"We're just starting to serve," Robert Coulson said.

"Sit over here." Julie Coulson indicated two chairs that were side by side.

"Wine or beer?" Hector asked.

Phil and Clint both said, "Beer."

Within minutes everyone was settled and served.

"Wonderful spaghetti," Phil said. His mother beamed.

"I agree," Shannon said. "You've outdone yourself again with the sauce, Mom."

Clint leaned toward Phil. "Barnes would love this too." Phil grinned.

Zach watched his uncle intently. "So have you killed people?" he asked reverently.

"Zachariel!" Maddie said sternly.

Phil choked on a spinach leaf.

"Uh, yes," Clint said between bites of his salad, attempting to rescue Phil.

"Cool."

"No, not cool." Clint set his fork down and pointed at Zach. "Killing people is not cool. It is messy and scary and almost always illegal. Do not kill people unless you have to in self-defense because they're gonna kill you or one of your siblings if you don't. Or if you get a job as a superspy assassin, but then still only kill people who are gonna kill other people."

"You could've left that bit off," Phil said quietly.

"I, unlike Natasha, try to avoid being a hypocrite." Clint resumed eating.

"Mom, can I be a spy?" Dakota asked.

"No," Shannon replied quickly.

"Uncle Phil's a spy."

"I'm a bureaucrat."

Clint snorted.

Phil shot him a look. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing. You are a bureaucrat, can't argue that."

"Do you have a gun?" Cass resumed the questioning his brother had left off.

"I don't like guns. Too easy to hurt people accidentally with guns. I'm an archer."

"That explains so much," Gabby mused.

"So, lemme get this straight," Elissa said, leaning toward her uncle, "James Bond and Robin Hood produced a child, and you're dating him."

"Something like that." Phil sighed.

Clint laughed. "Something a lot like that."

Kit tapped a thoughtful finger to her lip. "It's gotta be the child of Robin Hood and someone else. Maybe Mata Hari or Emma Peel."

Elissa looked taken aback.

"Why?" Mr. Coulson asked.

Kit looked at her father. "Because Phil is James Bond." The family looked at her blankly. "You only live twice," she said.

Mrs. Coulson was the first one to laugh, then everyone did.

"Nope." Clint shook his head. "Phil is way cooler than James Bond. Sure, 007 gets impressive stuff done but he's got all kinds of fancy gadgets to do it. I've seen Phil pull the same kinds of stunts with a glowstick, a bag of flour, and a lighter."

Savanna looked up from her plate. "Won't flour explode if dispersed in the air and introduced to a flame?"

"Yes," Clint chuckled. "Exactly."

"Mom," Dakota asked slowly, eyeing his uncle, "can I be a bureaucrat?"

"Not that kind of bureaucrat." Shannon shot Phil a look. "If he goes into intelligence, I blame you."

"I'm not the one giving him ideas!" Phil exclaimed. He gestured at Clint. "He is!"

Clint grinned deviously. "Then there was that one time with the mason jars and the hammer—"

"Stop."

"Or the time with the cats-turned-attack-animals via laser pointer."

"You did that."

"Your idea."

Elissa chuckled. "You should visit more often, Uncle Phil. Dinner is way more interesting with you and Clint here."

"I agree with that completely," Robert Coulson said. He and Julie Coulson looked at one another.

Phil blushed.

"You two finally going to Disney World?" Kit asked.

Maddie and Shannon looked at each other. "I think we finally have it worked out," Shannon said. "And Cadie's old enough to at least enjoy Magic Kingdom."

"Yep," Maddie said. "We're renting a couple of two bedroom villas that are in the parks and right next to each other."

"We're going along to help babysit," Mr. Coulson said.

"Speak for yourself," Mrs. Coulson said, "I'm going to visit Epcot."

Shawn chuckled. "Why don't you come along, Kit? Plenty of room for one more."

"Lawyers don't take vacations," she said drily.

"You should, though, some time." Mrs. Coulson looked at Kit and then Phil. "You too."

Phil studied the remains of his spaghetti. Kit studied her brother before addressing Clint. "Ever been to Disney World?"

"Um, no." Clint did not want to be a part of this conversation. He lowered his eyes and pretended to study his empty plate. "I've been to a lot of interesting places for missions though."

