Not 5 by 5


Chapter 7 by Indygodusk


Back at the tower, the Avengers cleaned up and glumly gathered for lunch on the public floor. Steve and James inhaled their food with a minimum of conversation and then disappeared to their rooms. Bruce stared into his teacup with an annoyed frown, but didn't drink. No one seemed particularly chipper.

Clint picked at the remnants of his pasta while watching Phil out of the corner of his eye. Phil seemed lost in thought, staring unseeingly at the new fish tank. Phil had drifted in for lunch, caught the bottle of water thrown at him by Steve, and quietly sat down off to the side. Even with unenhanced hearing, Clint could hear Phil's stomach growl across the room, but the man hadn't even looked at the pesto pasta on the counter and pesto was his favorite.

Phil often forgot to take care of himself when chewing over a problem. Clint tried to catch Nat's eye to get her to go over and do something about it, but Nat was too busy glaring down at her wild rice and scratching at the bug bites on her arms. Turns out that the illusionary mosquitos still left welts. Nevertheless, her situational awareness was usually better than that. He suspected that she was deliberately ignoring him.

He just couldn't figure out why.

Ever since Phil had come back into their lives, Clint had tried to make himself scarce so Phil and Nat could bond as Guide and Sentinel. As a partial Sentinel only famous because of his eyesight and aim, compared to Nat who was absolutely amazing at everything, Clint could clearly see the writing on the wall. He was a one-trick pony. He'd stoically stuffed down his own feelings and put brakes on renewing his close friendship with Phil. The most extraordinary man and breathtaking woman he knew deserved happiness with each other.

Across the room, Phil absently rubbed his stomach. His empty, hungry stomach that was shouting for food but being ignored by Phil's analytical mind. The compulsion to take care of him grew too strong for Clint to ignore.

Standing up abruptly from the table, he caught the faintest hint of a bittersweet smile curving Nat's lip before she tilted her head down, hiding her expression as she took a bite of her rice and chewed. He'd have to figure her out later. Clint stalked into the kitchen and filled up a bowl with pesto pasta, making sure it had plenty of cherry tomatoes, sprinkled on two spoonfuls of feta cheese, and grabbed a napkin and a fork. He almost quailed at that point. After running away from the man for so long, it felt strange to seek him out.

Strange and exciting.

Heart thumping, Clint walked over to Coulson's chair and held out the bowl. "Here. You should eat."

Blinking, Phil looked up with surprise and then down at the bowl of pasta. His face softened with pleasure even as he shook his head. "Thank you, but I'm not—" his stomach interrupted him with a growl.

"You've gotta learn to lie better, Coulson. You've got a reputation to maintain," Clint teased gently.

Phil's lips quirked. "I'll take that under advisement." He turned the heady weight of his full attention onto Clint, reaching out and taking the pasta bowl, fingers sliding across and through Clint's fingers intimately. "Thank you. Will you join me?" he gestured to the adjacent armchair and watched Clint with hopeful eyes the clear blue of a dawn sky over rolling wheat fields.

Clint knew he shouldn't, but once indulged, he couldn't quite help but continue to break his resolution to stay distant. Being the center of Phil's attention felt too good. "Sure," he sat down, but then realized his posture was too eager and made himself sprawl back into the chair.

The edges of Phil's eyes crinkled in pleasure. He took a big bite of pasta and hummed surprise. "I love tomatoes and feta in pesto," he murmured, almost to himself.

"I know," Clint said simply. Over the years, he'd treasured up every bit of knowledge about Coulson's likes and dislikes that the man had let slip. It had taken years of careful study, but Clint hadn't resented a minute of it. The more he knew, the more he liked.

Lowering his fork, Phil looked Clint square in the eye. "Thank you."

When nothing else was immediately forthcoming, Clint felt himself start to squirm. He was an accomplished sniper used to holding still for hours no matter how uncomfortable the perch or environmental conditions. You wouldn't know it looking at him now. In the rising tension, Clint broke first. "Coulson—"

"Please," Phil interrupted, raising his pesto-smeared fork, "call me Phil. The distance it puts between us is unnecessary and hurtful." Clint squirmed at the complete honesty in Phil's voice. "I'm asking not as your former handler, but as someone who deeply values our friendship. You know me too well for last names. You know exactly how I like my pasta, which songs I'm compelled to sing along with during road trips, and the style of my preferred gun holster." He tipped his head to the side, looking at Clint with clear eyes. "Tony told me you and Nat helped stock my weapons caches around the tower."

