Not 5 By 5

A Marvel Cinematic Universe / Avengers Fanfic by Indygodusk

Chapter 1

Unbuttoning the top button of his black dress shirt, Phil Coulson tried to smolder attractively at his reflection. A bland-faced, middle-aged man with a light tan, thinning brown hair, and brown eyes stared back at him. He smoldered harder. Now he looked like a grumpy cat with indigestion.

Sighing, Phil stopped smoldering and redid his shirt button. "You are too old to be this ridiculous," he muttered. Turning sideways, he patted his flat stomach, "Still fit as a fiddle though, thanks to diet and exercise—" and alien mystery goo, he finished in his head.

He'd only survived a spear cleaving through his heart because of experimental technology and alien biomatter, but the more he learned of the top secret procedure, the more disturbing it got. Phil didn't like talking about his alien resurrection. Even watching the fourth Alien movie was preferable.

"You are indeed a handsome and fit man, Guide Coulson," said Jarvis in plummy tones from the hidden speakers in the ceiling. When Tony built the building, he gave his AI, Jarvis, free access to every square inch of it.

"Thank you, Jarvis." After a year of living in Avengers Tower, Phil had finally stopped jumping in surprise or reaching for a weapon when Jarvis unexpectedly spoke in an otherwise empty room.

Unfortunately, being fit, stubborn, doggedly loyal, and imminently competent didn't mean much when you were trying to catch the eye of a superhero. Especially when you were just a retired secret agent with a closet full of suits, walls full of Captain America memorabilia, and a DVR full of reality TV shows. Phil still needed all the help he could get to win at love before he got any older or somebody died in a firefight.

With those thoughts in mind, he undid his top button again, rolled his sleeves up his forearms, and switched to a belt with a bright silver buckle. Daisy, a friend and former SHIELD teammate, had commiserated with him over the difficulties of trying to date coworkers and suggested the look, teasing, "it'll bring all the milkshakes to the yard." Phil wasn't interested in ice cream (even a year after binging on all 31 Baskin Robbin flavors with Steve he still got gurgles just thinking about it) or limiting himself romantically to women (he'd accepted his bisexuality at 35), but he appreciated the sentiment. Adjusting his collar one last time, he threw back his shoulders and left his suite.

As Phil passed the door for the stairs on his way to the elevator, he heard voices echoing up the stairwell. They sounded tense. Phil paused to listen, identifying after a moment the voices of Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers.

"I just don't understand what the big deal is, Stevie." Barnes sounded fed up, his syllables clipped.

Curiosity piqued, Phil tried to breathe as quietly as possible so they wouldn't notice his eavesdropping with their enhanced senses.

"It's complicated," Steve said hesitantly. It wasn't a tone Phil was used to hearing from her.

"Seems simple to me. That horse has already bolted out of the barn door. We're bonded, Guide to Sentinel, man to woman. Why do you insist on hiding?" Barnes argued. "Do you think they'll respect you less? Give you grief for hiding another secret? Or," his tone turned flat, "is it me and my past that's the real hold up?"

"Bucky, no," Steve protested, the rest of her words becoming too faint to hear as they moved farther away from Phil's floor.

Frowning, Phil continued on to the elevator. He had his own opinions on the situation, but neither of them had asked for it. He just hoped they could work it out without too many more hurt feelings.

Of course, he had his own relationships to work out. For years, he'd admired and respected Hawkeye and Black Widow. At some point, that admiration had turned to love for Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov, and then morphed into desire and longing for Clint and Nat. Their friendship meant a lot to him. He'd worked hard over the years to earn their trust, but he hadn't felt like he could or should reveal his heart.

Then he'd gotten stabbed through the heart and died (temporarily).

Right now, Phil wasn't higher in rank or a supervisor, so there was no danger of abusing his authority. Plus, they were all single right now, so he didn't have to worry about being a homewrecker (though it made him sad that they'd broken up again, despite the love they obviously still shared).

However, when not together, Natasha and Clint had their pick from the best of the best romantic partners out there. Phil was merely a friend and former handler, someone often described as unflappable and inoffensive. It had been a mien he'd cultivated for years that had served him well professionally, but on the romantic front it was worse than a first date with spinach stuck in their teeth and garlic breath who talked incessantly about their ex. The odds of one of them, much less both, suddenly becoming attracted to him after all this time and falling in love was ridiculously small.