"Work travel does not count." Robert Coulson was firm. "I would know."

"You have got to fix that, Phil." Shannon was adamant.

"Me?" Phil was flummoxed. "Why do I have to fix it?"

Shannon rolled her eyes. Maddie said, "Well, duh. You're his boyfriend. Take him on vacation."

"We've never really gone on vacation together," Phil blurted.

"Oh, even worse!" Shannon said.

"Unless you count this," Clint interjected quickly in an attempt to take some heat off of Phil.

"We stayed at a very nice place in Maryland for a couple of days before visiting Phil's grave and coming here." He looked up to find Kit and Mrs. Coulson aiming identical raised eyebrows and skeptical expressions at him.

"Yeah, no," Elissa said. "This is a trip and that's cool, but you're still meeting obligations. A real vacation is where you do something fun and different and get a break from your obligations and responsibilities."

"Exactly." Hector put a hand on his eldest child's shoulder. "Must've raised my girl right." He looked at Phil. "There is room. You could come with us."

Phil was pale but his voice was steady as he asked, "When are you going?"

"Week after next," Hector said.

"Which means we will still be at Disney on your birthday," Maddie said.

"Too soon." Clint looked at Phil.

Phil nodded. "We'll have to get together for a different birthday."

"We took a few days off this week," Clint said. "The, uh, Director would never approve our leave slips for more time off that soon."

Phil gazed at Clint with a small grateful-looking smile.

Robert Coulson nodded. "I imagine not."

"Besides"—Kit addressed Phil—"you need to take your fella on a vacation where it's just the two of you."

Phil raised his eyebrows. "How would you know? You just said you don't take vacations."

She smirked. "Oh, I've been known to be convinced to take time off when I had a good enough reason. Don't happen to have a good reason right now." She leaned forward toward Phil. "But you do. More than one reason, really."

Mrs. Coulson stood up. "Time for dessert," she announced. Clint gazed up at her with a look of gratitude. She smiled at him and then stepped toward the refrigerator. Mr. Coulson got up and made a fresh pot of decaf.

"Dessert was a group effort." Julie Coulson pulled fruit tortes and chocolate puddings out of the refrigerator. Maddie helped her get them arranged on the tables. "I made the cake bases," Mrs. Coulson said. "Kit cooked the pudding, Maddie made fresh whipped cream, and Clint did the fruit, the assembling, and the finishing touches."

"Those are beautiful," Elissa said.

"Looks like it came from a fancy bakery," Kit said.

"I didn't know you could carve little faces into strawberries like that." Savanna picked a pudding up. "It's so cute."

Coffee was served to the adults that wanted it, including Elissa, and dessert was served all around to much oohing and ahhing.

Dakota grabbed a second dish of pudding. "Can we call you Uncle Clint? 'Cause you seem like an uncle."

Startled by the question, Clint looked at Phil who looked equally caught off guard.

"Absolutely," Mrs. Coulson said. "That would be appropriate."

"Welcome to the family," Shannon said as she cut a second slice of fruit torte for herself.

"Thanks." Clint shifted in his seat. He was flattered and uncomfortable at the same time. Phil put a supportive hand on his knee.

When everyone was finished eating, Robert Coulson stood up. "You kids go play for an hour while Hector and Shannon help me clean up the kitchen." His grandchildren made clattering noises as they pushed away from the table and then made a beeline for the backyard.

"Thank you, Papa Coulson," Shawn said. "I'll give Cadie a bath soon."

Julie Coulson pressed a fresh mug of coffee into her son-in-law's hands. "Go relax for twenty minutes." She turned toward Phil and Clint. "It's already gotten so late, almost seems cruel to make you boys drive back now. Why don't you stay the night?"

"Oh, I don't—" Phil began.

"No. Nuh-uh," Kit interrupted. "The rest of us have been informed we're staying. We didn't get a choice. You don't get to get out of this."

Phil blinked at her. "The rest of you?"

"All of us." Shannon waved a hand. "Siblings, husbands, kids, dogs. All of us."

Phil looked at his mother then his father. "Where would you put all of us?"

Robert Coulson shoved a plate into the dishwasher then waved his hand. "Your mother had that worked out three days ago."

