Jasper Sitwell (agentsitwell) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2014-02-09 00:16:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !thread, jasper sitwell (mcu), phil coulson (mcu) |
Who: Jasper Sitwell and Phil Coulson
When: 1300, 8 February 2014
Where: Jimmy T's, Washington DC
What: Just brunch, and, you know. Spy things.
Rating: Low
Nothing about Agent Coulson looked out of place in Washington D.C.: his neatly brushed hair and his pressed suit blended in with the suits of Capitol Hill. That was why he'd suggested this area. He'd only look like yet another politician, and Sitwell… Well, a part of Phil hoped Jasper might show up dressed as a woman. They'd be inconspicuous here, in the middle of the nation's capital. What Coulson was doing could land him with a long sentence in prison if they weren't careful, and Phil had no intention of landing behind bars. He took one last sweeping glance up and down the street before stepping into the diner. He ordered a coffee at the counter and then found a table with a view of the door. Keeping this from the people close to him - Hill, May - wasn't going to be easy, but it was important. He knew they'd understand the gravity of the situation once it all came to light. Until then, Coulson was still SHIELD's right hand man. Or so he needed them to think. The Bus offered him mobility that others wouldn't have. As long as they stayed on the Council's good side, their clearance could help to Fury. Orders were orders, after all. Where Phil Coulson felt he fit in, Jasper Sitwell could only feel he stuck out. He blended in best in a suit and tie, where people only saw him by his clothes or his race and not his facial features or carriage. But that was also how he'd most be recognized. Jasper had friends on the Hill, he'd lived in DC for years before coming to SHIELD, and he'd frequented it since. It was a city that he was comfortable in--usually. And comfort could be dangerous. It was foolish, perhaps reckless, to agree to a meet Coulson mere blocks from the National Mall when his face was circulated amongst intelligence and military agents and simpering defense staffers. But SHIELD was about doing the foolish or even the impossible. Back at Academy, there had been a tale of Director Fury sneaking into the Kremlin with only a blanket. That sort of tale tended to get warped and exaggerated over time, but Jasper didn't doubt it was far from the truth. Jasper Sitwell didn't have a blanket. But he did have a spray tan, a ten-day beard, and a head full of dark closely curled hair. He missed having the last of those. But even out of a suit, Jasper was a picture in ordinary. He wore a plain button up shirt and jeans with a tweed blazer and horn-rimmed glasses and walked with the same hurried gait that everyone in DC had. He was late and seemed agitated, letting Coulson arrive and get a table before going in, but he had been scoping the neighbourhood for two hours. There were cops at the end of the block, they had ignored him like he wished he could them. He'd passed a man with military training who was waiting for a bus. But no one gave him the pointed lack of recognition that was most dangerous of all. His heart was racing like he was on mile seventeen as the frazzled professor burst into the small and greasy spoon. Jasper knew where Phil would sit if he had the choice and it wasn't too full that he didn't. But he looked around holding his briefcase close to his chest. Finally he gave a brave and breathless smile to the bored waitress at the counter. "That's my friend." He pointed and ambled over with the clumsy and eager gait of a particularly neurotic labrador retriever. "Sorry. Sorry I'm late." He slid into the booth across from Coulson dropping his briefcase beneath the table and trapping it between his feet, the most dexterous move so far. "The metro's an absolute mess right now. I don't even know why I bother.” To his credit, Jasper actually managed to surprise Phil - although no one watching would have known. It wasn’t a dress, but the look was just enough that Phil might not have given him a second look if they passed on the streets, not unless he was looking for someone who fit the description. “And you were worried,” he chided gently. He had faith in the (slightly) younger agent; neither of them would be where they were if they weren’t able to pull off meetings like this. There was a nearly matching briefcase by Phil's feet, containing the much needed drives and a few other things he thought Jasper and company would need. It was lucky that he'd been able to get to the location of the server in time, and lucky that he'd been able to extract it fast enough. Since then, he'd been keeping it safe where no one would look, as long as he didn't draw any attention to himself. If he and his team got into too much trouble, the bus would be pulled open top to bottom. All the more reason to get rid of it now. "Coffee?" he asked. The news about Cross had been weighing heavily on his mind. Word around SHIELD had been that he was a leak, but Phil didn't buy