Chapter Text
Phil has worked for Nick Fury for a long time. Over the years, he’s picked up the giveaways, the tells, the signs Fury gives off without realizing it.
Today is not a good day.
If Phil had to guess, he’d say that Nick and the Council have been at it again.
He’s not wrong.
“Long story short,” Nick says, and Phil detects a certain weariness in his voice, “The Council has made a decision that I need to abide by, but strongly disagree with.”
They are in Nick’s office, and Phil is standing calmly in front of the desk. He’s got a bad feeling about this, because the last time that Nick had strongly disagreed with the Council, there had been a nuke aimed for New York.
“I’m going to have to go through with this,” Nick says, “But for the record, I’m hoping it doesn’t last long.”
“Just spit it out,” Phil says, and it’s true that not many people would take the liberty to be so flippant with Director Fury, but Phil figures he’s earned the right to be a little bit snarky.
“The Council fears that you’re unable to remain objective where the Avengers are concerned. Frankly, they’ve been on my ass about this for a while, but it seems that the Banner abduction was the last straw. You’ve been temporarily suspended as the Avengers’ handler.”
Phil is actually stunned for a moment, because when it comes down to it, he’s been part of the Initiative since before it technically existed. “Sir, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Trust me, Coulson, I know damn well that it isn’t a good idea. It’s been taken out of my hands.”
There is a loaded silence in the room.
Nick says tiredly, “How are they going to take the news?”
Phil is too mature to be angry, and the Council has a point. He’s nothing if not professional, so he tells Nick that Tony will probably whine, Steve will quietly disapprove, Thor may be hard to handle, although not intentionally, Bruce will not talk to the new handler directly for a while, Natasha will treat him or her with cold indifference, and Clint will have a blank look on his face during debriefs and will likely ignore orders during missions like he usually does.
And Phil knows that he’s put on his standard-bland-government-suit act, and he knows that Nick won’t be fooled, but he’s upset and figures that Fury has a right to know that.
“I’d like you to be in the room when I tell them,” Nick says.
Phil gives a curt nod.
* * *
“What the fuck, Fury,” Tony says, pissed. “Absolutely not.”
Phil glances over at him, and he’s standing in that fuck-you-I’m-Tony-Stark way he has, with his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted aggressively and his sharp brown eyes flashing. He’s looking for a fight, Phil sees, and that won’t be helpful. “Mr. Stark,” he says quietly. “Director Fury didn’t make this decision.”
Tony looks at him sharply when he calls him Mr. Stark, because Phil hasn’t called him that since their earliest days. In deference to Phil, Tony shuts up, and Phil has to wonder when that started happening.
“I’m not entirely comfortable with this either, Director,” Steve says evenly, in a voice that’s approaching his Captain America persona but isn’t quite there yet.
Fury says, “I’m not entirely concerned with what you are or aren’t comfortable with. The world needs saving, and you can do it without Agent Coulson.”
“I beg to differ,” Natasha says, her voice and eyes flat.
Phil takes a brief look around the room, and realizes that this conversation is going to get nowhere with the Avengers in their current frames of mind.
So he says, “Director, if we could have a moment?”
Nick looks at him with narrowed eye, nods, and steps out of his office. Highly irregular, but then again, everything about the Avengers is irregular.
As soon as Fury is out of the office, the team bursts into protests. Or rather, Tony bursts into protest, with Thor adding his opinion occasionally and Steve agreeing emphatically. Bruce has his eyes closed, lips tight. Natasha is fiddling with her hands, which she only does when she’s upset, and when she speaks there is the slightest trace of a Russian accent. And Clint has not said a word since the meeting has started, which is very uncharacteristic and a very bad sign.
Phil lets them talk for a while, and allows himself to feel a little surprised and gratified that the Avengers think so highly of him. He’s not so blind as to ignore the fact that he is as good as it gets, but it’s nice to know that they think so.
When they quiet down a little, Phil raises his voice, and they all pay attention because Phil rarely, if ever, raises his voice. “I know this isn’t optimal,” he says, “But neither Director Fury nor I believe it will last very long.” Phil doesn’t voice his own concerns, because he needs them to accept this, and telling them that he’s worried too won’t get that done.
“If it’s all the same to you all,” he continues, “I’d like to keep living in the tower-”
And Tony interrupts, saying, “Jesus, of course you’re going to stay in the tower, do you think we’re going to throw you onto the street?”
Phil wouldn’t, of course, have ended up on the street. He has two secure safe houses within twenty miles of here, and two more within fifty, not including his S.H.I.E.L.D. quarters. But he really does prefer to stay with his team, even if they aren’t technically his anymore.
