile. It wasn't his normal smile, though. This one showed a little too much incisor, and when combined with Tony's goatee, it made him look like a villain from one of Phil's cherished Captain America comic books. Phil half expected Tony to start monologing and wringing his mustache.

"You have a weakness," Tony declared. And although he didn't monologue and a mustache didn't miraculously appear above his goatee, his laughter was maniacal.

They lived in Phil's New York apartment while Stark Tower was being built. They'd been there for almost a year, and the tower would be finished in only a few short months.

Tony hated Phil's modest living space, and not one day went by where the man didn't complain about the lack of holographic technology and the apartment's dismal project space. Tony had commandeered the second bedroom as an office/workshop, but Phil adamantly refused to let him haul anything more than a small soldering iron into the apartment, because Phil's renter's insurance didn't cover fire by mechanical engineering gone wrong.

Phil had gotten used to waking up in the morning and listening to Tony as he alternately cursed the lack of computer interfaces located in Phil's tabletop and daydreamed about moving into the high-tech tower he was building.

On this morning, Tony was whistling as he waited for his coffee to finish brewing.

Phil was immediately on guard. Tony was never chipper before he'd had coffee.

Also, he was whistling the tune to "The Star Spangled Man With a Plan."

"No," Phil told him.

"What was that, babe?" Tony asked as he took Phil's favorite mug – the one that was deceptively simple and white on the outside, but had a picture of Captain America's shield on the bottom of the inside – and poured himself his first cup of the day.

"Whatever you're planning, no," Phil repeated.

"Plan? What plan? Who do I look like to you, the Star Spangled Man?"

"Tony, we've talked about this," Phil patiently reminded him. "When I divulge sensitive, top secret information about SHIELD operations to you, they need to remain just that: secret."

"If he's such a big secret, then SHIELD probably shouldn't have gotten him an apartment in Brooklyn using his actual name," Tony argued.

"True," Phil conceded, even as he steeled himself to go into work and debrief Fury on the situation.

Phil and Tony had been dating for almost three years, so he should have expected this. However, nothing could prepare him for coming home to find Steve Rogers sitting at his kitchen island and drinking a beer while watching Tony dish out food from an alarming number of take out boxes onto large dinner plates.

For the first time in almost fifteen years, Phil panicked.

He hadn't frozen up like this since his first time seeing active combat. At least then, he'd snapped out of it and got his head in the game fairly quickly. This time, he didn't. He stood in the open doorway of his apartment, staring at Steve Rogers, the man quiet and clearly uncertain of the situation he found himself in, but sitting relaxed on his stool and indulgently listening to Tony as he talked.

Then, Phil noticed the two helmets that had been discarded on the coffee table in the living room.

At which point Phil had a vision. A vision of Captain America, in full costume, racing a motorcycle across the streets of New York while Tony Stark, Phil's boyfriend, sat on the back of the bike, clutching the superhero's waist.

The blood rushed from Phil's head so quickly that for a moment, he was dizzy.

When Phil finally, finally, willed his erection away and tried to focus on what was going on in front of him, the first thing he registered was the blossoming look of horror on Captain America's face.

Then, Phil realized that Tony was telling Rogers about the time that a US Vice President shot an attorney in the face while hunting.

"Oh, Tony," Phil sighed, effectively announcing his presence to the room at large.

His interruption had the duel effect of distracting Tony and brightening Rogers' mood. As Tony cried, "Agent!" in greeting, Rogers stood and strode across the room with long, purposeful strides.

The guy was huge. Taller than he'd appeared in any of the movies he'd made during the war, and his smile made him look younger. Phil's heart skipped a beat when the man held out a hand to shake, his grip sure and strong, and his hand engulfing Phil's.

"Phil Coulson?" he asked, and Phil could only mutely nod. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Agent Coulson. Tony's told me a lot about you."

At these words, horror gripped Phil's heart, and he glanced to Tony, who was giving him his evilest grin. "Steve's staying for dinner and we're taking him on a tour of the world's finest cuisine," he announced, waving his hands to show Phil the take-out boxes from at least ten different restaurants. "Then, we're introducing him to Star Trek."