Clint fidgeted more. "Tony would've gotten it wrong."

"So you did it right," he stared at Clint intently. "I want you to call me Phil and I want to be able to call you Clint. I think we've known each other long enough for that familiarity, unless I've done something to offend you? If you're mad at me, tell me why. I'm not a mind reader." Phil paused and cleared his throat, "Though I do admittedly now read strong emotions with the whole Guide thing. I try not to actively scan people without a good reason, but some of it is unavoidable." He waved his spoon in the air and then took a bite of pasta.

"I'm not mad at you," Clint crossed his arms.

Phil's bowl clattered as he abruptly dropped it into the coffee table with his fork. "You are mad at me. Why?"

Until confronted, Clint hadn't realized it himself, but the hurt emotions suddenly bubbled out, seizing control of his tongue. "We were a team, you and me and Nat. Sure we all did side jobs, but even apart, we were still Strike Team Delta. Then the Avengers initiative finally happened. And I wasn't supposed to be a part of that. You would have just left me behind to focus exclusively on the Avengers, but then Loki escaped, you died, aliens attacked, and the Avengers adopted me without asking Fury or the World Security Council for permission. We mourned you. We all thought you dead and you left it that way. You abandoned me and the Avengers and went on your merry way."

Expression unreadable, Phil listened to Clint's accusations. "Anything else?" he asked evenly when Clint finally wound down.

"Yeah, I'd like an explanation." Clint jutted out his chin. "I don't think that's too much to ask. You're right in that you weren't just my handler, you were also my friend, one of my best friends who I thought was dead." Clint barely kept back the wetness wanting to pool in his eyes, which just made him feel more upset. No one but Nat and his big brother Barney could make him feel this emotional and off-kilter.

Shadows darkened Phil's eyes as he nodded. "Alright, to start with, you may not have been on the World Security Council's list of possible Avengers, but you were always on mine, Hawkeye. Always." He met Clint's eyes steadily. "As for afterwards, would you have preferred living on the Bus, a plane always on the move as we travelled around the world tracking down rumors of Hydra and individuals with extra-human powers versus living in one city and openly fighting with the Avengers against supervillains and world-wide threats? Think about it."

Clint shifted in his chair. He'd always disliked that kind of constant travel and work, and both of them knew it. He made himself give honesty for honesty, though he didn't even try to keep the bitterness from his voice. It would've been pointless to try with a Guide anyway. "Well, no, but a phone call still would've been nice, a chance for me and Nat to stop grieving and know you were alive and well. Instead, we had to find out months later through the rumor mill and hacked security camera footage. We both had high enough clearance levels, that's how we caught on to the rumors, so that's not an excuse either."

Phil seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "I'm sorry you were hurt. I… I wasn't capable of even a phone call for a long, long time. Fixing me took a lot of time and experimental alien technology. There were drawbacks and complications. It changed both my body and mind in ways I still haven't completely mapped out yet. Not only do I have a new heart, but my stamina and even base scent have become different. Other things too." A bleakness rose in his eyes that made Clint profoundly uncomfortable. He'd never seen an expression like that on Coulson's face. Phil seemed to be slipping away into dark memories.

Reaching out, Clint touched the back of Phil's hand with his finger.

Starting, Phil came back to himself and swallowed. "Whatever the case, by the time I was up and running again, everyone had moved on without me. You were all doing fine. I asked about that first thing. You were all doing fine and I… wasn't. Nick made my survival need to know and gave me a new team and a mission to focus on. You Avengers always seemed busy dealing with bigger and more important things, so he just let it slide. No one wanted to rock the boat when you finally seemed to be doing so well, least of all me. Then you found out anyway when I was stuck on an op halfway around the world. Before I could catch my breath from that, SHIELD imploded and broke my heart."

Phil looked down with a sheen of wetness in his eyes and swallowed hard. Going on instinct, Clint curled his hand around Phil's and squeezed. SHIELD's betrayal had hurt him too, hurt all of them who were good and loyal to the ideals initially codified by Peggy Carter instead of the hidden taint of Hydra.

