So, the reason I haven't posted on this particular piece in a bit is that I've been working on a group of three stories that run back-to-back and I wanted to have them all done before they went up. The final one isn't completely done but it's close so I feel justified in posting this one.

This is the first and immediately follows the prompt 'fair'. It covers the meeting between Coulson and Clint. I'm going to apologize RIGHT NOW for Coulson being a bit out of character. This one isn't really funny. There was no good way to make it so.

The next one that will come after this actually breaks the prompt series and is completely optional. It's more for anyone who cares to know how Pen gets her memory back. Darcy and Clint aren't in it and like I said it breaks the prompt series so no one has to read it.

The final one will return to the prompt series and I'm hoping to have it finished shortly and up.

Anyway, sorry for the letter. Enjoy the story.

-Illusinia

Prompt: Empty

From: avengers-tables .livejournal under 50-word prompt (yes, I do intent to use all 50 words)

Pairings: Clint/Darcy, Phil/OFC


Clint knocked uneasily on Coulson's door at exactly 3, taking care to breath in and out slowly. Darcy had spent most of the morning and afternoon up until he left reassuring him that Coulson wasn't going to do anything to him, but Clint still wasn't comfortable with this. Darcy was Coulson's daughter, she was required to think the best of her father. He wasn't.

"Enter," ordered Coulson from inside. Clint took another deep breath and pushed the door open. Coulson was sitting behind his desk, a ring resting in his fingers. The little gold band rolled between index and thumb, catching the light and reflecting it around the room. A woman's wedding band. Coulson didn't look up as he lay the ring back in a box on his desk, speaking as he did so. "Agent Barton, please, take a seat."

Clint did as he was told without a word, shifting like a five year old in front of the angry principle. Coulson just stared back a Clint for a few minutes, eyes taking in his shifting body and ill-ease. Finally, the older agent stood and moved to lean against the front of the desk. "You can stop acting like a toddler about to be scolded, Agent Barton. I made peace with you dating my daughter before you two even began to formally see each other in Pueto Antigo."

At Clint's confused look, Coulson explained. "She expressed an interest in you the day you saved her from the fire ants. I more or less gave permission." Sighing, he shifted a little, reaching back to pick up the gold band again. "Frankly, I can't think of anyone I'd rather she date. Well...no, not even Mr. Rogers would be sufficient for my little girl."

"But I am?" questioned Clint, finally managing to find his voice. Shock was just one of many emotions currently running through him.

Coulson offered him a faint smile. "She chose to tell you about her abilities, opened herself up to you in ways she's never done with anyone outside of the family. For her to do that, she has to see something in you that makes you ideal for her." He spun the ring between his index and middle finger tips slowly, before closing his fingers over the small metal band. "Her mother did the same thing with me." The words were sad and faint, more of a whisper than a statement directed at him.

"Sir?" asked Clint quietly, furrow between his eyes. His gaze fell to the ring in his commander's hand and, suddenly, he couldn't help but wonder what had happened. Couldn't help wondering how her mother had been lost to them both. How Phil had survived the loss with a child to look after.

"You'll feel like you don't deserve her sometimes," continued Coulson, his voice again normal, casual. Like they were discussing the weather. "When she's able to help you or read you so easily and you can't do the same to her because she's dealing with something you don't understand, you'll feel like you don't deserve her."

Clint shook his head slowly, a hand rubbing through his hair. "I already feel that way." His eyes slid to focus on the floor rather than Coulson, his voice dropping to something more akin to a loud whisper. "Every day, I wonder what I've done to deserve someone...wonderful like her."

Coulson shrugged a little, his hand tightening on the ring. "I wondered almost constantly some days what Pen saw in me. She always described it as a presence, some form of energy that she found comforting."

"Darcy's said the same," admitted Clint, eyes rising to look back at his boss. "Sir, how did you do it? How...how have you survived?"

Coulson's lips turned up a little at the question. "I wondered if you would ask. Truthfully, Darcy. When I felt the worst, I reminded myself that my daughter needed me more than ever. That someone needed to remain around to protect her."

Clint nodded slowly, eyes falling to the floor again. "I...can understand that."

"As soon as you held Molly, you understood that," stated Coulson knowingly. Clint didn't argue. Another heavy sigh fell from Coulson, belying a weariness that he never showed. Quietly, he moved to sit in the chair beside Clint's own. "It hurts a lot when you loose someone close to you. I just hope neither you nor Darcy ever have to face that reality."

For a moment, neither one said a word before Clint managed to gather the courage to speak again. "What happened? To Darcy's mother. She...she never told me. I'm not completely sure she knows."

"She's read the report," assured Coulson, his free hand scrubbing over is face. "I gave it to her when she was 12, at the same time I told her that her mother wasn't actually dead as she'd been told."

Clint paled, choking a little. "You told her that her mom was dead?"

Coulson began worrying the ring between his fingers again, eyes focused on the band of gold. "It's one of the mistakes I've made as a father. One of many, I might add. You'll make your own as well, for the record."

"I figured as much," muttered Clint.

