Chapter 53.
Avengers Tower, three weeks later
"It isn't good enough, Coulson."
In the end, they'd decided to let Maria Hill read Coulson the riot act. She used to be his boss, after all, and he still respected her a great deal, even if they'd argued over her handing over Providence to Talbot. He looked away from her angry blue eyes.
"I – can't really explain," he confessed sheepishly. "Only to say that I wasn't entirely thinking rationally."
"I know what you've been through, Coulson. Possibly better than you do." Maria leant forward in her chair, staring at him unflinchingly. "It wasn't my decision, but I did carry out Fury's orders. I flew you to the Guest House and I stayed there with you."
"You… did? Oh God." He rubbed at his forehead. "I still don't remember everything," Phil admitted.
"Which is good. Believe me. And therefore, I do understand that your decision-making was compromised, especially regarding anything to do with GH-325 and the Kree city. It's why I was in favour of the joint venture between S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers in the first place, not merely because it meant I didn't have to be careful about what secrets I shared." She reached out, pressed her slim fingers lightly on his in emphasis. "But you agreed too, Phil. You agreed to the joint venture, to information-sharing, and the Avengers have every right to be thoroughly pissed with you. I'll give you my opinion and say that the fact that three of them – four if you count Barnes – are now romantically entangled with members of your team is the only reason that they haven't cut ties with S.H.I.E.L.D. already. That and the fact that they do feel they owe you at least one more chance."
Phil sighed and dropped his head. He'd been in the wrong, and he knew it. Maria said no more, just stood up. "Come on. They're waiting for us upstairs. And I understand we might be having some extra visitors."
JARVIS let them out of the elevator at the penthouse. Phil looked around in wonder. He'd been here before any number of times, but he'd never seen it like this, a winter wonderland, everything white with tiny sparkling lights draped along the walls and projected on the glass, crystalline snowflakes hanging in the air seemingly unsupported, just high enough to keep the taller members of the party from hitting their heads. The only colour in the room – though there was plenty of it – came from the clothes of the guests sitting on the large white couches or standing talking, champagne flutes in hand.
Stark came up, dressed in one of his Italian handmade suits that probably cost more than Phil had made in any given year of his career, put a glass into his hand and looked into his eyes. "We good, Agent?"
"We're good." Phil was still a little ashamed to face them all. But he also knew that they would let bygones be bygones, so long as he didn't make the same mistake a second time. Tony clapped him on the shoulder and walked away.
Phil looked around, coming to the rather humbling realisation that whatever mistakes he might have made – and he wasn't above admitting he'd made a fair few – his team had gone ahead and integrated themselves with the Avengers just fine.
Tony had moved to join a little group consisting of Fitz, Mack, Jane Foster, and Darcy, all of whom were building something on a holotable with occasional raucous peals of laughter as the monkey on Darcy's shoulder leaned in to add or adjust something. Trip was standing with Pepper, Colonel Rhodes, Sharon Carter, Sam Wilson and Bruce Banner, demonstrating to their obvious fascination how he had learnt to turn parts of his body, and anything he might be touching, invisible at will. Maria headed in that direction with an intrigued look on her face.
James sat in the corner of one couch with May in his lap, Natasha seated beside them with a wide grin on her face, James's metal arm around her shoulders. Phil stared incredulously. Hell, when did that happen? He'd missed something along the way, obviously. Lance and Bobbi occupied the other end of the same couch, curled together contentedly. He was braiding her hair.
Steve sat on the other couch, Skye beside him. They were holding hands, which, Phil realised, was a big step for Steve, who was a very undemonstrative man in public. They kept looking at each other and sharing secret smiles. The tiny blue crystal was missing from around Skye's neck tonight, Phil noted; she had quickly learned that controlling negative emotions was the key to managing her ability, and surrounded by such close and trusted friends as these there would be no negative emotions to worry about tonight.
Clint was perched up on the back of the couch – typical Hawkeye, always seeking the high ground – with Jemma sitting back against his legs, her head resting against his knee. The slim band on her finger sparkled with tiny white diamonds. Jemma was no more the flashy type than Clint, and had chosen the simple design. Phil happened to know that Tony had then fabricated it personally from pure palladium and the finest diamonds money could buy, but Jemma wasn't aware of the fact. Clint's fingers traced reverently through Jemma's hair, and he still stared at her as though half-afraid she would turn out to be an illusion and suddenly disappear on him.
