Forum Block
Stacked With: MC4A (Shipping War; Summer Bingo; SI(N); StL; BAON; FPC; ER; SF; Star; FR; LiCK); Hogwarts
Individual Challenges: Short Jog; Lovely Triangle; Yellow Ribbon; Yellow Ribbon Redux (Y); Stolen Plot; Rian-Russo Inversion (Y); Real Family; Flags & Ribbons [x3] (Y x1); Rainbow Focus (Y); Old Shoes; Interesting Times (Y); Gender Bender (Y); Shipmas (Y); Themes & Things A (Y); Themes & Things B (Y); Themes & Things C (Y); Location, Location, Location
Representations: Phil Coulson & Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov; Genderfluid Clint
Bonus Challenges: For the Vine; Second Verse (Car in a Tutu; Lock & Key; Three's Company; Found Family; Nontraditional; Zucchini Bread; Ladylike; Not a Lamp; Persistence Still; White Dress); Chorus (Bandstand; Larger than Life; Unicorn; Machismo; Odd Feathers)
Tertiary Bonus Challenges: FR (Satisfaction; Liberation); LiCK (Poppy)
Bingo Prompt: 5C (Red)
Word count: 2,687


Phil ran his hands over the bits and pieces that would eventually become a shoe. Almost his entire life he had wanted to leave behind the family business and pursue his own life. He had even succeeded—had moved to London with his childhood sweetheart with a new job in marketing. He had been recalled to the small town he had just escaped that stunk of cattle farms and tanning leather by the death of his father and the family company needing to be dealt with.

Above his head hung portraits of his ancestors. The Coulsons that had built and controlled Coulson and Sons; the Coulsons that expected him to follow in their footsteps. He had been seven when he first asked his father what would happen if he didn't want to make shoes. His father had laughed at him and said that he was a right funny kid if he didn't.

His gaze fell to the factory floor and the shipment of shoes that had been sent back. That shipment had supposed to pay the workers' wages and now he couldn't do that. Phil groaned and slumped back into the chair, staring up at the ceiling as he idly spun the chair around with his feet. He straightened as a thought occurred to him. Within moments, he had clattered down the stairs, grabbed a box from the returned shipment, and raced out the door.


"Will you help me out, Nick?" Phil asked, holding back the desperation he felt as well as he could.

Nick sighed, glancing at the plain but well-made shoes in the open box on the bar in front of them. He gulped down the rest of his beer before saying, "Fine. I'll help you but unless you find a niche market soon, you'll be beyond helping."

With that, he returned to the arcade machines that were his escape from small town life—he held the highest score on every machine. Phil downed his own beer and then left the bar feeling much calmer than he had when he had entered.

The calmness lasted until he heard the sound of a dog whimpering and loud drunken jeers. Without thinking, he rushed into the dark alley and slugged the first laughing face he saw. There was another person fighting the drunken idiots but Phil didn't pay much attention to them, instead focusing on getting rid of the drunks so he could help the dog. That turned out to be a mistake when a few moments later he felt something hit his head and became closer acquaintances with the ground.

He jerked awake when a wet tongue licked his cheek and a nose shoved itself at his ear. He was in a room covered in purple—purple walls, a purple dressing screen, purple clothes, purple curtains. A dog lay next to him, thumping their tail and seemingly content now that Phil was awake. Phil ran a hand carefully down the dog's back, wary of any injuries that might have been given by the drunks.

The dog closed its eyes contentedly and accepted the pats as Phil continued staring around the room he found himself in. Aside from all the purple, it appeared to be a dressing room of some kind. There was a shelf dedicated to various wigs, each wig on a different purple wig stand (none of the wigs themselves were purple). There was a large mirror surrounded by lights with various cosmetics placed neatly on the desk in front of it.

Phil himself was lying on a purple lounge that took up one wall of the room with the wig shelves on the other side of the room, the mirror to his left, and a door to his right with racks of clothes and a changing screen on one side. Instead of being blinded by all the purple, Phil actually found himself appreciating it—though he was sure that if it was all one shade instead of the myriad of shades it was, he would think differently.

The door opened and a woman walked in—or no, it was a man in woman's clothes. The man smiled when he saw Phil awake and patting the dog. "Glad to see you survived my shoe even if my shoe didn't survive you," he said.