Great, Clint had come over here to take care of the man and instead he'd driven him almost to tears. Clint ruffled his hair. He had to say something. "Huh, you've been stabbed in the heart twice and not only did you survive, but you're still going strong? That decides it. You're definitely a superhero too. No wonder you fit in so well with all the Avengers." He wagged his brows exaggeratedly at Phil's disbelieving look, making the other man's expression lighten despite himself.

Encouraged, Clint continued. "That's why the Avengers needed you to finally unite them back then and why we need you so much now. You're like that kid on the Captain Planet cartoon with the power of heart. Without a heart to guide them, the other powers don't work right. They're useless."

"You are all far from useless," Phil scoffed, the tips of his ears pinking despite his otherwise unaffected expression, "but… thank you."

"Only telling it like I see it… Phil." Clint had to look down at his knees before the ridiculously pleased look breaking through Phil's mask of control made Clint smile back like a besotted idiot. Once he started he'd be hard pressed to stop.

Clearing his throat, Phil returned to his meal in contented silence.

Clint got comfortable in the chair and watched the fish tank. The movement of the black ghost's stubby little fins on either side of his head was strangely mesmerizing. He wasn't glowing anymore, looked pretty harmless in fact.

Finally Phil put down his fork and sat back with a sigh. "You know, I'm pretty sure that fish you gave Natasha is related to today's trouble with the bruja. All evidence points in that direction."

Clint looked back at the black ghost knifefish. "When I picture the sidekick of a loca bruja, he's not really what springs to mind." Supposedly he'd be more active at night, but right now, the fish seemed content to mostly hide in the cave underneath his plastic castle. He looked completely chill, barely moving his pectoral fins and slowly undulating the fin running along the bottom of his body to stay in place. Clint cocked his head to the side and looked using his Sentinel senses, but nothing special jumped out. It was a fish.

The conversation at the table on the other side of the room had steadily been growing louder. A pointless argument broke out, likely fueled by the frustration of the earlier fight. Clint and Phil had been ignoring the shenanigans by unspoken agreement. Bruce picked up his plate and quietly slipped out of the room. People must have been restraining themselves to avoid Bruce Hulking out, because the argument heated up exponentially the minute he disappeared.

Between one moment and the next, a fork came flying through the air. Clint and Phil instinctively dodged the projectile, rolling to their feet. Bright green pesto speckled the ceiling like a constellation of alien stars. The fork arced over their heads and plopped into the fishtank, splashing water up across the wall and carpet. Drops of both water and pesto speckled Clint's boot.

"Bravo, birdbrain. What are you going to eat with now?" Nat snapped at Thor with irritation. "You better not have hit my fish."

"Better a bird than an insect. Birds eat spiders you know." Thor bared his teeth in what might charitably be called a smile. "As for the fork, I was merely rinsing off your germs."

Surging to his feet, he stomped over to the fish tank with sparks in his eyes and plunged in his arm to the shoulder. Water splashed everywhere, forcing Clint and Phil to move farther out of range or risk getting soaked.

"Hey!" Clint griped.

Instead of just grabbing the fork and stomping back to the table, Thor froze, standing unmoving with his arm fully submerged in the fishtank. You couldn't see his expression from this angle.

"Thor? You okay there, buddy?" Tony asked, slowly getting to his feet and backing away towards one of his weapons caches. "You're not getting possessed by the ninja fish and gearing up to unfairly attack your beloved teammates, are you? Because if so, you really need to change your outfit if you want to look the part of a ninja assassin, maybe put on a pair of black pajamas and wind a tie around your forehead."

"If I was going to attack you," Thor finally answered in his deep baritone, "it would be because you deserve a fist in the mouth, not because I was instructed to do so by a fish." He flashed Tony a hard look over his shoulder.

"You've done stupider things," Tony replied, unfazed. "And your actions right now aren't really filling me with confidence. Is there a reason you're just standing there with your arm in the fish tank?"

Thor raised his nose snootily, "I'm using the allspeak to talk to Albi."

"Seriously?" Nat snorted. "Why?"

"And who is Albi? The fish? But the better question is how," Clint pointed out. "It's a fish. Are you speaking in bubbles?"