Phil almost called Natasha to see if she'd let him stay with her for a while, because his boyfriend was trying to kill him, Phil was sure.

"I'm sorry about this," Phil had to tell Rogers as the man prepared to leave for the evening. "I know that you requested that SHIELD keep its distance, but Tony..."

"Tony's not SHIELD," Rogers said with a grin, effectively brushing aside Phil's apology. "I've noticed. He spent an hour this morning complaining about SHIELD's policy on its agents publicly dating high profile celebrities."

"Only an hour?" Phil couldn't help but ask. The answering grin that Rogers treated him with gave Phil strength to continue with his apology. "Still, I'm sorry if he ambushed you. He can get pushy when he gets certain ideas into his head. I know that you're still trying to acclimate to the modern world, and even by modern standards Tony's futuristic-"

"It's okay, Agent Coulson, really. It's kind of nice to have someone who isn't treating me with kids gloves." Glancing over at the couch, where Tony was on the phone with Ms. Potts and arguing with her about his failure to get any work done that day, the man said, "It's been hard, living on my own in the future with only SHIELD to know who I really am. This is the first time that I've felt... I don't know, comfortable. Like maybe things haven't changed so much. And it was really kind of you to allow me into your home. I know that as a SHIELD agent, you value your privacy, but..."

For the second time that day, Phil was feeling dizzy, but in a very different way.

"Thanks," Captain America told him.

"Your face," Tony gloated as he watched from the bed as Phil went to the closet and began preparing for bed. "There were expressions on your face!"

"Tony." Phil undid his tie.

"And during dinner, when you tried to talk to him, you stuttered!"

"Tony." Phil took off his shoes next, adding them to Tony's pile of expensive leather shoes that needed polishing, then started on unbuttoning his shirt.

"And your blush! I've been trying for three years to get you to blush! Not even smacking your butt in front of your coworkers got you to blush! But that kid compliments the strategy you came up with for battling Klingons, and you light up brighter than my armor!"

"Tony." Phil hung up his belt next to his ties.

"I'm telling Hill. I'm telling Hill that you blush."

"Tony."

Having finally finished with his boasting, Tony hummed, "What's up, Agent?"

"Tony, did Captain America give you a ride on the back of his motorcycle today?"

Grinning, Tony announced, "The guy drives like a maniac. He broke so many traffic laws."

Phil abandoned the rest of his nighttime routine in favor of jumping on the bed and straddling Tony's waist. He then preceded to rip open the white t-shirt that Tony was wearing to bed.

"Motorcycle kink, yes," the man crowed before Phil shut him up with a kiss.

When Tony told Maria, Maria told Natasha, and Natasha told Clint. The three of them teased him for months.

However, on his birthday that year, Phil discovered that Maria had repaid Tony for the embarrassing information by breaking into Phil's locker at work and stealing his prized Captain America trading card collection (stored there because SHIELD was supposed to be one of the most secure facilities in the world). Tony presented the now signed cards to him as they ate a quiet, private dinner. Phil responded by presenting Tony with the ring he'd been carrying around for almost two months.

Phil's boyfriend was on a first name basis with Captain America, and was in fact the man's only friend for his first few months living in the future. As a result, Steve Rogers came over to their apartment at least twice a week for Star Trek, Firefly, and (only the first two seasons of) Heroes.

Tony gave Rogers a job with the construction crew that was working on the Tower, and when Tony wanted to go out to eat with Phil, he went to public restaurants with Rogers, instead. When Phil established his footing around Rogers and stopped making a fool of himself every time he opened his mouth, he went with Rogers to museums and art galleries.

When Fury approached Rogers about picking up the shield and wearing the cowl again, it was their apartment he showed up at to have his (justified and manly) freak-out.

He couldn't get drunk, but Tony gave him a beer, regardless.

"I'm just starting to feel normal," Rogers told them as he stared at the bottle he held in his hand. "I have a job – a real job – where I do real work, and I'm making friends. I'm making friends with good people. I'm not... I'm not sure if I want to go back to that life."

"Bull shit," Tony said.

Rogers looked up, blinking. "Excuse me?"

