Phil steels himself behind his desk as May enters his office. He knows there's a tongue-lashing coming for all that he's done while she's been gone on the hunt for Ward. Very rarely will she use more than five words to dress someone down, but if she does, you're going to be reduced to a pile of nothingness. Phil's seen it happen before. And he's been dreading her wrath being aimed at him.
She stands there, arms crossed, and stares him down for a minute before shaking her head. "I'm going to let someone else do this."
"Someone else?" he asks, but she doesn't bother to answer.
Someday, the people he works with will actually treat him like he's in charge. But today is still not that today.
May leaves the door open for Anna to walk through. And, yeah, that's worse. "May told me everything," she announces.
Yeah. So much worse.
"You know May," he says as nonchalantly as possible while standing and rounding his desk. "Her dryness makes things sound worse than they actually are."
"You threw Skye into a cell? And not only anyone's cell, but where you kept Ward?"
Phil cringes, both at the question and how Anna's voice keeps increasing in volume. "To be fair—"
"To be fair, you said you guys were doing fine, getting better," she responds. "But apparently you've been carving non-stop, Jemma and Leo can't be in the same room together, Ward's become super creepy with Skye, and you—" She pauses to shake her head, and he already feels guilty for whatever she says next. "You went back into that fucking machine."
"Anna, I—"
"Do you not remember what a mess you were when you came and found me in Portland? Because I do."
"It was necessary," he tells her calmly.
She snorts and looks at him closely. "Do you know what the worst part about all of this is?" she asks softly. "With those memories back in your head, you look more like you. And I hate that."
He knows she's right; he's seen it in his own reflection. While the madness in his eyes is gone, it's been replaced with a pinched look on his face—a constant worry that lingers due to the knowledge of what was done to those six people. And now himself and Skye.
Phil wants to hug Anna, pull her close and beg apologies for the multiple hells he's made her endure. But if he takes a step closer to her and she backs away, that might hurt him more than anything else he's already gone through. Thankfully, she leans in ever so slightly, and he knows it's okay to hold her. She squeezes him tightly, and he feels the cut on his chest protest. He tries not to cringe, but apparently isn't successful since she pulls away.
"What happened?" she asks.
He opens his mouth to answer but realizes that telling her someone carved on him may not be the best approach. "I was injured," he tells her. "Squeeze to hard and it'll break open. And you know how hard it is for me to keep my white shirts clean."
A small smile graces her face. "That's because you work when you eat, don't pay attention, and dump food all over yourself."
"True," he says with a grin. His hand comes up to brush a thumb against her cheekbone and she leans into the touch. "I know I don't have any right to ask you to stay, but—"
"I brought a suitcase with me," she answers before shrugging. "May said it was okay, and we thought maybe a few of you might want someone not-S.H.I.E.L.D. to talk to."
"Felix?"
"Clint came back early. Not that I think he'll be the one taking care of him, but maybe between the neighbors and the dog, he'll remember to feed him."
He leans in and kisses her forehead, and damn, he's pathetically missed the smell of her shampoo. "I've got to have an 'I'm really not crazy' talk with the team, but rumor has it that Mack's been making chili if you're hungry. I think Skye's going to demand a family dinner once the briefing is over."
"Who's Mack?"
"I think I heard the girls say he's a 'chocolate god'—you'll like him just fine."
Phil escorts Anna and her luggage up to one of the guest quarters, making sure she feels like she has her own space and isn't immediately drowning in all the drama associated with the team. He encourages her idea of a nap and tells her he'll wake her when it's time for dinner.
Convincing the team that he's not insane thankfully doesn't take too long—or they're all acting like they're agreeing with what he says, which is entirely possible. They talk through possible ideas for the city Phil's been carving maps of—hypothesizing feasible locations or a name for the place—without generating any real facts. Skye has an algorithm searching any map the internet can find as well as satellite feeds for a clue to help them. Once that's done, they review what they knew about Ward and what he could be up to. Several chomp at the bit to go back out and hunt for the fugitive, but Phil tells them they all need a night in. "I'll pass on what we know to my FBI and military contacts, make sure they keep it quiet as to appease Senator Ward. But unless something goes down before morning, we're staying quiet until then. If there isn't anything else, I think Mack is providing us dinner."
"This isn't like the time you tried to make chili in Germany, is it?" Hunter grouses.
"You don't have to eat it," Mack fires back. "You can have another night of peanut butter and jelly since you can't cook anything."
Bobbi snorts a laugh of agreement and Skye starts pushing them all towards the mess before half of them "get thrown in the chili pot as ingredients."
Phil moves off to go get Anna when May blocks his path. "You okay with her here?"
He sighs and shrugs. "Selfish part of me is happy, but the rational part makes me wonder what fresh hell I'm going to make her endure this time."
"She's stronger than she makes herself out to be," she offers. Phil wants to argue that he knows exactly how strong Anna is, because he's brought her to several breaking points in the past. "I'll lose the leather for dinner if you lose the suit and tie," May tells him. "I think the kids want to have a movie night after dinner—something to take our minds off of everything."
