So, abrupt is kind of being split into two parts. Kind of. Technically, this isn't necessary to understand the rest of abrupt. It's more of a 'hey, here's what happened' bit rather than a 'look at the cuteness that is Darcy and Clint' prompt. In fact, Darcy and Clint aren't in this segment. Rather, this is focused on Pen and Phil because I have been asked a little about Pen and I wanted to post how she recovered for anyone who wanted to know. It's still sappy cuteness of course, just for a different pair.

Anyway, this part is optional so read it if you want or don't if you don't care or want to know. The third part of this should be out next week (assuming my thesis doesn't kill me; FYI, working with materials contaminated with arsenic sucks). I'll try to get it done this weekend, but I'm not hopeful with everything else that I need to worry about.

Enjoy whoever wants to read this,

Illusinia

Prompt: Abrupt part I

Pairing: Phil/OFC (Pen)

"Hey Phil, you like jazz right?" asked Pen as she leaned against the back of his chair to peer over his shoulder.

Glancing up at his partner, Penelope Madison, Phil Coulson cocked an eyebrow and leaned backwards more in his chair. She continued to look at his computer screen. "I like jazz music, why?"

"'Cause Nick gave us the night off and told me to make sure you actually left the office, so I figured I'd see if you wanted to go to a jazz club I've heard good things about," explained Pen as she reached over to correct a spelling mistake on his screen and add a comma to one of his sentences. He allowed her to do it.

"Sounds interesting," agreed Phil as he glanced back at his screen. "Wouldn't you rather go alone though?"

Pen's brow furrowed and it was her turn to shoot Phil a raised eyebrow. "Why would I want to go alone?"

"Because it would give you the chance to flirt to your heart's content..." his eyes narrowed at his partner in suspicion. "What else did Director Fury say?" Pen shifted a little and looked back at his screen, reaching out to make another correction. Phil grabbed her wrist before she could touch his keyboard again. "Pen..."

"Nick told me in no uncertain terms that we needed to deal with the tension between us," admitted Pen with a huff. "In lay-mans terms, he wants us to go on a date."

Phil's brow furrowed further and he released Pen's wrist. "Why would Director Fury want us to date?"

"Go on a date," corrected Pen with a shrug, one hand rubbing mindlessly at the wrist he'd grabbed. He knew she wasn't hurt, the action was a nervous reflex. "And I don't know. He said something about the sexual tension driving everyone mad."

"Sexual tension?" questioned Phil. "That makes no sense."

"Tell me about it," agreed Pen as she moved to lean against his desk and put some room between them.

Phil ignored the fact that he was disappointed when she moved away. "So, how are we handling this?"

Pen shrugged. "I figured we'd go to the jazz place, get some food, then go our separate ways and tell Fury we did what he said tomorrow."

"So, the same thing we do every night," nodded Phil.

"Without the 'trying to take over the world' aspect," confirmed Pen with a grin. Of course, she was joking about that. They'd only discussed taking over the world on one of their many post-work dinner meetings. "So, is it a date?"

Phil smirked slightly and nodded. "That sounds like an excellent plan. Would you like me to pick you up tonight?"

"If you want," agreed Pen with a shrug as she turned to head for the elevators. "See you at 7."

"Roger," agreed Phil smugly before turning back to his work.

Phil felt his stomach tighten a little as he watched Pen walk out of the back room where the orchestra stored their instruments. Her cello was slung across her back, dark hair swaying from side to side as she walked out with one of her fellow musicians. The other man was clearly smitten with her, but Pen brushed off every advance he made with a swift and mildly threatening gesture. Phil's hands tightened around the flowers in his hands: nightshade, morning glory, and double purple datura. All of Pen's

favorites.

Across the room, her eyes flew to Phil and she offered him a smile and wave, moving away from the jack-ass who was hitting on her in favor him coming towards him. It was hard to keep the sigh of relief from actually escaping his throat. He was a secret agent, damnit! He should be able to woo his wife again without turning into a love sick puppy like the first time around.

As Pen leaned up to kiss his cheek and ask how his day was though, he knew the whole love-sick-puppy thing was going to happen again. There was no avoiding it.

Offering her a smile, he handed her the flowers he'd brought. "It was...uneventful. Your own?"

"You're lying," stated Pen, though she didn't look at all upset as she took the flowers and gave the blooms a sniff. "Thank you, these are my favorites. And my day was the same as every day. Go in, practice like crazy, get hit on by my fellow orchestra members, and then come out to find you holding a lovely bouquet of flowers just for me."

