Ta-da! Here's the first post-Dissension one-shot! You'll have to excuse Coulson if you think he's OOC – this is my first time writing him.

Mentions of Steve/Bucky pre-slash – don't like, don't read.

Plymouth, United Kingdom

Coulson's POV

The little bell above the door of the quaint little coffee shop jingles as I pull the door open, blinking at the change in lighting level and the smell of expensive English coffee and tea.

It felt nice to get off my feet for once – I wasn't here for a stakeout, mission, or covert op of any kind; right now I just wanted my afternoon cup of coffee. And I deserved it, too – in the past six months, I had been all over the world doing classified things in places so classified I didn't even get to know where I was.

And this was without SHIELD, mind you.

I step into line behind another patron, glancing up at the menu and being to contemplate how I would caffeinate myself this afternoon.

Until, suddenly and without warning, someone tries to cut in behind me, sending me stumbling into the person in front of me, nearly taking both of us to the ground. "Sorry, ma'am, didn't see you there."

"Oh, it's no problem-" She turns around and freezes, looking like a deer caught in headlights. A familiar pair of intense blue eyes staring back at me. "Phil?"

"Taylor?" I blink. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same," she returns. "Come on, I've got a table over here." Without waiting for a reply – that seemed to be a family trait – she loops an arm through the crook of my elbow and tugs me over to a table in the corner across from the counter. It's been obviously chosen for a reason, if you know what to look for – the table's got a good view of all the exits and most of the restaurant as well.

Taylor slides into the seat across from me, giving me my first good look at her. She's wearing the epitome of 'respectable business formal': a form-fitting navy coat dress with simple navy heels and small gold hoop earrings. Does she look comfortable? No. But she does command respect, so I figured that's what she wanted. "So what brings you to England?" she asks, propping her chin on one palm.

I give a breathy laugh. "Would you believe if I said I'm taking a break?"

"A break? You? Never," she scoffs disbelievingly. "Not once, in the seven years I've known you, have you ever taken anything resembling a break. What the hell have you been up to?"

I give a shrug. "Even I need to take a vacation after spending nearly nine months chasing illusive criminals across the globe with my maybe-not-ex-boss."

A look of realization appears on her face. "So that's what Pirate got up to after the chips fell," she mused. "I did wonder."

I raise an eyebrow. "Were you worried?"

She laughs and shakes her head. "I'm not stupid – I know you can take care of yourselves. But I did occasionally wonder where you had gone off to." She bites her lip and stares down at her hands, now folded on the table. "We could've used you."

I shake my head. "I wasn't going to fight in the war."

She shrugs. "We could've used your advice, then. Or your common sense. Or your placating nature. You name it, we probably needed it."

"Well excuse me for following my slightly obsessed boss all over the world for three-quarters of a year," I deadpan. "How is everyone, though?"

She sighs and leans back against the vinyl-coated back of the booth. "Well, we're certainly doing better. I mean, a few of us still have nightmares from everything, and the war has joined Howard and Stane and Loki on 'The List of Things We Do Not Talk About', but the Avengers have been fighting strong just like always."

I smile at the note of pride in her voice. "And how are you doing personally?"

She smiles this time. "I'm doing pretty well, actually. I mean, my hand's been sore for a few days – wait, did you find out what happened there?"

I glance down at her left hand, which, thanks to makeup, is currently scar-less. "I was debriefed on everything, yes. It's not too bad, is it?"

She shrugs. "It's a little warmer here than it was back home – not by much, but warmer nonetheless. And I made a heated glove, I just can't wear it in meetings."

I raise an eyebrow. "Meetings?"

She nods. "That's why I'm here, actually. There's a decent number of tech startup companies in the area and Dad and I are trying to win back public opinion after the war. Stocks dropped massively." She's cut off by a chirping sound, and she digs around in a small navy clutch, pulling out her phone. "And speaking of work, that'd be Maria. Give me a second."

"Maria?" I question.

"Yeah," she replies, not looking up from where she was typing out a text on her phone. "Maria Hill. My new PA."

Only years of training keeps the shock off my face. "Tony hired Maria Hill?"

"Well, no." She shuts off her phone and drops it back in the bag. "Technically, Steve hired Maria. Dad just decided to carry over her contract. She was in PR until about a month ago, but I needed a PA and she offered, stating – I quote – that 'I couldn't be a worse boss than Fury.'." She grins. "I don't know what that say about me, but she's done a great job so far."

"Good to hear," I nod, then pause. Should I ask? No. Maybe? Is it appropriate?

Across from me, Taylor raises an eyebrow. "If you wanted to ask about Steve, Phil, just ask."

I force my blush down. "How'd you know?" I demand.

"You get the same look Dad does when he's talking about Alan Turing," she explains with a small smile. "Steve's doing great – he's really happy that we're all under one roof again. He seems really happy lately, but I think that's because he and Bucky might be dating. I think they have a thing."

"A…thing?" I parrot.

