Sorry for the delays between chapters. I have been out of town and my internet availability has been splotchy at best. But I thank you all for sticking with this story even with the slow updates. I am on my way home now, so updates should be able to resume regular pacing. Thanks everyone for the wonderful reviews and patience. Now, onto chapter 7!

CHAPTER SEVEN: Piece of Cake

The phone buzzed in his pocket as Coulson turned into his parking lot. It was a text from Pepper, 'Great! See you soon!'

It was in reply to the text he had sent as he was leaving the grocery store. He had bought enough food to last them a couple of weeks, though he was doubtful this ordeal would last that long. What he had bought for tonight was just a simple meal which required a lot of microwaving. It wouldn't be gourmet, but at least they would both get some food in their stomachs pretty quickly. But as he unlocked and opened his apartment door, he rapidly realized that he wouldn't need the microwave tonight.

A heavenly scent entered his senses as he walked into the entryway of his apartment and the sound of Glenn Miller burst from his record player. He locked the door behind him and walked into the apartment with a look of confusion on his face.

The table was set for two and steam rose from a pot in the center, with a bowl of gravy and another one of mashed potatoes flanking it. But the food wasn't the only puzzling thing about the scene before him. A couple dozen or so homemade paper snowflakes hung extended by strings from the ceiling. Some were even taped to the backs of the chairs. "Miss Potts?" he called, walking farther into the living room.

She came from around the corner, holding a small bowl of white corn. "Oh!" she exclaimed with a smile, "I didn't hear you come in."

He watched agape as she placed the bowl onto the table and then clasped her hands in front of her with a smile. Coulson put down his bags of groceries in the middle of the living room and walked towards the table. "How...? Where did you get all of this food?" he asked, once he found his voice again.

"I hired our delivery boy from last night to do a little shopping for me. He was thrilled."

Coulson's gaze landed on the mashed potatoes. He couldn't remember the last time he had mashed potatoes that didn't come off a cafeteria line. "This looks delicious," he told her with a smile. Then he looked up to admire a snowflake, reaching out his hand to turn it gently. "What's with the decorations, though?"

Pepper looked at the paper designs and grimaced slightly. "Sorry they're a little out of season. But I forgot to tell Andy to buy some streamers, and this was the best I could come up with. Been ages since I made any, though. The first three got thrown away."

"Why?"

"Because they were hideous."

"No, I mean...why did you do all of this?" Coulson clarified, a sweeping gesture encompassing the table and decorations.

Pepper beamed. "Oh," she said, "First, tell me your name."

Coulson's expression dropped into a confused scowl and amused smile. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"It's just that I realize we have known each other for several months now, and I still don't even know your first name."

He was taken aback by that. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure if he had ever introduced himself to her with his full name. He had always been "Agent Coulson" and she had always been "Miss Potts." Never once had they called each other by their first names. Such familiarity just wasn't acceptable for two consummate professionals such as themselves. But she was suddenly acting much more comfortably around him, and he was letting himself relax around her, almost like they were becoming friends.

He stalled on that word for a moment. Friend. Coulson didn't really have too many of those. Sure, he had partners, people he would give his life for on a mission, and knew that they would do the same. But that sort of devotion was more out of necessity than anything else. When you were in a dangerous environment, you had to achieve trust and loyalty extremely quickly. There wasn't time to develop a normal friendship. And beyond that, as close as operatives were with one another, there was always an unspoken understanding that you could never really grow fond of someone else. Personal attachments led to possible disaster in the field. Missions could be compromised, lives could be lost if an agent acted on emotion rather than tactics. So, there were few people in his life Coulson would readily define as "friend." At least...not in the way he imagined "friend" would be defined by a normal person. But hearing Pepper ask to know his name...Coulson wasn't totally sure what this feeling was, but it was warm, and comfortable, and he enjoyed it.

His expression softened as he looked at her and smiled. "Phil," he said.

She returned the warm smile. "Phil," she repeated, looking like she was savoring the taste on it on her lips. She extended her hand to him, saying, "I'm Pepper, and it's a pleasure to meet you, Phil."

Coulson took her hand gratefully, smiling at the sweet gesture that it was. "The pleasure is mine," he paused, eliciting a look of encouragement from the woman, and then finished, "Pepper."

A silent moment ticked by, and they both let it. It was like they both realized that they had crossed into different territory. They weren't just acquaintances anymore, and they let that new dynamic marinate in the air around them.

"Well..." she said after a while, startling Coulson when she grasped him by both shoulders and maneuvered him to sit in one of the chairs. "Close your eyes," she ordered.

"What?"

"Just do it."

Coulson quietly obeyed, ignoring the little voice of his S.H.I.E.L.D. training that screamed in his brain, telling him to stay alert and to not cut off his line of vision, that this could be a trap. He told that little voice to shut up.

Coulson could hear her move into the kitchen. She was gone longer than he expected. "Everything okay?" he asked after several long moments.

"Fine! Don't open your eyes!" she replied.

Coulson just chuckled. "Tell me what you're looking for and I'll tell you where it is."