"I call bull shit," Tony repeated. "You can go back to that life, and you want to. It's probably all jumbled up with everything else that you've been missing about your old life for the last few months, but it is something you miss. Helping in ways other people can't – having that power to do real good, it's a big deal, and you miss it."

Tony's words clearly gave Steve something to think about, but something was still bothering the man. Phil spoke up latter in the evening after Tony had been distracted by a technical problem someone had informed him of at the tower.

"He's right, you know," Phil told Rogers. "I may not be a superhero, but I know the feeling Tony's talking about, and it's hard to walk away from."

"It's not... It's not that," Rogers argued, a crease appearing between his eyes.

"Then what is it?"

"It's... After I... While I was asleep, Captain America was built up to be some sort of... perfect ideal. And if I put on the costume again, people are going to be looking at me to be some... symbol. And that symbol isn't really me."

"You know," Phil said slowly. "Coulson was my father's name. My mother's name was Schmitt."

At this, Rogers' eyes widened. "You mean..."

"It's one of the most common surnames in Germany," Phil said with a nod. "My grandfather had three sons who died for the Nazi party. Latter in the war, though, during the winter, a bunch of enemy soliders showed up and started sleeping in his barn. He was going to call the Gestapo, but before he could, the soldier started doing work around his farm to pay him back for letting them stay there. They spent two weeks at the farm, fixing it up while they rested between missions."

It took a moment for Rogers to understand what he was saying, but Phil saw it the moment he remembered.

"In one week, those men did more for my grandfather's farm and his family than any of the Nazi's had in five years. Rogers, I didn't grow up on stories about Captain America. My mother told me stories about Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. I didn't really understand what that meant until a few years ago when Tony said that the suit isn't Iron Man – he is Iron Man. Just like you're Captain America, with or without the cowl. The suit simply... lets other people know what's already there."

When Phil was finished, Rogers asked, "And you think people are ready to know that Captain America is here?"

"I think they've been waiting for decades to hear just that."

"Try it on," Tony demanded.

"What, now?" Rogers asked.

"Yes, now. Put it on, give it a go, make sure the seams don't rip the first time you flex some muscle. Or do you want that fun little wardrobe malfunction to happen the first time you wear the suit into a fight?"

"I'll try it out when I go to the gym this evening," Rogers tried.

"What, and deny me the opportunity to see Captain America in the flesh, kickin it on my couch and drinking a beer? Come on, Steve, give us a look."

Rolling his eyes, Rogers said, "Fine. But only if that means that you'll make any alterations I want."

"Done deal," Tony said with a triumphant grin.

As Rogers went to the bathroom to change into the suit that Tony and SHIELD had just finished creating for Captain America, Tony turned his grin to Phil.

"You're horrible," Phil told him.

"Hey, I didn't hear you arguing," Tony announced.

"Does it bother you that you can't do this kind of stuff with Tony?" Rogers asked as they sat in the MOMA. They'd been looking at art for the past two hours, and now they were sitting and looking at people for a moment, instead.

"Not really," Phil told him. "Pepper's told me horror stories about trying to include him in cultured society. It bothers me that I can't do other things with him, though. There's a retro arcade I think we'd have fun going to... And there's a Comic Con next week... A lot of people actually dress like Iron Man. He'd get a kick out of the imitation costumes people come up with."

"Have you talked to Fury about going public?" Steve asked.

"Not without him threatening to fire me."

"There must be something you can do," Rogers pressed.

Turning, Phil asked, "Why do you bring it up?"

Listlessly, Rogers shrugged. "It bothers Tony that he can't wear his ring in public. It really, really bothers him."

Phil glanced down at where he wore his own ring, gold and shining in the bright morning light.

"He keeps it in his pocket," Rogers confessed. "Yesterday, we went for hot dogs in Central Park and I didn't see his left hand once the entire afternoon."

"I've thought about it," Phil confessed. "I've thought about leaving SHIELD. Getting back into the military, joining the police department. But..."

"You'd miss it," Rogers knew.

"Like crazy," Phil told him. "I'm crazier about Tony, though."

"I could talk to Fury for you," Rogers offered. "I'm sure we could come up with something."

"You think so?"

"Sure," Rogers told him. Then, bumping his shoulder against Phil's he said, "Take Tony to Comic Con and the arcade, Phil."

