Who: Phil Coulson & Maria Hill When: Backdated, during the age swap Where: NYC What: Teen!Phil & Teen!Maria interactions (written in Gdocs) Rating: PG-13
Recapturing one’s youth wasn’t supposed to happen in the literal sense. You aged, your body changed, and you accepted those changes, or were in denial about it. Phil Coulson had never been one for denial, working for SHIELD made it impossible not to be open to just accepting things. But just because you aged didn’t mean you had to be happy about it. The wrinkles, the receding hairline, the lack of energy, he remembered having more energy in his thirties at least.
And thus when the changes came to a number of people that he knew along with himself, it had stirred up all kinds of reactions. Elation at his hair, skin and muscle tone, surprise at the returned strength and energy, overall joy at how the things he could eat again without worrying about extra pounds. It gave him quite a bit more to think about, and a few things he hadn’t thought about in a very long time.
Such as motorcycles. His father had been an auto mechanic, and occasionally worked on bikes. A younger Phil Coulson had lingered around the shop more on those days, taking in the two wheeled amalgamations of steel, chrome and rubber. The sounds they made were glorious to a young man’s ears, and he could only imagine what it would feel like to ride one. Saving up for such a thing was out of the question, all of his father’s money went to support the family, and the odd jobs that Phil took when he wasn’t in school were dutifully given there as well.
But the love of the vehicles remained as strong as it was in those days, and came back when his youth was returned. On a rare day off, Phil found himself going to a dealership and just staring. The fascination was back, and the desire stronger than ever.
A few hours later, a text was sent to Maria Hill. “Bought something, want to show you. Sending you a location. Meet me there.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She never wanted to recapture her youth. Maria has spent her teenage years - and young adult years, to be fair - angry and intense, which wasn’t that different from what she was now/in her ordinary life. She’d just turned a wildfire blaze into an intense, controlled burn, and going back to the uncontrolled blaze was both uncomfortable and liberating.
She’d moved past that phase of her life. But it had been the time when she hadn’t given a damn about anyone except herself, and had been more than willing to punch anyone who looked sideways at her. It was hard to be immersed in that spirit, and made her long for the tight but easy control of her late twenties and thirties, when precision and suppression came naturally, and she didn’t feel the chains she’d put herself and her volatile temper on, even if the chains in question had been for the best in the end.
All in all, the week had sucked rather a lot. She didn’t want to be what she was, and couldn’t escape the fact that this was her reality: to relive her teenage years in all the hormonal and angry glory. She had work to occupy her, because when she wasn’t tightly focused on work, she was restless and tightly angry, eager to lash out and relieve some of the tension in her.
Getting the text from Phil was...odd. Even odder when she followed the text and found herself at a location that featured a very shiny new motorcycle. Staring at it awhile, she found herself trying not to drool and wish for a good leather jacket and her old shoes back: the combat boots she had were just a size too big for comfort. Even with as angry and as much of a loner as she’d been, she never fit in with the leather-wearing, boot-sporting anti-conformists; she’d worn a pair of Doc Martens because they were comfortable and durable, not entirely because of the statement they made. As for motorcycles, well...it was a natural fit for someone who wanted to kick everyone to the curb and go her own way; there was no room for anyone else on the bike, and no one to push her around if she had one. Motorcycles were somehow impractical for the streets of Chicago, but somehow sexier for that.
She might had longed for a leather jacket and a snarling motorcycle in her secret hearts when she was a rebellious teen, but there was no money for it, and she’d let the dream go. But now here one was, and she was fully aware that now, she might just have the money. “Aren’t you something,” she crooned a little.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There had been the obvious staring from the man that had sold him the bike. And then the understandable background check when Phil had handed over the credit card. But the name and information was verified, and Phil drove the bike off the lot, with a feeling of exuberance and accomplishment. Two helmets had been purchased, and then another stop was made to a retail clothing store. One leather jacket later (and some stares from the girls at the register), Phil Coulson was driving his new purchase towards downtown New York City.
It was almost an hour before he’d gotten around to texting Maria. Time was needed to simply … experience this. The sound the bike made, the way it felt when he accelerated, the looks he got as he passed by other people driving. Thrilling, completely and utterly thrilling to the core. He was grinning behind the visor of his helmet, unable to stop himself from enjoying this as much as he was. “Sixteen” year old Phil Coulson was living his dream.
