"Give Me a Sign"

They crept between cars until they reached the entrance to the park. Darkness had only just fallen, which was the very imprecise time they were supposed to meet their contact.

"This is insane," Leo whispered.

"What choice do we have, Fitz? We were separated from the team. Director Coulson told us to rendezvous here, and he'd send someone to take us safely back to base."

"It could be anybody!"

"Shh," Jemma said, resting a finger on her soulmate's lips. "Now isn't the time to lose our heads."

"No, we could be about to lose them in an entirely different way. A more permanent way."

She rolled her eyes, grabbed his hand, and led him to the forked tree. From there, they could see a bench, where a man was slouched, his legs crossed out in front of him, and wearing sunglasses.

"Isn't it too late for sunglasses?" Leo said.

"Just give him the signal."

"Och." He looked down at the phone again, trying to remember the gestures he was supposed to make. The battery was getting low, and they'd lost Jemma's phone. "Right. Hold this for me so I can see him."

"There's still enough light," she said.

"But he's wearing shades."

"I… I know those arms."

"Mine? I should hope so."

"No, his! That's Hawkeye, the Avenger!" She elbowed him. "Clint Barton."

Even at this distance, the man's smirk was noticeable. A bit riled now, Leo signed the words Coulson had told him. The man tensed, and then lowered his sunglasses.

"Christ, I hope I didn't just mis-sign, and say something extremely bad," Leo said, lowering his hands. He plucked his phone out of Jemma's hand and started to go over the pictures on Google.

"If it's him, he'll be able to see us well enough from where he is," she said, and she looked at the agent. "Would lips be better?" she stage-whispered, loud in the still air.

"That's not the code phrase!"

"Oh Lord, he's coming over to us," Jemma said, burrowing into Leo's side. "Even if it's not our contact, he really does look like Hawkeye, which means we're safe with him."

"It would explain the glasses. He can't risk blindness from the sun."

"They're probably a special prescription."

They stayed very still as the man approached. Sure enough, it was Clint Barton, tucking his shades into his vest and raising his eyebrows at them.

"What were you using?" he asked Leo.

"I was trying to make it easier by using ASL, but… it didn't work?"

"I looked up British Sign Language especially."

"Oh." Leo ducked his head. "That's very… thank you. But I didn't know either, so I was just going off Google."

Clint smirked, and looking Jemma up and down.

"And with you, it depends on how you plan to use them," he said.

"Use what?" she asked, baffled.

"Your lips." Then he unbuttoned his tac vest and pulled up his shirt. "This your writing?"

Jemma's eyes widened. "Yes. Oh my God. You… you said my words."

"Mine, too," Leo said.

"Fitz!"

"I know, Simmons."

"You call each other by your last names?" Clint said, straightening his clothes again.

"Everyone calls us FitzSimmons," Jemma said.

"So it just made sense to continue like that," Leo added.

"But I wouldn't mind calling you 'Clint'."

"Neither would I."

"Hold that thought," Clint said, pulling his ringing phone out of his pocket. "It's Coulson, probably wondering why I haven't checked in. Hang on." He hit the answer button and held the mobile to his ear. "I've got them here. Well, we're busy talking. If you have to know, they're my soulmates. Seriously? You sneaky son of a bitch. Be honest, that's why you get us all to fill out paperwork, isn't it, to see our handwriting?"

"He knew?" Jemma said. No, she did not squeak, no matter what Leo's snigger and Clint's grin implied.

"We'll come at our own damn pace. Yeah, and we'll meet up with you when we're ready as well." That time, Leo was the one to blush. "Half an hour? I can't do much in that time, boss. Fine, fine. If you think there's more room for us on the bus. Why do you even call it that?" He sighed. "Okay, I'm bringing them in. You too, Coulson." He hung up, and smiled ruefully. "My car's this way. Let's go."

"Director Coulson sent you all the way to fetch us because he knew we were soulmates?" Jemma said.

"Yeah. Set up the whole damn thing, the match-making bastard."

"I think we owe him a damn big vase of flowers and a lifetime subscription to Cadbury," Leo said as they trailed behind Clint to a plain sedan. Clint urged them both into the back, so that they could duck at a moment's notice if someone opened fire.

"I know you two are valuable to Coulson, and now you're valuable to me," Clint said. "So buckle up."

They made it back to base in sixteen minutes. When all three were out of the car, Clint ushered them around to the dark side, out of sight of Agent May.

"If you're happy together, I won't ask to be a romantic third," he said. "But I'm hoping I can convince you to give me a chance."

"You… you want to be with us?" Jemma said, her eyes widening. "But you're a superhero! And I thought you were linked with the Black Widow!"

"She's not my soulmate," he said. "You two are."

"Well, that would, uh, that would be nice," Leo said, moving half a step closer to Clint. He and Jemma smiled their twin smiles of mischief. Slowly, Clint grinned.

Then he hauled Leo close and kissed him. Jemma cursed as Clint turned and pressed Leo against the front passenger door, exploring his mouth with a single-minded focus that was razor sharp, lethal, and extremely arousing. He let go with a final nibble, and then pulled Jemma into his arms. She trembled as he coaxed her lips apart and dived in, one hand on her upper back and the other sneaking beneath her blouse. He stroked a patch of burning hot skin, and she whimpered.