"That doesn't happen every day," pointed out Phil with a touch of his own smile. "Sometimes I bring you tickets or other small gifts instead."

Pen smiled softly and shook her head. "True. Nice avoidance maneuver by the way. If you don't want to tell me or can't, I won't be offended."

Phil sighed, moving to slip her cello from her shoulder and slid it onto his own before his hand came to rest at the base of her back, low enough to stake a claim. Pen said nothing and let his hand remain there. "I was going to discuss this with you tonight, but I suppose I can start now." He paused for a moment, eyes taking in the woman beside him. "Pen, I haven't been completely honest with you about my family."

"I already knew that," stated Pen with a shrug, shifting the flowers in her arms to a more comfortable position. "Let me guess, this is about your daughter? More specifically, the woman who answered your phone the one day I called?"

He felt his face attempt to reflect his surprise, and let it. Pen was the only one paying attention to him, and it didn't really matter if he attempted to hide his emotions or not: she would always know. "You knew she was my daughter?"

"Based on the questions she asked and how surprised she sounded without sounding angry, I guessed she was family, but not a wife or girlfriend," explained Pen. "Her questions were too personal to be a secretary, at least one who wasn't either noisy or crushing on her boss. She sounded surprised, meaning she wasn't expecting a woman to call you, but there was a distinct undertone of happiness in there meaning she was glad you had someone in your life. When I mentioned her last name at dinner, and you nearly spit out your wine, I knew she had to be your daughter."

"I wasn't that obvious," grumbled Phil halfheartedly. Truthfully, Pen would have known the extent of his surprise. She always knew. He'd been more worried than anything. Not about Darcy, but about if he would need to maim Barton or not. Fury would have probably been pissed if he had.

Pen's gentle laugh brought him back to the moment at hand, reminding him of the woman who stood beside him. A faint blush rose to his cheeks, and not entirely because it sounded like she was laughing at him. "Keep telling yourself that. Though, admittedly, I could have timed that better."

"A little," confirmed Phil as he opened the passenger side door of the car.

She gave him a grateful smile as she slid in while he slipped her cello into the back seat of the car. When he was in the drivers seat beside her, one of her hands came to rest on his leg, not in a sexual way but in the 'I really need human contact right now' way that he remembered so well. It reminded him that the Pen he knew was still inside, just perhaps a little different from before. And reinforced that dating her again was a good idea.

"So, where are we going tonight?" asked Pen curiously, her hand remaining where it rested.

Phil smiled as he put the car into drive and pulled out, fond memories of the place they were going slipping through his mind. "Pen, do you like jazz?"

Two hours later found Phil standing outside the door to Pen's S.H.I.E.L.D apartment in slacks and a button down that was unbuttoned at the throat. He had a blazer in the car as well. One of his hands rose to knock at her door and waited for her answer.

The door opened not five seconds later, revealing Pen as she grabbed her jacket and a purse. It took all of Phil's considerable training and willpower not to stare, squirm, or allow his body to react when he laid eyes on her. Pen was beautiful, he'd noticed that when they first met. She was quick witted, stubborn, inclined to challenge him if she didn't like what he was saying, wicked, fond of pranks, blunt when she wanted to be, and gloriously sarcastic. Normally, he thought of her as the friend she was, ignoring the fact that she was, in fact, a woman. Sadly, the image before him would forever ruin any original impressions he had of her.

Her dress was the most stunning shade of green Phil had ever seen in a dress. It literally looked as if someone had taken a handful of mature leaves and somehow extracted the pure essence of their color to create the fabric. It hung to halfway down her shins and, when set against her brown hair and blue eyes, made her look like the incarnation of a nature goddess. Her hair, normally tamed in some kind of a pony tail or bun (messy as it might be), hug around her in glorious waves he wanted to touch. The make-up around her eyes was smoky and made them appear even more blue than usual. A hint of red lipstick made her lips very tempting, finishing off the entire look.

God, he wanted to touch her. And not in an innocent way either. Bad Phil, bad.

"You good to go?" asked Pen with a raised eyebrow as she threw a trench coat over her dress.

With the dress covered, Phil felt some of his brain kick back into gear. "If you are."

"Let's go then," replied Pen with a grin as she grabbed his arm and started towards the front door of her building.