Phil's only consolation was that he'd taken on bad odds and lost causes before and come out the victor.

It would be easier if he only desired one of them, but he'd fallen in love with them as a couple. He wanted and loved them both in different but overwhelming ways and greedily wanted to become a permanent threesome where they all took care of each other until old and (more) gray or until they died together in a blaze of saving the world glory.

Unfortunately, after a year of living in the same building and unsuccessfully trying to win them over, he felt like his odds were smaller than ever. He kept pushing his feelings aside to focus on the current crisis, but the Avengers were always chasing a conflict. There was no perfect time to share his feelings.

Phil had never had any illusions that this would be easy. They were like shining stars and he was firmly rooted to the Earth, but on the advice of Captain America, Phil's friend and lifelong hero, he was going to keep trying for his dreams and see if they'd meet him halfway. Reaching for the stars didn't seem completely impossible anymore, since aliens and pagan gods walked the earth. Phil had several on speed-dial.

They all even lived in the same building. He could go down right now to the common room and flirt over their choice of breakfast food. Before he could second-guess himself, Phil hit the elevator button for the Avengers' public floor.

Walking into the common room, Phil saw Clint across the room. He was sitting on the kitchen counter eating a bowl of cereal and emanating more vitality than young men half his age. His dark blond hair looked attractively tousled. The thick muscles in his shoulders and arms narrowed to a trim waist and strong legs that were currently curled up on the narrow counter at angles that made Phil's hips and knees twinge in sympathy. Growing up in the Circus had done amazing things for the archer's flexibility.

Clint had a smile on his face as he nodded along to something said by a widely gesticulating Thor.

Blinking, Phil did a subtle double take. Yes, it was Thor. The Prince of Asgard hadn't been around since Phil had moved into the tower, too busy with his own duties and troubles to assist the Avengers with theirs. It would be good to have him back on the team.

In the empty living room the TV had been left on to a documentary about the Amazonian rainforest. Despite the brightly colored plants and creatures flashing across the screen, Phil found his eyes magnetized to the sight of Clint curled up on the kitchen counter.

"Good morning," Phil said, pushing past his natural reserve to send Clint a soft and hopefully inviting smile.

Freezing with his spoon halfway to his mouth, causing it to dribble milk and cereal onto his thigh, Clint simply stared at Phil. His blue eyes dilated to black as their gazes locked, neither blinking. The force of Clint's attention felt like standing in a shaft of sunlight.

Phil's mental shields wobbled, forcing him to notice the emotions in the room. Clint's feelings lapped at Phil's mind, a confusing mishmash of want and denial, inadequacy and determination. Thor, in contrast, just felt happy and hungry.

Letting out a slow breath, Phil counted to ten and resisted the urge to use his Guide gifts more invasively to figure out what was going on with Clint. Doing something like that felt unethical. Plus it would probably give him a migraine, since even after over a year and a half of being Online he could still get overwhelmed by the barbs of other people's emotions. Phil shored up his mental defenses, muting the emotions from a shout to a buzz.

As Clint continued to stare, Phil began to wonder if Clint was falling into a zone. The downside of Clint's Sentinel enhanced eyesight was the risk of focusing too hard and getting lost in it, zoning out into a state that could easily slip into a coma if left too long.

Stepping forward, Phil reminded himself to stay professional as he prepared to use his training to guide Clint back to himself. He'd just taken another course on Sentinel and Guide gifts a month ago. Since he'd only come Online as a Guide recently, Phil still had a lot to learn.

"Are you alright?" Phil asked in a clear tone of voice as he tugged at the front of his shirt a few times to waft his scent into the air. Sometimes focusing on other senses helped a Sentinel escape a zone out. Then Phil realized the problem with his training. Clint was only a partial Sentinel and didn't have either enhanced hearing or scent to focus on. Phil's training had focused only on helping full Sentinels, glossing over how to help partials. Frustrated, Phil rubbed his face hard.

Thor slapped Clint's ankle with the back of his hand. "Are you falling asleep on me, Barton?"

Clint came back to himself with a harsh inhale, shoving the empty spoon into his mouth and looking down. "Mo'ning," he mumbled, ignoring Thor's question.

