Phil was neither a super-spy nor could he hide for hours at a time in some corner of the ceiling without being seen, but a man in a suit was pretty inconspicuous and he wasn't someone to draw attention to himself to begin with. So sometimes Phil overheard things – office gossip – stuff it was good to know even if it wasn't essential to anything. Usually this little tidbits amused him, sometimes they were just boring, but this time he was – if he was honest with himself – shocked.

When Tasha visited his office the next time he had to bring it up.

"Did you know that there is a betting pool on when and where you and Clint will be sleeping together?"

She sat on his couch and let out a small chuckle. "Didn't you know?" She seemed surprised.

"No I didn't."

"Oh come on Coulson, those kind of betting pools are inevitable. There is a smaller one taking bets on us."

"This is not funny Agent Romanoff."

"Yes it is," she insisted.

His face must have been quite a sight, since she actually stopped grinning. "Clint and I are friends as are you and I – I wouldn't sleep with either of you even if you were interested, which you clearly aren't. So you don't have to worry."

Now that took him by surprise. He knew he wasn't interested and it was clear that Natasha with her uncanny ability to read people knew that. But why should he worry?

"Why should I?"

"Really, Phil?" She rolled her eyes – literally rolled her eyes at him. After a moment in which she obviously waited for him to say something, she got up and left the room mumbling "Men" and something else in Russian under her breath, which he didn't quite get as the door closed behind her.

After that particular conversation he saw neither Natasha nor Clint for about two weeks. He began to wonder why they were avoiding him, since no mission kept them occupied.

He was just on his way to get himself a coffee when Barton barged into his office.

"We need to talk," the archer informed him.

Coulson leaned against his desk, he wondered if he would get the answer as to why the two agents had avoided him lately.

"Natasha told me you found out about the betting pools."

"Yes?" Phil waited patiently for Clint to get to the point.

"And that you weren't happy about them."

"They are not consequential."

"Then why did you care?" Barton's tone implied that the answer to that was important.

"I dislike people viewing the private life of others as a source of entertainment."

Clint studied him carefully. "So you would have had the same reaction, if the pool had been about Sitwell and Hill or Duggan and Drew?"

Phil really didn't want to answer that one. "I fail to see how that's relevant."

The archer's shoulders sagged and he seemed ready to leave before he pulled himself together. "To Hell with it – Do you want to have dinner with me?"

"It's a bit early for dinner..." Coulson started as he wasn't willing to interpret anything into Barton's words, but the younger man interrupted him.

"I'm not talking about right now. I'm talking in general terms as 'Would you like to go on a date with me?'"

"When?"

Clearly this was taken as the 'yes' it was meant to be. Clint's grin reached from one ear to the other, when he answered. "How about tomorrow? I know an amazing Italian restaurant not too far from my place."

"Sounds good to me. I can probably be there at eight."

Clint pulled out a piece of paper, took a pen from Phil's desk and scribbled down an address.

"I have to go, sorry. I'm late for my meeting with Hill as it is." He turned around once more before leaving the office – huge grin still in place. "I'll see you tomorrow, Phil."

Coulson was left to wonder what he had gotten himself into. His brain was telling him, that this was probably a very stupid idea, while his face insisted on smiling like an idiot. His need for coffee was somehow forgotten.

+++First Date +++First Date +++First Date +++First Date +++

Their first date went pretty well, For once Clint was on time and Phil met him as they arrived at the restaurant simultaneously. Clint wore a dark blue button down shirt and tight-fitting jeans, that brought out his eyes and ass respectively. While Phil felt flattered, that the other man put such an effort into this date, he was also very conscious about the fact that he himself was an average looking man at best and could only be described as middle-aged. But any possible doubt he might have had, melted away in the face of Clint's smile.

The restaurant itself was small and cozy and if the bruscietta were anything to judge by the food was excellent. Tragically enough Phil wouldn't find out – at least not that night. Right after they had made their orders both of their cell phones rang with orders to immediately report to HQ.

Phil was halfway out the door when he heard Clint shout an apology and a cancellation of their order at someone named Julio. A moment later agents Coulson and Barton were on their way.

+++Second Date+++Second Date+++Second Date+++Second Date+++Second Date+++

On their second date they managed starters and the bigger part of the main course before Phil got a call from Fury. Some HYDRA agent wanted to defect, but refused to speak to anyone but Agent Coulson. Clint was left with the remaining parts of the pasta and the bill.

After SHIELD had manged to bring the HYDRA agent in, Barton found a single red rose in his locker. The apology wasn't necessary but very much appreciated.

+++Third Date+++Third Date+++Third Date+++Third Date+++

For their third date they decided on a simple coffee, reasoning that the shorter the time, the higher their chances to get through their date without interruption. It might even have worked, if it hadn't been for the fact, that they chose a spot too close to HQ. Running into Maria Hill on a date, really killed the mood.

+++Fourth Date+++ Fourth Date+++Fourth Date+++ Fourth Date+++

Their fourth date seemed to be the lucky one. They got through starters, magnificent Thai-Curry and dessert without being interrupted. Clint couldn't shake the feeling that this was mainly owed to Tasha and a couple of well-placed death threats. The thought made him smile a bit wider and he put his arm around Phil as they walked down the sidewalk.

