"Birthday Diversions"

It was an invigorating concert, Phil Coulson decided as he walked along in the evening air. The chatter outside the theatre died off as he continued on his way. There was always something about nationalistic music that made him feel so patriotic… about other countries. Well, he'd been to most of the ones represented tonight, usually for work reasons. (Alright, always for work reasons.)

And it was nice to have an evening free. Fury had already given Phil this day and the next off, barring major catastrophe, in honour of his birthday. There was usually some music concert somewhere any given night, always something on Broadway, but he was glad that this particular one was on his birthday, and just as well. He'd ascertained that the Avengers and their friends were all busy, so he switched his phone off, had dinner, attended the concert, and… oh. Phone. Nobody seemed to be burning down New York, at least not the part he was in, but it was probably best to switch on his cell, just in case.

He shouldn't have looked down. That moment of distraction led him to miss movement in the shadows until it was too late. He heard his name, ducked before someone could knock off his head, and barely noticed the clatter of his phone hitting the ground before he was defending himself from three attackers. Since they knew his name, they weren't random thieves, which meant it was likely that they had training. He tried to move the fight into an area with more light, to see who he was dealing with, but then more joined the party. With a grimace, Phil chose to hit without prejudice. Any shadowy figures were fair game; he couldn't afford to pause right now.

"Where is he?" one of his assailants shouted.

"Who?" Phil asked, trying to place the voice as he grabbed a garbage bin lid.

"You know who we want," another said, and Phil knocked him off his feet, followed by another one. He threw the lid at someone farther away, recalling his observations of Captain Rogers, although his heart nearly stopped beating when the person caught the lid and then threw it back…

Hitting someone else instead.

"Looking for me?" the stranger said.

"The Winter Soldier!" someone hissed. "Knew Coulson would know where he was."

"I didn't, actually," Phil corrected, but they weren't listening to him. With a sigh, he drew his taser, aimed at the nearest person, and zapped them. That drew attention away from the Winter Soldier, whoever the hell that was. He took the opportunity to attack from behind, and the fight was a bit more even-handed now. Until someone knifed Phil in the side, that is. He gasped, more surprised than anything else, and felt blood spill over his hand as he put pressure on the wound. The Winter Soldier fought to his side, grabbed the gun from Phil's pocket, and stood in front of Phil.

"I'll keep you safe," he said.

That was when Phil realised a couple of things. The first was that the whole conversation had been in Russian, a language he knew well enough to slip into. The second was that the Winter Soldier (he needed to get the guy's actual name) was his soulmate.

"Happy birthday to me," he muttered, feeling light-headed. Oh, that's right. Blood loss.

When the rest of the attackers were all down, the Winter Soldier crouched in front of Phil, a mask obscuring the lower part of his face. There was something familiar about the eyes, but Phil couldn't pick it, and this definitely wasn't one of his contacts. It didn't matter, anyway, because SOULMATE! His breath caught in his throat as the man checked the wound, his eyes reflecting Phil's pain.

"Sorry we had to meet like this," Phil said, still in Russian. The stranger's accent wasn't strong, another mystery. He glanced up sharply, and studied Phil's face.

"Those words are on my chest," he said. "How did you know?"

"I didn't know what I was going to say," he replied. "That's the nature of… soulmate… Look, I'm bleeding out here. I need to get to a hospital." He wasn't close enough to the Avengers' Tower, not to walk there, and no cab would take them. He couldn't ask his soulmate, no matter how strong he looked, to carry him there. So a hospital it was.

"I'll go with you."

"I should hope so."

He was surprised when the stranger swept him up easily, although it also made Phil dizzy.

"Damn it," he said, clutching onto an exceptionally hard shoulder. Jesus, even Steve and Thor's arms didn't feel this hard. Hell, the only thing which did was the Iron Man suit.

"Sorry."

"It's alright. Can you speak English?"

"I think so."

"There's a hospital clinic nearby," he said, gesturing vaguely. "We'd better… go…"

His soulmate shook him. "Wake up!"

"'M awake," Phil said, glaring blearily. "Who are you? I don't even know your name."

The man looked uncomfortable. "It is complicated."

He sighed. "Okay. Just… just wait a minute." He paused. "That's my phone."

"What?"

"I dropped it—"

There was a sound like a rocket, and with a whirl of colours and a loud bang Iron Man landed nearby. Phil held onto his soulmate tighter, wanting no misunderstandings.

"Agent?" Iron Man said, tramping closer to them and around the bodies. "You weren't answering your phone. Did you do all this?"

"Only some of it," Phil said, winding his arms closer around his soulmate. "I had help."

