"You're not wearing a holster," Tony points out.

Phil looks up from the screen in front of him. "You say that like you're surprised."

"Well, considering that we're about to go raid a HYDRA base, yeah," Tony answers. "You might want to consider checking something out of the armory."

Phil waves him off. "I'll manage."

"Uh, no," Tony butts in, wiping the holographic map off the screen. Phil looks to him with mild annoyance, waiting for a good explanation but appearing as though he doesn't think he'll get one. "You're not going in unarmed."

"Mr. Stark—"

"No. No buts," Tony says. "I get it, you're feeling like you have to prove yourself after being out of commission so long after the Loki thing."

"Not really."

"You're looking for something to get the blood pumping. Something to get you back on your feet that'll show us you're ready," Tony says, apparently not having heard the other man. "Believe me, I get it."

"I don't think you do," Phil says flatly.

"There are better ways to do this than—"

"Mr. Stark," Phil interrupts, talking over the other man, "I'm not wearing a holster because I'm not carrying a weapon, nor do I Intend to. And while my recovery period was longer than I would have liked, if I thought I wasn't ready to return to the field, then I wouldn't. If I thought I needed to carry a weapon, then I would bring one. Do you honestly think I'd put your safety or that of the Avengers or my fellow agents at risk for a power trip?"

"Well, no," Tony admits.

"Then this conversation is over. Suit up and head to the Quinjet, please."

Tony doesn't budge. "Okay, look. Neither of us are very good with this touchy-feely stuff, so we're going to make this quick. Like ripping off a band-aid. Bottom line: I'm not letting you go out there without something to protect yourself with."

"Your concern is noted," Phil says. He ducks his head. "And appreciated. But I'm afraid I'm not going to change my mind on this matter."

"And you don't think I can keep you here?"

"I know that you can't keep me here. And so do you."

Tony grunts. "Just don't get shot or stabbed or anything, okay? Pepper will kill me."

"I thought you said you weren't bringing a weapon?" Tony says as they round up their prisoners and herd them into waiting S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles.

"And I didn't," Phil answers, trying to coordinate their exit.

"Okay, so what's that in your hand?" Tony asks.

Phil raises the gun in his hand, giving it a thoughtful look before turning his attention to Tony. "I found it."

"You found it."

"Yes."

"Okay, you know what? Fine. You 'found' it. Whatever, I'm going home."

"Did you 'find' that sword, too?" Tony asks at the end of a mission three weeks later.

"I found a guard using it very poorly. So I relieved him of it," Phil answers, passing the weapon to another agent.

"And you just decided to use it for yourself," Tony prods.

"I thought it should be used properly or not at all, so yes," Phil answers, wiping his hands on a handkerchief.

Tony sighs.

"How do you keep doing this?" Tony demands, exasperated.

"Doing what, Mr. Stark?" Phil answers, preoccupied by making sure their prisoners are properly bound.

"This," Tony says, grabbing the agent's wrist and hoisting it up to eye level. There's an AK-47 in the agent's grasp, one that he most certainly didn't have on him when they'd arrived. "How do you keep doing it?"

Phil clucks his tongue thoughtfully. "I'm good at finding things."

"No. No, no. You don't just find an AK-47, okay," Tony declares. "So what is it? Sold your soul to the devil? Black magic? That… thing that Hermione did with the bag to fit all their stuff in it?"

Phil offers him a perplexed look.

"If you tell me you haven't read Harry Potter, our friendship is over."

"I wish I'd known that years ago."

"Oh, funny. Seriously, where do you keep getting these weapons?"

"I've told you; I find them."

If anyone hears Tony's exasperated scream over the comm line, they don't say anything about it.

After those few incidents, Tony begins paying very close attention. From what he can tell, Phil won't touch a weapon outside of necessity. He doesn't train with them, he doesn't test anything that comes out of R&D, he's never seen in the gun range and flat out refuses to arm himself with anything prior to a mission. And yet, every mission they go on seems to end with Tony finding him with at least one weapon on hand; a gun, a dagger, a rifle, a katana, that one memorable time with the axe. But one incident stands out in particular.

"Oh, come on," Tony whines, propped up against a slab of concrete.

His helmet is off, his suit's got no power, he can taste blood in his mouth and, oh, look, there's something sticking out of his side that managed to pierce through the suit. Lovely. And to top it off, here's Phil Fucking Coulson suddenly crouched beside him with a weapon that makes the destroyer gun look like a pea shooter.

"Alright, Mr. Stark?" Phil asks him, reaching to check his pulse.

"Did you 'find' that one, too?" Tony asks instead, sucking in a sharp breath when the agent inspects the thing sticking out of his side.

"Mm. You'd think they'd have more than a coded entry door and ten armed guards protecting it, but you'd be wrong," Phil answers.

Tony listens as shots whiz by and watches lasers fire overhead as Phil calls in for an extraction. He's about to correct the agent and tell him it's not necessary, but his head's getting fuzzy and his vision's getting blurry and he wonders vaguely how difficult it's going to be to get all this blood out of his suit.

"Whuzzat thing even do?" Tony slurs.

"I'm not sure," Phil admits.

"Just seemed like a good idea… to take it?"

"I thought it might be useful."

"You dunno howta use it."

"No. But I suppose I'll find out. Or not. It really depends on how quickly back-up arrives."

"I don't understand you."

"I'm flattered, Mr. Stark. Excuse me a moment."

Either Phil is very good with guesswork or is insanely lucky, because he somehow manages to power up the giant, alien-looking piece of weaponry. It whirs and hums and hisses and Tony's not entirely certain that it won't detonate and kill them both. Phil seems fairly confident that it won't, because he hefts it onto his shoulder, takes aim over their protective slab of concrete and fires. The recoil nearly takes him off his feet and the detonation leaves Tony's ears ringing. The agent crouches beside him again, laying the weapon a few feet away.

"Now we know what it does."

Tony decides passing out has its merits.

"You did briefly regain consciousness on the Quinjet," Phil informs him, sitting in the chair beside his bed the next day.

"I don't remember that," Tony admits.

"I didn't think so. Because you looked at me and said 'Oh god, oh god, I wish I didn't know you,'" Phil says.

"…I may still stand by that statement," Tony mumbles. "So! This seems a good a time as any to talk about your weird weapon fetish."

Phil drums his fingers along the arm of the chair. "To be quite honest, I don't care for them."

"Uh, really? Because the evidence says otherwise," Tony answers.

"All you need to understand, Mr. Stark, is that if you put a weapon in my hands, I will use it," Phil tells him. "Which is why I prefer not to have one on me, because I can assure you that's not something you want."

Tony squints at him as something finally clicks into place. "You're not allowed to have one on you, are you?"

Phil actually colors at that. "No. I'm not."

"Holy shit."

"There's a good reason for it."

"Holy shit."

"Which is why I won't be carrying one unless Fury signs off on it."

"What did you do?"

"I told you, Mr. Stark: If you put a weapon in my hands, I will use it."

"Okay, you're starting to freak me out a little."

"Good."

Tony doesn't bother with trying to get Phil to arm himself before missions anymore. From what he's seen, the guy's scary enough when he manages to find a weapon on his own. Actually giving him one? He doesn't even want to know.