Note: Some dialogue taken from S02E16 'Afterlife', specifically the conversation in the cabin.

"Whiskey"

"You always travel with whiskey and shot glasses?" Phil said.

"Never know when you're gonna need something to keep you warm on a cold night," Hunter replied flippantly.

"Two glasses?"

Hunter placed the bottle and glasses on the coffee table and sat beside Phil. "The other one's for the person keeping me warm." Phil raised his eyebrows, and Hunter realised how inappropriate that sounded. "But in your case I'll make an exception."

Phil relaxed back, still watching Hunter. He knew why. They were soulmates, two thirds of a triad, but they'd never gone there. Phil was still getting over some mysterious chick, Hunter was still reeling from Bobbi's latest – and final – betrayal. Sure, Phil was a handsome guy, Hunter could admit that, and it's not like he didn't have stray thoughts. They had the same sense of humour, and… yeah, Hunter trusted him. He offered a glass, but Phil shook his head, stood up. Began to pace.

"I need to keep my head clear. SHIELD and Skye gone in one day. How could I let that happen?"

"There's no way you could've known," Hunter said. "They fooled all of us. Bobbi and Mack are conniving liars and thieves." He clenched his hands into fists. "And the next time I see either of them…"

Phil sighed, waving a hand. "They're… good agents. Try to see it from their side—"

"Screw their side! There are very few people in this world that I'd thrown down with, but… you're one of them. Gonzales, the Love Boat captain?" He snorted. "Not if hell froze over."

"He's a brilliant tactician who's dedicated his life to SHIELD." Phil shrugged. "I ran into him a couple of times at the Triskelion. He's not a bad guy."

Hunter rolled his eyes. "Good guys don't usually stab you in the back."

"Maybe he's got a point." Phil's shoulders slumped. "I was dead, after all. I shouldn't even be here."

"We all have our bad days," he quipped.

Phil began to laugh. Hysterically, until he sank back onto the couch. Hunter slung an arm around his shoulder, waiting for something other than laughter. It petered out slowly, and Hunter pulled his soulmate closer.

"You're okay now," he said. "Come on, Phil."

"Oh God, I'm so tired of it all." Phil rubbed his face.

"Well…" He sighed, and waited for Phil to look at him. "Maybe we should forget all this, head down to Mexico. We can lay low, enjoy the quiet life."

"You mean together?"

"Why not?"

"Because you weren't…"

"Weren't?"

"Interested."

Hunter frowned. "In what?"

"This." Phil glanced at Hunter's hand, resting on his shoulder. "Us."

"…Was I supposed to be able to read your mind?"

"Please," he scoffed. "I knew it wouldn't matter as soon as you saw Bobbi again. I didn't meet you until after the divorce, but I'd heard enough about the… attraction between the two of you. The chemistry that transcended soulmateship. Like I was gonna stand in the way of that."

"Seems it was all based on a lie. Again."

"I'm sorry. I—"

"You didn't know," Hunter said. "It's her fault."

"Hunter—"

"Call me Lance."

Whatever prompted him – probably that pathetic look on the director's face – Hunter tipped his head around and kissed him.

There was no particularly enlightening feeling. It was just a regular, chaste kiss. Nothing he could call special about it, nothing to indicate that they shouldn't be anything other than platonic soulmates, no bonding necessary. After all, soulmateship was considered only to be a suggestion these days, why he hadn't been terribly bothered about being swept up in the enigma that was Barbara Morse. And… why was he still kissing Phil? It wasn't being returned. Hunter tried to pull back… but he couldn't. Why not?

Then the director leaned in, increased the pressure from his end, kissed back, and Hunter understood exactly why he couldn't pull away.

Peeling his eyes open drowsily, Hunter rolled over in bed and encountered cold sheets.

"Phil?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He swung his legs over the side and stood up, before getting dressed. That'd better be breakfast he could smell.

"When you're ready, I've got toast to go!"

"Coming!" Hunter called back. He tucked his socked feet into his shoes, then walked out into the main area. He stretched as he approached the table, smirking when he saw the way Phil eyed the patch of bare skin the manoeuvre revealed.

"No time for that," he said. "Eat what you can. We're going to have visitors soon."