A flash of lightning and boom of thunder outside heralded Thor's arrival, and Phil watched with a smile as Jane immediately broke away from the little gang of creative types and headed for the balcony doors. It was good that Thor could be there tonight, to complete their company.
He almost lost his breath at the sight of the woman who followed Thor inside. By the time he regained consciousness at the Playground Sif had been gone again, back to Asgard. He'd half wondered if those few moments on the Bus were hallucinations produced by Jemma's painkilling drugs.
Sif's shy smile when she saw him said otherwise, though. He could only gape in awe.
He'd only ever seen Sif in her battle armour, and while she was knockout gorgeous in it in a Xena-Warrior-Princess kind of way, in a flowing silvery gown that reached to her ankles and somehow covered every inch of her skin while revealing every curve of her perfect figure…
"The Son of Coul is struck dumb by your beauty, Lady Sif!" Thor boomed, in his usual version of a stage whisper which meant absolutely everyone in the room jumped and looked around.
Phil wasn't the only one. It was the first time several of those present had seen Sif in person – at least while not wounded and under the influence of drugs – and there were quite a number of dropped jaws. Sif, though, saw none of them. Lifting her chin proudly, she walked directly across the room to Phil.
He recovered, somehow, by the time she reached him, and swept her a low bow. "Lady Sif. You – are – would it be a violation of protocol to say that you are so beautiful you leave me lost for words?"
She smiled. "Such a pretty compliment could never offend me…" she lowered her voice until surely no one but he could possibly have heard. "Phil."
Goddamn it, Steve was smirking.
Phil offered his arm to Sif and walked her back across the room to the balcony, steering her around where Thor and Jane were caught in a passionate clinch. "Have you had much opportunity to see the city by night, Lady Sif? It is very beautiful, if rather cold outside – would you like my jacket?"
She gave him another one of those slightly shocked looks which made him realise he'd probably just done something appallingly intimate by Asgardian standards. Again. Phil mentally kicked himself yet again, but Sif obviously recognised the horrified look on his face, because she laughed, a silvery ripple of sound.
"I shall not be cold, Phil, but thank you for the offer."
"I really need to talk to Thor," he muttered as they exited the room on to the rooftop.
"I doubt it would be of much use. Thor never was interested in courting anyone until he found his Lady Jane, and – well, what they do now would be considered a flagrant breach of propriety on Asgard. Not even a husband and wife would behave so outside the privacy of their own chambers." Sif didn't look disapproving, Phil noted. More indulgently amused. He filed the tidbit of information away in his mind.
It was because Asgardians lived such long lives, he supposed. They saw no need to rush into anything, and so courtship was slow, careful. He gave a small internal sigh. Well, Sif might not be getting any older, but he wasn't getting any younger. Well. He could be patient.
"It is beautiful, you are correct," Sif was staring out across the brightly lit cityscape. "It has been long since I spent much time on Midgard."
Phil was considering, and discarding, several different responses to that when she turned and faced him directly.
"That is changing. I have little purpose on Asgard just now. Thor, as Prince, is often called away from his duties here as an Avenger to fulfil diplomatic duties for Asgard. He asked me to come here, to take up a place on his team, so that there shall always be an Asgardian presence visible and ready to defend Earth."
She was staying. Sif was staying, here on Earth, here in the Tower. Phil stared, hardly daring to hope, and she smiled at him again.
"I was hoping that you would renew your offer to escort me to a musical performance, Phil?"
"I can think of nothing I should like more," he recovered himself after a moment.
Bells suddenly began to ring out in the city, and Sif startled, her hand instinctively reaching for the sword that wasn't present on her back.
"It's all right," Phil reassured her hastily. "It's just midnight. It's Christmas Day." Inside, he could hear shouts of Merry Christmas. Watson the monkey was holding a sprig of mistletoe over Darcy's head as Fitz kissed her. Oh God, he'd have to warn Sif about that custom. He wouldn't put it past Trip – or maybe Sam or Rhodey – to ambush her somewhere and probably have their ass handed to them.
"Oh – they sound like a warning clarion!" Sif relaxed slowly, a smile coming to her face. "Christmas. It has been very long since I celebrated that holiday."
Phil didn't doubt that between Pepper and JARVIS, there would be quite a number of gifts with Sif's name on them under the huge white Christmas tree in the corner of the penthouse before morning. He wondered what would be an appropriate gift to give to a lady you were courting on Asgard, and had asked the question before realising he probably shouldn't.
