The coffee finished brewing right about the time the sandwiches were gone. Maddie, Elissa, and Shannon fixed mugs for themselves. Mrs. Coulson poured coffee for herself and her husband. Phil went over and fixed mugs for himself and Clint. He took a big sip of Clint's sweet coffee before handing it to him. Maddie and Kit grinned.

Hector and Shawn checked on the kids, who opted to play in the backyard when they were finished eating. The greyhounds stayed out in the backyard to play too.

Coffee mugs in hand, the adults returned to the big open living room.

"He always drink your coffee?" Kit took a sip from her green labeled bottle of Coke Life.

"He's been drinking my coffee since before we had any kind of personal relationship," the archer said.

Maddie smirked. "Meant he liked you." Phil's head snapped around to her.

Clint sighed. "Wish I'd known that seven or eight years ago."

Robert Coulson coaxed Phil to sit in the wing chair next to him. Julie Coulson dragged a couple more photo albums from a shelf and sat on the floor next to the coffee table. She and her daughters went through more photos with Clint. Hector and Shawn came to the living room carrying their own mugs of coffee and sat near their wives.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. must be a tough place to be nowadays," Robert Coulson said.

Phil nodded. "Rebuilding. Trying to figure out who's trustworthy. It is tough."

"Sounds like it's harrowing regardless of whether you're out in the field or being a desk jockey."

Phil drank some coffee. "A lot of days that's true." He caught Clint's eyes and held them for a moment. Silent support and gratitude passed between them.

Over the course of the next three hours of talking and looking at photos, Maddie and Hector, and Shannon and Shawn all took their turn of checking on the kids and staying with them for about twenty minutes before returning.

After the first hour, Phil pulled over another chair so Clint could sit with him and Mr. Coulson.

"I understand you're a hell of an asset," Robert Coulson said.

Clint shrugged. "He's the brains, I'm the muscle."

The elder Mr. Coulson looked at him shrewdly. "I'm sure you're a lot more than that."

"He is, Dad," Phil said. "Mostly self-educated but whip-smart."

Clint felt his face growing hot. He really didn't want to be the subject of another conversation.

"He and Natasha make for an unbeatable team," Phil said.

"She the redheaded woman?" Mr. Coulson said.

Relieved to have an easy opening to change the subject, Clint nodded. "Nat's amazing. Unique asset, unique history."

From time to time, the others in the room joined in Mr. Coulson's conversation with Phil and Clint. Phil made a point of keeping Clint close.

Aladdin and Cleopatra returned to the house first. They made a long stop at their water bowls in the kitchen before heading into the living room where they collapsed next to the recliner and fell asleep. Cadie returned to the house soon after that and wound up napping on the floor next to the greyhounds.

Half an hour after Cadie fell asleep, the remaining children straggled into the living room. Within ten minutes of all the children coming inside, Cadie was blinking herself awake.

Cass walked over and stood in front of Phil. He drew himself up. "Savanna says you have some really ugly scars."

Phil shot a look at his teenaged niece before answering. "Yeah, I do."

"I want to see," Cass said.

Phil raised his eyebrows.

Cass pulled one leg of his jeans up. He showed Phil a pattern of scars on his calf. "This is where I got caught in a piece of barbwire that was thrown away in the woods. I had stitches and everything."

"I see," Phil said. "Those are some impressive scars."

"I sometimes win scar showing-off contests with these."

Phil caught Maddie's eyes. She shrugged and said, "Boys."

"May as well let them see too," Hector said.

Phil's exhale sounded especially weary. He shifted forward on the sofa and removed his shirt again.

"Those are cool!" Dakota said from behind Cass. Dakota and Cass grabbed Phil's wrists and tugged. He allowed himself to be pulled from the couch onto the floor.

Zach came over and examined Phil's scars front and back. "You would totally win every scar showing-off contest ever," he declared.