it. "You look tired. Too many papers to grade?" "Yeah." Jasper drew a breath and ran his hand back through his already ruffled hair, a gesture of settling in and nerves, neither of which actually felt here in the booth with Phil. This was familiar even if quite the levels of trouble he had landed himself in were at least slightly above normal. He glanced to Phil seeing only a neutral approval and a thin line of what he'd guess was worry. The (significantly) older agent was hard to read, even as much as they'd worked together over the years. He shook his head and looked over to the waitress. She was easier to read. By far. And Jasper knew that look. He recognized it from the mirror this morning. He smiled lazily, practically warmly and held up a finger to catch her attention. He gave a nod to order and a point to her. It was such a waste of talents. Jasper watched her for a moment, curious and detached as a cat as she busied herself to go get it and see to the others in the restaurant. Before turning back to his mentor. "And my students are idiots." He didn't care about fake students even if there was as much of Jasper Sitwell in this cover as his tie collection and marathon medals in New York. There had been a time, before his surgeries and the CIA. Before he'd heard of SHIELD, when this had been it. He'd wanted to be that urban professor at breakfast with another man worried about tenure and bills, not invisible enemies and treason. But he could never really put himself out there and there was no going back. Covers were only ever fantasy. So he didn't say any of that. Instead he asked "How's home?" "So are my interns," Phil replied, with much more affection in his voice than he'd heard in Jasper's voice. His - Fitz and Simmons - were busy with adipose, and he couldn't help but make Simmons squirm by telling her to keep track of it. As long as it didn't get into the nooks and crannies of their ride, he didn't mind. It'd keep them busy on the long flights, provided they didn't have any other work to be doing. There was once a time in Phil's own life where his thoughts would have mirrored Jasper's: he'd imagined sharing a house with his cellist on a quiet street in Portland, shopping at organic grocery stores, going to concerts. Then everything had changed. Phil didn't know if he could have ever made that dream a reality, but it had been nice to think about. Phil took a sip of coffee. "Tense. We've been doing some spring cleaning already. Trying to decide what's worth keeping and what we don't need anymore. You know how it is. My landlord's cutting corners all over the place with the remodel. It's a big mess." "Ugh. I hate that. My Co-op board's the opposite, they keep digging and, It seems every time they do, there's another set of problems that comes up. I wanna say leave well enough alone, but I guess those things have a way of getting worse with time." Jasper was vaguely aware of what was going on in SHIELD. The Furies had their ins, most of Jasper's had been frozen or iced. But he knew about the Avengers, and had seen the refugees complaining. "Still the same management company though, right?" "Maybe we should have met for drinks." Jasper shook his head with a rueful grin. He looked down at the menu on the table that had been wiped clean with a rag that might have remembered clean water at some point in its lifespan. He'd been here enough that he didn't need it, and honestly, he'd get the special anyway. It was generic, and it was fast. And as happy as Jasper was to see a familiar and friendly face not through anonymized emails this wasn't a social call. Maybe he wasn't even hungry. "From what I've heard though your interns are good. Just you've got to be careful giving them things in this early period." Jasper was taking a bet on Phil, giving FitzSimmons back their devices not a professional courtesy to his wronged scientists, but as an olive branch of faith in Phil Coulson. If they had reported them stolen and were caught with them or talked about them too publicly, it could cause a heap of trouble on everyone's heads. Most of all Phil's. "I find my TAs are always afraid to ask questions when they start out. Do you?" "Same management company," Phil answered with a sharp nod. "Nothing's changed up top, but I've heard they're cracking down on everyone else. Shame they don't realize that's going to make their jobs harder than they already are." He didn't blame Maria, of course. He trusted that she was doing the best she could under the circumstances, and the microscope she was under. Still, he had to wonder about the orders behind her orders. "I don't like to see good people walked all over." He had a good amount of faith in what some of the refugees brought to the table -- too much, he was sure, if you asked the right person -- but they were pools of knowledge. Fury had understood that. The smirk that crossed Phil's face was brief. "Mine ask too many," he joked, and it was true, but he liked that about FitzSimmons. "But they're smart. I've got my hands full." And truthfully, Phil wouldn't have it any