Her voice was closer this time. "No, no, I got it," she said, clearly approaching the table again. He heard her set something in front of him and then she said, "Okay, you can open them now."

He opened his eyes and smiled at Pepper suspiciously before looking down to the table. His breath caught in a barely concealed gasp as he heard her cheerful cry of, "Happy birthday!"

Sitting on the table was a homemade cake covered in chocolate frosting. The words HAPPY BRITHDAY PHIL! were drizzled across the top in white lettering. The coloration of PHIL was slightly different, indicating that it had just been added; while the frosting which read HAPPY BIRTHDAY had obviously had some time to harden. A single candle was ablaze at its center.

Phil was speechless for a good thirty seconds. "My god," he finally said, "Is it really April already?"

Pepper laughed, "Yep. April second."

"Oh my god," Coulson said again in disbelief. He had been so busy yesterday that he hadn't even witnessed the usual pranks and tomfoolery that occurred in the offices over April Fool's Day. As much as those silly pranks got on his nerves, they were his warning every year that his birthday was the next day. This time, it had completely snuck up on him.

"Wow," he said, dragging a hand down his face. Then, dropping a fist down into the table with more of a clamor than he intended, he looked up at Pepper and said, "How on earth did you know?"

"Ah," Pepper said, turning back into the kitchen to grab something and hand it to him.

Coulson took the small postcard and read the brief message from his dentist, letting out a small laugh.

"Also, you're due for a cleaning," Pepper informed, and Coulson laughed louder.

He shook his head in wonder. "I can't believe you did this," he said quietly.

Pepper smiled. "It was my pleasure. I am just so grateful that you're letting me stay here. Once I knew it was your birthday, I just had to do it. Now make a wish!"

Coulson hesitated. He had stopped making wishes a long time ago and wondered, for a moment, if he even remembered how. Reaching back into his memory, he pulled out an oldie (but a goodie) and closed his eyes to make the wish. It felt silly, but in a good way. He smiled to himself as he opened his eyes and blew out the candle.

Pepper cheered and clapped her hands happily. Coulson looked up at her and shook his head amusedly at her enthusiasm. A moment later, she retrieved the cake from the table and moved it back into the kitchen. "We'll finish with that later," she said, and took her seat across from him, placing the paper napkin daintily in her lap.

Coulson's eye's had followed her into the kitchen and stayed fixed on the plate she had left behind. "I can't believe you made me a cake."

Pepper looked up from her napkin when she heard his voice catch slightly at those words. She watched him gulp once before he finally tore his eyes away and looked at her.

He shook his head once again as he said, "I don't think I've had a real birthday cake in...at least fifteen years."

Pepper's brows raised and her heart broke simultaneously.

"My mom used to make me one every year, but" his shoulders rose and fell softly, "...lost her in '93 and, almost every birthday since then, I've either been on assignment, or in medical, or hulled up at headquarters, or whatever else."

Again, Pepper's heart clenched at his words. She had never really appreciated the fact that she had a cake almost every year. Even if she didn't have a party with loads of friends, she at least found a way to celebrate on her own, and she was suddenly very grateful for a life that could afford such commonplace diversions. Apparently, Phil's life didn't work that way, and that fact devastated her to hear. Didn't anyone care enough for this man to give him one, simple, birthday cake?

"Your fellow agents don't do anything?" Pepper asked hopefully.

Phil's mouth arched into a frown and he just shook his head. "Most of them don't know my birthday. Those that do usually take me out for drinks or something."

"Oh," Pepper said optimistically. "Well that's nice of them."

Phil breathed out a little laugh and nodded his head sincerely. "Yeah, it is."

He looked at her with a gentle smile and his heart just soared. He hadn't felt that good in a long time, and he doubted that she would ever really understand what this gesture meant to him. "Thank you, Pepper," he quietly said after a short while.

She lifted her glass in salute, "You are very welcome, Phil."

Pepper frowned at him a while later as they peaceably enjoyed their dinner. "So how old were you?" There was a look of gentle concern on her face as Pepper asked the question, bringing the glass to her mouth.

"Eight," he answered, maneuvering kernels of corn onto his fork with the flat of his knife. "I don't remember much of it. The other driver was apparently stoned and barreled through the red-light. My dad died on impact. I spent a few weeks in the hospital and a few more months after that in physical therapy."

Pepper shook her head for him. "That must have been really hard."

Phil just shrugged with a considering nod, "It was harder on my mom. It was just me and her after that, and I know that it wasn't easy for her to raise me on her own."

Pepper smirked lightly at the comment. "Were you a problem child?"

"Oh!" Phil exclaimed, leaning back in his chair and wiping his mouth with the napkin. "In the worst way!"

"Somehow, I find that hard to believe," she said with a laugh.

Phil just shrugged, his customary smirk taking its place at the corner of his lips. "In my experience, the truth is often the hardest thing to believe."

Pepper squinted at that oddly mysterious comment, but Phil had returned to his plate, so he missed her reaction. With a little, dismissive shrug, Pepper moved the conversation along. "So she never got remarried, your mom?"

