"I'm starting to think this isn't going to work," Phil mumbles.
"Starting?" Steve asks.
Phil sighs. Currently, he's straddling one Steve Rogers, which ordinarily wouldn't be such a bad thing, but considering Steve is crammed into his bunk in a manner highly reminiscent of a sardine packed in a tin can, it's not exactly as good a thing as it usually is. They've been trying for at least a half-hour to find a comfortable position for both of them, but the bunks are barely designed to accommodate one person, let alone two, and certainly not someone as large as Steve. Still, they've given it that good old college try and that should count for something… only they both need to sleep sometime.
"Maybe this was a bad idea," Phil admits.
"Trying to share a bunk," Steve fishes, "or inviting me on the Bus?"
"I meant the bunk," Phil says with a patient smile.
He's had more than one instance of second guessing himself in this regard; he's team leader and, Captain America or not, having his boyfriend stay on-board (and in his bunk, no less) is about the height of unprofessionalism. The Old Phil Coulson wouldn't have even considered it, but then the Old Phil Coulson wouldn't have ever asked Steve out in the first place. So it's really a good thing he's not the Old Phil Coulson. Besides which, the introductions have been made and Steve was heading to the Hub anyway so it's not as though there isn't a good reason as to why he should ride along with them.
"But I think I have an idea," Phil declares, shifting until he can slide off of the soldier. "I'll grab the sheet, you take the pillows and follow me."
"Sir, yes, sir," Steve answers with a grin, happy to comply.
There's no one about, which he's immensely grateful for, but it's hardly surprising given the time of night. It's been a long, hard couple of days and most of them don't need to be told twice to pack it in and get some shut-eye. Plus, he gets the sneaking suspicion that the team is looking to give the two of them a little privacy.
Whatever the reason, he's just glad there are no interruptions as they make their way to the lower level. Steve quirks a curious eyebrow but maintains his silence as Phil leads him to the docked SUV. He has to laugh when Phil crawls in through the trunk and folds the back seats in. Between the two of them, they manage to set up a little sleeping area that certainly has more wiggle room than the bunk had.
"It's actually kind of nice in here," Steve notes, laying himself down beside Phil, shifting until they're back-to-chest.
"Thank Skye," Phil answers. "She's the one who started it."
"I'll remember to commend her on her creativity in the morning, then," Steve says, curling an arm around the agent's waist.
The lie in silence after that and Phil allows himself a slow, contented sigh. Lying in the back of a car on a plane thousands of feet in there air all while being wrapped up in Steve's arms… makes him feel safe. It makes him feel stable. For a little while he doesn't have to think about Tahiti or its magical properties or the ways in which he's different that unsettle him when he's alone. For a little while, it's nice to be held like he's someone worth holding and to shrug off the mantle of leadership for something simple and human.
He knows that as soon as the soldier departs, the doubt will set in, as it always does, because how could Steve truly want a man as old and damaged as Phil? True, Steve hadn't really known him before his death and therefore has nothing to compare him presently to, but it still feels surreal. More-so considering Steve and Natasha have continued to maintain the lie that he's dead. They had accepted Fury's reasoning that revealing the truth could potentially undo what Phil's death had done in the first place and that just because he's up and running doesn't mean he's fully recovered. Steve had said that if it was going to help Phil, then they'd do it. He's still not quite sure what was meant by that. It all seems too… neat.
"You okay?" Steve asks quietly.
"Just thinking," Phil answers truthfully.
"About all those things I told you not to think about?" Steve asks.
Phil can't help but smile. "Are you really that surprised?"
"No," Steve admits. He shifts, tightens his hold on the shorter man. "We'll find out what happened to you. I promise."
"You don't think it's all in my head?" Phil wonders aloud.
"I think that if you think there's something wrong, then there's a good reason to believe there's something wrong," Steve replies. "Natasha and I are going to do everything we can to help you figure this out. We've got your back. Sitwell, your team… they've got you, too."
Phil chews on that for a bit. Steve isn't happy about having to lie to his fellow Avengers, they've discussed that, but he's been surprisingly patient with the whole thing. Well, barring the fact that he'd picked Jasper up and thrown him hard enough to land the agent in the infirmary when he'd found out. He'd been pretty damn angry then. But that anger had cooled over the months and had turned into this. Phil still wonders where he'd gotten the balls to ask Steve out for a drink, but he's not looking to split hairs over the matter.
Steve knows that Phil is feeling… insecure. In more ways than one. And it's that insecurity that keeps him from contacting any of the other Avengers because the New Phil Coulson doesn't care so much about rules and red tape like the Old Phil Coulson had. No, it's the simple fact that Phil is afraid to present this version of himself to them. He's not the man he used to be and, in some ways, he supposes that's not a bad thing. Sometimes change is good. In this case, however…
"I still want to give that bunk another shot," Phil says.
Steve snorts in amusement, tucking his chin to his partner's shoulder. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"I think we almost had it," Phil assures him. "Just a little more to the left—"
"And we'd wind up with your elbow in my spleen," Steve finishes. He pauses and Phil can almost hear his grin. "Of course, that last position wasn't so bad."
Phil squirms until Steve loosens his grip enough so that the agent can turn to face him. "It's bad enough that they probably heard us bumping around in there just trying to sleep. I don't think I need to supply Ward with any nightmare fuel."
"Well, the Bus has to be empty at some point."
"Now who's not letting it go?"
Steve just smiles and answers him with a kiss. Phil leans into it, taking each soft sigh, every pleasant hum and savoring them, tucking it all away to be reviewed later. They trade languid kisses until Phil feels warm and boneless, and Steve regards him with sleepy blue eyes. There's a wordless agreement as they shift into a position agreeable for sleeping; Steve slide down enough to wrap his arms around Phil's waist and press his face to the agent's chest while Phil curls inward, arms around the soldier's shoulders as he cards his hands through soft, golden strands.
They fall asleep curled around each other and when Phil wakes the next morning, he can say it's one of the better night's sleeps he's had in as long as he can remember. No waking in the middle of the night, no feelings of excess adrenaline keeping him up, no nightmares plaguing his dreams.
None of the team mentions anything about the fact that they're emerging from the lower deck in the clothes they'd worn yesterday, looking sleep-rumpled but well-rested. Not beyond a light ribbing, anyway. And if they'd woken to find an extra thick blanket had found its way over them in the night, well, Phil knows who he can thank for that. But he won't. Because she doesn't want him to.
"I take it the bunk didn't work out?" Ward asks, keeping a brilliant poker face as he eats the burnt toast Simmons had just placed in front of him.
"Oh, I don't know," Phil answers, watching Steve help his two scientists attempt to salvage the eggs, "I think it worked out alright."