He’d found a good place to park the bike before sending the text, and then it was simply a matter of waiting. He was sure that Maria’s curiosity would be sparked enough to join him. He retreated a little when he heard someone approaching, taking a step behind some construction supplies. Watching her reaction to the bike, he grinned more, letting her have a moment alone with it before he stepped out.
“Nice isn’t it?” he asked, walking forwards, and carrying two helmets. “When I was sixteen, I used to have pictures of motorcycles on my bedroom walls and would try to get my hands on as many magazine that featured them as I could. I never had one or even rode one until I joined the Army. And then … it was heaven, although I didn’t do much joyriding.”
Phil finally reached her side and looked over to admire the bike. “It’s fun to just ride it,” he said, putting one of the helmets into her hand. “But I bet it would be even more fun to have someone to ride with.” He climbed onto the bike, throwing a leg over and settling himself on the seat. Looking up at her, he grinned a little. “Come for a ride with me, Maria.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She jumped a little as Phil stepped out of seemingly nowhere and approached the bike - not just anyone’s machine of chrome and wind, then, but his. The second helmet in his hand didn’t register; she was a lot more interested in another small bit of his past, and the fact that as he was approximately sixteen and in a leather jacket and had a motorcycle. He was...well, from the way she felt herself closing off defensively, of course he was attractive and she was interested and felt preemptively put in her place.
But he’d opened up a little, and she found herself answering softly, “Didn’t put much on my walls. Boxers, mostly.” But most of the boxers that were in magazine ads were big men, which wasn’t what she wanted at all. “Some motorcycles and cars.” She had to glance away as she added, “Couple of horses, when I was younger.” Even she’d gone through a horse phase when she was young - brief, due to being in the middle of the city and generally skeptical of riding an animal, but they’d been easy pictures to grab and tack up on the wall.
She supposed the principle was the same, even if horseback riding was a lot girlier than a motorcycle: there was independence, power, speed, all at your touch. Motorcycles had the added benefit of being a little more rebellious and not needing pasturage.
As much as she’d been staring and longing, she still didn’t understand when he gently pushed the second helmet into her hand and roundaboutly asked her to ride with him. “Why?” was the first thing that popped out of her mouth, even as she drew a little close, lured in spite of herself. “Why me? What does this mean, that you ask me?” One good thing about being an impulsive teenager again; she actually asked what was in her head and didn’t just stew on those questions.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Phil smiled a little more, ducking his head almost like a bashful teenager. “The other walls were decorated with Captain America stuff,” he said, glancing back up at her. “But that’s probably not that surprising. Mostly posters that were ready to be tossed out, and that I saved from being lost. And some trading cards, of course.”
His head turned to the side at her question. “Partly, to apologize. You said that your teen years weren’t very nice, and I made you upset. I can’t go back and change the past, of course, but maybe, I can help give you some nice memories while you’re like this again. To balance out the bad ones? And it’s a really fun thing to ride.”
Phil patted the seat behind him again as he put on his own helmet, and fired up the bike. It roared to life and then slipped into a quiet purr as he placed a hand on each handlebar. “And then the other part is that … I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to have go for a ride with me. Please? We’ll go anywhere you like so long as the gas tank lets us.” Phil looked at her through the flipped up visor, his expression boyishly hopeful.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Okay, that was the Phil Coulson she knew. He could be in a leather jacket and confessing to a lifelong love of motorcycles, but he could still be a little shy and awkward and of course he still loved Captain America. She actually smiled fondly as she said, “I had some of those, too. The ones that would be in Guns and Ammo.” Seeing Cap with a pistol was...somewhat odd. But it made it okay.
She was staring at him again, slowly twisting the helmet in her hands, not liking the low blow she felt in her gut. It wasn’t fair that he was nice. He was going to get her hopes up that maybe she had a chance, and then he’d mean nothing by it except that he was a nice man. Boy. Man. Whatever. “It’s not your fault I was upset,” she said a little hoarsely. “You don’t have to...you know. Make it up to me. It’s not something that can be fixed.”
But she couldn’t deny that he was right and it’d be fun. Even if she was riding behind him and not driving: maybe that was part of the fun, or at least she really didn’t mind - rather liked the idea, actually. There was longing and something she could at identify as desire when he started the engine and looked at her. She slipped the helmet onto her head, and swung onto the bike behind him, setting a hand around his waist, and felt another heady kick.