There were dozens of Iron Mans, their costumes made out of cloth, cardboard, and plastic. There were Iron Women, Iron Children, and there was even an Iron Dog. There were quite a few regular old Tony Starks, as well, men styling their hair and goatees to look like Tony's and wearing the same style of sunglasses.

There were Captain Americas, as well.

As Tony wandered through the throng of people with Phil and Rogers following behind, someone actually stopped and told him, "Your beard's all wrong, dude."

"Fuck off," Tony answered with a wide grin. He'd been walking with his hand in his pocket, but when he pulled it out to show the stranger his middle finger, Phil saw the light catch Tony's ring.

Tony wanted to buy everything Iron Man or Captain America while Phil and Rogers followed him around, talking him down from the ledge.

They lost the battle when they came across an auction. Someone was selling Captain America posters, vintage, from the war. Tony saw them, and he turned that now familiar evil grin on Phil.

If people hadn't realized that he was the real Tony Stark before, they certainly noticed after he started bidding on the posters, dropping $10,000 for the first one and $8,000 for the next.

"You must really love him," Steve told Phil as they watched the spectacle unfold. When people realized that the Iron Man was at Comic Con and bidding on Captain America merchandise, a crowd began to gather.

"I do," Phil answered as he smiled at Tony's antics.

"I admire you."

At this, Phil turned to blink at the taller man. "You... Admire me for loving Tony?"

"No. I mean... I admire how patient you've been about all this."

"All of what, exactly?"

With a chagrined grin, Steve explained, "I mean his... fascination with me. With Captain America. I can't think of anyone who would indulge him like you have without getting jealous. He's really lucky to have you."

Then, Steve Rogers – Captain America, Phil's childhood hero – squeezed his shoulder and gave him a nod. And not just any nod – it was the You've done right by America nod.

When Tony returned totting one of his overpriced, over sized, vintage, framed Captain America posters under his arm, Phil didn't hesitate to lean in and give the man a kiss.

Tony was understandably stunned, since they were in public, and people had been filming Tony and taking pictures on their phones ever since they'd realized who he was. And Tony's ring was still on full display.

"What?" he asked dumbly even as the crowd around them grew bigger.

"I just wanted to remind you that I love you, and I'm lucky to have you," Phil answered.

When Tony dropped the poster, the glass shattered and the frame cracked, effectively gathering the attention of the entire room as he grabbed Phil and pulled him into a hard kiss.

When Phil next went into work, Fury yelled for two entire hours before declaring that when the Avengers Initiative was launched, Phil would be their handler whether he liked it or not.

Chapter Text

One day, Phil went into work. It was something Tony's husband did most days, so Tony didn't think much of it.

Instead, he did what he did best: engineer world changing technology and use his genius to build energy efficient towers to show off said world changing technology. At the end of his work day, he cut off his wondrous, glorious tower from Manhattan's power grid, plugged in an arc reactor, and lit up the city with his brilliance.

So... yeah. Just a normal day in the Coulson-Stark household.

However normal the day was for Tony, it was still a big deal for Stark Industries and the rest of the world, so Pepper and Steve were over, celebrating his latest success even as they did their damned best to crush his self esteem in some vague ploy of teaching him modesty (Pepper said that what they were doing was called teasing, and Steve joined in because he didn't know any better).

By the end of the day, Tony was almost panting for Phil to get home, because his husband wasn't a soul crusher, like Pepper, or a conspirator, like Steve. Phil would stare down the CEO Pepper Potts until she admitted and basked in Tony's awesomeness, and he would talk down Steve until the super soldier was a watery puddle of contrite Americanness.

The evening didn't go like Tony hoped it would (praise, then a tour of the tower for their guests, then dinner, then Victory Sex).

When Phil came home from work, he didn't comment on the tower or its self-sustaining-gloriousness. He also didn't comment on Tony's ass in the pants he was wearing, and he didn't accept the glass of champagne which Tony offered him.

Instead, Phil told him, “We have a situation.”

The last time Tony had heard Phil speak those words, they were on their honeymoon, and they had run out of lube.

Recognizing that this was serious, Tony asked, “We have a situation, or...”