Phil shook his head, "I remember she went on a few dates when I was ten or so. But...she always came back early. Said he probably would have ruined her books anyway."

Pepper scowled slightly in confusion and Phil had to laugh.

"My mom and dad shared books all the time. He would always bend the pages to mark where he left off, and it drove my mom nuts," Phil explained with a fond smile. "I didn't really understand what she meant by that either for a long time. Then I realized it was her way of saying that she preferred to be single after my dad. She didn't really date much after that."

Phil paused and scraped the teeth of his fork across his mashed potatoes, deep in thought. Pepper quietly waited.

"There was a time when I really thought she needed someone," he went on, "I tried my best to grow up fast, you know? Be the man of the house...but I was really just a kid. I knew she needed something else, something that I couldn't give. Something beyond the obvious. A few times, when I was a teenager, I'd try to get her to go out on dates, but she'd always just smile and dismiss the thought, saying she liked her books the way they were. Wanted to keep the pages straight." That same, tender smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

She could tell there was more, so again, Pepper stayed silent while Phil took a quiet sip of his drink.

He dabbed away the moisture from his lips with his napkin and then added, "But, when it was all said and done, I think she truly was happy. Somehow, she found a way to be content with just being alone."

"She had you," Pepper offered.

Phil just nodded. "Yeah," he said, "she did."

Pepper nodded slowly too, reveling in the deeply personal story she had just heard. The tender quality in his voice practically made her melt. He spoke of his mother with an almost reverent tone, as if she were a saint. Pepper's own mother had always said, "You can tell the quality of a man by the way he talks about his mother." It was true, Phil Coulson was a fine man, and his mother must have been someone truly special to have raised him almost entirely on her own.

She continued to observe him, with growing regard, while they both returned to their meals. Pepper was glad that he was the agent assigned to look after her through all of this. She was greatly enjoying getting to know him, meeting the Phil behind the Agent. She hadn't seen any photographs around the apartment, so she had no way of knowing if he was seeing anyone, but she found it hard to believe that no one would have scooped him up yet. He seemed like such a genuinely sweet guy.

"So, what about you?" Pepper asked after a while.

Phil paused before his fork could enter his mouth. "Do I bend my pages?" he asked with a joking twinkle in his eye.

"No," Pepper bellowed good-naturedly. "I mean do you do a lot of dating? Ever think of settling down?"

Phil nodded thoughtfully, letting the fork drop back to his plate. "I'd like to," he conceded, "but it's hard to find the right person. It's a pretty demanding job, working for S.H.I.E.L.D. Most women seem to have a fairly personal animosity towards this." He pulled his work cell from his pocket and rested it on the table.

"Oh," Pepper exclaimed, pulling her own phone from her purse and putting it by her plate. "I know what you mean."

Phil smirked at that. "I guess Stark keeps you pretty busy, too."

"Only 24/7. And it's really hard to explain things to your date when your boss calls you out of the blue and asks you to pick up some more bubble bath on your way 'home.'"

Phil chuckled graciously, "Well, at least you can try to explain. The best I get to do when my phone goes off is apologize profusely and say, 'it's classified.' I swear, after a while, those words start to sound a lot like, 'dump me, if you know what's good for you.'"

Pepper sighed with an understanding nod. "Well," she said, "I'm sure there's someone out there who can love a workaholic."

Phil lifted his glass, "God bless them, whoever they are."

Pepper clinked her glass against his in a quiet toast.

"Let's just hope she doesn't bend her book pages," Phil muttered before taking his drink, causing Pepper to snort out an unladylike laugh as she struggled not to spew her drink everywhere. Phil just laughed at her.

Later that evening, the pair enjoyed Pepper's delicious cake, Phil commenting on the mercy Pepper showed by only putting one candle in it, and Pepper responding with a slap to his shoulder. They each helped to put the leftovers in the refrigerator for later, and they did the dishes side by side, Pepper washing, Phil drying. They left the decorations in place as they both got ready for bed.

"Pepper," he said as she opened the door to his bedroom. "This was really the best birthday I've had in a very long time. Thank you."

Pepper smiled sincerely at him, "I liked it too, and you're welcome." She leaned in and placed a friendly kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight, Phil."

Phil looked into her eyes as she pulled away, concentrating on the sweet feeling that tingled on his cheek. "Goodnight, Pepper," he answered softly, then a moment later, forced himself to turn away and head to his couch.

They smiled once more at each other through the open doorway before Pepper turned off the lights and they both fell asleep.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Be sure to share your thoughts in the review section. The next chapter will be up soon!

Author's Note: I know that, technically, Phil did introduce himself as "Agent Phil Coulson" in the first Iron Man movie. But for the sake of the story, both he and Pepper have forgotten that.

Another Author's Note: I also know that it could be disputed that Coulson's birthday is actually July 8th (because it's presented as such on his security badge in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), but I liked the idea of April Fool's Day serving as a warning signal to Phil every year, so I decided to stick with Clark Gregg's actual birthday for the date in this story.