Chapter Text
Phil stifled his groan, as he pulled himself into the dumpster. Thankfully, it was full and did not smell horrible. The cold season had come and he wondered if he'd be facing off against more cold-themed villains. Freeze preferred to strike at Gotham either in the winter or in the middle of a heatwave. Phil was always thankful when Freeze struck midsummer, those cases never seemed nearly as bad as the winter ones.
Still, he was on his own, in his own city, and well, he hadn't collected his own rogue's gallery, unlike The Shield that protected Gotham. He'd left the sidekick business behind him. Bludhaven needed a hero and they'd gotten one in Phil, taking the name Agent. It had been going fine, fine, at least until he'd started going after the Maggia. They were a little tougher and he hadn't quite been prepared for Hammerhead's head actually being so hammer-like. He was pretty sure a bunch of ribs were bruised, if not outright broken. He just needed to wait a bit, before calling Melinda in to pull him out of this mess. He'd just close his eyes a bit and then call her in.
*
Phil opened his eyes with a start and sat upright. Nothing was right, the sounds were wrong, the smell, and well, he shouldn't have sat up, because the pain flared in his chest and he dropped back down onto whatever he was lying on.
"Well, that looked like it hurt," a male voice said.
He turned to find a sandy haired boy. The boy's face was still screwed up in a wince as he looked Phil over.
"His ribs are broken, it was a stupid move," an accented female voice said. Phil scanned the room, spotting the girl hiding in the shadows. "Why did we save him?"
"It's The Agent, Na…" the boy started, trailing off. "Sorry, habit. He's a hero."
The woman snorted. "A stupid one. Messing with the Maggia."
"Well, Shield would do the same and has done so in Gotham," the boy replied.
The girl scoffed. "He is not Shield."
"Yeah, but Shield's sidekick hasn't been sighted, since before this guy started working."
"Maybe the sidekick is dead," the girl replied, the accent deepening.
The boy looked back at Phil before shrugging. "Regardless, couldn't just let him, you know, die in a dumpster."
"He's seen your face."
"He's a good guy."
"He's an idiot."
"I can hear you," Phil stated, managing to find his Agent voice.
"You're an idiot," the girl said. "I am surrounded by them."
"Not an idiot, have back up, just need to call them," Phil stated, trying to stand up through the pain. He was surprised to find a set of strong arms wrapping around him. He glanced down to see the boy looking up at him.
"Yeah, how about we help get you out of here," he offered.
"I don't think your partner wants to do that," Phil replied.
There was silence, before a sigh was heard. "I will make sure coast is clear."
Phil was awkwardly helped to an area outside of the warehouse, before he hit the switch to call in the Cavalry. There were frequent pauses and whatever signals the pair had, Phil was missing them. He blamed the incredible amounts of pain that he was in.
"Take care, Agent," the boy said, before disappearing into the shadows. He scanned the area, but he didn't catch sight of the girl either. It wasn't long before the sleek car pulled in and the door hissed open. Phil toppled gratefully into the front seat, ignoring the glare from his best friend.
*
"Hey May," Clint said, slipping through the crowd and leaning against the blockade that had suddenly appeared outside of the shelter. "What's all the hubbub about?"
"Hubbub," Natasha repeated, sneering slightly.
"Mr. Coulson is filming a video to display at one of the charity galas to show what good work we do," May explained, giving them a look.
Clint tried not to read too much into it. May Parker was… May and she seemed to genuinely care for those that came into the shelter. She'd told Clint once that he reminded her of his nephew, before shoving two warm jackets at him. She'd long ago told him not to call her Mrs. Parker and to call her May. She was definitely one of the nicest ladies that Clint knew. Still, he didn't like the look that she'd given him though. There was pity in that look and May didn't usually do pity. There was something else in that look though.
"So dinner?" Clint asked, because scavenging some food hadn't been going well.
"I don't know." May's voice was tight as she said that.
Clint looked over at Natasha who shrugged.
"Well, surely, if they're showing off the good work of the shelter, dinner…"
"Their PR person wants to make sure that the homeless don't look unappealing to potential donors," May finally said. The look was back and this time Clint recognized it, pity for them, because she couldn't feed them and anger because she was being stopped by her bosses.
"Oh," Clint said, glancing at the building. Now, he knew why he'd seen a few of the other kids headed away from here. They were headed to other shelters to try and get there before doors closed, before they ran out of food; no one had stopped Clint or Natasha, because they hadn't wanted the extra competition.
He glanced at Natasha, who shook her head. No, they wouldn't be able to make it to another one in time. Empty bellies for them tonight.
"I'm sorry," May said, looking and sounding truly apologetic. "You want me to see if I can get the PR to let you into the background shots. You're good looking kids, it might happen."
"Have they let anyone else?" Natasha asked.
May shook her head. "No, but I can try."
"I'd hate for them to get angry with you," Natasha said.
"I can…"
"May! There you are!" a man said, striding over to them in a suit.
"Mr. Coulson," May said, turning and plastering the fakest smile that Clint had ever seen on her face.
"I just wanted to thank you for letting us film today. I know it was last minute," Coulson said as he walked over to her.
"Yes, it was," May agreed. "Are we almost wrapped up then?"
Coulson smiled. "Not sure, I'm letting the PR firm handle those details, but I wanted to thank you personally for everything that you do here."