“SHIELD has a situation,” his husband announced to the room at large, frowning at Pepper and exchanging a look with Steve. “One that we can't handle on our own. We need the Avengers.”

At first, it was fun. Tony and Steve knew each other, and they were friends. They had spared a few times while fully suited, so they were familiar with each other's fighting styles and Steve's suit had been upgraded, then altered, then upgraded again. Steve had even gone with Tony to help destroy stockpiles of Stark munitions a time or two. They knew how to work together, and this time was no different.

Except for, you know, the Norse gods and their magic.

“Magic sucks,” Tony declared as they were flying in the quinjet back to the helicarrier, one godlike prisoner and one godlike prisoner guard in tow.

“I'm telling Phil,” Steve answered.

“What, that I hate magic? Because believe me, Steve, he will know. He'll know that I hate magic just as well as he knows that I hate SHIELD's confidentiality clauses-”

“No,” Steve interrupted. “I'm telling him that you goaded an alien being into a pissing contest when we should have been recovering and transporting a terrorist to SHIELD holding.”

“Oh, come on,” Tony sighed. “What does it look like we're doing right now? Mission accomplished! And hey, SHIELD hardly had any information on what this guy Thor was capable of – he didn't have any of his abilities last time he visited this part of the galaxy. And look at that! Now we know!

“You incited a battle with a friendly!” Steve argued.

“He may be friendly, but we didn't know that he was a friend,” Tony argued. “Steve, there are warning shots, and then there's trying to fry me with lightening.”

Behind them, Thor declared, “You survived.”

“You tried to fry me with lightening!” Tony cried once more as he turned on the man, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“I did not!” Thor argued with an indignant frown.

“Oh, so you were just trying to treat me to a light show?!”

“I was trying to short out the power source of your weapon!” he argued, motioning to the arc reactor in Tony's suit. “If you would just stop and listen for a moment-”

Steve had to hold back Tony from giving the guy a repulsor blast to the face.

“Thor,” Steve said slowly. “That isn't just a power source for Tony's... weapon. It's a power source for his heart. If you shorted out the reactor, Tony would die.”

At this announcement, Thor looked truly repentant. Drawing into himself, the man bowed his head and lowered his eyes as he set a hand against his heart. “It was not my intention to deal a fatal blow. My mother often tells me that I am brash in battle, and that I should not move without understanding the full consequences of my actions, and it is clear that in this she is correct. I apologize. If there is any way I can repay the disservice I have-”

“Oh, god, stop,” Tony begged. Because people never genuinely apologized to him. Not really. Except for Phil. Phil genuinely apologized from time to time, about things like not being able to go out with him in public, and drinking the last of the coffee, and that whole palladium poisoning thing. Usually, when people apologized to Tony, it was in the form of Sorry, but you're an irresponsible idiot and you should do this or that, or Sorry, but what you're talking about is impossible, or Sorry, but your father would have-

Phil had taught Tony what a genuine apology was like, and seeing a literal god bow his head in heartfelt remorse kind of hurt his soul. Or something. Tony didn't actually believe in gods or souls, so... Seeing a regal Asgardian beefcake giving him puppy-dog eyes gave Tony indigestion.

“Look,” Tony said when his interruption of Thor's apology left the man looking bereft. “Steve is right – I was looking for a fight. Green and Glowing over there didn't give me one, so I found one with you. It wasn't your fault. And now you know, so just... don't do that again. Or do. Because that was kind of a rush, and it could definitely come in handy during a fight.”

“Truly?” Thor asked.

“Yeah,” Tony nodded. “But only if you stop talking like one of the Fabios from Pepper's romance novels. Seriously, dude. Steve can do it. You can, too.”

“I'm still telling Phil,” Steve muttered. But Tony didn't care, because his brush off had succeeded in raising Thor's mood. And Thor, when he was in an improved mood (only improved, because the guy's brother was still in shackles and heading to a holding facility, and that fact turned out to be a downer) was as friendly a friendly as SHIELD claimed he was, but also charming besides. He and Tony got on like moths to a flame.

Which, in hindsight, might not be such a good thing, because flame burns and moths are stupid as fuck.