Determined not to be left out, Aladdin and Cleopatra came over to sniff at Phil's scars. Before long, Phil was down on the carpet, laughing, as a pile of dogs and kids shoved at him and each other. Cadie joined the pile for good measure. She had no interest in anyone's scars. Apparently, it just looked like fun.

Still shirtless, Phil sat up, scattering children and dogs as he did. They stayed close though. Cadie and Cleopatra crawled across his legs, one after the other. Gabby and Zach took the opportunity to compare the length and thickness of their scars to the ones on their uncle's back.

Phil chuckled. "It never occurred to me that scars could be entertaining."

"Hard to remain self-conscious around kids," Maddie said.

"It is," Kit said drily. "Believe me, I've tried. Discovered that's a losing battle. So is maintaining dignity."

Shannon elbowed her older sister. "You know you love it."

Kit smiled crookedly. "Sometimes."

Phil stood and put his shirt back on.

Cadence wandered over to the wall of built-in shelves. She reached up on tiptoe to grab a jar of hard candies, wrestled the lid off, and upturned it. Nothing came out. The candies had fused into a solid mass of colored sugar. She looked up at her older brother with an expression of deepest betrayal.

"Hey, Grandma," Dakota said, "I think these candies have been in that jar longer than Cadie's been alive."

"I think you're right." Julie swooped in, set the jar back on the shelf, and picked Cadence up. "Let's find something fresher, hm?"

Mrs. Coulson and Shannon disappeared into the kitchen. They returned ten minutes later with a plate of fruit, cheese sticks, and crackers. The children tore into the snacks like a pack of hyenas. Shawn and Robert Coulson each angled their way into the crowd of youngsters and thieved a cheese stick.

Mrs. Coulson put her hands on her hips. "Well, I think we had best start supper."

"I can help," Clint offered.

"Oh, no, there's no need," she said, heading for the kitchen. "You're a guest."

"No, really, I like cooking. I went to culinary school." He followed her out of the room.

Kit glanced at Phil. "Can I have one? Does he have a brother?"

"Actually, yes, he does."

"You do not want my brother." Clint popped back up in the doorway. "My brother is a jerk. And still in prison, unless he's on parole, but knowing how much of a jerk he is, I highly doubt he made parole."

Kit frowned. "What's he in prison for?"

"I don't know." Clint shook his head. "I wasn't around for the arrest or trial and there's plenty it coulda been. My best guess is drugs or robbery. Sister-in-law never mentioned what it was for while I was helping her move after she divorced the sorry jackass. Hardly even mentioned him at all."

"Wait," Phil frowned, "I thought Barney was only in prison about a year."

"He got arrested again." Clint rolled his eyes and slid easily back through the door to the kitchen.

Julie Coulson pulled three big plastic containers out of the freezer. "I've got this covered, Clint," she said. "I keep containers of my homemade spaghetti sauce in the freezer for unexpected family gatherings. It's easy to deal with and kid friendly."

Clint grinned. "Phil gets his planning genius from you I see."

Julie smiled. "From me and Robert in different ways, I think."

"Double dose, huh? No wonder he's terrifying with the completeness of his planning. His contingencies have contingencies."

"That's my Phil." She paused then turned and clasped his forearm. "I can't thank you enough for making sure he got here."

"Ma'am, I..." He took a breath.

"I know my son." There was steel in her grip. "He might have second-guessed himself ten times before finally making it here. We didn't see him for eleven months and four big occasions after his marriage ended, and then he wouldn't talk about it. Not only is he talking, he's shown us those godawful scars."

Clint's face was on fire and his eyes studied the floor while he swallowed.

"I'm not trying to put you on the spot." She patted his arm. "But I see the way he looks to you for support and I see the way you push him. I want you to know how grateful I am."

"Thank you," he muttered, then he looked at her. "Push him?" His words were a little uncertain because he'd been trying so hard not to push Phil's buttons, trying hard not to make this visit any tougher than it already was.

"He never would have showed us his scars if you didn't push him." Mrs. Coulson smiled. "That dynamic of supporting and pushing is how I know your relationship has depth and strength."