Somehow, the contact actually helped him shake the strange daze-like feeling that had come over him. It was normal for her to link arms with him, normal for her to initiate skin contact. Well, it had become normal. She hadn't done that when they first started working together. Really, she hadn't started doing that until after a bad mission in Moscow. Still, it had become normal for her to link their arms and it helped remind him what he was doing.

You're going to a jazz club with your partner and friend. It's Pen for Christ's sake. You don't think of her like that, remember? Of course, that was an absolute lie. He'd had the dreams that left him shaking with the image of her naked still fresh in his mind to prove it. The bigger issue was that she didn't see him like that.

"Get out of your head for the night, Phil," teased Pen as she drew him towards his car. "You've gotta loosen up a little."

Phil raised his eyebrow with a soft smile. "This coming from you, Pen?"

"Hey, I resemble that implication!" complained Pen with a grin as she walked around to her door. Phil was tempted to open it for her but didn't want to be accused of thinking her incapable of opening a door. Not that he really thought she would say that, especially given the fact that she cracked three of his ribs when they met.

Offering her a smirk, he slid into the drivers seat and started the car. "So, where is this place?"

Pen stepped out of her bedroom ten minutes after she went in, walking to the main room in a dress that made Phil's jaw drop. Well, nearly. He managed to keep it in place through sheer willpower alone. God, and to think he knew what lay under that dress...Do NOT go there Phil! You've managed to avoid sleeping with her thus far and it's been nearly a year. Don't pin her to a wall now and ruin everything, Just don't.

"Will this work?" asked Pen, spinning in her dress. In the same pure green dress she'd worn the first time they went out to the club. That first night they'd gone on a date.

I'm dead. Phil cleared his throat a little and nodded, not completely trusting his voice but knowing he should probably give a verbal response anyway. God, he felt 17 all over again. Or 26, given that was the first time he saw Pen in that dress. How did it even still fit her? "Yes, that's perfect."

Her lips turned up a little as she moved closer, sliding right next to his body. "You look stunned Phil, did you think I lived in the orchestra blacks?"

"Clearly not, given I've seen you in a sun-dress and workout clothes," reminded Phil, hoping his remark would help jump-start his brain a little and bring some thoughts to mind other than what had happened the first night they went to this club. Unfortunately, it just brought some of his other thoughts that had come up when they'd been out running together or sparring in the gym (Pen still remembered the self-defense training her father had taught her). It wasn't helping at all. Mind out of the gutter, Phil. Now!

"Eh," Pen shrugged and moved towards her hall closet, extracting a pair of low heels in a blue-black color. He watched as she slid them on, realizing how long her legs looked all over again. God, he was pathetic. And so incredibly screwed. She gathered her purse and jacket from the table beside her door before turning to him with a cocked eyebrow. "You good to go or do you need a minute? I think your tongue is somewhere on the floor and your jaw is under the couch."

The faint blush from earlier came back, prompting him to clear his throat and attempt to speak. "I apologize. That was rude."

A wicked smile touched the edges of Pen's lips, reminding him of the one Darcy sometimes wore when she was right and knew it. Or when she'd gotten her way about something through trickery. "Honestly, I was hoping you'd have some reaction. Otherwise I was going to believe you were gay and just trying to hide from it."

Phil shot her a 'really' eyebrow before he crowed her against her front door, dropping his voice low. There may have been a touch of a growl in there. "Believe me, Penelope, I am very, very attracted to you."

"I can tell," teased back Pen as she wiggled a little against him. "So, are we actually going out tonight or staying here? I can think of a few things I wouldn't mind doing here..."

"Going out," cut in Phil firmly. He lowered his lips beside her ear, muttering to her in a voice that said exactly what he was feeling. "When we get back tonight, I have plans. But I also happen to know that everything is a little better when you have to wait for it."

Pen chuckled darkly, a dramatic sigh falling from her smirking lips. "You're one of those guys into prolonged foreplay, aren't you?"

"Only because I happen to know how effective it is," explained Phil as he stepped back, straightening his shirt a little. The next words out of his mouth were completely unplanned and nearly made him want to bang his head against the door. "It's how I ended up with my daughter."

"Nice," nodded Pen approvingly. "Alright, I'm willing to play ball. But there will be protection in place tonight, understand?"

"Perfectly," assured Phil. "My granddaughter is enough of a hand-full as things stand, I have no wish to add another child to that list."

Pen smiled, sliding her arm into his as she maneuvered them out the front door, locking it behind her before they started down the hall. "Granddaughter? Just how old isthis daughter of yours anyway?"