May hummed. "Well, I'd like you to meet two of the kids that your money goes to help. This is Clint and Natasha." She gestured toward them. "They eat here a lot."
There was a brief thing in Coulson's face as he took them in, and Clint wasn't sure what that was because it was gone so quickly. He resisted the urge to look at Natasha and settled for the most uninterested look that he could.
"Kids, this is Phil Coulson, he used to be Nick Fury's ward.."
Natasha made a sound and Clint looked over at her confused.
"...Now he's on his own, following in Fury's footsteps."
Natasha was staring at Coulson and Clint was trying to figure out what she was thinking.
"It's nice to meet you two," Coulson said, smiling politely. "You look a little young to be on the streets."
"Yeah, well, it was streets or letting my daddy pimp me out," Natasha responded. "And before you say foster system, well Clint's been beaten in just about every foster home he's been in."
Blue eyes landed on Clint, who shrugged and nodded, because yeah that was true.
"Sorry to hear that," Coulson said. "I, uh, wish I could do more."
"Yeah, well, closing the shelter to film your propaganda for do-gooder ain't helpin' no one," Natasha said.
"Natasha," May said.
Coulson froze. "Shut down? It's not supposed to be shut down for this." He looked over at May.
"Your PR people thought it would bring in more donors if they had actors rather than real people," May said, slowly. "I've been turning away my regulars for most of the day."
"Which you wouldn't have had to do, if you'd had proper warning," Coulson said, glancing back. "Lemme guess, the food they're serving in there…"
"Out of my budget," May stated.
Coulson nodded. "I'll handle it." His eyes shifted back to Clint and Natasha, before going back to May. "You know Melinda?"
"Yes," May said, warily.
"Escort these two to her and have her take them out for burgers." He was pulling out his cell phone and tapping away on it.
"What about everyone else?" Clint asked. "We're not the only ones."
Coulson's face twitched. "Ms. Parker can call some of the local pizza places or other places for the whoever you think will show up."
May nodded.
"Why are we getting burgers then?" Natasha said.
"Consider it a reward for saying something to me," Coulson said, waving a hand over his shoulder as he walked away.
Clint sighed.
May arched an eyebrow at him. "You seem sad."
"I like pizza better than burgers."
Natasha shook her head. "Choosy beggar."
"C'mon you two," May said. "Let's go find Melinda, so you two can eat."
*
Phil strode into the restaurant an hour and half later. That PR firm was definitely fired. The two kids were leaning against one another on one side of the booth while Melinda watched them from the other side. There were multiple trays and the remains of milkshakes.
"How was it?" Phil asked, sliding next to Melinda. He set the two grocery bags on the table.
"It was burgers," Clint replied, eyeing the bag. "Did you ditch us to do your shopping?"
"No," Phil said. "Those are for you. I appreciate your candor."
Both of the kids looked confused.
"Honesty," Melinda said.
They both shrugged and nodded.
"I didn't get anything that requires a microwave or refrigeration, since I don't know your living situation." Phil added. He had an idea though.
"This has to be more than just honesty," Natasha said. "What do you want?"
"I'd like it if I could get you into a proper foster home and back in school, but I have a feeling that if I tried that, you'd disappear. So I'm settling for feeding you and giving you some supplies."
"We know enough," Clint said, lifting his head slightly.
"I'm sure," Phil said, remembering his own bravado a few years earlier when he thought he knew enough to survive by himself after his mother had died. He'd been lucky, The Furys had been friends with the Coulsons for a long time. Nick had dragged him kicking and screaming back to his mansion and said that he was going to live here now. Then threw money at the problem until it was legalized. Later he'd found that both his father and mother had taken care of Nick when he'd lost his parents until Nick had gone away. When Nick had returned, he'd kept tabs on his mother and himself.
"Are we free to go then?" Natasha asked.
Phil nodded. The two slipped from the booth, grabbing the bags.
"Thank you Mr. Coulson," Natasha said, poking Clint, who looked back.
"Thanks," Clint said, before leading them out of the restaurant.
Phil waited a few minutes, before moving to the otherside of the booth. "Thoughts?"
"Are you planning on doing what Fury did for you with those two?" Melinda asked. "Because they're not you."
"I know," Phil agreed. "They saved the Agent's life though and Clint worried about others tonight."
"You're sure?" Melinda asked.
"I don't forget faces and Clint is rather unique."
Melinda sighed. "You are never going to convince them."
"No, I'm aware of that," Phil agreed. Those two would make sure that Phil Coulson never saw them again. "I guess, we'll have to see if our paths cross again."
*
Goons, thugs, Phil had so many names for the five men that decided to jump him. It was a good trap. A robbery was the bait with the goons lying in wait to jump them. He punched the first one, dodging a fist from the second. The third he tripped, crashing into four and five and letting him focus on one and two for a few brief seconds. Those two were unconscious and he tensed expecting a hit from behind him because it had been long enough. A hit never came and he caught the slightest glint from a rooftop. He spun ducking behind a trash can and taking in the scene. Three and Four had arrows sticking out of them. Five's face was currently between the thighs of a woman and she brought him down, popping up as she jabbed him with a taser.
He caught a brief flash of red hair and recognized her, Natasha.
"That's two you owe us," Natasha stated.
"I already paid you back for the first," Phil replied, because Melinda was right. These two were definitely not coming in with Phil Coulson. They'd throw in The Agent in a heartbeat though.