Bruce was Tony's favorite. Besides Phil, of course. And JARVIS. And Pepper and Rhody and Happy. Pepper, Rhody, Happy, and JARVIS all had time on their sides, and Phil sex on his.

Bruce, though – that guy was great. Tony had been itching to meet the man ever since Thaddeus Ross had handed Tony the man's file. Tony had been itching to pick the guy's brain since reading said file. Tony had been itching to meet the man ever since Tony had shut down SI's weapons manufacturing and had taken a more thorough look at his company’s military contracts and had found most of Banner's file blacked out (much like his own).

Meeting Bruce Banner was like walking into a dream – He was just as smart as Tony, just as creative, and just as much a hero. Except that Bruce Banner worked in messy fleshy chemistry, while Tony worked in clean hard electronics.

As far as Tony was concerned, he and Banner were soul brothers. The soul parts meaning science, and the brothers part meaning that Tony was happily and faithfully married to Phil, and not even Banner's sexy brain could change that.

“This is worse than when you tried to build a Star Trek transporter,” Steve told him when he walked in on Bruce and Tony doing Science.

Glancing up from his equations, Bruce asked, “Seriously?”

“Seriously hypothetical,” Tony answered.

“Did you account for mass and velocity?” Bruce absently asked.

Rolling his eyes, Tony answered, “No. Because that would have nothing to do with human transpor-

“Did you account for binary contrapositive disbursement?” Bruce interrupted.

“No. Because I would never think that... Oh... Wait... Oh.”

“Tony, focus,” Steve commanded as he wandered further into the lab.

“Because that would... That would work,” Tony breathed. “Bruce Banner, have you built-”

Rolling his own eyes, Bruce said, “Of course I haven't. Just because the math exists doesn't mean that the technology does-”

“Brucie Bear, technology is what I do-”

“Tony, focus!” Steve demanded, his tone stern. “Stay on task! An Asgardian god is attacking our planet, and we have to beat him to the trigger!”

Sighing, Tony took a deep breath and pushed Star Trek from his mind. Because Steve was right. Their action wasn't happening where no man had gone before, but where men lived and breathed and worked.

Their action was also happening where women lived and breathed and worked.

Tony was playing around before, but he knew that this shit was real when the Black Widow was introduced as an Avenger. Because Natasha was efficient, and vicious, and tough, and as far as SHIELD was concerned, she was their real final line of defense.

Tony knew her through Phil. Natasha was the man's favorites, because she got the job done.

Also, Tony knew her from the whole palladium poisoning mess. He'd hired her because Phil asked her to keep an eye on him after Tony made Pepper CEO, and Tony figured that Natasha needed the money (why else would anyone who already knew him apply to be his personal assistant, if they weren't desperately short on cash?). While everyone else had been trying to deny the inevitable, Natasha had helped him get his affairs in order. She didn't sugar coat the reality of the situation, and when Tony was dying, he had needed that.

She didn't sugar coat the situation this time, either.

“Barton's compromised,” she told him.

“Shit,” Tony sighed. “Where's Phil?”

“Command deck,” she informed him.

Tony made his way there as quickly as possible. Because Natasha may have been Phil's favorite, but Natasha and Barton were a team, which mean that Barton was also Phil's favorite, and-

And Barton was Tony's friend. The two of them talked. They'd talked even before they really knew who the other person was, because Fury was a jerk, and the director had forwarded all of Tony's anti-disclosure bitch fests to Barton's personal phone that one time, and ever since then...

Clint was to Phil as Pepper was to Tony. They shouldn't have worked well together, they shouldn't have become friends, and by all accounts, they should have killed each other within the first five minutes of knowing each other, but against all odds they ended up acting as each other's moral compass and sounding boards.

When Tony imagined Pepper being compromised... He not only imagined his company falling apart, but his life falling apart, as well.

So Phil couldn't be in a good place just then.

When Tony found his husband, the man was just as cool and composed as he had always been, working quickly and efficiently at understanding the situation and coming up with the best way to resolve the conflict with minimal damage. Except that Phil's smile was especially bland, and he wasn't blinking. Like, at all. Looking into Phil's eyes was kind of terrifying, Tony found.

“What can I do?” Tony asked, because he was at a complete loss as to how he could help in this situation.