"Twenty-four," replied Phil, slipping his arm out of hers and wrapping it around her lower back.

"Accident?" quarried Pen with a knowing smile.

The smile nearly made Phil bulk. He'd been keeping tabs on Pen since her memories were altered and she was transferred to Seattle. He knew she hadn't had another child. So why did she have that look on her face? "Yes. Have you had that experience before?"

Pen shook her head a little, an odd look crossing her face as if she were uncertain about what she was about to say. Her next words were slow, uncertain. "I'm not sure, to be honest. Something, well, something is strange about my memory. I went to a doctor once to get birth control pills, and he asked when I'd had my baby. Only, I've never been pregnant to my knowledge." She paused again, and Phil had to work very hard to keep his heart-rate down.

Fury had said when they altered her memories there was a chance that some things would stick. That she'd have vague recollections about a few things. Darcy had been one of the things there was a chance Pen could remember. Apparently, most women remembered their children to some degree no matter what.

"That is strange," agreed Phil, attempting to keep his voice neutral as they reached the street.

Pen nodded slowly, her eyes slightly narrowed in concentration. "The strangest part is that, I can remember a little girl with brown hair calling me 'mommy'." Shaking her head slightly, she raised her eyes towards the sky, staring up at the night filled with so much light pollution the stars were invisible. "The hardest part is, these memories hit at the strangest times. Walking by the playground in Central Park, the American Museum of Natural History, even down by the river once. It's...surreal."

Phil bit his lip and contemplated his question for a moment, debating if he should ask or not. If it would give him away. Still, he had to know. "When did this start?"

"When I moved to New York," replied Pen. "In Seattle, I had dreams on occasion that involved a little girl and a man who's face I could never see well, but not like this. These feel more like memories...honestly though, I don't know. It's not a big deal."

"No, of course not," agreed Phil as he opened the passenger side door and helped Pen in. The time it took him to walk around the car was spent slowing his heart-rate again. She remembered. Not well, not completely, not even enough to know it wasn't a dream, but she remembered. Taking solace in this knowledge, he slid into the driver's seat and started the car.

Phil was surprised how well hidden the club was. There was a simple sign above the door declaring the place to be named "Jitter's". There were no other signs that a club rested inside. Well, until Phil opened the front door. Strands of jazz music flooded his ears, not so loud as to be impossible to hear over, but lively and compelling. The sounds of a big band.

Pen slipped past him, swinging her hips a little to the music as she went in. The motion caught his attention, drawing his eyes to her back-side for a moment. He didn't allow his eyes to remain there. She might hurt him if she caught him staring.

He slipped in after her, shadowing her to the coat check and leaving his jacket and hers with the man behind the counter. The attendant's eyes swept over her quickly, taking in her dress and form. Phil could see the same gobsmacked expression he'd felt attempting to take over his face earlier on the man behind the counter. It would have made him smile if the flash of emotion he refused to acknowledge as jealousy hadn't swept through him.

Instead, he brought one of his hands up to rest on her lower back and sent the coat check attendant a subtle glare. Well, at least he thought it was a subtle glare. The way Pen started shaking with restrained laughter beside him as he led her inside said she knew exactly what was going on.

"Careful Phil, you're showing emotion," cautioned Pen teasingly. She'd always enjoyed teasing him about the lack of emotion he showed. That and his supposed robot status.

"Well, we aren't all as sonic as you," returned Phil, face deadpan. Of course, Pen was rarely sonic. Snarky, sarcastic, dry, and a slew of other words that meant similar things, yes. Sonic, no.

Pen gave him her best fake affronted look. If he didn't know better, he'd swear she was related to Tony Stark at times. Of course, if he ever had to deal with Tony Stark, Pen's presence would be necessary. He could deal with Pen because he knew she was messing around. Stark, well, he might taze the man.

"I'm hurt Phil! Are you saying I can't be sonic?" objected Pen. Of course, her affront was completely faked. She knew she wasn't sonic. Could be, but wasn't usually. He'd seen her do it a few times when lining up for a long-range shot. And the few times he'd seen it had terrified him.

His arm steered her towards the host station, his hand flashing two fingers at the man standing behind the podium to indicate there were only two of them. "I never said that, Pen. Your stoicism just scares me."

She halted in front of the podium, forcing Phil to stop too as she looked up at him with furrowed brows. "I scare you?"

"Only when you loose all emotion," repeated Phil gently. "It isn't natural on you, Pen. It's like looking at a robot, without your charming personality attached."