Phil blinked and then saw the high-heeled boot with the broken heel that had been tossed into a corner of the room. It was purple like almost everything else in the room and had streaks of silver and red running vertical along it. Its partner was sitting next to it, heel intact.

"I'm sorry about your boot," he said for lack of having anything else to say.

The man waved a hand dismissively. "They never last long. I had hoped I'd be able to wear that pair for longer, but you come to expect the untimely death of your favourite shoes when you dance in them all the time."

Phil scooped up the broken boot, barely registering the man grabbing a set of clothes from the rack and moving behind the changing screen. The heel had clearly snapped from duress, it had been forced to carry more than the creators had expected—no doubt because a male was wearing it instead of the slim, light-weight women the company had no doubt marketed it towards.

He hummed in thought as he turned the boot around in his hands. A niche market, Nick had said. Phil needed to find a niche market to keep Coulson and Sons alive and running. Could this be the niche market he was looking for?

"I could make you a new pair of boots," he found himself offering.

The man stepped out from behind the screen, adjusting the sleeves of the red sparkly dress he now wore as he walked over to the wig shelves. "Experienced with making shoes, are we?" he asked as he pulled on a brown bob wig.

Phil shrugged. "It's in the family."

"Well then, how could I refuse such an offer? But they had better be purple." He pointed a lipstick at Phil threateningly before touching up his makeup with it and moving towards the door. "I need to get back out there but feel free to stay and watch the show and we can discuss these new shoes after."

Then he was gone just as quickly as he had arrived. Phil fiddled with the shoe for a bit longer, transferring his attention to the dog when a nose pushed into his hand. His mind was whirring with ideas about what he could do with the shoe, and the future that was starting to hesitantly light up. Deciding he should probably know the situations the new shoe would be going through, Phil stood up and went out the door, finding himself in the backstage area of a club.

On the stage he could see through the side stage curtains, the man he met was in complete charge of the stage and audience—introducing himself as Lola with his song while the ensemble accompanied him. A niche market indeed, Phil thought. Going by the broken boot he still held in his hand, he doubted anyone was making feminine boots for men—or planning to.


The day Lola appeared at the Coulson and Sons factory was an interesting one to say the least. Jasper had—once he been embarrassed for flirting with a male he had thought to be female—accused Lola of doing what she did to gain attention from men. To which Lola had smirked and explained that having a gentle touch and being a reflection of them was generally more of a draw to women than oppressing them with masculinity. Plus, she had added after Jasper had started to slink towards the shadows to think, drawing the attention of men and women was merely a plus in Lola's book—just because she loved women and dressing like one didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the attention of both sexes.

Followed by that was the utter disgust Lola had shown to the mock-up shoes they had created. The boots were sturdy and durable but the most important part—according to Lola—was missing; there was no stiletto heel. It had been back to the drawing board with Lola designing multiple amazing (stiletto) boots and not budging on the need for the heel.

The next day Lola had arrived at the factory in a suit and Phil found himself thrown for a loop. The man looked so uncomfortable in the suit that Phil wondered why he had decided to wear it. The bullying from Jasper and a few other workers answered that question but came at the cost of Lola retreating to the safety of the bathrooms.

Phil leaned against the wall next to the stall Lola was currently occupying. "You know, you shouldn't listen to Jasper. He's just being an outspoken bigot."

There was a choked laugh from the stall. "Him and almost everyone else in the world. I had hoped that it would get better once I didn't have to pretend for my father anymore, but it's the same everywhere. He expected me to be a boxer, you know. Win the championships he couldn't. Follow in his footsteps."

"I know what that's like." Phil gazed around him. He had grown up in this building and couldn't wait to leave it and the expectations his father heaped upon his shoulders. "But hey, we're both following out own paths now, yeah? My father would probably be turning in his grave if he knew I was making stiletto heeled boots. I'm not my father, and you're not yours."

There was a slight click as Lola unlocked the stall door. She stepped out, still awkward in the suit and with fresh tear tracks on her face, but she was smiling slightly. He held out a hand to Phil. "Well then, Phillip Coulson, not his father's son, meet Clint Barton, also not his father's son."

Phil grinned and shook Clint's hand. "Let's make some boots."


