"It's a pseudo," Phil insisted, glancing over his shoulder as he strolled easily into the kitchen of Avengers Tower, his coffee mug clutched in one hand as he headed straight for the K cup machine. He sidestepped around a half asleep Tony, giving a nod to Natasha and Steve who were ensconced at the breakfast bar, Natasha picking apart a chocolate doughnut as Steve browsed the Sunday paper.

"Keep dreaming, Phil," Clint insisted, barely a pace behind him. "Morning Tony." He gave a mischievous grin, slapping Stark so hard on his shoulder that he half stumbled a pace.

"Morning," Tony mumbled into his coffee cup as if he hadn't noticed.

"It's some of the best illustration I've seen in a comic in like, what, eight years maybe?" Clint continued, hopping up on the edge of the counter and looking down at Phil both physically and figuratively as the senior agent snapped the k cup machine shut. "Artists don't actually become incredible overnight, not without a shady deal at a country crossroads."

"You watch too much television," Natasha observed, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Steve who was resolutely ignoring the whole business.

"What's got your catsuit in a twist?" Tony asked, rubbing one eye blearily as Clint shot him a withering glare.

"Make yourself useful and settle something for us," Clint suggested with a frown. "Don't you technically own Marvel comics?"

"Me? No," Tony shook his head, stifling a yawn, "I try to stay out of how the Maria Stark Foundation runs things. I write them big checks and call them up when we flatten things."

"Seriously?" Clint asked incredulously.

"I'm told I'm a hazard to financial stability," Tony admitted with a disinterested shrug.

"I'll buy that," Phil nodded in agreement, testing his coffee. He made a satisfied noise before shuffling toward the box of doughnuts on the counter.

"Wait, this is about a comic book?" Tony asked as if he were just catching up.

"The new Captain America run," Phil confirmed as a smug smile wound its way over Tony's face.

"How's that doing?" Tony asked, casting a look at Steve who ducked down behind his paper. "Happy birthday, by the way."

"It's not my birthday," Phil said drily taking a bite of his crueler.

"It will be eventually," Tony brushed the comment aside. "I didn't know what to get you so I got you a special edition Captain America run, don't say I'm not the thoughtful sort."

"You really aren't," Natasha observed as Steve silently turned the page of his paper, pausing to sip his coffee.

"I'll tell you how it's doing," Clint huffed, reaching around Phil to snag a doughnut covered in pink frosting and sprinkles. "The internet's exploded! Everyone's talking about how incredible and realistic the art is. Grant's the new darling of the comic world. The damn things are flying off the shelves. Do you have any idea what I had to go through to get a copy of issue #4?"

"I keep telling you, you need to have a pull list," Phil stated, shaking his head.

"Did you steal a quinjet and fly to Saskatchewan for a comic book?" Natasha asked incredulously. Phil turned a dark glare on the archer.

"Borrowed," Clint insisted around a mouthful. He swallowed waving the doughnut at her. "Have you seen the art on this book, it's amazing, it's going to set the high water mark for comics for the next decade!"

"I've seen it," Natasha confirmed. Clint blinked a moment as if processing this information.

"Did you actually buy it?" he asked in wonder.

"I know a guy," Natasha shrugged easily.

"It wouldn't be the sort of guy you'd introduce me to, would it?" Phil asked with equal parts hope and skepticism.

"Definitely not," Natasha replied. Phil sighed in resignation, returning his attention to his coffee.

"So what's the argument about?" Tony asked, flapping his hand at them. "The art's good but the writing is crap?"

"No, the writing's fine," Phil insisted quickly. "It's the identity of the artist, Carter Grant, a new talent over at Marvel, except he's not new."

"Oh come on, Phil, build a bridge already!" Clint huffed, rolling his eyes. "You've stayed on top of everything the foundation has put out for the last thirty years at least. You can't point to one comic that has even a vaguely similar art style."

"Maybe not," Phil conceded, shaking his head. "But I'm telling you I've seen this guy's work before. I know it."

"Maybe he's a recognized name in another artistic field and he's embarrassed to be working on comics," Clint suggested with an easy shrug, licking the frosting off his fingers as he slipped off the counter to make himself a cup of coffee.

"That doesn't make any sense," Phil objected with a frown. "Maybe twenty years ago, but comic art has come into its own as a recognized form. Besides, all the proceeds go to charity, who wouldn't want their name on that?"

"Well maybe he's using a pseudo because he hate's Cap," Clint said, making a face.

"He doesn't hate Cap," Phil protested as if they were rehashing an old argument.

"Look how he draws him!" Clint countered, stirring his coffee. "All… meek and doe eyed."

"They're called 'feelings' Clint," Natasha interrupted. "You might try them some time."

"Hey, it's a better theory than you've come up with," Clint protested, pointing his spoon at Phil. "He probably doesn't want to catch flack over the fact that the only real badass in the series is Betty Carver."