Pen snorted slightly and shook her head. "So you're the only one allowed to be a robot in this partnership?"

"Yes," confirmed Phil, a small smirk forming on his lips. "You have to play the role of the potentially deranged woman who is most likely to make sure they never find the body."

For a second, Pen considered his reasoning even as he gently moved her along with slight pressure on her lower back. "Alright, I can accept that logic."

Phil felt his smile grow. Pissing off his partner was bad for his health. And the health of others. More 'others' than himself.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her own smirk turning up her lips. "Then again, I would expect nothing but perfect logic from a robot."

Phil was grateful for the control he had over his facial muscles. It always hurt a little when Pen called him a robot, for reasons he would not acknowledge. Just as he would not acknowledge that he wanted to do things to Pen that a partner should not want to do to their counterpart. Even if said partner looked like a goddess on Earth in that dress.

The brush of her fingers against his drew his attention back to reality as she moved away to pull out her chair. Phil didn't move to assist her, mostly because he didn't want to get his ass kicked. The grateful look that Pen gave him made the disdainful one from their host tolerable.

"Here are your menus, your waiter will be with you shortly," informed their host before turning and strolling away.

Phil rested his hand on Pen's lower back as he opened the nondescript door to "Jitter's". He knew the move was a touch possessive, but he couldn't help it. The thought of watching anyone else hit on Pen, even if she was dating him, made him a touch sick. Of course, he knew the reason for the sick feeling was fear. Fear that she would find someone else; that she would walk out of his life for a second time. Even with Darcy and Molly, it would be hard to face that.

He slid Pen's coat from her shoulders, handing it to the coat check attendant with his own. Pen flashed him a polite smile, even though he could see the glint of mischief in her eyes. She knew his game, recognized his intentions for what they were. And she was willing to indulge him. It made his heart swell a little.

"So, what is this place?" asked Pen curiously, eyes darting around as she looped her arm in Phil's. "And why have I never heard of it if they play jazz?"

Phil smiled slightly to cover his wince. It hurt in some ways when she said things like that. A reminder that their history didn't exist to her. Though he would never admit it, and would never let it deter him, it hurt Phil to realize that she could forget him so easily. Even if it wasn't her fault.

"It's a jazz club," explained Phil, smile still in place as he guided her towards the host. The man at the podium gives him a look, but he just holds up two fingers. The host nodded and grabbing two menus before motioning for them to follow him. "And you've probably never heard of it because it's a local place, somewhat underground, and hard to find."

Pen hummed a little, a smile tilting up her lips. "I see, and how did you manage to find it Mr. Transplant from Michigan?"

"Luck," replied Phil, smile dropping into more of a smirk. "And a little local knowledge, courtesy of a work associate."

By now, the host had led them to a table near the dance floor. The main dining room is more of a massive room with a live jazz band at one end and a large part of the floor in front of the band cleared for dancing. It has the feel of an older club, the kind featuring Big Band style music.

Phil doesn't say anything as he pulls out Pen's chair to offer her a seat, smirk shifting back into a grin as she rolls her eyes but takes the offered seat none the less. There are some things he can get away with, but some she still just gives him the look of 'I can do that myself you know'. When he picks her up from the orchestra, she always seems more compliant than he knows she is. The woman challenged him to ask her out, making it more of a threat by saying she'd ask him if he didn't make a move soon. So to see her just roll with his gentleman act is always a little unsettling, but he knows she'll relax back into herself as the night goes on.

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" teased Pen as she opened the menu the host handed to her before vanishing back to his post. "Well, tell your 'work associate' that it's a nice place."

Somehow, he manages not to cringe at her implication. Or make any sort of a face which will give away how much her words hurt, even if they weren't supposed to. Hearing her say it like that reminds him too much of how 'work associate' for them used to mean exactly what she's implying. "I'll be sure to pass on your message."

Her menu drops slightly so she can look at Phil over the top edge. "Phil?"

It's a single word, his name, but her tone is asking so much more. 'Are you alright', 'did I go too far', and, perhaps the hardest to hear from her, 'do you want to talk about it'. Still, he doesn't really answer, instead taking a drink from his water-glass before gesturing at the wine menu. "Do you have preference tonight?"

She laughed at him when he ordered wine, as she always did. Teased him for being more of a girl than she was and accused him of not being able to hold his liquor, which she knew was false. She'd seen him down multiple shots of some very strong liquors and walk away on stable legs. They teased each other out of tradition, not malice. And when their drinks arrived, Phil smoothly swiped her drink from her hands and pressed his wine glass into it's place. Her eyebrows shot up, giving him her 'what the hell' look.