Coulson felt warm and relaxed. After three interrupted dates he had grown a bit frustrated and when they decided on a new date, he made an innocent comment or two to Natasha. Obviously his strategy had worked. Phil gave into the warm fuzzy feeling that could be blamed partly on the excellent liquor he'd indulged in after dinner, but even more so to the company of a certain archer. He leaned into the younger man and enjoyed the warmth and closeness.

"Hey look at those damn faggots."

Phil might have been willing to let those words slip. It was late and he really didn't want anything to spoil the evening. It was quiet and just far enough away, that he could justify it to himself to ignore it. But Clint instinctively tensed besides him. So Phil stopped. And turned around.

The group of five men came closer fast. The smallest of them was about Barton's height and all of them were heavily muscled. They didn't seem to be intoxicated, but at least a pair of brass knuckles seemed to be the only weapon between them.

Coulson took a casual step towards them, putting a bit of distance between himself and Barton. His face showed a mild smile and his posture was so non-threatening, that Clint almost felt sorry for those poor bastards.

"Can I help you, sir?" His polite manners threatened to take away the aggressors' steam.

Their leader did his best to take back the initiative. "You think this is funny, homo?" He turned to his comrades. "The Sugar-daddy thinks he's Adam Sandler."

While the others began to snicker Coulson looked quite appalled at the indication of him being a 'Sugar'-anything. Barton too a few steps back to avoid being circled. He was pretty confident, that Coulson could deal with five unarmed civilians, despite the fact that they both had had a couple of drinks. Still it didn't hurt to have someone watch your back from a secure position.

"I can assure you, that I can't find anything even remotely humorous in a couple of overgrown, insecure idiots who try to project their own feelings of inadequacy on some random group and are obviously intend on using violence in an attempt to drown their self-hatred."

Barton barely contained a snicker at the sight of those idiots' snarls.

And then they attacked.

Coulson was all cool efficiency. He might have been a little intoxicated, but years of training and living as a SHIELD agent simply took over.

The first mistake those idiots had made was choosing the wrong victim. The second one was to attack all at once. It was difficult to fight this close together, even if you were trained to work as a team and those five clearly weren't. At least two of them were clever enough to see their mistake and retreat a couple of steps, giving their comrades room to swing. Clint picked up a stone, that fit comfortably in his palm, just to be on the safe side.

Although the three remaining goons had more room to fight, it didn't do them much good. Every time they took a swing Coulson simply wasn't there anymore to be hit. Clint realized how good Phil looked fighting in those immaculate clothes of his. Only the tie was missing and Clint imagined that it would have looked perfect trailing Coulson's moves.

In less than thirty seconds two of the attackers were taken out – one by a punch with the brass knuckles intended for Phil and the other by well-placed kick and punch combination by the SHIELD agent himself.

After that the remaining three became more cautious and tried to synchronize their attacks. Phil still clearly had the upper hand but then Clint spotted one of the men behind Coulson. The man sneaked up on Phil from an angle the SHIELD agent could impossibly see and he had a knife. Which basically was one of the most dangerous things you could encounter – an amateur with a knife in a melee. The stone left Hawkeye's hand and three things happened almost simultaneously: a satisfying crunch, a cry of pain and the knife wielder breaking down on the spot.

The outcry distracted both the remaining attackers, while Phil didn't even blink. He knew and trusted Hawkeye to have his back. He used the advantage to take out the two remaining guys, one with a well placed chop on the neck, the other by taking him into a judo hold using his right arm for leverage.

Barton took a moment to admire the scene before him: Five idiots expertly taken out and Phil Coulson towering above them, his clothes slightly ruffled. He hadn't broken a sweat but his cheeks were flushed because of the alcohol. Clint found the whole thing incredibly sexy.

"Barton, if you'd be so kind to call the authorities?"

The younger man had his cell out already and dialed the number. "Yeah I want to report an attack, five aggressors, on the corner of Jefferson and Adams. The attackers are taken out, but we need someone to arrest them. - Who 'we' is? Just put in priority code 67ERF37-B, darling. Oh and deploy an ambulance, one of the attackers has a dislocated, probably broken kneecap. - Yes, 67ERF37-B."

He terminated the call and looked at his date. "That should speed things up nicely."

Coulson was obviously torn. "The Director won't be happy you called in a 67ERF37-B on a minor civilian matter."

Clint shrugged. "I'll just explain to him, that your extreme awesomeness overwhelmed me, since I got a kink for competence. And after such a display I couldn't be asked to wait any longer than necessary or I might have exploded from the sheer physical need to get you into my bed."

The sirens were already closing in and spared Phil the need to comment on that.

The police officers did their questioning pretty fast and efficiently. But when they asked for Clint and Phil to to come to the station with them Barton was this close to killing someone.

"67ERF37-B," he stated tonelessly.

"You'll have our statements on your desk by midday tomorrow," Coulson promised with an apologetic smile.

The officer in charge wasn't happy but there wasn't much he could do about it. He had their information written down, so he nodded his agreement.

Clint dragged Phil away with a grin before the other man could change his mind.

+++Epilogue+++

After reading Agent Coulson's and Agent Barton's official report on the events of the evening Director Fury agreed, that Hawkeye had shown remarkable restraint by only taking out one kneecap. After reading the part about 'the kink for competence' he decided to let the archer get away with nothing more than a verbal reprimand. Technically he had misused the authorization code but Nick was more than willing to be lenient with people, who made him grin over paperwork. He also made a copy of the relevant page and went to meet Agent Romanoff to collect his winnings from the real betting pool.

author's note: Can be seen as the continuation of "The three SHIELD-keteers"