Work Text:
In the field, Senior Agent Cameron was prepared, efficient, and willing to move heaven and earth to bring his team home in one piece. He wasn't liked, but he was respected. Phil didn't want Clint going out with him only because Cameron had a tendency to use a Ferrari like a lawnmower and Clint was not a blunt weapon.
In the office, Cameron was, as Clint so succinctly put it, an oblivious prick. He considered anyone behind a desk beneath his notice, in spite of having done the same desk rotations as a junior agent. He was rude, he was demanding, and he expected to be obeyed as though he were issuing orders in the field. As a result he never had paperclips, his computer picked up more viruses than any other computer in the organization, and the less said about what went into the coffee he demanded junior agents bring him, the better.
Phil, while recognizing that Cameron was very good at certain aspects of the job, didn't like him any more than Clint and the junior agents. He was just better at hiding it.
"I'm telling you, Coulson, you need to do something about that girl Friday of yours."
Sometimes, he didn't bother hiding it. "My door was closed for a reason, Cameron."
"Yeah, whatever." Cameron waved it off, demonstrating both the oblivious and the prick part of Clint's description. "This won't take long. Unless your girl hasn't been passing on my messages, you know what I want. Has she been passing on my messages? I mean, she's cute and curvy and all, but she's probably out there doing her nails and screwing around on Facebook. When she's even there. Which she currently isn't. Plus," Cameron added before Phil could speak, "girl's definitely got an inflated sense of her own importance. You don't keep her on a tight reign and she's just the type to turn into a power hungry little bitch. Jesus fuck, she's only a probationary agent, she's got no right to talk to me like she does. She needs to remember that she's only here because employing her's more ethically righteous than shooting her."
Phil straightened -- he'd developed a tendency to curl around the healing wound in his chest and he needed to stop it. He saved the file he had open, took a deep breath, and said, "Why do you think Agent Lewis is working for SHIELD?"
"Wrong place at the wrong time," Cameron snorted. "As Dr. Foster's little pet, she was just too close to the whole Thor situation for us to ignore the potential security risk."
"She was there, right there on the street when the Destroyer opened fire. What do you think she did?"
Cameron frowned, searching for the trick in the question and not finding it. "Screamed and ran, I imagine."
"No." Palms flat on the desk, Phil leaned forward. "When an alien, fire spewing robot controlled by an insane demi-god opened fire, Darcy Lewis did not scream or run, even though both actions would certainly have been justified. Facing violence outside even the varied experiences of most members of this organization, she overcame her fear, helped evacuate civilians, and directly contributed to keeping Dr. Jane Foster alive." Phil caught Cameron's gaze and held it, his voice hardening. "Ms. Lewis' actions that day are why I sent her a SHIELD application. Agent Lewis' actions since arriving are why I trust her outside my door. And you might want to take under consideration the open secret that her Psych evaluation is an 80 percent match to Director Fury's."
"Eighty percent..."
"Yes." Fortunately for them all, she'd scored significantly higher than Fury in Ethical Considerations.
Cameron stared at the floor, the ceiling, and his shoes before glancing back at Phil and saying, "So about the other thing, can I..."
"No. Get out."
"Look, that's just..."
"Now."
As the door closed behind him, Phil heard the sound of half a dozen blunted arrows impacting with a fleshy target, some loud but ultimately pedestrian swearing, and a promise to tie Barton's nuts in a knot.
Well, that answered the was Clint still lurking in the ductwork question. As fond as he was of them, Phil had no fear for Clint's nuts -- the day an ass like Cameron actually got his hands on Clint was the day they'd retire to the little house he'd inherited outside Portland.
It did, however, seem as though Darcy had acquired the over-protective big brother she never knew she wanted. Good. If Clint could keep the hyenas off Darcy's back at work and Captain Am... Steve took care of her at home, she might just survive the next few months. And if she survived the next few months...
Moving slowly, carefully, Phil turned his attention back to the open file on his laptop. He just hoped he lived long enough to see Darcy Lewis face off against the WSC.