"Taste it," insisted Phil, knowing he was issuing her a challenge. They often did this, swiping each others drinks away for tastes or passing their own drinks off to the other so they could try different things. The occasional drink was also stolen to force the other to try something new. It was a game, and neither of them had ever backed down.

Keeping her eyebrow cocked, she brought the glass to her lips and took a sip. If ever asked, Phil would deny to his dieing day that the look of determination she gave him through her lashes made him shift in his seat. A touch of something else flashes across her eyes, something that resembled success. Of course she would know what that particular look did to him. There were days he swore she was psychic, and he didn't even believe in such things.

"Not bad," she admitted, setting the glass back in front of him and swiping back her own drink. "But I'll stick to my lighter fluid."

"I stand by my statement at the time," replied Phil with a touch of a smirk. "No liquor should taste so vile."

Pen rolled her eyes a little, but she was still smiling. "It was vodka, Phil. Good, strong vodka."

"Good is a relative term," argued Phil, taking a sip of his wine. "There is good and then there is 'I no longer have my taste buds'. Your drink that night was the former."

"Says the man who drinks glorified fruit-juice," teased Pen.

Phil just smiled and tilted his glass in her direction. "I will find one you like one day, and then you will never go back."

"In your dreams." Pen's smile was wide by that point, her mirth clearly hard to restrain. "Now, lets figure out what to order before the waiter gets annoyed with us. I'd rather not make a bad impression here, just because I'm pretty sure I'll come back even if the food sucks."

"It's hard to find a good jazz club," agreed Phil as he popped open his menu. "Any preferences?"

Pen shook her head, eyes daring around. "Nope. I was actually considering closing my eyes and pointing blindly at something."

The sad part was that Phil knew she was being serious. He'd seen her do it on multiple occasions. The one time she'd convinced him to try it, he'd picked the only thing on the menu he wouldn't actually eat and had refused to try it again ever since.

"I've never understood how you can stand to do that," stated Phil with a shake of his head. "Or how you've managed it without getting something you didn't like."

"Oh, I've gotten stuff I didn't like before," admitted Pen easily, eyes darting across the menu. "But it's fun because you never know what you'll get. Besides, my dad and I used to do that a lot when we'd go out to eat. It was kind of a tradition between us."

Well, that was new. He knew her father had died just before she went into the FBI, but it was rare that she mentioned him. Usually she only did so when she was feeling particularly relaxed. The thought that she relaxed so easily around him brought a smile to his face. "So, I'll assume you intend to carry on that tradition with your own children?"

"If I ever decide I want them," confirmed Pen with a shrug. "Not exactly high on my priority list right now." Her eyes darted up to meet his, an eyebrow rising in question. "How about you?"

Phil shrugged as casually as he could. "Maybe, if I ever meet a woman I'd want children with."

He wasn't going to mention that a few months back, while delusional as the result of a fever, he'd had a dream that he had a beautiful little girl with the woman currently sitting across from him. When the fever had broken, he'd been left feeling guilty and a little sick over his subconscious' traitorous thoughts. Pen didn't even see him like that, and there he was imaging them with children. It had disgusted him.

"Makes sense," replied Pen with a nod. "It's not a good idea to have kids with a woman you despise."

The corner of Phil's lips quirked up a little, nodding. "Or a super-villain. They do not make good familial partners unless you are one yourself."

"I don't know, I'm pretty sure a pair of mad scientists would make the worst parents," stated Pen.

Her words made Phil's chest constrict a little, but he didn't say a word about it. There was no way she could know about that. It wasn't even in his S.H.I.E.L.D. record. Glancing up, he caught her looking at him with concern.

He managed to give her a reassuring smile in return."It would be hard to know you're being ignored in favor of world domination."

Pen shook her head, smiling slightly. "I meant it would be hard to keep the fact that they're actually world-dominating super-villain genius' a secret, not that they'd make bad parents. I don't think occupation matters in terms of how fit someone is to be a parent. No sane or even moderately insane person would hurt their own children for any reason. Not unless they are a real monster."

"No, they wouldn't," agreed Phil as he forced his mind to refocus on the night. His own history was exactly that, history. There was no way he would ruin this night for anything. Quickly, he flipped his menu back open. "Have you decided what you want to eat?"