Clint couldn't help but snicker.

Phil gave him a look. "What?"

Clint gestured. "You get it from your mother."

Phil rolled his eyes. Julie Coulson chuckled.

Elissa shifted over until she was sitting next to Phil. "Please stay. It's been so busy, I haven't gotten to talk to you much. I'd like to show you pictures from prom and graduation and my friends at college." She glanced at Clint. "To both of you."

Phil patted her shoulder then addressed his parents. "I guess we're staying."

Robert and Julie Coulson looked at each other. "We're glad," Mr. Coulson said.

Elissa dragged Phil and Clint to the sofa. She sat between the two men and began going through the photos on her phone.

"That is a beautiful dress," Phil said as she was showing them pictures from her prom.

"It's a great color," Clint said.

Mrs. Coulson brought a photo album over that was labeled as being about Elissa. The young woman grimaced. "This begins when I was fourteen. I still had braces."

"You were adorable with braces," Phil said.

"I want to see," Clint said.

Elissa rolled her eyes and opened the album.

"You were adorable with braces," Clint said.

A few pages in, Phil said, "I'm enjoying looking at your old photos a lot more than I enjoyed mine."

Shawn fetched Cadence and bathed her. After that there was a steady parade of children being sent to bathe or shower.

Mrs. Coulson brought out cheese, bread, raw vegetables, and milk as a bedtime snack for everyone but Cadie, who was already asleep.

"Seeing as how the grand kids will be sleeping in here in their sleeping bags," Mr. Coulson said, "it's bedtime for everyone."

"Phil, you and Clint will be in your old room," Mrs. Coulson said.

"At least I know how to find it," Phil said.

Phil and Clint went to the car and retrieved their luggage. On their way back through the living room, they said goodnight all around and then retreated up the stairs.

Phil took Clint to a bedroom decorated in blue and brown with a queen size bed in it. "When I was a kid," he said, "There were bunk beds in here. The color scheme was similar except there was more red."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Because Captain America?"

"Yeah." Phil grinned as he unpacked a few items from his suit bag. "I even had Captain America curtains and a bedspread. Mom made them."

"Oh my God." Clint chuckled. "That sounds cute." He put his suitcase on the bed and took out toiletries, a Tshirt, and his last clean pajama pants. Phil had done much the same. There was no need to fully unpack for one unexpected brief night's stay at the end of their journey.

"Now it's a pretty generic guestroom." Phil set his suit bag out of the way in a corner beside the chest of drawers.

"Yeah, but I know it was yours and that makes it special."

"Really?"

"Of course it does."

Phil removed his shoes then sat back against the headboard and drew his knees up. "Extraordinarily belated question."

"Shoot," Clint said as he put his suitcase next to Phil's suit bag.

"What's your relationship to Natasha?"

Clint laughed. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Okay." Clint shrugged and sat on the corner of the bed. "After she joined S.H.I.E.L.D. after I didn't kill her, we were assigned to work together—the higher-ups decided she was my problem—and we sorta started dating."

"Sort of?"

"C'mon, you know Nat, she does not 'date' in any normal sense of the word. It took a couple months for us to realize we were actively going to murder each other if we remained a couple, so we broke it off, both tried to get reassigned, and were denied reassignment. Things were awkward for a while but got less weird with time. By the time we were transferred to you we were just friends. Pseudo-sibling best friends with way too many in-jokes for the sanity of anyone around us, but just friends. And that's what we still are."

"That's it?"

"Phil, what's this about?"

Phil rubbed his hands over his face. "What I don't remember maybe. And finding it hard to believe you didn't move on. You could have started a whole new life in—in the time I was gone."

"Sure," Clint said automatically, voice too light. "Could have gotten married and everything. Plenty of time in there to have a baby."

Phil looked stricken and Clint swallowed. The feeling he'd been trying to push away settled in his stomach like a bite of spoiled food. "It would have been easier, in some ways," Clint said, "to do just that, to move on. Easier than continuing to love you. That's what everyone wanted me to do. Move on. Especially the therapists."

"Is that kind of what you did," Phil choked out, "with Natasha?"

