Hey guys! So, this is completely knew for me. I usually like to stick to the happy happy, fluffy side of fanfiction. But someone offered me cookies so I came over here. I brought some romance with me but don't worry it's hidden behind the sad. In case your upset with the character category I was just thinking Phil doesn't really do anything in this fic, and their are undertones of established Clint/Natasha so that's why.

That's it, please read and review.


The day was bright as they made their way across the stone littered ground. To some it was a mocking sun, shining in great contrast to their feelings. To others it was a testament to the man they would lay to rest.

The makeshift team sat amongst the crowd, eyes cast toward the single brown coffin feet away.

Pepper sat silently, eyes red rimmed, and held steadfast on to Tony's arm. As much as he was holding her, she was holding him.

Steve took the seat beside Pepper, with Bruce to his right. He fiddles aimlessly with the cards in his hand as Fury continues his speech.

Bruce takes deep breaths, desperately trying not to look at the crying faces around him. While searching for a distraction he also begins the search for their two remaining Earth bound teammates.

He finds them a few feet back. There the two stand, gaze never wavering from the casket. Their stances are stiff, and eyes are unemotional, but the cracks in their resolves threaten to break them. They each take silent, deep breathes, as memories of their handler play in the space between them and the casket.

The time comes for each person to place something beside the man. Fury relinquish his version of a purple heart, while Hill calmly sets down Coulson's badge. Pepper shakily places an envelope beside him, while Tony puts in a beer. After waiting for a few others, Steve places the signed trading cards in his suit pocket. Bruce sets his own envelope beside Pepper's before retreating.

Once almost everyone had gone, and the burial was soon to commence, Natasha and Clint make their way calmly up the aisle. Making no eye contact with anyone but each other and the man that had helped them for all these years, they place their own contribution to their father-like figure.

Bringing reaching into their coats, each pulls out a pristine photo. One shows the three of them, after their first debriefing together. A younger Clint and Natasha smirk to the camera as Coulson throws up two devil's horns complete with a stuck out tongue. The memory brings small smiles to each of their faces.

The next photo, a picture from Clint and Natasha's impromptu wedding, shows Natasha sharing a dance with Coulson in the small chapel they had found after a particularly close mission. Meanwhile, Clint can be seen off to the side with a smile conveying his happiness.

Carefully, the couple tuck the pictures on the inside flap of Phil's suit, giving the man a silent thanks before calmly making it back down the aisle.

The thank you was for many things, for Phil was a good man. A thank you for allowing Natasha to stay, for keeping their secret until the very end, for all the things they couldn't voice the thank you did.