What the hell. This wouldn’t last but it’d be fun and she deserved one date when she was sixteen. Even if it was only her calling it a date. “There’s no one else I’d ride with,” she told him quietly as she shifted to press a little against him, getting a secure grip. “Let’s get out of the city and ride.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The grin came back when she agreed, and climbed on behind him. Phil felt his own little thrill of excitement when her arms slipped around his waist, holding on. Having a girl on a motorcycle that he was driving was more than his younger self could have hoped for in his dreams.
Giving the bike some gas, he pulled away from the curb, and sped away from the lot. He felt her fingers tighten their grip around his waist, and press a bit more into his stomach. Turning their path for out of the city, he took them speeding past the buildings and parks, heading for the country.
He only spoke after they'd been driving for awhile, calling back to her, "You alright? Am I going too fast?” He slowed a little so that he could be heard more clearly through the helmet and over the rumble of the bike. “If you get hungry, let me know, we’ll stop for something. My treat.” Phil was intent that this would be a good experience for Maria. He didn’t want to pry into exactly what made her childhood so upsetting, it would only get her riled up again. He just hoped that maybe he could give her a few happy memories at this age, even if they came years after the fact.
And it would be nice to have a few exciting ones of his own.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The bike growled as it jumped forward, and behind her helmet, Maria grinned wildly and leaned a little more into him, pressing closer. It wasn’t entirely because of the speed, the wind whipping at her. But she could make that claim, if anyone asked. The skyscrapers felt close enough to touch, and then the city started falling away, and she had to straighten just a little, though kept a careful hand on his waist, enjoying the feeling of speed and freedom. It was almost better than launching from the Helicarrier.
The wind nearly snatched his words before she could hear them, but she’d spent a great deal of time communicating with agents with adverse weather conditions making the static louder than their words. “You can go faster,” she shouted back with a ready grin. Especially as he slowed some more, though that was probably for the best.
His offer of food - and to pay for it - made her pause. She liked the feel of pressing against him, his body warm and the smell of leather under her nose, the engine powerful between her legs and the comforting growl of the engine reminding her of falling asleep to the sound of the Helicarrier’s engine. But letting him pay made it really a date and not just a fond assumption. There was something wrong about having a date when she was functionally sixteen and mentally thirty-five.
“If we see something, we’ll stop,” she shouted back, settling on a compromise.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He was more than a little glad she’d opted not to stop just yet. The feeling of the wind whipping past, along with the way that the bike just slid over the pavement as the city got further and further behind them was heavenly. And the feeling of her arms tight around him wasn’t bad either. Actually, the combination of the two was giving him even more energy to continue on.
His youth hadn’t been spent very much with girls. Prom night had been his first sexual encounter, which had been … alright, he supposed. He’d spent most of the time leading up to it worrying about it, and then most of it after trying to figure out if it had been good or not. The girl in question hadn’t stuck around, and they hadn’t had contact after graduation. After that it was almost straight into the Army, and then the Rangers, with little time for consideration of women in general.
Maybe, if he’d been bolder in high school, he could have done more with girls. But the shy boy named Phil Coulson had kept his mind more on working, and motorcycles and Captain America instead. Now, with his youth recaptured, he thought back to that time. Maybe, if he’d known someone like Maria, things would have been a little different.
With that strange thought rolling around in his head for next dozens of miles they traveled, he didn’t hear his stomach growling. It was lost in the sounds from the bike, but he suddenly felt it gurgling. Glancing over, he spotted a sign for a hot-dog place at the next exit. He sped them towards it and the diner, pulling into the parking lot and stopping the bike.
Taking off his helmet, he turned his head back towards Maria. “Little hungry, and I bet this place will have some decent food. My treat.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She’d chased away boys in high school. Well, to be fair, she didn’t need to try very hard. It was one of those unspoken things; no one bothered Maria Hill, that girl in the heavy boots and gray sweatshirt and snarl. She’d moved through high school in her own bubble, annoyed with the world she was in and already looking for something beyond it: it hadn’t garnered her a lot of dates. She hadn’t even bothered to go to prom. Why force herself to do something she’d just hate, in no small part because she’d be out of place?