"Did Skye name herself cruise director again?"
May smirks but doesn't respond. It would be nice to wear something casual and not be carving up a wall, so Phil heads to his quarters first. It takes a little longer than normal to change since he's cautious about the laceration on his chest. It's also over scar tissue, making the healing process that much more fun.
The last time he wore jeans, one of the two pairs he owns, everyone side-eyed him all night long. Giving in to being uber-casual in front of his team, he grabs a pair of standard issue sweat paints and an old Army Rangers t-shirt. He even finds the guts to only wear socks on his feet.
Living on the edge.
With the safety of knowing he has a full back-up suit with shoes and dress socks stashed in his office in case it's needed.
Anna's room is on the other side of the complex, closer to where most of the others are bunking. Phil took the one set of quarters that was originally for the base's commander, not for the prestige but for the proximity to his office. But before he can get to her, he sees she's already up.
Anna's lingering in the doorway of the mess hall, her back to him and her shoulders taut as she listens to another round of Simmons, Fitz, Mack, and Skye all passively aggressing picking each other apart. Jemma makes some comment about wanting to help, Mack pulls a face, and Fitz complains once more about her leaving. Before Phil can jump in and mediate, Anna steps forward.
"Just because she left doesn't mean she wanted to," she argues. "Leaving is never someone's first choice, but sometimes it has to happen or else everyone will just be worse off. Even if walking away makes you feel like you're leaving all your internal organs behind." She pauses to stare down Mack—someone nearly three times her size. "And if you weren't around when it happened, you don't get to judge."
Phil's heart swells in his chest, and he has to clamp down on the proud smile that threatens to emerge.
"Who's this?" Hunter, beer in hand, asks from his seat at the table where he is clearly ready to eat despite previous protests.
"She's with me," Phil announces before thinking about how those words sound. Skye arches an eyebrow at him, and he's pretty sure Jemma sucked in a hopeful gasp. Anna merely turns around and looks him up and down.
"I thought you said your injury was on your chest? You're dressed and talking like you have a head contusion."
"Hilarious," Phil comments.
Introductions are made with color commentary by Skye, who grabs Anna by the arm and makes the rounds. Phil can't actually control his grin when it's revealed that Bobbi's been married to both Hunter and Clint Barton. Anna's skeptical face is pretty priceless when it's not directed at him.
They make it through dinner with everyone on their best behavior before Jemma shooes them all into what's been dubbed Mack's cave for a movie. The mechanic grumbles at how many beanbags are littering his floor and how he has to be stuck in one of them since Phil was given the courteous spot of the couch.
Fitz distracts him with candy, and Phil once again wonders if the policy on fraternization needs to be revisited like the levels of classification.
Anna eyes the spot next to him before he gives a small nod. She leans her weight against him, and he shifts his arm to line the back of the couch so she can curl up against his side. Predictably, she's asleep ten minutes into the movie. Phil wonders if she's been getting as little sleep as he has. And as soon as he remembers how many hours he's spent awake in the last week, he feels his eyelids droop.
Nudging Anna awake gently with his shoulder, he apologizes for skipping out early for some much needed rest. Honestly, he's grateful for the escape because May picked the movie and her taste in cinema is terrible.
Hunter is the only one who makes a smart-ass remark about them going off together. Anna retaliates by stomping on his toes as she navigates the landmine of beanbags. "Oh, sorry," she half-heartedly apologizes while he hisses in pain.
When they're clear of everyone else, Phil lightly places a hand on Anna's back. "I'll walk you back to your room."
"Or you could walk me to yours," she offers. He pauses mid-step and she turns to face him. "I'm not asking for sex, although I'm not opposed to it, but I know I've been sleeping like shit and I'm told you have been too. I know I'll sleep a lot better if I can wake up and feel you there, hear you breathe. And if I can do that for you, too, I'm okay with that."
The offer is incredibly enticing, but he remembers what she said before dinner when she thought he wasn't around. "You've already left behind all your internal organs. I don't think I can take anything else from you."
"I'm not asking for a commitment," she reassures him. "Just a good night's sleep. If you want to talk things over in the morning, fine. But this is an attachment-free offer."
"I don't know how not have an attachment when it comes to you," he argues quietly.
He's not sure who initiates the kissing that follows, and he knows it's highly unprofessional to be making out with his—whatever. In sweats. In the middle of the base. But he doesn't care. They eventually stumble their way back to his quarters and barely manage to shut the door before clothing starts to come off. What small percentage of his brain that's capable of rational thought thinks the experience is more like the first time—when they still didn't know each other that well—than the last time—at Stark's tower when they were admittedly playing house. It feels like what could be a fresh start instead of a goodbye.
When Phil wakes the next morning, he knows that there's a HYDRA agent who wants him dead in the basement, that Ward's on the loose, and that he's running an agency that's greatly outmanned and outgunned.
But he also wakes with the scent of Anna's shampoo in his nose, her snoring softly against his neck, and his arm around her waist.
It's already the best morning he's had in a while.