Eyes narrowing at the mocking, Thor said, "He uses electrical currents in the water to communicate. It is a rather clever method, arguably more clever than most of you seem to be on a regular basis. He is quite easy to understand for someone with an affinity for lightning and well-versed in the allspeak, which I am."

"Thor," Phil broke in, heading off the replies about to leap off of everyone's lips, Clint included. "Does Albi know anything about today's attack?"

Thor nodded. "Albi felt the surge of magic and expected to be reunited with his mistress. When it didn't happen, he resigned himself to waiting longer in his new cell."

"He belongs to the bruja?" Nat asked, casting a glare at Clint. "Only you would give me a fish stolen from a witch."

Clint crossed his arms defensively. "Hey, it was meant to be a nice gesture! How was I to know the drug runners stole a crazy lady's pet."

"Crazy powerful, if that illusion was anything to go by," Tony pointed out.

Phil frowned thoughtfully. "During the battle, the bruja kept shrieking what we all thought was the phrase, 'I'll be.' She must have actually been calling for 'Albi,' her pet."

"Aren't there thousands of these knifefish where she comes from? What's so special about this one that she'd come all this way for it?" Clint asked.

"Ah, I see," Thor hummed. "Albi was a gift from the bruja's love, a man of higher learning who was forced to leave and return to his country. Albi's mistress marked his head with her powers so the local fishermen would know to leave Albi alone. The bruja keeps Albi close to remember her love by, until the fish accidentally swam too far from the bruja's protections and was captured."

"So a biology grad student who needed to dump his samples?" Nat asked. "He was probably too much of a cheapskate to actually buy the lady something decent like jewelry."

"That's a leap of logic," Tony argued, probably just for the sake of being contrary. "He could have been an explorer or even a businessman."

"Or maybe a prince or desert sheik in disguise," Clint added cheekily.

"If this is a romance novel, where's the bruja's happy ending?" Phil asked dispassionately. His eyes laughed along even though his face stayed unsmiling. "If he's gone, the original owner of the fish may be irrelevant to our current problem. Unless we can find him to negotiate for us, that is."

"Excuse me," Jarvis interrupted, "but considering that the scientific name of the black ghost knifefish is Apteronotus albifrons, the name Albi originating from a graduate student or professor with scientific training does have merit, more than the bruja being the star of a category romance or a businessman visiting the rainforest."

Tony rolled his eyes. "You're my AI, Jarvis. Why do you insist on contradicting me instead of backing me up every chance you get?"

"I am as I was made, Sir," Jarvis answered primly.

Natasha cleared her throat. "If the bruja wants her pet back, I say let's give it to her."

"Good idea, but how would we even go about doing that?" Tony leaned against the wall and scratched his beard.

"Thoughts on how to contact the bruja?" Phil prompted.

"Shove the fish back in a plastic bag and put it out in front of the building with a note saying we're sorry," Clint joked, taking a step back to avoid the glop of pesto dripping off the ceiling over his head. It splattered onto the carpet.

Water sloshed as Thor finally pulled his hand out of the fish tank. "An excellent suggestion, friend Clint! I will fetch a bag." He dripped into the kitchen and beelined for the cabinet of random crap.

"He was joking," Nat said deadpan, eyes tracking Thor's movements.

"I was joking," Clint seconded.

"But the idea does have some merit," Phil said slowly. "If we make a big show of it and she's watching the tower, which is likely, she shouldn't have a problem fetching the fish back and satisfying her quest. At that point, she's hopefully honor bound to leave and return to the Amazon."

Nat frowned. "Even if she notices, she'll think it's a trap and stay away. I would."

"Albi is a token of love lost!" Thor proclaimed grandly, shoving the large clear bag he'd found into the fish tank to fill it with water. "Logic falters beneath the song of the heart, even for a Black Widow, I'd wager."

Nat turned up her nose at his insinuation. "You'd lose that bet."

"Aw, look at that adorable little black fishy face," Tony cooed dramatically, bending over to look into the tank. "Who could resist coming for this little lad?" He straightened up. "If you want a big show, I will give you a big show!"