"If there is one you can ever avoid though, it's lying to Molly," continued Coulson. "I still regret not telling Darcy what was going on from the beginning. Maybe if I had, she would have been able to do something more than what S.H.I.E.L.D. did." Coulson cleared his voice a little, stress apparent in his tone. "But that isn't what we're discussing. You wanted to know what happened to Pen, correct?"

"Yes, sir," confirmed Clint.

Coulson nodded, a hand coming up to rub at his eyes. "Pen was on guard duty in the science labs. Basic duty. Fury assigned her down there because she could actually understand what the scientists were saying more than the rest of us too. Looking back, I think he had her tracking a potential mole as well. She could read people like Darcy can." Coulson paused for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. "There was an explosion while she was in the labs. Of course, she did what she was trained to and got the scientists out first. Which was why the second explosion caught and threw her out a window."

"Shit," muttered Clint. He couldn't imagine anyone telling him Darcy had been in an accident like that. "Were you..."

"There?" prompted Coulson. "Not in the labs, but I was two floors down and directly in front of the place where Pen...landed."

Mentally, Clint kicked himself for ever bringing this up. How he could have ever thought it wouldn't be exceptionally painful, he wasn't sure.

Coulson pushed forward quickly, apparently wanting to get this matter over with. "They rushed Pen to the hospital after that. She was unconscious for five hours and twenty-three minutes. The doctors all said she was lucky, that she would survive and be just fine. But when she woke up, she didn't remember anything. Not me or Darcy or her job with S.H.I.E.L.D. Nothing from after she joined the FBI."

"FBI?" asked Clint.

"We recruited her from them," explained Coulson. "Well, Fury recruited her from the FBI after she cracked three of my ribs."

Clint couldn't stop himself from coking a little at that. "She cracked your ribs? And Fury made her your partner?"

Coulson shrugged, a touch of a smile on his lips. "It was my fault for sneaking up on someone with her martial arts background."

"Still," muttered Clint. "That's like what you did to..."

"You and Natasha?" suggested Coulson, his eyes rising back to Clint's as the pieces fell into place.

Clint shook his head in disbelief. "You knew it would work out because it did for you and Penelope."

Coulson offered Clint the touch of a smile that said 'I know more than you do' as he moved towards his desk and picked up a framed photograph. He offered the photo to Clint for examination, to Clint's surprise.

The photo showed fifteen people gathered together as a group in front of a fountain. All of them wore the standard black suit used by all S.H.I.E.L.D Agents, but every one of them were grinning widely. Including the man Clint immediately identified as Fury. Which was more than a little creepy. Fury was positioned in the middle and back of the group, with everyone else gathered around him. A young man stood immediately to his left, offering a nervous smile to the camera. Though that might have been at least in part due to the shorter woman who was leaning back against him with her arms wrapped around his neck. His own hands were resting on her hips, though Clint couldn't tell if he was pulling her against him or attempting to hold her at a respectable distance. Every other person present was looking at them out of the corner of their eyes and what had originally looked like grins more resembled smirks.

Clint could take a guess as to who the two were, especially given there was only one woman present in the picture, but he felt the need to confirm it. "Is it safe to assume the guy and girl who are practically wrapped around each other are you and Penelope?"

Coulson nodded, taking the photo back from Clint's outstretched hand. "That was six months after she cracked my ribs."

"It only took you two six months?" asked Clint, surprised by how fast his boss had moved.

"We didn't begin dating until three years after our partnership began," replied Coulson. "We were comfortable with each other after six months though. The same thing occurred with you and Natasha."

"Yeah, but we were never that close," argued Clint. "I mean, yeah, sometimes I think we live in each other's heads, but Natasha would never wrap herself around me like that for any reason short of a direct order or to save a mission."

"Natasha isn't energy sensitive either," pointed out Coulson. "She doesn't feel the need to initiate physical contact with you because she's able to under any situation."

"True," admitted Clint with a sigh, leaning back in his chair heavily. He paused for a second, mind seeming to process something before he leaned forward again. "Is that why Darcy is always reaching out to touch me?"

Coulson nodded. "Physical contact is a sacrifice for her with few exceptions."

"But I'm an exception?" asked Clint, wanting to confirm that he was understanding this correctly.

"I wouldn't allow you to marry her if you weren't," confirmed Coulson.

"Good to know," muttered Clint with a sigh and glance at his watch. "Sir, I hate to be rude, but was there anything else?"

Coulson allowed a touch of a smile to grace his lips, sad as it was. "Feeling the need to see Darcy and Molly?"

"Yes, sir," admitted Clint.

Coulson nodded and stood, tucking the ring back into its box and slipping the box into his jacket pocket. "Very well, you're dismissed Agent Barton."

"Thank you, sir," replied Clint before he practically ran out the door. He didn't see the smile Coulson sent in his direction or notice the wistful look on his boss's face as he watched Clint bolt from the room.

What did you do to Clint?

Darcy's text message sent Phil's phone nearly vibrating of the counter. He put the razor down beside the sink and read his daughter's text before allowing a slight smirk to touch his features. Nothing, why?

Cause he's barely let me or Molly out of his sight since he got back. Did you tell him about Mom or something?

He asked, was Coulson's simple response before he set the phone back down and returned to shaving. He wasn't about to go on a date without having shaved first. Plus, tonight was special.

Little did Phil know exactly how special tonight would be.