As she found herself settled against his back, arms tucked around him, leaning into the curves with him, she couldn’t help the thought that maybe if she’d known him back then...But she’d been angry and sharp and pushed people away somehow more than she usually did - funny, how she actually grew as a person over the years.
So he would have been quiet, and she wouldn’t have approached, and it would have been a damn shame, because she valued his friendship now. And yes, even valued the little twinges of affection and lust she got. But she understood where the boundaries were and knew better than to push them. That was just part of the rules.
This was all blurry. She didn’t like it...except that she did. She tossed it from her mind as he abruptly turned off and parked in a diner’s lot, slowly stretching as she swung off the bike, reached up to tug off the helmet, shoving a hand through her hair - snarls. Great. This was why she kept it short.
“Looks fine to me,” she said. It was a little grimy and dingy, but that made it a biker bar. “But I’ve got my wallet - I’ll pick up dessert or something.” Tucking the helmet under her arm, she sauntered into the diner, pushing open the door, and was bemused rather than annoyed when a bell rang.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Phil’s stomach was growling again, and he looked a little sheepish once more. “Funny thing about youth,” he said, locking the helmets up to the bike as a few other teenagers looked on admiringly from where they sat outside the diner, “it comes with a very healthy appetite.” He nodded at another male around their age as they passed, the other saying, “NICE.”
Lowering his voice as they entered, Phil glanced around. “Actually, I’m amazed at how hungry I am. I’ve always been hungry, obviously, but not like this for a very long time. I guess I need more food than before, or at least I metabolize it faster.” He eyed the menu with a keen look, lingering over the pictures of mouthwatering fries and burgers. His stomach rumbled again. “It’s been a long time since I didn’t have to worry about calories or too much sugar. Probably don’t have to worry about heartburn either.”
Heading up to the counter, Coulson took out his wallet and made his order. “Two hamburgers with everything, and two orders of fries. And,” a glance back at Maria with a returning grin, “whatever the lady is gonna order. And a Coke.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She heard the compliment from one of the strange boys, and her shoulders started crawling up again, just a little bit of anger in her swagger now. Because, as Phil had pointed out, they were teenage boys with teenage appetites. Maybe they meant the bike. Or maybe she needed to punch their teeth into their throat.
“I’m told that’s customary,” she managed to say to him without - much - of the tension in her voice. It was Phil. Of course he meant appetite as in food; they were in a diner because he was hungry. Seeing him obviously survey the menu as he talked about food and hunger proved that point, and made her smile again. “Most likely not. I’m not sure teenagers could have too much sugar. And now you’ve a bank account that lets you have everything you want.”
Thinking about the lean years of high school - never starved, but never had all she wanted, because that was food that came from the stock downstairs and eating it was like eating money out of the bank - made her hungry as well. So did his order. Chortling a little in delight, because of course he wasn’t presumptuous to order for her, she stepped up beside him and gave the menu a quick glance. “Two hot dogs, Chicago style, and an order of fries. And,” she added as she caught sight of something in the dessert case, “two slices of that apple pie. I’m paying for the pie,” she insisted as she dug out her wallet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His mouth was already watering just at the smell. Really, how had he forgotten how good food could just smell? The order was made and he handed over the money for the food, letting her get dessert. “That’s nice of you, thanks,” he said, giving her another grin.
By this time, the other teenagers had filed back into the diner, to get another free refill on their drinks. The leader (probably) looked over at Phil and asked, “That bike yours?”
Coulson grinned more. “Yep.”
“Dude. That thing is AWESOME. Your parents must LOVE you.”
Phil’s grin changed into a sort of smile, but there wasn’t feeling behind it. “Yeah,” he said, nodding once. “It’s a nice bike.” The other teens refilled as well before going back outside to enjoy the nice soon to be fall weather, and Coulson’s gaze drifted down to his shoes. The food appeared on two trays shortly, along with the dessert, and he took them. “Did you want to eat outside with them or...?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She had to roll her eyes a little as she paid up for the pie, eyeing the cut slices greedily as the trays started to be assembled. “Need to feel useful somehow.” It was no cannoli, but it was pie. Her life had been very short on baked goods, particularly of the dessert nature; if it hadn’t been a main course, Nana hadn’t taught her to make it. And she had a point, as she’d been cooking for herself and sweets didn’t fill her up like lasagna did. It had just sorta sucked.