"Do I want to know who?" Phil didn't reply to that, and Hunter sighed. "I'm guessing that's a no to Mexico?"

"Afraid so. It's not an option. There are no good options."

"Well, maybe it's time for the bad ones," Hunter said.

"My reasoning exactly," Phil said, his smile secretive. Hunter hummed, suspicious.

"What've you done?" he asked.

"Summoned SHIELD."

"…Come again?"

Admittedly, if Natasha had known that she was about to walk into a room full of HYDRA agents, she probably would've called Clint for backup. She ordered a drink, recognised a few faces, didn't engage anyone in conversation. She didn't recognise anyone, but even if there were innocent civilians in the room, she wouldn't be able to identify them, let alone get them out safely. It was mass casualties or nothing if she wanted to get out of here alive, and she'd definitely been recognised by at least three operatives.

She should've known that following the note slipped into her pocket was dangerous.

"Rookie mistake," she muttered to herself. "I'm out of practise."

"Can I get you anything else?" the bistro owner said. "Say, you look familiar."

"Is that her?"

She looked over, eyes narrowing, and saw a dark-skinned boy clutching an Iron Man figurine and pointing at her.

"Thank you for meeting me, Ms. Romanov."

Taking her eyes off the known dangers: another rookie mistake. Sparring wasn't enough to keep her skills fresh. She glared at the man on the other side of her.

"Do I know you?" she asked.

"No, but the young man does. His name is Ace Peterson, and we're looking for his father. An old friend of yours has kept in touch with Mike, and it seemed the best way was to bring you here, bring Ace here…" The man smiled behind the rim of his coffee mug. "He's a big superhero fan. Misses his dad, I'm sure. And his dad will miss him if anything happens to the boy."

"What makes you think I'd do anything you asked?" she said.

"Miss Widow, can I get your autograph?" Ace said. She slid off the stool and stood beside him.

"Ms. Romanov, most of the people in this room are not on your side," the man said. "A wrong step and you both die. We'll find another way to lure Deathlok and Coulson to us."

Natasha swallowed. She stepped between the man and Ace, and crouched down to meet Ace's eyes.

"When I tell you to run," she began.

"What do we have here, then?"

She looked over Ace's shoulder as a young man with curly hair walked into the bistro. Ace spun around, and Natasha saw his smile.

"Fitz!" he said. The young man, apparently named Fitz, strode forward and crouched down before them.

"Hey, Ace," he said. "What brings you here?"

"They said I can see Dad!"

"Did they, just? Nice Iron Man doll."

"It's not a doll," Ace said. Natasha watched, reluctantly amused, and wondering how the hell to play the situation with yet another unknown element. "It's a figurine."

"I've got a toy, too," Fitz said, rummaging in his bag. "Hang on a tick…"

"Fitz?"

His head snapped up, and Natasha glanced back to see the group Fitz was glaring at.

"Ward," he snarled. "Long time."

"Wait, that's Agent Ward?" Ace said, trying to see over Natasha's shoulder.

"Just a second," Fitz said.

Then he pulled out a stick with a disc on top, threw himself over Ace and Natasha, and brought the end of the stick down. A wave of energy flew out over the top, hitting everything and everyone in its path and upwards. They all slumped over, and Fitz met Natasha's eyes.

"Sorry about that, miss, but it was necessary," he said, and he scrambled back. He tucked the stick away. "How are you, Ace?"

"What happened?" the boy said.

"Place is full of baddies, so maybe we should save conversation for someplace a wee bit safer, eh?" He slung his bags over his shoulders, then stood up, and offered a hand to Natasha. She didn't need it, but accepted the gallant gesture. Still chatting to Ace, Fitz led them outside, his eyes constantly moving, checking both of them, their surroundings, the café they'd just left. "And what's your name?"

"Who are you affiliated with?" she asked.

"Well, sure as hell not them," he said, jerking his thumb to indicate the café. Then his eyes widened. "Holy…" He glanced at Ace. "Moly. I'm sorry, miss, but did I say your soulmate words? Because you just—"

"Maybe," she lowered her hood back over her shoulders, and his eyes grew wide, "this is a conversation for somewhere more private?"

