AN: AHHHH! I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't have time to be here. I guess it's just you know Darcy. Oh well.

And well... Phillip J Coulson.

Don't hold out a lot of hope for this ever being completed. Like ever.

BTW pairing are background and neglible to plot but are Phil/Clint, Tony/Pepper (even though I HATE this pairing), Thor/Jane, and Darcy/Natasha (mostly b/c I think Nat would be endlessly amused by Darcy and her attitude on life). Steve & Bruce are unattached (well, Bruce is still in love w/ Betty but she's not in NYC and they have a hard enough relationship that neither is willing to try long distance, but I digress).

CHAPTER 1: Change of Watch

"Darcy."

"Phil."

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" His question is dry in the way only he can ask a question. The way that makes Darcy think he actually want to know what she thinks she's doing so that he can tell her if she's really on the right track.

"Hmmm, well, Bossman, Clint has been teaching me the layout, so I figured I should test myself to see if it's really sticking."

Coulson's face doesn't so much as twitch. Darn, she thought that might get a reaction, an eye twitch or maybe even a slight smirk. Because really, she had just dropped from his air duct claiming that his lover was teaching her how to navigate the ventilation system in one of the most secure buildings in the world.

"Man, you have the best poker face ever - of all time." She really does admire this about him. He's sitting there cool as a winter storm while she's deliberately being a security risk and flaunting time spent in confined spaces with his man. Not that she would ever do anything with said man, because, just no. That is strictly Coulson-property.

But this has been a long week and Coulson has been in this office far too long. And soon something's going to break, but not if Darcy can help it.

Coulson closes his eyes and heaves a deep breath. He must read the set of her to mean something clandestine and mischievous. "Thank you, Miss Lewis." He tries to continue filing his paperwork. "Is there anything you require?"

"Well, Agent Bossman. No, as a matter of fact. I was just wandering the tower when I thought I'd drop in to see if you needed anything. So, do you require anything? Coffee? Donuts? Baguette? Poptart?"

This offer startles him into glancing up at her. He blinks once. And again. "What would you do if I asked for a blueberry cupcake?"

Darcy giggles. God, she loves this man. He such a snarky bastard, but he has the weirdest quirks ever. Like the Captain America fanboy thing and the reality TV addiction and the biggest sweet tooth in the world. "I'd tell you to ask again later. I only have coffee, donuts, and poptarts." She thinks on it a moment, twirling her hair and grinning. "Though I think I'll get the supplies to make some blueberry cupcakes this weekend. So what'll it be, 007?"

"Hmmm, coffee, please. What flavors?"

"Donuts are glazed, sprinkle, strawberry cake, and chocolate. Poptart … well, we pretty much have any flavor you can think of."

"They ate all the blueberry cake donuts."

Her heart skips a beat. Oh, god. He's whining. He sees her change in posture and scowls at his paperwork. Or at least, as much as he ever scowls when not in the vicinity of an Avenger. He's worse than she thought. He must be dead tired if his voice is giving his emotions away.

"Bossman?" Her voice is softer now, less prodding and more gentling.

"Yeah, sorry." He rubs at his eyes, almost all pretense of composure leaking away as his shoulders slump into a tired sprawl. "I'm fine, Darcy."

She leans over his desk and all but hisses at that. "I hate that word." Her voice sharpens to a rapier of vitriol. This might not be the best tactic to get Coulson to listen to her, but she can't help it. The past few years have taught her one thing if nothing else. Sometimes the smartest, most together people she knows can be utter morons. "Fine is useless. Fine has multiple definitions all with highly subjective natures. Too many are inexact exaggerations. My personal definition is freaked out, insane, neurotic, and emotional."

He laughs low and tired, a dark rusted out sound that tells her he agrees wholeheartedly. Then his expression turns inquisitive, searching hers for some clue to what she wants. "You handling me, Lewis?"

"If I have to, Son of Coul." She meets his eyes, remorseless as always. And unyielding.

He straightens, words of argument forming in his eyes and behind his teeth.

"Phil." She fills his name with the worry, the need to help, she feels aching in her heart.

And just like that the fight drains, and he falls back against his chair again. "Alright, Darcy. I'll go grab some shut eye."

"Thank you."

"Get out of my office."

She salutes him sloppily and scrambles back into the air vent. She hears him start to chuckle. Her lips quirk, and she whispers, "Stand down, ranger. I've got the watch."