"Is… is that blood?"

"One of them knifed me," Phil said. "Not too bad, or I'd be out of it by now."

"Let's get you back to the tower," Iron Man said. "Your buddy can follow—"

"He's coming with me."

"Cap's gonna be here on his bike in a minute. Your friend can hitch a ride with him. Hey, Mask-Boy. Pick up Agent's cell phone. I've sent your picture to Steve."

"We were going to a hospital," Phil said. "There was no reason for you to send Captain Rogers, or come yourself. I would've contacted you—"

"With what phone? Give him here, pal. Come on."

"I don't want to let you go," the stranger whispered to Phil.

"Tony can get me to safety faster," Phil replied, dropping back in to Russian.

"He might hurt you—"

"I'm already hurt. Just wait here, and… there it is now."

A motorbike screeched to a halt at the mouth of the alleyway. Phil's phone rang again, and Steve fished it up from the base of a streetlight, before approaching.

"Phil, you're hurt," he said reproachfully. Phil felt his soulmate tense, and barely had a second to react before he was being shoved into Tony's arms. Then his soulmate bolted.

"Wait!" he called. "Come back here!"

"We'll find him later," Tony said. "I'll circulate his picture. Probably just spooked by Captain America here."

"Steve," Phil said. He was nearly frantic. "Find him. He's my soulmate."

The captain didn't hesitate. He pocketed Phil's phone and ran for it, hot on the stranger's trail. Phil didn't know many people who could outstrip Steve Rogers, so he held on tight while Iron man flew him back to the tower, confident that he'd be reunited with his soulmate before too long.

Steve was never more grateful for his super senses than when he was following someone, catching the faintest scent of Phil's usual cologne, probably still on the man's clothes. His ears picked up the various sounds in the surroundings, discarding the irrelevant ones and focussing only on rapidly fading footsteps. He set off, running as light as he could, while still moving fast. He wasn't used to anyone outrunning him, and had to stop and listen less often when he realised that he was following an Olympic athlete. Who else could run that fast for that long?

Then the only running he could hear was his own. He paused and looked around. Could've been a heartbeat, heavy breathing. He took a chance.

"Hello?" he called. Then he repeated it in Russian, since that's what Phil had been speaking. "I'm Phil's friend. He said you were his soulmate." He repeated it in Russian again. "Is that true? If it is, please come with me." Translated again. "He'll want to see you when he's patched up. Please?"

He tried, wandering back and forth, his heart sinking as it became obvious that either he'd lost track of his mark – and consequently Phil's soulmate – or the man was hidden in one of the buildings, and could escape while Steve searched one. Or could've run by now. The only option left to him was to either wait it out, get Tony to come back and scan for heat signatures to see if there was anyone else there, or give up (for now).

On Phil's birthday, of all days. They'd had a big party planned, kept asking to make sure that he wasn't busy, while making sure they'd all be available. Anytime someone asked, to schedule them for something, they'd beg off with the excuse that they had other commitments. Seems it'd worked too well, because Phil had left without a word, gone to dinner and a concert by himself, and then been attacked. All because they thought a surprise party would be fun. Now Phil was hurt, had found and lost his soulmate, and there wasn't a thing Steve could do to make it better.

He checked his cell phone display again, bringing up the picture of the man who'd been holding Phil. There was something familiar about him, and Steve played with the image until he could zoom in on the visible part of the face. The eyes.

Those eyes.

"Bucky," he whispered. Impossible. He looked around, wondering whether… of course, HYDRA had done something to him. But how did he survive the fall? There was only one way to find out. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Bucky! Is that you?"

There was no reply. Heart dropping into his boots, he answered the call on Phil's phone.

"Yeah?" he said, aware that his disappointment was obvious.

"No luck?" Clint said.

"No," Steve said. "But I have a funny idea `bout who it might be."

Phil blinked rapidly. And again.

"James Buchanan Barnes," he said.

"Could've been," Steve said, shrugging. "I've looked at the pictures. An' Tony got some footage of the fighting. Looked like his style. He ran as soon as he saw me. What if something terrible happened to him? He could be pissed off. Or those guys were after him. Maybe he was experimented on? Conditioned to run away from me?"

"Bucky Barnes," Phil said, still trying to wrap his head around it as Steve prattled on about why it was him, why he ran away. He'd already forgiven Steve – there was nothing to forgive, but Steve could feel guilty at the drop of a hat – yet it was terribly disappointing to lose his soulmate on his birthday, only minutes after finding him.

"Check Phil's soulmark, and you can tell whether it's his writing," Natasha said.

"…Stop using your logic on us," Tony said. "What madness!"