He looked down at Ace again. "You have a bad habit of being kidnapped by the wrong people."

"That's the Black Widow," Ace said, pointing at her.

"I realise that now."

"Are you soulmates?"

"I don't know, Ace. Let's just get you away from any HYDRA agents, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Good thing I brought a motorbike and sidecar," Natasha said, leading them away from the scene. "You never know when you might need to tie someone up and take them into custody."

"She's definitely on the asset register?" Hunter whispered.

"Without a doubt," Phil replied quietly. "And she's probably Cal's type. If we get to her first—"

"Then we might be able to find Cal and ask if he's seen Skye."

"Right."

"Um… but there's no building there."

"What?" Phil frowned as he stuck his head around the corner. "Construction?"

"Scorch marks being painted over on either side," Hunter said, pointing to the buildings either side. "Did she have fire powers?"

"No," he said. "Not listed on her record, anyway. Damn. Cal or HYDRA must've gotten to her first, the bastards."

"Where to now?"

"Broadway? We could see a show. I've always wanted to see The Lion King on stage."

"Is it on at the moment?"

"If it isn't, we'll find something else. Do you think Wicked is still—?"

"Shh!" Hunter covered his soulmate's mouth, and looked around. "I thought I heard something."

"Either whoever it is wants us to hear them, or they're incompetent."

"Definitely not incompetent."

Hunter and Phil both jumped back from the rasping voice in the shadows. Pale face and dark eyes emerged from beneath a hood. Hunter glanced at Phil. They both had those words in the same writing.

"Would you like to prove that?" Hunter asked the stranger.

"Assuming you're not against us," Phil added.

"Those words… they're on my body."

"We have yours as well, sir. Could you tell us your name?"

"I'm… not always sure of it."

Phil and Hunter glanced at each other again, and Hunter cleared his throat.

"Let us help you remember," he said. "Come on over here."

"…You will not hurt me."

"Of course not. Just don't give us reason to."

The stranger – their soulmate? – finally walked into the light. Hunter didn't recognise him, but Phil must've done, judging by his gasp.

"Bucky Barnes," he said. "I… I'm sorry, you just look like—"

"He called me that. My… that is my name. HYDRA made me… made me do things. They gave me this." He lifted his left arm. All Hunter saw of it was a metal hand, but again, Phil knew something he didn't.

"The Winter Soldier," he murmured.

"Please help me."

"Why did you pick us?" Hunter asked. A damn good question indeed.

"Because I had to. And you are not with HYDRA."

"How do you—"

"What you said a minute ago. It sounds like you are not with them."

"Are you really Sergeant James Barnes?" Phil said. The man nodded slowly. "What can we do to help you, James?"

"Keep me…"

"Keep you?" Hunter prompted.

"…Safe."

"We can do that," Phil said, touching James's arm. "Come with us. There'll be enough room."

It took a few days to drag the whole experience out of him, everything he could remember, and it just made Phil and Hunter more determined to go after HYDRA and tear the entire organisation down, top to bottom. It also took awhile for them to realise that he was all but spelling it out in neon lights that he wanted to bond.

"So we won't lose track of each other," he mumbled into his crossed arms, curled up in one corner of the room. Hunter and Phil were kneeling in front of him, trying to coax him to the table for dinner.

"Let's talk about it over some food," Phil said, touching the metal arm. "Please, James. I know you're not used to feeling hunger, but you'll waste away unless we get something into you."

"And what might that something be?" James asked, arching an eyebrow with a small smile.

"We'll talk about that during dinner, as well."

It was put to the test the day after they bonded, when Phil managed to get in touch with Fitz and find out where he was.

"Stark Tower?"

"The hell?" Hunter said, dropping a cup. James caught it, and handed it back to him to finish drying it off.

"Why are you at…? I'm sorry, who's your soulmate? Okay, I didn't see that coming."

"Who is it?" Hunter hissed.

"Just a second, Fitz." He put his hand over the phone. "Put the plate down. Good. It's Natasha Romanov. The Black Widow is Fitz's soulmate. And Ace Peterson is at the tower with them."

"We'd better tell Mike."

"Could you go next door now, before you break any more dishes?"

"Yes, sir."

James half-smiled as he continued to dry the cutlery. Phil exhaled.