The other teens wandered back in, and she leaned casually against the counter, watching them sharply, just to be sure they knew what was what.
And maybe she was a teen, but she was a trained observer and interested in the subject, and she caught the flicker in his smile, the slight hesitation and forced feeling. She had a curious kick in her gut, and wanted to dig in and interrogate.
She reached out to claim her own tray, and jerked her chin towards a secluded booth. “I want to eat with you, not them,” she said bluntly, and stalked over to claim the booth, putting her back to the wall on instinct. She picked up one hotdog, took a bite of a piece of fake meat that had everything tossed on it, and said, “What was that about? With the kids mentioning your parents,” she clarified around chewing. Interrogations were important. So was food.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The food tasted as good as it smelled, and for once he didn’t bother with cutting the hamburger in half, or just having a few fries. Phil went back into full teenage boy mode, stuffing a handful into his mouth, and chomping a huge bite into the burger. GOD, that tasted amazing. All of the fat and ketchup, and pickles, and he honestly could not give a damn about how many calories this was or how much fat it had. It was almost orgasmic bliss.
And then he blinked back to reality at Maria’s question, mid-bite. “Huh?” he said in response, forgetting to chew. “Oh.” He swallowed, grabbing a handful of napkins to wipe his mouth before swallowing a large mouthful of Coke to wash it down. “Well. The last time I was this age, my parents were alive. It just sort of …. it was a jolt.” He looked down at his burger, frowning a little. “Dad died after a stroke at the age of 54, right after I got into the Army. Mom …” He went silent.
“My mother survived him about five years before just passing away in her sleep.” His jaw set a little. “I had more of a relationship with her than him. He worked a lot. Just to keep us fed and clothed and out of being poorer than we were. He also drank but … not in the violent way. I wasn’t as sad when I heard he’d died as I was when I got the news about Mom. She saved all the Captain America stuff for me. Sewed me a doll when I was little, helped me paint a garbage can lid like his shield when I was 10.”
He slowly went back to eating, the thrill for his food somewhat diminished.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Watching him eat would be a fascinating experience, if she didn’t feel the urge to attack her own platter of food. It was cheap, and tasted like it, but that was just familiar, like the sound of the Helicarrier. It was salt and grease and warm; she didn’t ask much of it, and was satisfied with what it could fulfill. There was probably a metaphor in there, but she was too busy with fries and ketchup to care.
She was always surprised when he actually answered her question without evading; she almost didn’t know what to do when someone gave her what she wanted to know without making her work for it. She would much rather lay her unease to that rather than the twisty feelings in her gut. She knew all about parents dying, but she really wished he didn’t.
She didn’t even want to howl at him that he still had it easy; not Phil, not when he looked so damn sad. “It feels like abandonment, betrayal,” she said with quiet, dark knowledge, staring down at the hot dogs she’d thought she wanted without really seeing them. “Like you didn’t matter enough to them, that they didn’t love you enough to stick around. I’m sorry about your parents,” she said. “You were really lucky to have them.” She was not bringing up her own past in this, but she couldn’t just let him wallow in pain, even if she didn’t know what else to say. Grief that wasn’t anger was foreign ground for her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Kind of,” he said, after a few more fries. “My mother sort of leaned on the men in her life for her happiness, maybe even her purpose. She found it in my father, and after he died, I guess I was supposed to fill that void. Except I went back to the Army and stayed. I sent all of my money home that wasn’t absolutely necessary to support myself, to help her.” There was a very long silence as he went back to his burger.
“Sometimes I wonder if I should have stayed around, maybe she was depressed or … I don’t know. She seemed healthy the last time I saw her in person, and then she was just … gone.” And I was alone.” The first burger was gone, and he let the second remain untouched for a bit. “I tried to be a good son. I gave my parents money when I could, and I wasn’t a troublemaker. I joined the Army partly because I wanted to be like Captain America and serve my country, but also because they’d take care of me. And my mother and father wouldn’t have to.”