Phil responded by pulling Tony into a tight, hard hug – right there in the middle of the helicarrier command deck. It lasted for only a few moments before Phil pulled away.

“I have the situation handled here,” he declared. “What we need to do is figure out Loki's next move-”

“We're working on it,” Tony told him. “Natasha's talking to him now, and Bruce and I are organizing a tracking algorithm.”

Nodding, Phil demanded, “Get back to it then.”

With a nod of his own, Tony turned to head back towards the lab.

“And Tony?” Phil called. “Stay safe.”

Grinning, Tony turned to tell him, “Sure thing, babe,” before spinning back on his heel and going back to work.

Tony had hardly stepped back into the lab when the helicarrier was rocked by an explosion.

“We've got Barton,” Natasha announced, her voice crackling through the communication system. “Loki's control is broken, and Hawkeye will be fit for duty in an hour.”

“Phil?” Tony called into the comms once the engines were turning and the helicarrier was back in the air.

It wasn't Phil who answered.

“Coulson's down,” Fury announced.

Tony hadn't know that it was possible to bonelessly collapse while wearing a flying metal suit, but it happened, regardless.
Steve was the one who got Tony out of the suit and back on his feet. Steve held Tony's upper arm in a steel grip as he kept Tony upright and hauled him to the command deck. When they arrived, it was just the two of them and Fury.

“Status,” Steve demanded.

“Widow's with Hawkeye,” Fury succinctly reported. “Loki trapped Thor in the Hulk's containment room and let it drop, and Hulk jumped ship.”

“And?” Tony snarled.

Fury's good eye met his, the man's expression blank, as he declared, “It doesn't look good. We're transporting him to the nearest medical facility, but his heart has stopped twice, and the knife Loki used was coated in something...”

“Poison?” Steve guessed.

Fury shook his head. “We don't know. Whatever it was, it's keeping the wound from closing.”

“Shit,” Tony hissed. “Fuck. Shit.”

“Keep your head!” Fury demanded. “Loki's escaped, and we have no idea where he'll hit next! If we don't find him, he's going to catch us with our pants down, and Coulson won't matter one way or the other, because we'll all be dead!”

At this, Tony wanted to lunge across the table and show Fury just how much his husband mattered, but Steve set a hand on Tony's shoulder and kept him from making any moves.

“He's right,” Steve told him. “Phil needs to get to a hospital, and if we don't stop Loki, there won't be any hospitals left to treat him. Come on, Tony. Let's get to work.”

So. Alien army: bad. Also, destructive and terrifying. Tony would be happy to never, ever have to battle like this again. He pushed his suit (new, shiny, and already wrecked) to its limits. Tony also pushed his body to its limits (when flying, he accelerated so quickly that it left him nauseous and made him dizzy, and although the suit could take a hit, he felt it when he was sent through walls and slammed into concrete roads).

For Phil, he thought. He had JARVIS tracking Phil's medical transport, and of course they were taking him to a hospital in New York. But New York wasn't safe. Not yet. Not until the portal was closed and these fuckers were sent home defeated and humiliated with their (metaphorical) tails between their legs.

Therefore, when Fury announced that there was a bomb headed towards the city, Tony knew there was only one thing he could do.

Keep Phil safe, and deliver a hit so hard that coming back to Earth and finishing the job wasn't an option.

“Tony...” Steve breathed. “That's a one way trip.”

Tony opened his mouth. He was going to say, “I know,” or ,“Tell Phil I love him,” or, “It's worth it,” or, “What other option is there?”

As his mind flicked through the possibilities, he even thought to say, “I don't care how much you liked reading the comics, never ever ever watch the George Clooney Batman movie.”

Tony wanted to say everything, but he didn't have time, so he said nothing as he carried a nuclear bomb through a trans dimensional portal.

When Tony gasped back to life, Phil's wasn't one of the faces he recognized leaning over him. He really, really wanted a kiss. He wanted a kiss from Phil. But Phil wasn't around, so he declared, “Please tell me nobody kissed me.”

“We won,” Steve stated. Then, as he hauled Tony (suit and all) off of the ground, Steve declared, “We'll finish things with Loki, and then we'll get you to Phil, okay?”

