It was a cool morning; Phil was starting to feel the difference as the season changed, a desire to stay under the covers rather than reveal his warm blanket wrapped body to the cold damp room. He dreaded to think what a severe winter would be like. He had a light coat on to walk the small way to Clint's shop. He noticed the For Sale sign was missing, perhaps the owner had changed his mind, he made a mental note to ask him about it.

He noticed Clint look up from arranging the pastries in the little basket that he kept under cover of the glass cabinet that he served the coffee from as he walked into the place.

"Hey, Phil what will it be today?"

"Ah," Phil felt round the pocket of his casual trousers chasing round the change there trying to estimate the value of it, it didn't feel very reassuring, he should have checked before he left, so he said a little disappointedly, "just a coffee thanks, Clint." He placed the large packet of mail that he had received yesterday on the table determined to go through it today while he drank his coffee.

"Oh," Clint mumbled as he hurried out back, he came out carrying a plate with a large roll which appeared to be packed with bacon. He pulled a face as he got up to Phil's table; the usual table had changed from the one near the window to one much closer to counter a few weeks back so they could chat easier. "I was hoping you would test this out for me," he pulled a hopeful smile.

Phil's eyebrow rose up in disbelief, "A bacon roll?"

Clint smiled and set the plate down in front of Phil, "It's not just a bacon roll, the roll is a brioche that I baked, and the bacon is a locally sourced pig that is fed on acorns." He frowned for a second, "It will have to be high-end cost wise but I think once people have tried it they will appreciate the added cost."

Phil looked down at the admittedly delicious looking roll, "Uh," he stuck he hand back in his pocket and fished out all the change that was in there, slapping it on the table and looking embarrassedly at Clint, "that's all I came out with, I wasn't expecting," he waved his hand to indicate the food in front of him.

Clint stood a little taller and made an exaggerated 'o' shape with his mouth, "No, no you're my Guinea pig, if I poison you, I don't want people thinking you paid for it as well," he laughed.

Phil looked down miserably at the roll; his life had come to the state that he questioned every little act of kindness, wondering if they could see through the mirage of his current financial abyss. He kept it quiet, but he knew people talked; it was human nature; was this Clint feeling sorry for him?

Clint shifted uncomfortably, "You, eh, don't have to eat it if you don't want, I just thought," he rubbed his hand at the back of his neck nervously at Phil's reaction, he lifted one corner of his shoulder in a slight shrug, "sorry, I don't really have anyone to try things out on... It was presumptuous of me." He leaned down to pick up the plate, "I'll just get you your coffee."

Phil's hand came up to surround Clint's, "No, I'm sorry it looks delicious, I was... Just thinking about other things, it's pretty big though, will you share it?"

Clint smiled, "Sure." He placed the plate gently back on the table and sat down next to Phil.

Phil reluctantly pulled his hand away and picked up the knife on the side and cut the offering in half, holding out the plate for Clint to take his portion.

Phil took a bite from his breakfast and looked down sharply at the roll in his hand, "Aw," he chewed quickly, swallowed and looked at Clint, "jeez, this is incredible."

Clint laughed as Phil took another huge bite, "Good."

"No, seriously," Phil said between chewing conscious of what his mother told him about speaking with a mouthfull. "This is really good. The slightly sweet roll and the salty bacon is divine."

"Thanks," Clint looked delighted by the complement.

"But," Phil said seriously, making Clint's face drop, "putting on my business hat," he said looking down at this half, " the bun is too big and I think you could get away with less bacon too. That should keep your costs down a bit."

Clint nodded his head in agreement, "Okay, Boss, thanks. We make quite the team, Coulson."

"Well, you seem to pay more attention than my chefs if you ever want a job?" Phil laughed.

"Yer," Clint joked, " you couldn't afford me, Phil."

Phil's head dropped and looked at the unopened package, and said deflated, "You're probably right."

Clint stood oblivious, "I'll get your coffee." When he came back he placed the cup on Phil table and went back to preparing behind the counter.