Phil looked over the table to Maria. “I know they were proud of me. She wrote me letters while I was away, and told me how proud they were. And … I’m not angry that they’re gone. I’m sad, of course, but I know that they loved me. That’s what’s important.” He reached for the second burger, munching quietly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maria bit at her lip a moment, then busied herself with her food, disguising her quiet dislike over the matter at hand in ripping off bites of the very superior Italian sausage. She really wanted to dislike his mother for not being strong enough to stand on her own without a man to protect and support her...but she had too many affectionate thoughts towards anyone who was apparently a damn good Mom to Phil to hate her completely.
“You couldn’t stick around,” she had to say firmly, yanking herself out of her sulk over her feelings being more complex than she generally liked to address a matter at hand. “People have to make their own lives, not just step into the role of their father. You loved her,” she added quietly, fumbling with something that had never been a factor for her. “You loved her, you sent her money, you were a credit to her. And you would have suffocated in a small town, and never would have been a SHIELD agent and...a credit to your country.” And never been her friend.
She fell silent for a moment, playing with her fries without eating them, looking away from him. “That’s what’s important,” she agreed lowly. “I...never had anyone,” she finally admitted, and felt the little half-angry-half-hurt twist in her gut. He’d been - the only word for it was ‘blessed’, and she’d had nothing but hot anger, and she felt the gap keenly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“They do have to make their own lives,” he agreed, before gulping a little more of his drink. “And you have to make choices. Sometimes they seem right at the time, and then …” he sighed, rubbing his forehead a little. “Sorry, I brought the mood down, didn’t I? This was supposed to be a fun outing.”
Phil looked up at Maria, and gave her one of his small smiles. “You have a lot of people now,” he said, his tone reassuring. “An entire organization at your back. And,” his smile grew a little more thoughtful, as he considered her. “You have me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Sometimes, they’re just hard,” she said with a slightly awkward shrug, reaching for more of her fries. “Doesn’t make them right or wrong - no matter what happens down the road. Just hard. Leaving’s always hard. Even if it’s what you want.” She brooded on the idea as she dunked the fries, stared at them a moment, then shoved them in her mouth and followed up with a hotdog.
She smiled a little as he acknowledged it. “I’d rather the mood was brought down, and I learned something real about you, than light and happy nothings,” she said lowly.
The smile turned into a small smirk, acknowledging it herself. “That’s partly why I joined the military - or why I stayed. Being in charge. And having people have my six.” She glanced up at him, just a little wary as she studied him. What the hell did he mean by that? “Of course I have you,” she said. They worked together closely, almost affectionately; they danced right on the line of it. And if she was being stupid and falling on the other side of it, well, that was her problem. He wouldn’t think of her that way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So was it less hard for you to leave?” he asked, finishing the second burger and reaching for one of the slices of pie. “It was a little hard for me to leave home. Even though I knew it would be for the best. Or at least I thought it would be.” The smile grew a little around his first bite of pie. “I’m an open book,” he said, encouragingly. “Anything else you wanted to know?”
“I joined up because I felt I had a duty to serve my country. And honestly, I couldn’t think of a job that I really wanted. I wanted to be a soldier. To fight for something, or at least be part of something that could. Of course, that’s an incredibly childish and simple way to think of the armed services. I admit that I was very much under the influence of Captain America making that decision. But thankfully, my career wasn’t so bad, and I adapted to what it really was. Just another job, tougher at times, physically and otherwise. I also learned quite a bit, and went on to be accepted into the Rangers.”
He saw the wariness, her uncertainty. She was probably dancing back and forth between the actual age that she was and her teenage self, thoughts-wise. And while both Maria’s were wary, he’d quickly learned that teenaged Maria had been a much rougher version of herself. Quicker to distrust and fight than think it out and ask questions.
“What I meant was, I’m your friend.” He studied her again, the same thoughtful look back on his face once more. Familiar recent feelings began to surface, ones he’d assumed he wouldn’t be feeling for awhile after he and Virginia parted company. In many ways, Maria complimented him in the ways that Pepper could never. Maria was already part of the system that very much governed his life, in and out of work. She was privy to all the information that he could only share with other agents. And she’d be able to handle his frequent departures better than anyone else, because she’d know where he was and would be off on them herself.