No sooner had she made a sound that he broke the kiss and shushed her.

"Don't want May coming out and finding us like this, do you?" he said. "Damn, I wish I had more time, but this'd be better in a bed. And with more light. I wanna see the two of you." He manoeuvred Jemma in front of Leo and sandwiched her between them. "Where are your marks?"

"P-put it this way," Leo said, one hand on Jemma's waist and the other on Clint's upper arm, "we'd probably have to be in about this position to b-bond." Clint was grinding gently against Jemma, which was pushing her back against Leo's hips.

"I like the sound of that," he said.

"Barton, are you bringing them in, or do I have to send for Coulson?" May called. All three sighed.

"Coming!" he called back.

"Oh no," Jemma said, tracing a finger down the front of his vest. "Not yet, you're not."

"Later, when the others have gone to bed," Leo said. "Then yeah, definitely."

"Looking forward to it already."

Clint watched them as they sauntered off, hips swinging slightly. He dogged their steps, reminding himself to be alert for threats, although it was really hard when he was faced with his two young soulmates, both science geniuses and tough as nails. They also had a sass about them that no one had mentioned, and was possibly something they only showed to each other. And now Clint, because he was their soulmate.

He claimed it was to save the batteries in his hearing aids, but one of his soulmarks was the real reason Hawkeye requested code phrases to be signed when he was meeting strangers. He had a vague suspicion that he'd meet both soulmates at once, else his other soulmark – 'Would lips be better?' – would sound way less innocent. And he'd always known they were younger than him, considering the rough dates he'd received his soulmarks. If it wasn't for SHIELD – and especially Coulson and Natasha – he probably would've tried to keep FitzSimmons as friends due to the age difference.

But with experience and good friends came self-acceptance. He was in a dangerous profession, and had no reason to expect to live to a ripe old age while his soulmates grew tired of him and left. He was gonna seize the chance while he could.

May was all but tapping a foot as Clint stuck close to them, and she shut the door a nano-second after he walked through.

"Coulson wants to see you in his office," she said.

"He sent us to each other," he said.

"But there's the shovel-talk."

Grumbling, Clint stalked up to Coulson's office. He resisted the urge to close the door loudly – he wasn't that much of a child – and plopped down on the seat in front of the director.

"I'm not gonna hurt them," he said.

"I should hope not."

"I've been waiting too long for this. I'm not gonna screw up my only chance with my soulmates."

"Good."

"Then… why am I here?"

Coulson smiled. "Because no matter what she says, May knows I can come up with far more creative threats than she can. If she thinks I'm doing a good job of scaring you out of your wits, then you don't have to face the same from her."

"…I knew there was a reason you're my favourite."

"Go. And look suitably terrified."

May watched a much paler Clint Barton emerge from the office. He put on a brave face for FitzSimmons, who naturally reassured him, before going to the office when beckoned. Barton kept touching points on his bodies, no doubt the parts which had been threatened the most creatively. She remembered one time when Phil described to someone the ways in which he could get information from them, all with a pleasant smile, while the suspect was nearly writhing where they sat and bursting with information. Even a tenth of that scariness would be enough to make Barton's hairs stand on end.

"They'll like me, won't they?" he said. She tipped her head.

"I don't think you'll have to work for it," she said noncommittally. He grimaced.

"They deserve better," he said.

"They won't think so, Barton. Just don't hurt them."

"Yeah. I… I got that that would be a bad thing. Believe me." He winced, and looked away from her. She half-smiled.

"Right!" Simmons said, her voice slightly higher-pitched than usual as she and Fitz closed the office door and approached their soulmate. "Let's go and have some tea, shall we?"

"And sandwiches," Fitz said. "You like sandwiches, don't you? Everyone likes sandwiches. Tell us what you like and we'll make it. Anything."

May shook her head. She had a feeling that Coulson would give those two the shovel-talk as well. He'd always been protective of Clint Barton. She would have to warn Romanov not to threaten them, though; FitzSimmons were no use to the team if they were on constant alert for Russian spies.

I don't even know anymore.

Gabrielle_Maxwell requested this ship at least once, and zandperl asked what kind of mark a deaf person would receive. I didn't really answer it in this, did I? But when I was researching sign language for this chapter – before deciding I couldn't write it well enough – I discovered sign-writing. It's a system of written versions of sign language. Apparently. But since the soulmark is in your soulmate's handwriting, it would just be however they wrote the words first addressed to them.

…Author is confused. Author is coming down with a sore throat, and still working on the Deadpool/Jemma chapter. It's lo-o-o-ong, with no end in sight.

I've also been working on a non-soulmate AU fic with fem!Phil being dosed with sex pollen and trusting Garrett, Sitwell, and Blake to help her through it. And she's in love with Blake. Then all the HYDRA stuff, and… yeah. Might adapt it for one of these chapters. I don't know. Kind of just wanna write Phil/Garrett and Phil/Felix.

Please review!