"Yeah, go on, Fitz. That's convenient, because we have Mike with us. Yes, I've been in touch with him all along. What do you mean, building up a reserve of supers? I am willing to concede that Gonzales is being an asshole about this… Everyone is special in their own way. I acquire talent, Fitz, regardless of supposed magical powers."

"Or super soldier serum," James said softly, smirking as he hung up the tea towel. Phil gave him a withering look. It was good to see his soulmate in a cheerful mood, confident enough to tease him.

"You have someone with you, sir?" Fitz said.

"Mind your own business. Do they… oh, the Avengers know I'm alive? No, it's much safer to be honest with Romanov, I can't fault you there. You… yes, I don't think Mike will be able to resist seeing him. Hunter's getting him. Well, if he's insisting that I show my face, I guess I'd better. Wouldn't want to disappoint your soulmate's best friend. We'll… an hour. Alright, we'll be there in an hour… Fitz, how could I possibly miss that building?"

He hung up, and then sat beside James, who took hold of his hand and squeezed it.

"Are we… all going?" he asked.

"Only if you want to."

"I will. I… I have to. Sometime. And I want it to be with you and Lance."

"Very well."

"Daddy!"

Mike bent down as Ace ran towards him, and swept him up into his arms. Ace began chattering nineteen to the dozen, while James and Steve talked quietly, and Phil was reunited with the rest of the Avengers and Fitz. He introduced Hunter to everyone, and then they returned to James's side. Phil watched the way Fitz and Natasha stood together, some part of them always touching the other. Fitz would look at her like she hung the moon, but never when she was looking, and he never seemed to notice her staring at him like she would break if he left her.

He couldn't allow that to happen. And, selfishly, he didn't want James to have any cause to look at them in the same way.

"I'm not gonna stay here," James was saying to Steve, who looked crushed.

"But, Bucky, why…?"

"Because I found my soulmates. All on my own. And I don't wanna leave `em."

"Bucky—"

"I'm not Bucky Barnes anymore!" Hunter touched James's shoulder, and Phil leaned into his side. "I'm not the man you knew, Steve. I'm trying to become the man I wanna be, and I need my soulmates for that. So where they go, I go."

"Sir, I…"

"What is it, Fitz?" Phil said.

"I'm not leaving Natasha," he said firmly.

"I'm not asking you to. Either you stay here or she comes with us. No soulmates are being separated without their permission. Besides." He cocked his head. "It sounds like you're no longer a SHIELD agent. You're free to go where you want."

"You'll… you'll tell—"

"I'll tell Simmons."

"T-thank you, sir."

"Oh, for the love of God," Tony said. "Why don't you all just move in? Not like there isn't enough room."

"Mr. Stark," Phil began.

"Agent, do you actually have anywhere to go?"

"Uh…"

"Resources?"

"Well…"

"Manpower?"

"And womanpower, don't be sexist!" Tony stared him down. "…Some?"

"I can feel my dad kicking me from beyond the grave, so I'd better take you in." He walked towards the elevators. "Fitz, join me in the lab later. Agent, give him specs. I'll be redesigning the empty floors."

"We don't have to stay here, if you don't want to," Hunter told James. "We go where you want to go."

"I'd…" James looked from Hunter to Phil, to Steve, then back to Hunter. "I want to be somewhere where you two will be safe. If that's here… and Steve ay be able to help me… then yeah. I think we should stay."

"Alright then." Hunter kissed him gently. "Once the gang's all back together, we'll have a party so we can show you off. We could play Scrabble or Twister or Cards Against Humanity."

"No strip poker," Phil said when Clint opened his mouth. He shut it again.

"I just can't wait to see May's face," Hunter said. "I have to be there when you tell her. Especially about Fitz's soulmate. She might actually show an emotion."

Phil elbowed him.

Apparently tomorrow (13th of April) is Scrabble Day. Who knew?

Wasn't sure how to end this. Problem with writing any 'AoS'-related chapters is that it's an ongoing show, so any chapters which involve speculating what happens in the next episode are, of course, proven wrong within a week. Not to mention the fact that soulmate AU is, well, AU-ish. Y'know?

Review, if you please! :D It makes the author happy.