Taylor nods and grins widely, her eyes getting a mischievous twinkle that makes her look at least five years younger. "Yeah, a thing. Like, me and Clint thing. That thing. I mean, I'm not sure, but I've caught them cuddling on the couch five times now, and I think they'd make an awesome couple. I ship it so bad," she gushes.

"They could just be cuddling platonically," I point out, giving her an amused look.

"So why, whenever I ask about it, do they blush and stammer and deny everything?" she counters. "If that's not a crush then I'm stupid. And I'm not stupid."

"I don't know…" I hesitate.

"Come on, Agent," she groans. "It's gonna happen. Steve loves Bucky. Bucky loves Steve."

"Are they even into guys?" I counter thoughtfully.

"You've obviously never met the real James Barnes," she laughs. "He's definitely, irreversibly, completely gay. No question there. I mean, it's not exceptionally flamboyant, but if you know what to look for…"

"And what about Cap?" I question again. "Is Bucky doomed to be in a one-sided relationship?"

"God, I hope not," she grumbles, adding something about hunting and killing captains under her breath. "Personally, I think he's bi. I hope he's bi, anyways, because I've got $200 riding on it."

"Really?"

"Hey," she shrugs, "what Steve doesn't know won't hurt me or Darcy. She thinks he's fully gay, by the way."

"Don't forget Agent Carter," I remind her.

"I know!" she exclaims. "I brought that up, but she's convinced it was a fluke." She blinks at me. "Does this mean you ship them?" she asks hopefully.

"Fine," I sigh. "Yeah, I'll…ship them," I admit hesitantly.

She lets out a whoop of excitement, drawing curious looks from people around us. Taylor, however, pays them no mind as she pulls out her phone and types something. "I'll have your shipper t-shirt sent to…" she pauses and looks up at me. "Where?"

I slump slightly in my seat. "Um."

Taylor pauses and sets her phone down. "Phil, do you not have a permanent address at the moment?"

"No!" I yelp, a little too quickly. "I've got safe houses…"

"They don't count," she argues, picking up her phone again. "How long has it been since you've stayed in one consistent place, Agent?"

I choose not to answer, and apparently this is answer enough because the younger Stark mutters a few choice words in Spanish before typing furiously. "You're moving into the Tower. How would you like your floor decorated?"

"Hey!" I protest. "I do not need, nor want, to move into Avengers Tower."

"Too bad," she snaps. "You've been without a home for at least nine months now, Agent. And you're my friend. And I don't let my friends be homeless."

"What about jobless?"

She pauses. "Job, right…suppose you would need one." She pauses, drumming her fingers on the table before her eyes light up and she types something out on her phone. A second later, her phone buzzes. "Oh, would you look at that; Dad's still looking for a PA. Apparently he liked mine so much he wants his own."

"A personal assistant?" I inquire. "You want me to do secretarial work?"

"Oh hell no," she snorts derisively. "And I dare you, I dare you, to call it secretarial work to Maria's face. No, I want to essentially wrangle Tony Stark. He needs to get to various meetings on time, fill out loads of paperwork, and be a figurehead for Stark Industries. Coincidentally, he absolutely despises doing all of the above."

"Imagine that," I scoff. "So I would have to babysit him?"

"Again, no," she sighs. "That's the team's job. We make sure he eats, sleeps, and has regular contact with human beings to avoid being an emaciated, sleep-deprived, social pariah. At least, everyone else does. I'm just as bad, really." She pauses before shaking her head. "So you're not babysitting, and you're not being a secretary. I can find the official job description later. But listen, Phil – it pays great, you get to see Steve and Bucky in action, and you get a roof over your head. Why is that so bad?"

I bite my lip. "I'll have conditions…"

"Which we can accommodate, I promise."

I raise an eyebrow, but Taylor just stares back unflinchingly, her eyes boring holes into my skull. I hide a grimace at the knowledge that despite all their goofing off, the Starks really are extremely powerful business royalty that could take over the world, company by company, if they wanted to.

Luckily for the world, they don't have their goals set so high.

"Fine," I sigh. "I'll take it."

And with that, the Vice President of Stark Industries drops the icy glare and reaches across the table to shake my head. "Welcome to SI, Agent. You want to get a coffee to celebrate?"

I let out a light laugh at the reminder of our original goals here. "Sure."

She nods and gets up to order, coming back with two coffees and launching us into a discussion about her boyfriend and how he's trying to 'woo' her with screwdrivers disguised as flowers and puzzles that spell out cute messages in foreign languages.

She thinks it's stupid (but her blush disagrees) and I think Clint Barton could write a book titled How to Woo a Genius.

And this is a normal conversation.

Or at least it will be, because my new boss is Tony Stark and I get to interact with superheroes on an even more often basis than I used to with SHIELD.

I just want it to pay off.

(I really hope it works.)

Shout out to RussianAssassin for the Stucky (Steve + Bucky) fangirling session above! I loved writing that.