"At least her uniform is historically accurate for once," Phil allowed. "That has to be driving the misogynists around the bend. I do sort of miss the blonde hair though."

"Nurse kiss-o-gram not your thing, Phil?" Clint teased. Steve let out a choked sound into his coffee.

"It's insulting and demeaning," Phil insisted. "I think it's refreshing to see a female character portrayed as something other than a damsel in need of rescue."

"Hey, I'm all for that!" Clint agreed, "Tough is sexy, I just think with curves like that there's no reason not to-"

"I'm going to stop you right there," Tony declared, for once looking serious, appearing as if by magic at Clint's side, his arm around the archer's neck and his hand covering Clint's mouth. "Because I like you, which is hard for me to admit by the way, and because I would hate for anything awful to happen to you. And when I say awful I mean the sort of thing that involves shovels and concrete."

"Have you been ingesting palladium again?" Phil asked with a serious frown. "I thought we talked about that." Tony, whose right hand was still firmly over Clint's mouth waved his left hand in the direction of the breakfast bar where Steve was sitting stock still, his hands fisted in his paper enough to crumple the edges as he stared back at them with narrowed eyes.

"What has you so twisted up?" Clint asked, tugging Tony's hand from his mouth.

"Clint," Phil began cautiously.

"Seriously," Clint continued. "I mean, you shouldn't be embarrassed about the comics or anything. We all know they're not really you. They raise a lot of money for charity though, I thought you'd be all about that."

"Clint," Phil tugged on his sleeve as Steve stared at them with a stony expression.

"What?" Clint asked turning to him a moment before glancing back at Steve. "You know it's kind of creepy when you look like that, it reminds me of the comics."

"Clint I remember where I've seen Carter Grant's art before," Phil insisted.

"Where?"

"The Smithsonian."

Clint stared at him in silence a long moment.

"No," he said in a soft voice. Phil only nodded slowly. "No!" He rounded on Steve who retreated once more behind his newspaper.

"You're Carter Grant!" Clint leveled an accusing finger at the sports page.

"I'm making you both turn in your nerd credentials and I'm reporting you to the organization," Tony stated, refilling his coffee mug.

"Of course he's Carter Grant," Natasha licked the last bits of chocolate from her fingers as she rolled her eyes before turning to Tony. "Nerds are organized?"

"We have a secret handshake and everything," Tony confirmed with a nod.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Clint demanded with a hint of excitement, grasping the top of Steve's paper and pulling it down out of the way. "Why aren't you publishing under your real name?"

"I thought that would have been obvious," Steve frowned, pulling his paper free of Clint's grasp and smoothing out the crumpled edges. "I don't like the attention of being Captain America, the last thing I want is to be Captain America's artist too."

"Then why are you doing it anyway?" Clint asked.

"I… it's hard to fill all the hours, all right?" Steve admitted with a hint of sheepishness. "Tony offered me a job in SI's art department but I didn't feel right about that."

"I called over to the foundation and asked if they'd like a commissioned artist for short runs," Tony admitted. "They kind of jumped at that one."

"Would it be completely unprofessional to ask you to sign my issue #1?" Phil asked with a hint of breathlessness.

"You're going to swoon again," Natasha warned as Steve hid his pink ears behind his paper. "And I'm a little ashamed of both of you, the clues were all there for you to follow." Phil and Clint stared back at her blankly a moment.

"Carter J. Grant?" Tony said in a teasing tone.

"Well, that and it's obvious Steve is making faces in the mirror when he draws Captain America," Natasha added with a coy smirk.

"I am not," Steve protested, his ears turning bright red as as he gaped at her, affronted.

"You totally are," she said.

"And you call yourselves super spies," Tony mocked, pointing at the expression on Steve's face.

"I'm going to get fired if anyone at SHIELD hears about this," Clint sulked.

"I'm going back to my office to lick my wounds," Phil sighed, heading for the door. "Please let me know if there's anything else I can do today to feel ineffectual." Clint watched him go with a frown.

"Hey Steve?" he asked, pasting on his most contrite expression. Steve's only reply was to fold down his paper, pinning Clint with a slightly perturbed expression. "I know it's maybe a little weird, but would you mind signing an issue #1 for Phil, I want to give it to him for his birthday next month."

"It's not weird at all," Steve replied, returning his attention to his paper. "But Phil will have two."

"What do you mean?" Clint frowned.

"I already asked," Natasha replied, giving him a smug smile. Clint let out a huff of profanity under his breath and stalked out of the kitchen as Steve struggled to stifle his laughter.

"This is really entertaining," Tony observed. "Is Sunday morning always like this?"

"One version or another," Natasha confirmed as Steve continued to chortle into his paper. Tony made an approving face, taking another sip of his second cup of coffee.

"I should stay up for this more often," he said.

Note:

This story is part of a series called "Coulson Lives but the Avengers Might be the Death of him." The full list of stories and their chronological order can be found on my profile page