Phil sighed and reached for the brown envelope. He ripped it open and took out a clump of mail; he started by sorting out the obvious junk into one pile and a much smaller pile of things he needed to open. It took him only a few minutes to go through the whole lot and thankful most of it was on the junk side, he pushed all that back into the envelope to throw away.

He's jolted out of his work by Clint opening the door and moving the advertising board out onto the street. He flicking the open sign on the door as he closed it again, "Have you got time for another one?" Clint indicated down to his empty cup.

Phil had no recollection of drinking the first, but as much as he wanted to stay, (and he wasn't going to examine the reasons behind that), he needed to go through Nick's mail privately and now that the shop was open, and anyone could walk in it felt a little too public.

"No, thanks, I best be getting off."

"You want me to put that in the trash for you?" Clint asked as he looked at the badly stuffed envelope.

"Please," Phil looked down at the table contents, "it's the mail from Nick's apartment," he grimaced, "Nick was my..."

"I know," Clint interrupted, he frowned, "ah, Trip, he came in with a suit on one day, and he explained where he was going."

"The funeral?"

Clint nodded uncomfortably. "I'm sorry... for your loss," he added gently.

Phil nodded, then tried for a smile, "We hadn't been... We'd been split up for several months at the time of his...death."

"It must have been quite a shock to you though, and we don't just turn off our feelings do we."

"No," Phil said looking down at the envelopes with Nick's name blazed across them.

"Have you had to deal with his estate?"

Phil wanted to laugh out loud at that, but he was pretty sure that was not the done thing, "Yes," he said solemnly instead.

Clint's hand gripped Phil's arm in support, and Phil had an overwhelming desire to spill all of the dirty little secrets of the aftermath of Nick's death. He wouldn't of course, but this man was starting to get under Phil's skin, he wanted to put his hand over the name that glared up at him from the envelopes on the table, as if Nick was accusingly staring up at him. As soon as the thought passed through his head he felt instantly ashamed. Still he wanted nothing more than to sit back down and spend his day soaking up the presence of the unassuming man in front of him, which was exactly why he was leaving right now. He had the feeling that Clint wasn't exactly adverse to Phil himself, the gentle touches, the lingering looks added up to as much. Phil felt a heady mix of flattered, embarrassed, guilty and God help him, desired again. He gathered up his belongings and smiled hesitantly; he should explain more but was eternally grateful that the man next to him wasn't pushing for it. "So when do we expect the Barton Bacon Bap on the menu then?" Phil laughed.

Clint chuckled back, "Oh soon, I have it on good business authority that it needs a few tweaks and some costing, but it's a go, I think."

"Definitely."

Clint patted Phil on the shoulder and walked past, "See you next week then."

"Bye Clint." He stepped out the shop heavily. Looking back inside to see Clint facing away from him fiddling with his coffee machine. Phil should make a list of all the reasons that even thinking about moving on with the shop owner was a bad idea, it might just rein in his hormones but on seconds thoughts it wouldn't do much for his self-esteem. Going over the fact he was probably on rebound. He basically and literally had nothing to offer the man. Nick was not long gone. Clint was younger than him although he had been younger than Nick, and it had never worried either of them. His thoughts were already looking like a list, a long negative list. His hand gripped onto the mail a bit tighter, and on his way back, he tried to think about table numbers and staff scheduling instead. He dropped the letters onto a large plastic storage box he used as a table and made his way to the bathroom for a shower (because he needed one before work, and for no other reason at all, even if work was a few hours away!)

In the end, Phil went straight to the restaurant after his time in the bathroom; he couldn't bare sitting in that disgusting room so he had grabbed the still unopened mail and made his way next door. He took down the chairs off the tables first and then settled down with a glass of water to finally open the envelopes. The top one turned out to be a personal letter from an old friend of Nick's; Phil would have to write back and delicately explain. The next one was about car insurance, no need for that anymore, Nicks car had been totalled in the accident, and his car was covered for another couple of months. After that there was a series of things that had no importance. He got up and pulled one of the trash baskets over and put all the opened envelopes and discarded contents in before starting in on the pile again. The top one was a hand written brown envelope, no stamp. He carefully slit the paper with the knife he had retrieved from the kitchen at the start of this operation. He was about to pull out the contents when the door opened. Phil glanced up ready to shout that they weren't open when his eyes locked on Melinda's surprised gaze, she stood in the doorway ready for the trouble that an unlocked door at this time of day might mean.