Pulling out the spoon, Clint lifted his bowl and began to rapidly shove the rest of the cereal into his mouth, tipping the last of the milk into his mouth with a slurp just as Phil walked into the kitchen. Hopping off the counter, Clint tossed the bowl and spoon into the sink with a clatter and wiped his wetly shining mouth with the back of his hand. "Sorry, I've gotta go, Thor. I'm doing a favor for an old contact today. Coulson, Nat'll be up soon. Bye." Giving a wave, he vanished out the door on the opposite side of the room.

Phil felt deflated. He didn't know why Clint kept running away from him, but he didn't like it. It couldn't be that he felt awkward about Phil's flirting, because Clint never stuck around long enough for Phil to actually flirt. Clint also still called Phil by his last name after being invited to use his first several times. It made Phil feel obligated to keep calling him Barton in return, a formality that seemed forced. Even stranger, it seemed to make Clint just as uncomfortable as it did Phil, yet Clint continued to insist on it.

Being around each other used to be so easy. Then Phil had died and everything had changed. Even if nothing romantic ever came about, Phil simply missed their friendship.

Turning to Thor, Phil stuffed down his personal feelings and held out his hand politely. "Thor, it's good to see you again."

"Son of Coul!" Thor exclaimed happily. "It does my heart good to see you in the flesh alive and well!" Ignoring Phil's hand, Thor seized him in a hug, lifting Phil up onto his tiptoes and cracking his back.

Patting Thor's shoulder frantically, Phil wheezed, "Ease up!"

Thor's laughter boomed through the kitchen as he released a wobbly Phil to lean against the counter. "You are not as fragile as all that, my friend, not if you survived a spear through the heart." Thor's face darkened as they both remembered that it had been his brother Loki who'd wielded the spear.

"I had a lot of help with that," Phil said, turning on the electric kettle and pulling out a mug. He felt a sudden urge for herbal tea.

Straddling a chair with a can of peanuts on one hand, Thor poured half of the jar into his mouth and chewed enthusiastically. "Did you know that there is a man with a metal arm living in Rogers' suite and that he has bonded to our comrade in arms?"

After eschewing the myriad loose-leaf and international options for a bag of Lipton's herbal Mango Peach, Phil nodded. "Sergeant James Barnes is a childhood friend of Captain Rogers. He received a version of the super soldier serum and ended up a brainwashed assassin for decades, most recently with Hydra. He broke free of his conditioning with Roger's help, took the fight to his handlers, became a mercenary, came Online as a Guide, and then rejoined the Captain here, choosing to join the Avengers. The two bonded."

"Indeed?" Thor looked intrigued. "I look forward to arm wrestling him later, as this son of Barne's name implies that he has noble ancestors of Norse origin."

As Phil poured steaming water into an Iron Man mug that had been defaced with black and purple sharpies, Thor asked, "Did you know Rogers was truly a girl this whole time?" Not waiting or an answer or even seeming to pause for a breath, he continued, "Loki used to pull such tricks on me as a youth, though Rogers said it was not a full physical change like when my brother would become my sister for a time, but rather an illusion created by mode of dress and hairstyle, since apparently you Midgardians equate short hair with masculinity. As my flowing locks attest," Thor ran a hand down his long blond hair, "along with the metal-armed Barnes who has bonded with our Captain, the man makes the hair and not the other way around. But I digress. Stark has told me Rogers is also a full Sentinel capable of something similar to a berserker state! I am truly sad to have missed it." Lifting the can of peanuts, Thor poured the rest into his mouth, spilling several onto the floor with little pings as they hit and rolled across the floor. Little Stark bots came trolling out and cleaned up the mess before zipping back into their docking stations hidden in the walls.

Phil tried to decide just what part of Thor's monologue to address first. "I came back right after that incident myself. However, the feral Sentinel state happens rarely and usually only when children or mates are in danger. I suppose the right threat could provoke it again, but if so, the best thing you could do would be to stay back so Captain Rogers didn't attack you."

Thor nodded and tossed the empty peanut can into the trash. "Although I would enjoy such a challenge, I know berserkers often regret attacks on friends after the fact, much like Dr. Banner when he's the Hulk. I will be careful."

Jumping up from the chair, Thor went into the pantry and returned with a box of Tony's Cracklin' Oat Bran. Ripping open the top, he was about to shove his hand inside when he saw Phil watching. "Would you like some before I devour it all?" he asked politely.

"Actually, yes," Phil decided, pulling out a bowl. Thor filled it to the brim and then lifted the box to pour cereal directly into his mouth with a happy, crunching growl.