“And,” he said, setting his half eaten piece of pie back down again, slowly reaching for her hand. “If I’m a very lucky man, maybe more.” His eyes met hers, steady and curious.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She shook her head as she claimed her piece of pie, toying with the fork over the crust as she explained, “I wanted to leave so bad...” She closed her mouth over why, because that part really wasn’t important. “I tore out of Chicago the moment I turned eighteen. It wasn’t just ‘for the best’ it...was something I needed to do.” His smile made her instinctively return his smile, because she really liked seeing him happy, especially after he’d been so morose. “I’ll let you know when I think of something that’s not in your personal files,” she teased with a grin.
Since it seemed to be the hour to share and be honest, and because she was happy to talk about the reason why she’d joined up. As long as she didn’t need to get into the real, deep reasons why. “I joined up because I wanted a fight,” she said as she cut a piece of pie, lightly piecing the apple in the filling. “I really wanted to bash in some faces. Then they taught me that there were good reasons to fight. And I took to it,” she added with a shrug. “Apparently I’m really good at fighting for a cause.”
She was studying him, almost out of the corner of her eye as she slowly worked on her pie, trying to figure out just what he meant. No one said what they really meant: that was the damn problem. So, maybe he meant that part about being friends - that much she knew to be true. But the look in his eyes as he looked at her had a fierce flare within her, not quite affection and not quite anger.
She was very proud not to need anyone. She was finding out that she didn’t much like the feel of someone wanting her - wanting for what? What the hell did he mean by all of this? Was the motorcycle ride just a dangled treat to get her here so he could have sex?
Stupid. She shook her head to herself as she jabbed her fork into her pie and tried not to slap away his hand - again - as it crawled forward across the table for hers. This was Phil. He wasn’t in this for whatever exploitive reason. He didn’t expect anything of her. Except with those big hopeful eyes looking across the table, he did. And she really didn’t want to disappoint him, but she was going to sooner or later, because he was nice and she was...not.
Didn’t change the fact that she’d actually ridden behind him and liked the feel of him - had wanted. She just didn’t like being blitzed with it right after she finished getting herself used to the idea of not getting what she wanted. It made her scramble to reevaluate and assess and switch assumptions. “Didn’t you just break up with Potts?” she had to ask. If it felt like jumping in, it probably was. Even from Phil.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He gave her a sympathetic nod. “Sometimes that just happens. It’s sad when you leave a place with no desire or reason to come back, but you can only hope to find those reasons elsewhere. Or at least a sense of direction.” He had another sip from his drink, slurping when he finished it. “The Army gave me more directed reasons to fight, and to help. And skills to help me survive. That’s probably why I’ve done so well with SHIELD.”
His expression fell a bit when she mentioned Virginia. “Yes,” he said, his hand withdrawing from hers and going into his lap. “We did part company. For the reason that my schedule of leaving and being out of communication wasn’t making her happy. And, I respect her for ending it graciously, and before …” his gaze shifted to the table, “before feelings for one another got more complicated. She’s had a long life of being unable to help or at least be in contact with people who are important to her. To ask that she go through that again in a relationship, that would have been extremely selfish.”
And then, quietly, “I’m not angry or resentful towards her at all for that. I was just saddened to find that I can’t really have certain things that one considers normal for a life.” There was a long silence. “Like someone to share some intimate company with. And not just physical.” Phil sighed softly. “The older I get, the more I realize how little I’ve had chances for that company. It’s been partly my own doing, of course. I love my work at SHIELD, but it comes at a cost, and the cost is that normalcy. Before, it wasn’t so important, I had years to go, and things to do, and it could be put off.”
“Now,” his eyes lifted to hers again, “the desire for it is stronger than ever. But perhaps I was looking in the wrong place.” This time, his hand took hers, his thumb tracing over her palm.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She raised her eyebrows at his assessment. “No, it’s not sad at all to leave a place like that,” she argued a little. She’d know better than him, after all. He’d left a place that had been a home. She’d left a hometown that failed at both sides of the definition. “The Marines...gave me something better than a home. They gave me purpose and reason to move, so I didn’t need to settle. Part of the reason I’m as comfortable I am on the Helicarrier,” she added with a small shrug. “I go where I’m needed, when I’m needed. I’m not trapped somewhere.”
He was very precise and formal when he talked about Potts, and she wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing. Shouldn’t he be angry? No one was that gracious or controlled when a relationship suddenly ended, especially when it was her fault, her failings at not being strong or good enough for him. “That’s her problem,” she had to say coldly. “That doesn’t mean it’s what you wanted.”