"What are you doing here?" She asked briskly.

"I could ask you the same?"

She smirked, "I asked first."

He chuckled back, "I own the place," he countered.

She raised an eye at him, "A restaurant doesn't run without a chief unless you are volunteering?"

"Touché, I was in the neighbourhood," he shrugged his shoulders, looked down and away as the fib left his mouth, "save going home again I thought I'd make an effort to go through the latest of Nick's mail."

She nodded before realising she was still standing in the open doorway and stepped in closing the door quietly, "Big job?"

"Hmm," Phil hummed noncommittally, before catching her gaze, "so how about you?"

"Oh," she said as realised what he was asking, "I wanted to try out a recipe, and as you are here you can be the guinea pig." She said walking off toward the kitchen.

Phil frowned; he seemed to have an affinity with small furry creatures that squeaked a lot today! He got up and followed her in the kitchen, thinking about new menu's and the printing cost, "I'm not sure now is the right time to be inventing new recipes, May."

"Don't panic, I'm just playing with one of the current dishes on the menu, no expense needed, I just wanted to try change the balance of the ingredients," she said reassuringly seemingly reading his mind. "Do you want a coffee?" She asked grabbing a couple of mugs down from the shelf as if it a foregone conclusion.

Phil didn't even noticed her action, he was too busy looking down at his feet, thoroughly pissed off that May had to make creative sacrifices because of the finances. He absentmindedly said, "No thanks, I already had one with Clint."

May who was about to gently place the mugs on the counter unaccustomedly fumbled them and one of the mugs landed with a bit of a bang but seemly undamaged. "Clint?"

Phil winced at his mistake, "Um, I stopped in on my way in," he swallowed, hating how the lies slipped off his tongue easier and easier.

"Clint?" She repeated, looked at him questioningly.

Phil just stared her out.

"Is there something you wanted to share with me?"

"No."

He said it too quietly he knew, especially when Melinda smiled at him.

"Really?"

"Yes, really, we're... friends, that's all."

"Okay, that's good, that you have a friend," she looked up guiltily at her choice of words.

He took it well, and smirked, "Gee thanks mum, I found myself a real live friend!"

She chuckled, " So...," she put one of the mugs away and turned back, her eyes drilling into him, "Clint is a good looking guy..."

"May, no, it's not..."

"It could be, Phil; you can let yourself..." She looked softly at him.

Phil shook his head and stopped her, "It's too soon."

"Phil... You were separated, I know it's been difficult for you but you need to move on."

He couldn't look at her as he admitted, "I feel guilty."

"Oh Phil," she came round to stand in front of him and drew him into her arms. "Don't you dare feel guilty, my God after everything you have been through," she mumbled into his neck. "You listen to me, okay, are you attracted to him?" He nodded against her; it was easier without being able to see her reaction, even though he knew May was on his side. "Do you think he might be interested?"

He waited a few seconds not sure how to answer that one, in the end he settled for, "Maybe."

She pulled back and looked him in the eye, "Nobody is going to judge you, but only you can decide if it really is too early, but, don't avoid it because you are worried about how others are going to react. I don't know him that well, but he seems like a nice guy, and you are about the most level headed man I have ever met, I think there is little chance of you just jumping in without a care. Take it slow and learn to love again, you deserve that."

Melinda's always had the uncanny knack of pulling his heart strings, and he could do little but nod and give a slightly emotional little cough before jesting, "Damn, May why couldn't you be male?"

She laughed, "Well damn it Phil, why couldn't you be straight?" She patted his shoulder and walked away back into the main kitchen.

She pulled a board down and a knife and placed them down in front of him, "Make yourself useful; start with carrots, please."

Phil's eyes wandered over to the door, and the table that still held Nick's unopened post, he grabbed the knife, it could wait for another day.