Chapter Text
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Clint glared at his boss, who glared back equally fiercely with his one good eye.
“I am not,” Fury replied calmly. “Banner is a danger; he needs to be contained or controlled.”
“Or eliminated,” Clint added.
Fury inclined his head silently.
“Sir, he’s been more than a year without incident,” Natasha supplied smoothly, her tone free of the rank insubordination that suffused Clint’s.
Fury turned his glare on her. “Oh, a whole seventy-six weeks without mass civilian casualties?”
“Every time he’s lost control either he or someone else has been under attack,” Clint argued. “There’s collateral damage, but if people would just leave the guy alone-”
“Barton, you’ll be undercover as a Daily Bugle reporter.”
“They’re letting a tabloid reporter in?” Clint sounded both incredulous and pained.
“Not exactly.” Fury smirked.
Clint finally took the file out of Natasha’s hand. “Quote: no hunter of buckshot in the rear is cagey, crafty, Clint. Unquote. Close paragraph.”
“Close job, close bank account,” Natasha added calmly.
“You really hate me, don’t you Barton?” Fury asked idly.
“No, sir,” Clint said. He’d known reasons to hate in his lifetime, and Fury didn’t rank even close. He paused. “I don’t like you very much, though.” There was a soft huff from Natasha that indicated her amusement.
“How am I going in, sir?” she asked.
“Damnit, Nat, we’re not doing it!” Clint snarled. “Let him fire us, it’s not like-”
“If you want to be terminated….” Fury trailed off, leaning forward with implied menace.
Clint broke off abruptly and looked down at Natasha’s tightly held shoulders. “Fine,” he bit off. He turned and stormed through the doors.
“I miss Tony,” Darcy grumbled. Bruce looked up from his physics journal and caught the glare that Pepper levelled at her younger sister. “What? I do.”
“You like Phil,” Bruce reminded her.
“Yeah, as a person. Not as a prospective brother-in-law.”
“Darcy,” Pepper began sharply. “We’ve had this discussion and it is closed.”
“No, we really haven’t. And it’s not. Phil’s great, don’t get me wrong, but you’re not in love with him and he’s not in love with you and frankly I think you’re both being great big cowards!” Darcy spat. The two women glared at each other across the huge pile of gifts.
“Is everything alright?” Phil asked calmly from the doorway. With him, it was impossible to tell if he had heard the outburst or not.
“Of course, dear,” Pepper said, immediately pasting on a smile. He crossed to her chair and she tilted her cheek up for him to kiss.
“Need some help?”
“That would be lovely,” Pepper replied. “I think Darcy’s a little tired.” She sent her sister a stern look.
“Fine. I’ve got homework.” Darcy rose and stomped off.
“I’ve actually also got, you know, work,” Bruce said. “Nice to see you, Phil.”
“You’ll be at dinner later?” Phil asked.
“Yes, of course.” He flashed a bland smile at the FBI agent and chased after Darcy.
“How can you be okay with this?” she demanded angrily. “He’s your best friend!”
“Because she’s my other best friend, and I want to see her happy,” he replied placidly.
“But she’s not!” Darcy insisted. “She’s content!”
“Maybe that’s all any of us can ask,” Bruce said.
“That’s bullshit.”
“Would you like to tell me why you haven’t mentioned your second career as a photographer for the Daily Bugle?” Peggy asked icily. Steve turned bright red and began stammering.
“Because the kid’s embarrassed and he’s got a massive crush on you,” Clint replied for him. Steve turned even redder.
“That would be more believable, I’m afraid, if you didn’t share so many bylines.”
“Is it so hard to believe, ma’am, that being his partner means being his friend and having his back?” Clint’s voice was equally cold now.
“Does he make you laugh, Pep?” Tony stalked toward her, dangerous like a jungle cat. “Does he keep you up all night screaming his name?” he purred into her ear. He exhaled warm air onto her ear and she got goosebumps that only migrated as she felt his mouth drift lower, never quite coming into contact with her neck. She wrenched herself away before her knees could give out.
“He doesn’t make me cry,” she said bitterly. “And I’ve never stayed up all night wondering if he was dead in a ditch somewhere, or in a car wrapped around a telephone pole, or passed out and suffocating on his own vomit, or just in another woman’s bed.” Tears sprang into her eyes.