Her stomach dropped a little as he continued, which made the hotdogs and pie feel all kinds of bad. Or maybe that was his explanation of what he wanted. And even though he probably meant the part where he was looking for more than just physical intimacy - he wanted companionship, permanency. Quiet evenings in his apartment together, probably. Normal things. It shouldn’t terrify her as much as it did, but there it was.
He reached for her hand, and she managed to keep from pulling away - which would hurt him, she knew - but she didn’t fling herself into his hands, either - because it would hurt more if she led him on. “Phil,” she said levelly, “I can’t give you normalcy. I’m not...nice. Or gentle. Or good at relationships.
“That. And this is hardly the best time to be considering this,” she continued, happily jumping to safer ground. “You just got out of a relationship. And we are currently in a time of crises.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Sometimes what two people want won’t work in a relationship,” he said, shaking his head. “Sometimes there can’t be a compromise that you can find, especially when it comes to caring about someone. I wouldn’t ask her to put her own happiness on the line just for my sake. There’s supposed to be give and take between two people, not just a one way street. She’ll find someone who can give her what I can’t. I know it.”
The chuckle escaped his lips before he could stop it. “Maria,” he said, squeezing her hand gently, “I know who you are. And how there are ways that you can’t change, and shouldn’t have to. And I never said that I wanted a gentle woman. What I want is a partner who can understand what I deal with and can understand, without being hurt. And you’re strong, stronger than any woman I’ve known.” Another soft chuckle. “And apparently, I’m not very good at relationships either, so we have that in common.”
He sighed a little at the last part. “Yes,” he said, slowly letting go of her hand. “You’re right that this is a time of crisis and not the time to be making these kinds of plans. And right now you and I are not at our … normal stages of life. That needs to be fixed, and soon.” His phone and hers went off at the same time, a message from Fury. Phil looked at it and then her. “We should get back.”
Standing, he picked up his tray, and then paused. Turning back to her, he looked at her thoughtfully again. “When things are better, and we’ve solved this crisis, I’m going to invite you over to my place for dinner. I’ll cook, and we’ll share a little time together, see what happens. I promise that I won’t discuss this until that time, or ask. And I’m sure that will give you enough time to come up with an answer. Even if it’s no, I won’t be angry. Because that’s your choice to make, not mine.” And he moved away to empty his tray and the head outside to start up the bike.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What he was speaking of made the hairs on the back of her neck raise up. What he was talking about...that felt as though it was just as much about what was between the two of them, except there were big blank patches in her knowledge: he’d laid out what he wanted in a relationship, but she didn’t even know if she wanted a relationship, someone to be that close and see that much of her, much less what she wanted out of one and what she was willing to compromise for it. But then, she didn’t compromise well. “She’ll find someone to cater to her weaknesses, I’m sure,” she agreed, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “I don’t have to wish her well to think that.”
She couldn’t help the answering small rueful smile as he squeezed her hand and asserted what they all knew to be true. “But you should have someone who won’t run roughshod over you and is strong enough to cope with the realities of Army life.” The term slipped out in spite of herself, but that’s what he was asking for, right? Someone who could stand a deployment. Just because she could didn’t mean that there wasn’t someone else out there who could, too. Someone...better. Easier about this. Not jumping for any excuse that this wouldn’t work. “And I’m your commanding officer. It matters,” she said firmly. “It’s a complication to work out. One we don’t have time for right now, when we’ve got hormones in play as well.”
Some other time: their phones beeped, and they were grabbing for them and checking the message. “Let’s go,” she said.
She’d managed to to be crisp and focused, because this was the job and she knew how to be an officer. What she didn’t know was how to react to that thoughtful look, too old for his young face, the idea spun out of just what she knew she wouldn’t be good at: a quiet evening at his apartment, time spent intimately, togetherness that had nothing to do with work. She was sure she was staring at him with some sense of terror, because he couldn’t mean that he’d be fine with an answer of ‘No’. No one was. Not even level-headed Phil. She was going to fail at it and he was going to be hurt and she couldn’t find a way out of it.
“I want to drive,” she said as she hurried after him, dumping her tray and pushing out the door. Driving the motorcycle fast down the highway was about the only thing that could make her push this out of her head: she didn’t need more complications when she had a world-spanning crisis to deal with.