other way. Except, maybe, he wouldn't have dragged them along for this ride. None of them deserved to deal with his baggage right now. "So you've got a place to stay until they're done though." Jasper picked up his own coffee cup which had come in as they had spoken, he paused to flip through the container of sugars and sugar-like products. For Jasper Sitwell, coffee was a religion, which was strange because he'd given up actual religion sometime around the age of nineteen. He favored course burr ground light roast robusta beans long brewed with double stevia. Jimmy T's did not have Stevia. There was enough caffeine in one cup to kill a bull moose. Or stave off a headache. This coffee was probably folgers. Jasper settled for non-dairy creamer. The sacrifices one made for one's country... "I'd offer room at our place but we've had a lot of guests lately." Yeah, the coffee was awful, but it was hot and still coffee. Jasper fell silent a moment. There was a lot he wanted to ask, perhaps all at once. It's not like they anything to communicate even through all the double speak. "Just. Make sure they don't ask about this. I think a lot of people are still pretty mad at me." "Deservedly, but... I don't know." It was a frustrating situation. He didn't need to say that. Besides, it had been some time since either of them had worked with an exit strategy. It could be like that. Jasper huffed to change the tone and looked back up. "I was thinking the special." “Yes, I’m good. They put me up somewhere nice. It should do until this all passes. It’s nice to be able to get away… go somewhere new.” Coulson knew he had to be careful with the Bus: although Hill and Hand trusted him, he wasn’t deep in their pocket as he had been with Fury, and one misstep from his team could land them in a heap of trouble with the Council. Without Fury there to ignore their orders, Phil couldn’t say what would happen. He needed the way out. May and Ward would be fine as long as they never knew anything, and FitzSimmons were both low enough on the totem pole that they’d be overlooked. Jasper looked tired, Phil thought. Understandably so. He wondered how Fury was doing. If he’d discovered anything new about what was going on. The Council was hiding behind London as an excuse for their action, but when would they ever be able to see the good? New York had been the same. Maybe if they’d had all these refugees, New York wouldn’t have almost been wiped clean. “Have whatever you want. It’s on me.” For the first time since Jasper had sat down, Phil’s words weren’t double-talk. He meant it. There was no agenda; he just wanted to reach out and remind Jasper that he still had a friend, that it wasn’t all work. “How’s your dad doing?” "Hanging in there, but it's hard to say." It was an absurd question. None of them had that sort of family, even when and if they were alive: only Nick Fury and one another. Less than that if the occult and distant World Security Council had their say. But even if it was a work relationship, that meant more than familial most days. "He has his good and bad days. But he's seeing a specialist and they're going to do a biopsies later this month. "And you know Dad. Never takes never for an option." There were a few possible answers to a question like that. Jasper was glad Dad wasn't about to put down Millie. Not that terminal illness was a particularly good response. "I'm not that hard off." Truth be told, he probably was. SHIELD had likely frozen, if not seized his assets and accounts, save the cash he had in his crash bag. But even if they hadn't they were inaccessible now. But the olive branch meant more than the five dollars for waffles. Jasper gave a smile of acknowledgement as under the table his foot ran against the wall of his briefcase, nudging it forward. "But if you're buying, the pumpkin pancakes are great here." It was an absurd question, but there was no better way to describe Nick Fury’s relationship to them. Whatever had happened that day he died, Fury had fought to keep Phil alive. He knew that. Before that, Fury had believed in him and trusted him; that kind of faith didn’t just disappear at the drop of a hat. Phil fully expected to still be invited to Thanksgiving dinners at Fury’s mother’s house as long as she was alive. Whatever had happened, Fury, Jasper, and a select few other agents, were all the family Phil had left. “He’s a tough guy. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help him out. I know I’m not close, but I’d like to help.” They’d slipped seamlessly back into the forced double-talk he’d gotten so used to over the years, but what he really wanted to ask couldn’t be said. This was impersonal, and Phil didn’t like that. But it was what had to be done. He just wished they didn’t have to. Phil raised a hand for the waitress and asked for two orders of the pancakes. He wasn’t that hungry, but maybe Jasper could take some to go. His own foot had mirrored Jasper’s as he leaned forward to place the order. They’d done this so many times it was second nature. “We should do this more often." |