Clint eyed Phil, then scooted close enough to take his hand. "Not even close." The sick feeling in his stomach settled a little. "You must really not remember how Nat and I are together if you think that. Our relationship stayed just the same and I'm grateful to her for that. I might not have made it otherwise."

"Stayed the same?" Phil frowned. "But you slept with her."

"More like she slept with me, and I appreciate her sacrifice." Clint exhaled. "Course, in similar circumstances, I'd do the same for her."

Phil winced.

"You were dead," Clint pointed out. "We weren't dishonoring anyone."

"I know."

"Extreme comfort for extreme circumstances. I didn't even lie to the therapists about what that was though it would have been easier if I had. Most of 'em wanted to characterize what I was doing as pathological grief. Only one realized I was moving through the stages of grief." He looked up at Phil. "But kept loving you anyway."

Phil had hunched in on himself and couldn't meet Clint's eyes. "I don't deserve that," he whispered.

Clint moved over on the bed until he could put his arms around Phil. "Maybe none of us deserves the worst or best that ever happens to us."

Phil took a breath. "Maybe it's a kindness to not get what we deserve."

"Or maybe we get cheated," Clint said, "when we don't get what we deserve."

"I don't know," Phil muttered.

Clint absently rubbed Phil's back. "Natasha could touch me because we'd touched each other before," he said. "I knew what that would be like and it slots into a completely different place. If, some years down the road, I ever got to the point where there could be someone else, they'd have to slot in somewhere else. They'd have to understand that I still loved you even if I made peace with loving someone else."

Phil was quiet for a long moment. "If I ever die again, Clint, I want you to move on. I want you to love someone else because I want you to be loved by someone. You deserve that and, selfishly, I don't want you to hurt like you've been hurting all this time." He ran his hand through the archer's hair, fingertips warm against Clint's scalp.

Clint leaned into the touch. "I don't know," he said. "If I'd done that this time it would have turned out all wrong."

"I'd have gotten what I deserved," Phil muttered darkly.

"From what you just said"—Clint leaned back to look at Phil—"we both would have gotten what we deserve, but neither of us would have gotten what we want."

Phil cracked a small smile. "Now this is getting too philosophical for me."

"Is it?" Clint gave Phil a questioning look. "You saying you don't want me?"

Phil froze then slid his hand slowly over Clint's shoulder and around to the back of his neck. "I want you more than anything." He pulled the archer close. "When I heard from you, I was driven to the tower by a blend of fear, curiosity, and hope. A lot of what I knew about you was from reports, more theoretical than real." He pressed his lips lightly to Clint's throat and whispered heated words into the sensitive skin. "The more we're together and I remember, the more real it becomes. What I feel has dived below the surface until it's bone deep." He nibbled the soft space beside Clint's jaw. "Now I'm terrified because I feel how wrenching it would be to lose you, how wrenching it must have been to be separated from you. And I didn't even know. I think I felt it, like an ache from an injury I couldn't remember." Phil choked. "But I didn't know."

Clint captured Phil's mouth, lip meeting lip, breaths short and hot and hissing together, tongues touching, advancing, retreating.

"Maybe it was a kindness," Clint murmured, "that you didn't have that pain."

Phil shook his head. "It was stolen from me, that depth of feeling." He pulled Clint into a deeper kiss and then slid down on the bed, tugging Clint with him until the archer was settled between his legs, chest pressing Phil into the bed. Phil tugged Clint's shirt off.

Clint pushed up and stared down at Phil in surprise. "We're in your mother's house."

Phil looked thoughtful, then smiled small and mischievous. "My sisters have been here with husbands and boyfriends and girlfriends, but I never have."

"Girlfriends?"

"Pretty sure Kit's brought some of both."

"Huh. Makes sense."

"Like I said"—Phil looked at Clint intently—"I never have."

Clint swallowed, suddenly nervous. "The house is full of people, children, your family."

"You're a spy." Phil grinned. "Surely your stealth skills are up to being quiet."

"Um," Clint said. Before he could say more, in a remarkably swift and silent maneuver, Phil rolled them both off the bed. Clint found himself on his back on the floor being kissed by Phil until he couldn't catch his breath.

"Are we really doing this?" Clint whispered.

"Mmm," Phil said. "I'll get towels for us to lay on in a minute." He unbuttoned Clint's jeans.