It was only after Audrey had arrived at the factory with a deed for sale his father had prepared that Phil realised he hadn't even thought about her and their planned new start in London since he had started working with Lola. It was only when the factory was going to slip out of his hands that he realised how desperately he wanted to keep it and make it his own.

Somewhere along the way, his and Audrey's dreams had drifted away from each other and no longer aligned. Phil found he didn't mind the smell of cattle farms and tanning leather. He had a family in this town, people that relied on him and loved him. Audrey tried to drag him away from it, reminding him of their plans, but he didn't want that anymore.

He looked at Audrey and saw an escape from his father's expectations. He looked at the Coulson and Sons sign hanging above their heads and saw love and family, laughter and new, outrageous, designs for shoes. Phil smiled sadly at Audrey and shook his head. There was no point in trying to fix what wasn't broken; they had drifted apart, and so had their desires.

Nat saved him—as she always had, he now realised. She had always been there for him and he for her until he had distanced himself so far from his father that he had removed the factory and the rest of his family from his life in an attempt to be with Audrey and start his own path. He couldn't help but smile at her glare at Audrey as she pulled him into the factory to see the finished product of their first trial.

Nat saved him again only a few days later when he was about to hire female models for the Milan fashion show they would be presenting their stiletto boots to the world at. Lola was tapping her purple boot encased foot as she arched her eyebrow at him and crossed her arms. Nat was looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to put the phone down and realise that showing a boot for men on women was a stupid idea.

It was Nat who warned Phil of the boxing match between Jasper and Lola—a wager that Jasper no doubt thought would be easy for him to win, and one that Phil knew he had no chance at due to Clint's father forcing him to box professionally.

It was also Nat who filled the Nat-shaped gap in his life that had formed when he left the factory. He had barely noticed it was there when he was trying to cram Audrey into her space and Nat's. Now, with Audrey in London and pursuing her marketing career, Phil realised that he had been lying to himself when he said he wanted to leave everything behind and start anew in London.


Everything was ready. Lola's Angels were making last minute adjustment to their outfits and makeup. Lola herself was standing at the window and looking at the night sky. Phil stepped up next to her, Nat joining them on Lola's other side.

"You good?" Phil asked.

Lola looked at him and gave a brittle smile. "I went to see my father."

And that was all it took to understand. Nat must have understood as well, because she moved at almost the same time he did. Both of them leaned into Clint and looped their arms around him. The bustle behind them of the show preparing faded for a few moments. Now was comfort, and then Lola would become herself again and step out onto the walkway with confidence.

Jasper cleared his throat from behind them and they turned. He grinned and handed Clint his shoes. The man had undergone a transformation after the boxing match and now stood in front of them in his own stiletto boots of blue and bronze, utterly comfortable in his surroundings. Clint grinned back and accepted the purple, red, and silver streaked boots and went to finish getting ready.

Phil expected Jasper to leave then, to get ready for the part he had insisted on having in the show, but he didn't. Instead his grin turned into a smirk and he held out another pair of boots. It took Phil a moment to realise that Jasper was holding the boots out to him and not Nat. He stared at the boots in mild terror, flicking his gaze to the stage that he had never desired to be upon. He was a man in the shadows type of person; he didn't enjoy the spotlight.

Nat nudged him and rose an eyebrow when he looked at her. He sighed; clearly he wasn't going to be getting out of this easily. She nodded approvingly when he took the boots from Jasper and slipped off to where he realised she had her own pair of boots. Apparently, his family had decided to make the Milan Fashion Show a family show by having everyone show off their new boots.

He smiled at that. After he was booted up, he merely sat and watched them. There were the workers who had been like surrogate parents to him while he grew up; the ones who had been excited children with him or slightly weary teenagers. There was Nat, his best friend and someone he now knew he couldn't live without for very long. And then there was Clint—becoming Lola again and chatting with the Angels.

They were his family. They had all been close to losing their jobs and their second home and it was by working together that they had managed to come this far. It was only by working together that they would continue to move forward.

Nat slipped up beside him and offered her hand, which he gladly took. "Ready?" she asked, eyes twinkling.

He grinned. "As I'll ever be." He pulled her into a hug, an acknowledgement that they were back to where they had been before Phil had torn himself away to follow Audrey. "Thank you."

"Anytime."