"I want him to see it first," Phil said, pulling the covers up. He didn't even wince, thanks to the painkillers Bruce had given him. Steve sighed, running fingers through his hair.

"Would SHIELD have copies of Bucky's paperwork?" he asked slowly.

"Wait," Tony said. "I think Howard had some stuff. Did Barnes ever meet him?"

"Of course," Steve said, and he grinned. "Where do I look?"

"I'll take you to the archives. Come on. JARVIS, do I have any of it digitised?"

"No, sir," JARVIS said. "You did not wish to see your father's things, especially related to his work with Captain Rogers."

Steve raised his eyebrows. Tony looked abashed.

"Moving on," he said. "Let's go. We'll get JARVIS to show you whatever we find, and you can tell us if it's a match."

Phil nodded, and watched as they walked out.

Bucky Barnes. Howling Commando, sniper, childhood friend of Captain America. His right hand man.

It couldn't be him. But who else? Phil was obsessed with the Howling Commandoes when he was a kid, and the SSR when he joined SHIELD. He'd seen countless images of Bucky Barnes, even had a phase in his teens where he'd had a serious crush… and that could explain a lot if his soulmate really was James Barnes.

But that didn't matter. What mattered was finding him, and as soon as possible. Phil had a few more days off, now that he'd been injured, and he wanted to find his soulmate before returning to work. Things would get crazy after that. Business as usual.

He exhaled steadily, close to twiddling his thumbs by the time images flashed up on the screen in front of him.

"Oh my God," he whispered. There were pictures, close-up colour photos of Bucky's eyes as well, and various documents he'd written on. His signature. His handwriting.

"Is it him?" Clint asked, leaning his hip against the hospital bed.

"Yes," Phil said. "That's… that's the writing. His eyes. It's him. James Barnes is my soulmate. It has to be…" He thought for a moment. "Check the ears. Everyone's ears are as unique as their fingerprints."

"Running a comparison now," JARVIS said.

"Oh. Thanks, JARVIS."

The results came up. 100% match. Phil tried to keep his breathing under control, but his soulmate was a ninety-something-year-old war hero who'd been missing for seventy years, now missing again, maybe hurt. Who knew? He'd fought alongside Phil.

"Calm down," Bruce said, putting a hand on Phil's foot. "Your heart-rate's elevated."

"He's my soulmate." Phil was staring off into space. "And I have no idea where he is."

"He heard us mention the tower," Tony said, in the elevator with Steve on their way to the medical floor. "Maybe he'll come to us? There's no way he'd abandon you."

"It's true," Steve said. "Even though neither of us had a soulmark, Bucky was convinced he'd find his soulmate one day, and he'd devote everything to them. No matter what's happened, he'd still believe that, I just know it. If… if you want, I could go? Just until he's back, and you can maybe talk him `round?"

"No one's leaving," Phil said, glaring at them sternly. "I'm your handler, and I'm telling you to stay. We're soulmates for a reason. He'll come back to me, and everything will be alright, you understand?" Steve nodded, wide-eyed.

While Phil slept off the additional pain meds, the Avengers assembled outside his room.

"We've gotta find him," Clint said. "We made Phil think we were busy on his birthday, which meant he was all alone. He probably thought we didn't care. Steve." He turned to his soulmate, crossing his arms. "Any idea where Barnes might've gone?"

"I don't know," Steve said helplessly. "I know where Bucky might've gone, but—"

"Any starting point is better than nothing. We need a list."

Bruce stayed behind, Tony summoned Rhodey's assistance in darkened suits to scan the most likely areas, and Steve, Clint, and Natasha took pictures of Phil with them, and searched on foot. They split up to save time. It was Clint who found Bucky in the end.

"Hey," he said, and he held out the photo. "You looking for him?"

It was a photo of the Avengers, Phil, and their friends, so he'd see that they knew Phil.

"I don't… I know I'm looking… Who's that man?" He pointed to Steve.

"My soulmate," Clint said fondly. "Steve Rogers. Friend of yours?"

"I know him," Bucky said. He was speaking English now, the edge of a Brooklyn accent creeping in. Clint had developed an appreciation for Brooklyn accents thanks to Steve's astonishing ability to dirty talk him to completion without a single touch… not appropriate to think about that when talking to Phil's soulmate. He gave Bucky the picture, and watched him clutch it to his chest.

"Come with me," Clint said. "You can see Phil. You don't have to see Steve yet. He just wants you to be safe. We all want you to be safe." While Bucky appeared to mull over it, Clint checked his watch. Just after eleven. "It's still Phil's birthday for about an hour. He was so happy to meet you, but then you ran off. Let me take you to the tower."