Pen nodded, closing her menu and focusing on Phil. "Yeah, I did. You?"

Phil glanced over the menu, selecting a pasta and seafood dish before closing his own menu. "Ready when you are."

"Good," replied Pen, reaching out to gently grip his hand while turning in her seat to flag down their server.

Phil can barely restrain his smug smile as Pen orders a mixed drink involving vodka for herself and a glass of a very familiar wine for him. The one that finally got her drinking wine to begin with: Bonterra Chardonnay. A wine he is going to make her try again, tonight. Hopefully with the same results.

On one level, it hurts a little to be in this place again. He can still remember their first time there and everything that happened that night. Being here again dredges up memories he hadn't even recalled, but he wouldn't change his decision either. It's their one year anniversary, one whole year that they have been dating, again. And even if the significance of this place is lost on Pen now, he still remembers everything 'Jitters' represented to them.

"Are you alright, Phil?" asked Pen, one of her hands covering his and drawing him back to the present time and place. "You seem distracted tonight."

"Just thinking," deflected Phil easily, eyes focusing entirely on the beautiful woman seated across from him again. "It was a long night last night."

A small smile spread over Pen's lips. "Babysitting?"

"My daughter's husband-to-be has been out of town for nearly two weeks," explained Phil. "Suffice to say, she was happy to have him home and exhausted from playing 'single parent' for two weeks. I offered to take my granddaughter for a night so they could rest."

"And how did playing single father work out for you?" asked Pen as their drinks arrived.

She went to pick hers up for a sip, but Phil easily swiped it from her reach and pressed his wine glass into her hand instead. Her eyebrow rose into her 'what the hell' look, and for a moment Phil almost felt like his heart might burst from his chest.

Swallowing, he nodded towards the wine glass. "Taste it." The words were so familiar, they almost burned. This was harder than he'd thought it would be.

Pen shook her head slightly but raised the glass to her lips, looking up at him through her eyelashes with her eyebrow still cocked. There was determination in her eyes; the same determination which had inhabited her gaze all those years ago when he'd done this same thing on their first date. With the same effect: him shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

The touch of a smirk which tugged at Pen's lips as she set the glass aside told him she knew what the look did to him. And not for the first time, he silently cursed her observational skills.

"Not bad," commented Pen as she placed his wine glass back in front of him. "I actually like that one. But tonight, I'm sticking to my lighter fluid, as you like to call it."

Phil felt his heart constrict, her words nearly a verbatim repeat from before. He really, really hoped he could make it through this night. "Are you sure? I can order you a glass."

"Maybe later," compromised Pen. Taking a sip of her own drink, she set it aside and flipped her menu back open. "Do you know what you want?"

"Possibly," replied Phil. "Have you decided?"

Pen shrugged a little. "Everything sounds decent. I was honestly thinking of just closing my eyes and pointing at something."

A touch of a smile tilted Phil's lips. "You do seem to enjoy doing that."

"My father and I used to do that a lot," explained Pen. "It was a tradition between the two of us."

Phil had to almost bite his lip to keep from commenting further. Pen had taught Darcy that trick when she was still very little. It had become a tradition for him and Darcy to pick things at random off the menu with their eyes closed after Pen had been taken from them. And their daughter had made it clear Molly would learn the same habit. "That's an interesting tradition."

"Very," confirmed Pen. "It doesn't always work out, but half the fun is trying to begin with."

"I can imagine," assured Phil as he pushed his menu aside.

Pen smiled and looked down at the menu open in front of her before closing her eyes.

Phil hadn't been surprised the food was good. He was expecting as much, given Pen had chosen the place. Somehow, she always found the best restaurants.

Reaching for his drink, Phil allowed his eyes to sweep across the room in the casual way they had been all night. He'd seen Pen doing it to, which put him somewhat at ease. Knowing she had his back, even right now when they were supposed to be relaxing, allowed him a degree of reassurance that he sorely needed.

Pen's eyes met his as they swept back across the arch, his mind assured no one was hiding in the part of the room he could see. She offered him a smile, looking towards the dance floor as the band began to play the opening notes of a song. A smile slowly slid across her face, eyes lighting up with recognition.

"I love this song," stated Pen, head starting to move slightly with the beat of the notes.

Phil didn't even try to suppress his smirk as he stood, offering her his hand. He hadn't been planning on asking her to dance, but spontaneity could be a good thing sometimes. "Would you like to dance?"

