You met Phil Coulson when you were six and, since the day you first met, had been having the same debate. It was an argument that followed you on your first date, lingered on your lips longer than your first kiss and was whispered in your ear the day you got married. The photograph of you and Phil sharing your first dance as man and wife was always something of a joke among your family, for Phil had a wide smile across his face but you looked as if you had just been gravely insulted. Nobody needed to ask why this was, since anyone who knew you could take an educated guess. Even as you deliberated over names for your first child, followed shortly by the second and third, the old argument came up and followed you all the way down the front pews of the church to each christening. Your children learned of the old argument early on, faster than they learned how to read, write or walk. If they picked a side they knew better than to say so and whenever the argument came up over dinner they learned to roll their eyes and say nothing. The years rolled by and your children grew into teenagers. The argument grew too. It was no longer the simple disagreement from when you were children in the playground but a myriad of complexities so closely intertwined with one another that it was difficult to pick a single thread apart from the rest. The argument could last for hours at a time and very often did, bringing with it a new sort of mischief, such as your husband throwing a new idea for his side of the debate at you as he kissed you goodbye and left for work and you slipping a note into his lunch box detailing an idea you had had. You were the only couple anybody knew to take such pleasure in arguing and you joked that was the real reason your marriage had lasted so long. Asking for a divorce would be the same as conceding defeat. Whenever your husband returned home after a late shift and you asked him about his day the argument would resurface, lasting even as you took his dinner from the oven. When you told him about how the children had done on their school reports his usual response was to smile and remind you of one of the many instances where one of your reports contained a disapproving comment from the teacher because the argument had leaked into your studies. Your kids learned to leave the room whenever the argument appeared, sometimes feeling brave enough to make the comment that the two of you couldn't possibly have any intention of resolving the issue, since you would still be arguing about it when the two of you had false teeth and hearing aids. You and Phil would reach out for each other's hand and laugh at that idea, claiming that you could only hope so. Things were better than you could hope for if the only thing you had to worry about when you got older was arguing with your husband over whether Wolverine or Captain America would win in a fight.