Sif smiled shyly. "A token of regard, you mean?"
"Perhaps just something that you would like. Or use, that you would not think to get for yourself. Those are the best gifts, in my opinion: something you did not know how much you wanted until someone gave you one."
"But then how should I be able to tell you what it was?" their eyes met, and suddenly they were both laughing at the utter ridiculousness of the conversation.
"Why don't you tell me what would be an inappropriate gift, then?" Phil tried again.
"An item of clothing, or jewellery," Sif said instantly. "Should Thor see me receive a gift of such from you – and yes, I have told him that you and I have commenced a preliminary courtship – he would feel honour-bound to inform my brother, who would not be best pleased."
"Who is your brother?" Phil asked curiously.
"He is Heimdall. The Guardian."
"The – uh, the one Thor shouts at a lot…?"
Sif smiled. "Yes. He guards the Bifrost. The Guardian, the Watcher; he is Odin's right hand man and the fiercest warrior Asgard has ever seen."
Phil gulped. "And he can see across the Realms, can he not? He sees…"
"Oh!" she reached out, put her hand over his where it held onto the balcony railing in a white-knuckled grip. "He cannot see me unless I wish it," Sif reassured.
Phil sagged with relief before realising that he'd just made himself look completely pathetic in front of Sif. He straightened, caught her eye and smiled nervously. To his surprise, she smiled back at him, a true, wide smile.
"Only a fool would not be wary of my brother."
"I must be extremely wise, then, because I'm kind of terrified," he confessed.
"Wise, courageous – you have many qualities that I admire," Sif said quietly.
If she'd been any other woman, Phil would have tried to kiss her right then. Instead, he turned his hand under hers, lifted it and bowed over it, ghosting his lips over her knuckles. Her smile told him that was the right response, at least.
"We should go inside," Sif said then. "Thor will be wondering why I have permitted you to be alone with me for so long."
"Will you explain to me Asgardian courting customs – or at least, tell me of anything I absolutely should not do?" Phil asked as they walked back towards the door. "Since you already told me Thor won't be of much use, and there's not exactly anyone else I can ask."
"No," Sif said abruptly. "I must set aside my Asgardian ways and learn to live as a woman on Earth must, now. Thor has already shown he is willing to breach the bounds of what our people would consider proper. I trust you, Phil, I trust that you will not ask of me that which would be improper among your own people."
He swallowed. "That is a great deal of trust to place in a man who is utterly entranced by you."
Sif's eyes went wide and very soft. She placed her hand in his arm as they walked back in through the door, into the noisy, raucous throng.
"Kiss!" it was Skye, of course, who yelled it.
"What?" Phil blinked, and then realised he and Sif were standing right underneath a – was that a holographic piece of mistletoe? He gave Tony a narrow-eyed look.
"It is a Midgardian tradition, to kiss beneath the mistle twig at Christmastide to gain luck, Lady Sif!" Thor boomed informatively, a broad smile on his face.
"Well, then, if it is a tradition," Sif grinned at Thor, and turned to Phil, her smile a little shy. "Son of Coul?"
"I'm clearly the luckiest guy alive right now anyway," Phil said, to make them all laugh, and then he put his hand to the back of Sif's neck, into her thick, silken black hair, and drew her close. She was exactly the same height as he was.
Her lips were soft and warm, and deliciously yielding. He kept the kiss light, saw the blush on her pale cheeks when he pulled back, but there was a small smile on her face.
"Go Coulson!" Every single member of his team was cheering. And so were all of the damn Avengers. Phil attempted to glower at them, but right now he was feeling too good. Especially as he felt Sif's hand steal into his.
D'AWWW, Phil needed some love too, couldn't help myself!
So, we've checked in with the team and found everyone well and happy at Christmastime. As far as I'm concerned, this is the end of the story.
For now.
I will be revisiting it with some little one-shots and vignettes over the coming weeks. But right now, I'm off to get the hell on with the other stories I should be working on, namely A Shattered Reflection, The Hulk And The Waitress, Her Dirty Little Secret, the Soulmate Shorts and their sequels, and a number of other plots I have brewing…
… so you'll have no excuse to be complaining of withdrawal symptoms from my writing any time soon!
And please don't complain about this stopping short. As I said, it's NOT over. Plus, for a story that I expected to be about 20,000 words of smut, this one's heading for the 100,000 word mark!