Clint straightened up. He'd never thought of it that way.

She pulled him further into the kitchen. "I've got bags of salad and garlic bread from the deli, but I prefer homemade desserts hands down."

"You are a woman after my own heart."

"I already made the cake bases for fruit tortes and Kit cooked chocolate pudding this morning. The pudding's been poured into ice cream sundae glasses because those are the perfect size for a serving. Maddie already made the whipped cream, too."

"Homemade pudding?" Clint asked.

Mrs. Coulson shook her head. "Oetker organic."

"Also awesome."

"I believe in high quality food."

"Totally agree," he said. "Although I also know how to make a meal out of seemingly nothing."

"That's an important life skill." She handed him bags and containers of strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, blueberries, peaches, apricots, and plums.

Clint set about cutting, carving, and arranging fruit on the cake bases and the dishes of pudding while Julie Coulson got the frozen spaghetti sauce out of the freezer containers and into a big pot. She heated it up on low so it would thaw without scorching. That was going to take a while.

"It's easy to be around you in the kitchen," she said as she handed him packets of clear glaze mix.

He smiled in acknowledgment as he took the packets. He used fruit juice and water to make a light glaze with a hint of sweetness for the tortes. He finished decorating the tortes by piping fresh whipped cream onto them, then decorated the puddings with whipped cream, carved fruit dipped in glaze, and shavings of sweet baking chocolate.

"Ooh," Mrs. Coulson said. "Those are almost too pretty eat."

"Be a shame not to," he said.

"I agree." She helped him fit everything into the refrigerator. "Now shoo until I'm finished with dinner." She gestured toward the back door.

Evicted from the kitchen, Clint wandered out to the back yard. There he found Gabby practicing archery. He grinned and watched her for a couple shots. "Try nocking on the other side of the bow, you can redraw faster."

She frowned at him. "That's backward though."

"No, you got taught backward. Everybody gets taught backward."

"Yeah right," she scoffed with twelve-year-old disdain in all its glory. "If everybody's taught it then it's not backward."

"Unless it was always the other way around until like a hundred years ago," he countered. He held out his hands. "May I?"

Cautiously, she handed him her bow. He grabbed three arrows and fired them in quick succession, forming a cluster in the middle of the target so tight the arrow shafts were touching. She gaped. He handed her bow back to her. "Your move, Katniss."

He winked; she giggled.

They shot and retrieved all of Gabby's arrows three times before being fetched for dinner. Clint provided commentary and adjusted Gabby's form as she practiced. He took photos of her and showed her what her form looked like so they could discuss it. When Maddie called out, "Dinner time in ten," from the porch, Clint gave her a thumbs up.

"We'll be in as soon as we pack up the archery equipment," he said.

"Thanks." Maddie went back inside.

"I've got one arrow left," Gabby pointed out.

Clint grinned. "Let me help you line that shot up. See that arrow that's closest to the center? Hit that one."

She frowned. "You mean hit the arrow?"

He nodded.

She shrugged. "Sounds crazy but, fine."

Gabby drew back and aimed. Clint sighted along her arrow, adjusted her a fraction then stepped away. "Take the shot, Merida."

A look of intense concentration on her face, she fired. And split the first arrow.

She whooped.

Clint gave her a high five. They both took out their phones to take photos of the target. Then Clint took photos of Gabby beside the target. They finished up with each of them taking selfies of the two of them standing together in front of the target.

Gabby was effervescent with excitement as they packed away the target and the archery equipment. As soon as that chore was completed, she sprinted toward the house. "Dad, Clint helped me do that Mythbusters trick!"

Phil stepped out onto the porch to meet the grinning archer. "Training the next generation I see."

"I figure it's like being a music virtuoso," Clint said. "Gotta start training the brain by age thirteen or you're never quite as good."

Phil considered that. "Might be true." He pulled Clint into a kiss. "I appreciate all that you're doing," he murmured.

Clint didn't have a chance to reply before he found himself tugged into the kitchen.