Tony's arc reactor hardly had enough energy to power his electromagnet, let alone his suit. So he didn't argue when Steve, Hulk, and Thor took turns supporting him and his armor as they moved to the tower to apprehend Loki.

As soon as Loki was in SHIELD custody and Tony was out of his suit, Clint powered up a chopper, and he, Natasha, and Tony went to see Phil while Steve, Thor, and Bruce stayed with SHIELD to help stabilize the situation.

“He's in surgery,” they were told by one of the SHIELD agents who had accompanied Phil to the hospital. “And you are all being looked over.”

The SHIELD medics who had flown to the hospital with Phil had been commandeered by the hospital's staff as soon as the attack began and injured citizens began overwhelming them. They abandoned their frantic work to check over the three Avengers who now graced the hospital, though. The hospital's doctors insisted when Clint and Tony wouldn't let anyone else touch them and after Natasha began using the hospital's supplies to stitch up her own wounds.

After Tony's (surprisingly minor, considering he'd flown into outer space only an hour ago) wounds had been patched up, he was directed to lie down in a cot that had been set up in the hallway outside of the surgery ward.

“Rest,” the SHIELD medic demanded. “Someone will wake you up when he's out.”

A few minutes latter, Natasha and Clint were pushed into cots across the hall from him. Tony didn't think he'd be able to sleep, not when he was so worried about his husband, but in between one blink and the next, he passed out.

Phil was still in surgery when Tony woke up.

His phone showed 50 missed calls, but JARVIS played him only three voice messages.

One from Pepper, telling him that she was flying back to New York, she would get things settled at the Tower, she had a team handling the press, and she demanded that he call her the moment there was any news on Phil.

There was another message from Happy stating that he was glad that Tony was okay and promising Tony to keep an eye on Pepper.

Then, there was a call from Rhody, who was pissed. “My best friend is part of some superhero team with Captain America, fighting an alien army in the streets of New York and flying around with nukes, and I have to hear about all of it from the Fox News station that my jackass boss likes to listen to?! When I get my hands on you, Tony Stark-”

Tony decided he'd put that conversation off for as long as possible.

Clint and Natasha were awake, and between the stress of waiting for news on Phil and the stress of hanging around in an overcrowded hospital full of injured, confused, and scared citizens, the three of them decided to lend some helping hands. Natasha and Clint had extensive experience with field medicine, and they were sent to the ER (Natasha's bedside manner was terrifying, but effective, and Clint was good with the children). Tony was sent to work on the hospital's power generators.

It was an hour later when someone finally came and found him with news on Phil.

It would take him months to heal. He needed bed rest, then physical therapy, and the doctors said there was a chance he would never be able to return to the field.

"He recovered after falling out of a fourth story window. He'll recover from this, too," Tony said with conviction.

And honestly? Tony didn't care. When he was finally granted access to Phil's room, the man was still unconscious, there were all sorts of wires and tubes attached to him, and he was heavily bandaged. Tony didn't care about any of it. All that mattered was the warmth of Phil's hand when Tony moved to hold it, and the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

Everything else could wait. All that mattered was that Phil wasn't gone.

Three months after the Battle of Manhattan, Phil was doing much better - he was still on bed rest (damn those magical alien knives), but the doctors had declared him well enough to start doing paperwork, at least, and SHIELD had delivered several boxes for him to begin sorting though.

"Tony?" he called, drawing the inventor's attention away from the SI emails he was going through.

Tony was immediately standing and at Phil's side. "Do you need something? I can have JARVIS-"

"Tony, why does Steve's report say that you drew an alien deity who was on our side into battle?"

"Does Steve's report also talk about the part where I totally saved the world?"

"Don't worry, Tony. We will certainly be discussing the the time where you totally grabbed a nuclear missile and carried it into outer space. After we're finished talking about how you goaded Thor into attempting to destroy your arc reactor with lighting."

"Worth it," Tony declared.

Tony continued to think it was worth it even after his husband began to give him the most thorough dressing down he'd ever received in his life. Phil was pale, and weak, and could only stay awake for about eight hours at a time, and even as the man quietly seethed in anger, Tony never for a moment doubted that Phil was worth it.