"Phil… he's my soulmate?"

"Phil Coulson. That's him. He's sleeping at the moment—"

"Why?"

Clint gave him a withering look. "He was stabbed. He's on the good stuff. I'm sure he'll feel better with his soulmate holding his hand."

Bucky's own hand twitched like thinking about it had him itching to touch Phil. Clint knew he wasn't going back to the tower alone.

"I want to see him," Bucky mumbled.

"Phil?"

"…Both. But yeah. My soulmate. I wanna see him."

Phil found himself being shaken awake. He was a SHIELD agent, and took in his surroundings before opening his eyes. Soft-ish bed, starched sheets, chemical smell, bright lights behind his eyelids. Hospital or the tower's medical wing. Ache in his side, pressure on his left hand. Warm pressure, with four or five lines. A hand. Someone was holding his hand? He sifted through his memories. Side. Stabbed.

…Soulmate.

"Bucky," he breathed, and his eyes sprang open. Then he had to squint against the fluorescent lights. A dark shape at his side caught his attention. This time, there was no mask, and he focussed. "Christ, you're gorgeous. Pictures don't do you justice."

Bucky fidgeted with his hair, and Phil stared at the metal hand. Well… that explained the hard shoulder. What the hell happened to him?

"Fell on it badly," Bucky said, and he shrugged, looking away. "Lost the old one."

"Did I say that aloud?"

"Nah. I just knew what you were going to ask."

"Oh." Phil wondered why Bucky was looking away.

"I'm broken. I don't even know why I'm here. You don't need this—"

"No," Phil said, reaching over to hold Bucky's hand with both of his. He winced a little at the pinch where the wound still smarted, and Bucky twisted around in his seat.

"Don't do that," he scolded. "You'll tear the stitches."

"Don't leave," Phil said. "I don't know what happened to you, not yet, and you don't ever have to tell me. But let me be there for you while you…"

"Fix myself?"

He smiled. "We haven't even bonded and you can already read my mind."

"But you don't wanna bond… do you?"

"Don't you?"

Bucky didn't speak. Phil shifted uncertainly, then rolled onto his back, letting go of Bucky's hands reluctantly.

"Don't," Bucky said, and he caught Phil's hands, standing so that Phil didn't have to put pressure on his injury. "You're my soulmate. I'd do anything to make you happy, anything you want. But I can't bond with you yet. I don't wanna risk hurting you."

"I'm an agent of SHIELD," Phil said. "It's hard to hurt me."

"I'm enhanced!" Bucky snapped. "I've got even more strength in my left arm. You can't enter this lightly, Phillip."

"And you can't treat everyone else like they're made of glass, James," Phil said. Well, if they were going with full first names… "Take lessons from Steve and Thor."

Bucky let go of Phil's hands. He started to walk towards the door, and Phil dropped his gaze, fingers curling to his palms. Then he noticed Bucky move around, and soon found himself with a bed partner as his soulmate wrapped himself around Phil, avoiding the wound and keeping his metal prosthesis tucked under his head.

"These hands have spilt too much blood," Bucky whispered.

"So have mine," Phil said. "People are people. Lives are lives." He entwined his fingers with Bucky's. "You're still my soulmate, and I know I'll love you more than anything else in the world. I've loved the legend of you since I was a child."

"Really?"

"Yes. In high school, I was teased for having a crush on you. They voted me most likely to have you or Captain America as my soulmate." He flinched. "It was cruel, because they all thought you were both dead. I wanted so much to believe that you were alive." Bucky curled closer around him, still avoiding the stab wound. "When they pulled Steve from the ice, I… I think it gave me less hope. Like tipping the scales."

"I'm here now," Bucky said softly. "Promise I won't leave you."

"I couldn't bear it if you did," Phil said. "I'd convince myself it'd all been a dream."

"Well, now, I can't let that happen, can I, dollface?"

"…Dollface?"

Two months later

Clint looked across Phil's desk as he dropped his paperwork onto the pile in the inbox.

"Gotta ask you something," Clint said. Phil hummed. "I'll probably regret it."

"What is it, Clint?"

"…Steve's not the only Brooklyn boy who's a demon at dirty talk, is he?"

"Around here?" Phil grinned smugly. "Nope."

Based on one of those ideas where someone is convinced that everyone's forgotten their birthday, only to be surprised by a big party. Aside from being a hell of an emotional rollercoaster, what if the plan went wrong, and the birthday boy or girl made other arrangements in advance? Combining that with my love of soulmate fics and Bucky/Phil, I came up with this.

Please review!