Jarvis cleared his throat. "In the interest of backing up Sir, I'd like to remind everyone that Tony Stark has decades of experience in showing off. He's an expert at making little things look big."

"That better not have been an innuendo, buddy. I am big a-a-ll over and have the YouTube videos to prove it," Tony bragged, jabbing a finger at the big screen in the living room.

"If you try and turn on YouTube, I will hogtie you to Thor's pesto-splattered chair and shove you and the fish outside with the greatest hits of Menudo blasting on repeat," Phil threatened pleasantly.

"What's Menudo?" Thor asked curiously.

"Latin American boy band who started in the 70s, their rotating cast of members were forced to leave at puberty, most famous for producing Ricky Martin and Marc Anthony," Natasha rattled off.

Tony blinked at her. "Why do you even know that?"

"Because my locker in the Red Room was covered in boy band posters. Obviously." She widened her eyes and blinked innocently.

"If you're going to make a big show to draw in the bruja, you might want to get on that soon instead of bantering. Thor almost has the fish in the bag," Phil said mildly.

Tony pulled out sunglasses from nowhere and dropped them over his eyes. "I could do this in my sleep. Don't make me laugh." He snapped his fingers rapidly and turned on his heel, disappearing down the hall. "Jarvis? I need you to get a few people on conference call for me..."

Less than fifteen minutes later, Thor placed a dripping bag holding one black ghost knifefish on top of a corinthian column draped with red velvet. Beneath the velvet was a heating pad to keep the water from getting too cold for the tropical fish. The column sat in splendor in the middle of the VIP parking area, which had been quickly emptied of cars thanks to the combined might of Hulk, Thor, Steve, and James, who had a lot of fun pushing them out of the way like toys.

As soon as Thor jogged back into the building, fireworks began exploding from the roof. A huge wall of speakers joined in blasting fish songs. Considering the limited catalogue of fish songs available, and that most of them were made for kids, Tony felt that there was a regrettable lack of bass. About a minute into it, Tony's personal party DJ remotely took over the stereo system and let it rip with her remixes.

Long fabric banners dropped from the upper floors on all four sides of the building, unrolling to spell out, "Sorry for the misunderstanding," in at least twenty different South American languages and dialects, plus a few emojis. A minute later, balloons twisted into the shape of knifefish, and where Tony found a balloon artist so quickly was a head-scratcher, bobbed all over the tower.

"I don't know. This might be too subtle to get the bruja's attention," Clint said, scratching his chin.

"Subtle like a brick," Nat drawled. "No way she can miss all that."

Instead of preening, Tony frowned from inside his Iron Man suit. They'd all gotten dressed for a fight, just in case. "They forgot to release the confetti and streamers. Someone's getting an angry memo about that. I'll just have to make do with the rockets."

"Rockets?" Steve blurted, "Are you sure that's a good idea? She might think we're attacking."

Before he finished speaking, rockets spiraled up from the tower, each streaming a different color of smoke from its tail. The rainbow of smoke drifted around the building in a fog, making it harder and harder to see.

"That's not my rockets' fault," Tony said abruptly.

Clint realized he wasn't just being defensive.

The Avengers pressed closer to their observation windows trying to see through the dense layer of fog rolling in from out of nowhere, making the parking lot invisible. "I hate thick fog," Steve muttered. "Even Sentinel senses can get muddled in there unless you're used to it."

"That's why we have the marvels of modern technology," Tony boasted, watching his monitors instead of the windows. Abruptly he pointed at a screen, "The fish bag just moved."

"Do you have eyes on the bruja?" Phil asked, leaning closer, eyes darting across the screen.

Abruptly the sophisticated cameras went fuzzy. All the sensors died. Tony cursed.

Thor clapped him on the back. "Do not feel too bad, friend Stark. Magic can befuddle even the best of machines."

Only a minute later, the fog thinned and cleared away. The pillar was empty. The black ghost knifefish gone.

Tony's machines jolted back on with shrill beeps and whirls. Fireworks started going off on the roof again until Tony cut them off with a curt, "Jarvis."

"Hopefully that satisfies her," Clint said, keeping his bow near to hand just in case.

"The only way to know is if she doesn't come back," Nat answered.

Phil nodded and stepped up next to them at the window overlooking the parking lot. "Until then, we'll just have to wait."