Swallowing the cereal, Thor pulled a long strand of golden hair from the corner of his mouth with an irritated wrinkle of his nose. "In Asgard, we do not have Sentinels and Guides like those of Midgard. I must admit to finding myself puzzled at times by their workings. Rogers said that she is bonded to Barnes, but the implication was that the bond wasn't just romantic, but also had something to do with her being a Sentinel. Thinking back, I'm not sure if I've ever even talked to one of your Guides before. How does it all work? I admit to being somewhat perplexed."

"Well, to start with, you're talking to a Guide now," Phil said with a faint smile.

"Truly?" Thor asked with astonishment.

Phil nodded. "I came Online as a Guide early last year, which is pretty late for a human. Most people whose gifts came Online nowadays do so in their teens and twenties. Guides with their empathy and Sentinels with their enhanced physical senses currently make up around ten percent of the human population."

Phil had thought he was going crazy and finally dying from the alien goo, but instead he'd been coming Online.

After being tortured early in his military career, his gifts had gone from being latent to dormant. He'd completely lost the ability to sense the faint flashes of emotion from other people's minds that had punctuated his adolescence. He'd shrugged off the loss, thinking it permanent, and moved on. Yet somehow Phil's alien cure had fixed those old psychic wounds too.

"Guides can sense emotions and access the astral plane with the proper training. It can be useful, but sensing emotions isn't optional. We have to constantly hold mental shields in the face of sometimes painful empathic pressure from nearby minds. Without shields, a Guide might pass out from the pain, slip into a coma, or even go insane."

Getting himself a drink, Thor asked, "But what of Sentinels? Our teammates number three, but they are not all the same."

"You're right," Phil said. "Steve is a full Sentinel while Clint and Natasha are partial Sentinels. They are a product of our primitive past and have a biological imperative to fight to protect the tribe. Most of them end up with careers in the military or law enforcement, though there are always exceptions. A full Sentinel like Steve has at least five enhanced senses: sight, sound, taste, smell, and touch. Partial Sentinels have a subset of those. Clint has enhanced sight and touch. Natasha has normal sight but enhanced sound, taste, smell, and touch. One of many reasons why they partner so well together is that their enhancements compliment each other. Sentinels are generally well-respected in our society."

Thor frowned. "But why then have I seen our Sentinel comrades disrespected for their natures?"

Sighing, Phil went to the sink and washed his dishes. "Mundanes, or people without such gifts, sometimes feel jealousy or resentment towards Sentinels and Guides. All of the Avengers are unique. People thought Captain America's Sentinel gifts were from the serum and not natural, so they called her a fake and treated Steve as less."

"And Barton and Romanov?" Thor prompted.

"Partial Sentinels don't have all five senses enhanced, so they can be unfairly looked down upon by other Gifted and mundanes alike. They also don't really need a Guide to function, unlike a full Sentinel, whose senses can go out of control without help, causing rashes, disorientation, or even a fugue state called a zone that can slip into catatonia and death. This creates resentment in some full Sentinels. Partial Sentinels rarely zone, compensating by using their unenhanced senses as baselines to maintain normal function. Of course, when they do zone it can be just as serious if not more so than a full Sentinel, since they aren't as carefully monitored and the training to help them is lacking," Phil finished sourly, determined to rectify that fault in himself at the earliest opportunity.

"So Sentinels need Guides to function?" Thor shoved a handful of cereal into his mouth.

Thinking about how to explain it, Phil dried his hands on a delicately embroidered pale blue hand towel that had replaced the Voltron towel that had started out as a joke and then stuck around for months until it ripped in half when someone tried to use it as a garrote. "Sentinels and Guides were made for each other through millennia of evolution. A bonded pair is a powerful force of stability and safety. When bonded, the Guide helps balance out the Sentinel's senses and the Sentinel shields the Guide's mind from outside emotions. They find it easier to use their gifts with fewer problems and find fulfillment in sharing a mental and spiritual bond. They're also more likely to survive to reproduce and get old, as the toll on unbonded Gifted can make it difficult to conceive and cause health problems. Nature encourages this bonding by giving the Gifted a... painful space in their soul meant to be filled by their opposite number. Some people can ignore it, but all the Gifted feel it, even partial Sentinels."

"I'm sorry to hear of my comrades suffering from such a thing, but happy for the warrior bonding of Rogers and Barnes." Thor said nobly before returning to his cereal.