“Is everything alright, Pepper?” Phil asked softly. She whirled to see him in the doorway and went to him, burying her face in his shoulder. He folded her into his arms carefully, like something fragile. She heard Tony storm off past them.
“Ooh, hey, improbably buff writer, I have a job for you!” the bride’s little sister called. He sighed when he saw her half-supporting the groom, but pasted on a smile as he drew nearer.
“Always happy to give a pretty lady a hand,” he said. “Or two.” He winked.
“Well, how about a handsome gentleman?” she replied.
“What?” Coulson and Clint asked in concert.
“Can you give my soon-to-be-brother-in-law a ride please?” she asked. Her eyes went wide and puppy-dog when he hesitated, knowing that it was a bad idea. The man had looked ridiculously good earlier. Now, with his suit rumpled and the flush of alcohol high on his cheeks, being near him was like self-flagellation, even for Clint.
He opened his mouth to make and excuse. “Yeah, sure. Back to the main house?”
“Gatehouse,” Darcy corrected. “They’re old-fashioned.”
“Why do you hate me?” Coulson asked plaintively.
“I don’t hate you,” Clint replied. “And anyway, why would you care? You’re a successful FBI agent about to marry one of the most powerful women in the world and I’m just a lowly tabloid reporter.”
“You’re beautiful. I mean, your writing is beautiful. And so are you,” he added, punctuating the statement with a hiccup.
“You’re drunk,” Clint said, trying to ignore the flip of his stomach at hearing the words.
“How does it go? Tomorrow I’ll be sober, but you’ll still be-”
“Tomorrow you’re going to be hungover.” Clint cut him off and Coulson stayed blessedly silent for the rest of the drive. Clint hesitated before moving to help support the other man, but he wasn’t going to make it from the car to his bed (his door, fuck, why would Clint think about his bed?) without aid. With Coulson’s arm over his shoulder, they made their way to the door. Clint tried it, hoping it would be unlocked. Thankfully it was, so he manoeuvered the drunk FBI agent in and over to the couch. He ducked out from under the older man’s arm. Phil swayed but didn’t collapse onto the couch.
He looked at Clint, his eyes sharper than they had any right to be. Finally he shuffled forward a step.
“Kiss me,” he said. It was halfway between a command and a plea.
Clint had to close his eyes against the temptation. “I don’t kiss married men.”
“I’m not married,” Phil replied, his breath drifting softly across Clint’s lips.
“Close enough.” Clint opened his eyes and stepped away.
Phil didn’t speak until he reached the door. “But you kiss men.”
“What?” Clint turned back, the door halfway open.
“You didn’t say you don’t kiss men.”
“No, I didn’t,” he agreed.
“Good night, Clint.”
“Good night, Mr. Coulson,” Clint replied.
“Pep? You okay?” Darcy asked softly.
“I don’t know, Darc. I don’t think I can marry Phil. But I can’t not, not now.” She shook her head.
Despite thinking this was what she had wanted (because of it, perhaps) Darcy felt guilty. “You know I just want you to be happy, right?”
“Of course I do.” Pepper laid her head on Darcy’s shoulder.
“Talk to me, Phil,” Maria ordered.
“Do you mind?” he demanded.
“Honestly? Yes, a little, but Peggy’s busy batting her eyes at the artist kid and Sitwell’s taking bets, so someone’s got to be here to witness your panic attack, if only to settle Sitwell’s pool.”
“You’re all heart,” Phil said with a scowl, and resumed dressing. Hill shrugged, mostly suppressing her smirk.
“C’mon, what’s up?”
“I’m pretty sure I asked Barton to kiss me last night.”
“Pretty sure?” Maria asked.
“I did,” he admitted.
“So?”
“What?” he whirled on her with outrage.
“So … did he? So … what now?”
“No,” Phil sighed, answering the easier question.
“I need to talk to you,” Pepper said, wringing her hands and looking ready to cry. Phil collapsed into the opposite chair, concluding that she had heard about Jasper’s fucking betting pool.
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
“I never meant for – what?” the surprise breaking through her distress was almost comical.
“I – I came onto Barton last night,” he admitted.
She broke down into uncharacteristic giggles. Panic flared. Was this a nervous breakdown?
“Tony,” she eventually choked out in response to his near-frantic reaction.
When Clint turned the corner, he found the happy couple entwined in each other, laughing their heads off. Phil beamed and planted an enthusiastic kiss on Pepper’s cheek. Clint whirled and fled.