Domestic Tranquility
Chapter 21
Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. They belong to Marvel/Disney.
Rogers woke due to the cold, and lack of a warm body wrapped around his own. Coulson wasn't in bed. The super soldier kicked off the covers, leaving the bedroom, heading downstairs, cursing to himself. Maybe Phil couldn't sleep. Yeah, right. No Coulson in the living room, or kitchen. Outside was an option, so Rogers looked out the backdoor, seeing Coulson standing on tiptoe, staring over the gate. He opened the door, walking across the lawn, joining his partner.
"I'll give you to the count of three to start explaining," Rogers said. "One. . ."
Coulson ignored him.
"Two. . .
Coulson turned around, shooting him a dirty look.
"Three. . ."
Rogers waited a few moments before grabbing Coulson, throwing him over his shoulder, hauling him back toward the house.
"Put me down," Coulson hissed through gritted teeth.
"Not until you explain what the hell you're doing out spying on the neighbors in the middle of the night," Rogers said.
"Reconaissance," Coulson said. He didn't mention the pre-emptive strike he, Kelly and Emily just finished, and he was just taking a look at their handiwork.
Rogers dumped him on the ground.
"Do I need to get Fury involved?"
"Try it," Coulson said.
"Are you out of your mind?" Rogers asked.
"You need to loosen up," Coulson said, picking himself up off the ground.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Steve, calm down," Coulson said.
"I am calm," Rogers said.
"Are not," Coulson said, grabbing Rogers by the hand. "C'mon. Let's go back inside."
Rogers let himself be dragged back upstairs to bed, annoyed, but dropped the subject of the neighbor. Maybe if he let it go, Coulson would, too.
Then it was dawn, and Rogers knew it was dawn because he was awake, with the thin, gray light of morning seeping into their room. And lips nibbled at his neck and earlobe, not an unpleasant sensation. Coulson was always frisky in the morning, and Rogers was learning to deal with it. Phil's hands on his body, making lazy circles on his lower belly, then caressing his flanks, grinding his body against his. He rolled over, facing Coulson, and the smaller man kissed him, at the same time slipping his hands under the other man's t-shirt, trying to pull it off him. Rogers broke away long enough to be divested of his shirt, and then there was someone knocking at the bedroom door.
"Phil, forks in the neighbor's yard, and you didn't let me help?" Rachel yelled.
Rogers grabbed his shirt, rolling out of bed.
"Reconnaissance?" he asked.
"Pre-emptive strike," Coulson said. "It's just forks, and some pumpkin seeds scattered across the yard. It'll be a nice surprise come fall."
Rogers rolled his eyes, put his shirt back on, heading downstairs for coffee.
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Coulson sat in the passenger's seat of his father's Mustang, telling Emily an edited version of the events in Mexico several months before. And he'd show her pictures of himself on a motorcycle.
"Don't tell your mother," he said, putting away his phone when he saw Rogers coming into the garage.
"Don't tell her mother about the forks in the neighbor's yard?" Rogers asked.
"I helped," Emily said. "Mom won't care about that. She will care if I tell her about Uncle Phil riding a motorcycle."
"Why? What's wrong with a motorcycle?" Rogers said.
"At work, Mom and the other nurses call people who ride motorcycles 'organ donors,'" Emily said.
Rogers shot Coulson a look as he climbed out of the Mustang.
"Rach thinks they're dangerous," Coulson said.
"If you don't know how to ride one," Rogers said.
"You and I both know that," Coulson said. "Nice to know you're speaking to me again. You're not going to make me go over and apologize are you?"
"No," Rogers said.
"Good," Coulson said.
"Mom'll flip if she finds out you both have motorcycles," Emily said.
"I trust you won't tell her," Coulson said.
"I won't, on one condition," Emily said.
"Which is?" Coulson asked.
Emily only grinned.
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Being blackmailed by his 12-year-old niece shouldn't have been a surprise to Phil Coulson, but for the kid, he reckoned it was more fun than asking for what she wanted. Especially when what she wanted wouldn't sit well with her mother, considering how well things had gone when he'd been in the same situation with his sister. But taking Emily out and teaching her how to drive a stick shift was fun. She'd done surprisingly well, and Steve had enjoyed himself, too.
Now, they were alone at the house as Rachel was still at work and Emily was spending the rest of the afternoon helping his mother at the bakery. Coulson was replaying video of Emily driving on his phone, when Steve walked into the living room, handing him a glass of tea.
"She's a good kid," Rogers said, sitting down by Coulson.
"The best," Coulson said. "She more than makes up for the fact I don't have kids of my own."
"But you do want them, don't you?" Rogers asked.
Coulson set down his phone. Uh oh. They hadn't had this conversation yet.
"Of course," Coulson said. "It's just that with work. . ."
"You're not going to be able to use that excuse forever," Rogers said. "Now that you're in a relationship."
"Do you want children?" Coulson shot back.
"Yes," Rogers said. "Like your mom said, we can adopt, or use a surrogate, or whatever. Yes, I do want a family. Hell, I already have the family you and SHIELD gave me when you pulled me from the ice. And you bringing me home to meet your family, you have no idea how blessed I know I am."
"Even with all the insanity?" Coulson said.
"Even with that," Roger said. "The everyday stuff is nothing compared to Tony and the rest of the Avengers, but I wouldn't trade any of it."