The way Pen's whole face seemed to light up told Phil he'd made the right decision. Her hand slid easily into his, allowing him to pull her up from the chair. "Do you know how to dance to this music?" Her voice was hopeful, and he wasn't about to let her down.

Instead of responding verbally, he pulled her close against his body then spun her out into one of the many swing stances he knew. Pen just grinned and laced her fingers with his, moving into the proper position and letting him guide her through the steps. He was surprised by how good she was, the smooth way her feet fell into the proper steps and her body shifted from step to step in perfect time with the beat. Unfortunately, he was distracted by his admiration.

Phil felt Pen's body collide with his as his focus slipped, his arm having pulled her back in a little to hard from her spin. Her eyes were wide as they met his startled ones, surprised by the sudden stop to their dancing. Clearly, she'd been having fun. Energy sparked as their eyes met, hitting him like a blow to the stomach. And in that moment, he understood exactly what sexual tension Fury had been talking about. Dear god, did he understand. Before he knew what was happening exactly, his lips were on her's. And it wasn't a gentle kiss.

They broke apart a few moments later. Well, Phil forced himself to break away from her lips. Otherwise, they'd both get kicked out of the club and never be allowed back. He was breathing a little heavier then usual. So was Pen for that matter. Her cheeks were faintly flushed and the eyes that met his own were hungry with a touch of glassy for added effect.

For a second, silence hung between them. Pen opened her mouth, closed it along with her eyes, then reopened both as she started to talk. "I think we should get out of here."

"Agreed," murmured Phil, his eyes not leaving hers. They'd completely stopped moving. "My apartment has coffee, chess, and a rather good unopened bottle of whiskey."

A smile touched the corner of her mouth, but didn't detract from the way she was looking at him like she wanted to devour him whole. "An interesting proposal, but my apartment has one thing yours apparently doesn't: a functioning bed."

Phil allowed his lips to quirk up slightly with his own tiny smirk. "My apartment has one of those too."

"Not a charging station?" teased Pen a little breathlessly.

"Definitely not a charging station," murmured Phil. Seriously, was it just them or was it getting really warm in there?

Pen smirked and leaned close enough to whisper in his ear. "Then that sounds far more agreeable."

"Good," muttered Phil as he detached his body from her own, to his displeasure, and started to lead her back towards the front of the club.

Phil smiled at Pen as he watched her finish her pasta. Somehow, even with her eyes closed, Pen had managed to order the same thing she had the first time they came here. It made his chest constrict a little as she shot him one of her soft smirks and took a sip of her drink. Before she could say anything though, the beginning notes of a very familiar song began to echo through the room. He watched Pen perk up almost immediately, face brightening as she recognized the notes.

"I love this song," she stated, eyes moving to the band. Her free hand began to tap out the rhythm on the table as her head moved slightly to the beat. An exact echo from before.

Smiling, and allowing himself a bit of pride at having thought to request the song when he supposedly got up to use the restroom, Phil stood and offered her his hand. "Would you like to dance?"

A bright grin spread across Pen's face as she took his hand and allowed him to pull her from her seat. "Depends. Do you know how to dance to this music?"

And as he had done before, Phil didn't give a verbal response, instead opting to pull Pen close before swinging her out into the proper position. And just like that, he was standing with her almost 27 years ago, dancing to the same song. It was ethereal in some ways, watching the woman in his arms follow his lead through the complex patterns of the dance. Spinning her in his arms, pulling her close and even swinging her around. Her grace stunned him, still strong in her steps even after all these years.

The sudden feel of her body colliding with his harder than it should have shook Phil from his thoughts. Standing there, on the dance floor, their eyes met: hers a mix of confusion, surprise, and a touch of something else; his like a man who had just been punched in the stomach. Because he felt as if he had been again. Electricity arced between them, throwing his mind into chaos even as his body took over. Before he knew exactly what was happening, his lips were pressed to hers in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

They pulled apart a moment later, both breathing heavily. Pen looked stunned, her expression lax and her eyes slightly glazed over. She was beautiful, just as she'd been that first night.

"I think we should get out of here," suggested Phil, using her exact words to him all those years ago.

"Agreed," murmured Pen. For a second, something shot across her eyes; something Phil didn't recognize. Then, she was blinking rapidly as if she had just awoken from a long sleep and shaking her head slightly. Her eyes darted up to meet his, confusion, recognition, love, and a medley of other emotions flickering across her iris'. "Phil?" Her eyes darted around, confusion furrowing her brow. "Why are we at Jitter's? And where's Darcy?"