“All right, then,” Phil says. “I’ll help where I can, but I’m not officially your handler and liaison anymore.”
“Who is?” Bruce asks warily.
And Phil does allow his displeasure to show this time, because he had fought Fury hard on this and lost, because he’d pushed hard for Sitwell or Woo, or even Hill because the Avengers at least respected all three senior agents. But Fury had refused to appoint all three, Sitwell and Woo on the grounds that they were too close to Coulson, and Hill on the grounds that she had other, more pressing responsibilities than a group of dysfunctional superheroes.
He understands the power the World Security Council holds, understands that sometimes Fury has to acquiesce to their wishes. But Fury has no excuse for appointing an agent that Phil doesn’t know, that none of the Avengers know, to be their handler and liaison.
If things go pear-shaped, it will be this that he holds against the director.
“I don’t know much about him,” Phil admits. “Agent Charles Levine. Mid-thirties. Former Navy SEAL. Very competent, from what I’ve heard.” (Also very volatile, and not used to being disobeyed, is what Phil doesn’t tell them. Why Fury thinks the Avengers will work with him, Phil doesn’t know.)
There is a tense silence.
“Give him a fair chance,” Phil says.
“Fine,” Tony says. “But a hundred bucks that he doesn’t last a week.”
Steve gives a curt nod.
Bruce says, “I’ll try. No promises from the other guy.” And it’s true, the Hulk is known to take orders from Phil in the field, but even that took a few months to accomplish.
Thor says (or rather, booms), “I shall endeavor to accept this new shield-brother into our group, although I fear he will not be so adept in the field as the Son of Coul.”
Natasha gives a shrug.
And Clint does exactly nothing, neither confirms nor denies that he will work with Levine, but Phil holds his gaze and eventually his chin dips once in agreement.
“Levine would like to hold a team meeting tomorrow to introduce himself. 0900. Don’t be late,” Phil says. “You’re all dismissed.”
They all leave, and Phil is actually about to go sit behind the desk before he realizes that he isn’t in his own office.
He somewhat sheepishly follows the others out.
* * *
“Clint,” Phil tries.
Clint shrugs at him. “It’s fine. Like you said, it won’t last long. And you’ll still be watching us. Don’t even pretend you won’t.”
That’s true. But it’s also true that the last time Clint had had a handler who wasn’t Phil or Sitwell, he’d ended up a hostage of a HYDRA-linked terrorist cell for six weeks. And the time before that doesn’t even bear mentioning. (But there had been severe repercussions, including seven agents being dismissed from S.H.I.E.L.D.)
But what choice does he have?
“All right,” he says, and tries to ignore the feeling in his gut that says this will not end well.
* * *
It’s strange to watch the team leave the tower and head for S.H.I.E.L.D. without him.
It’s even stranger to realize that he’s caught up on paperwork and doesn’t really have anything to do.
“J.A.R.V.I.S.?” Phil asks at precisely 0900. “Do you still have access to S.H.I.E.L.D. security cameras?”
“Of course, Agent Coulson,” J.A.R.V.I.S. says, sounding faintly insulted that Phil would have to ask. “Would you like to watch the meeting with Agent Levine?”
Phil kind of winces, because it’s sort of sad that it’s come to this already, him spying on the Avengers and their new handler, but he says, “Yes, please.”
J.A.R.V.I.S. obliges, pulling up the video feed onto Phil’s tablet.
Phil takes in the scene and stifles a groan, because the body language in the room is less than encouraging.
New guy is almost as tall as Steve, and almost as broad. Dark hair, cool grey eyes. And he is up in Tony’s face already. Bad sign.
There’s no audio to go with the video, but Phil’s a good lip reader. And he can mostly tell what Levine is saying.
I don’t care who the fuck you are. You will obey orders without complaint. I don’t give a fuck whether you have daddy issues or debilitating flashbacks every time water hits you in the face. All I care about is that you listen to what I tell you in the field. Understood?
Tony actually flinches, and Steve aggressively shoves himself between the two men, protective as always.
His phone beeps, and he checks. From Natasha. He’s awful. Steve is about to deck him.
Phil’s lip twitches. Check up and to your left, he replies.
He watches the feed as Natasha surreptitiously checks in the direction he indicated, sees her smirk into the camera.
His phone beeps again. This is not going to end well.
No, he replies. I don’t think it will.
There is a sudden flurry of activity on the screen as Levine turns to Bruce and Thor abruptly slams Mjolnir into the table, cracking it.
Phil reads the words from his lips. Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. You overstep your boundaries. The warrior Bruce is thrice the man you could ever strive to be.
Bruce’s left hand is clenching and unclenching, an easy tell for Phil. Bruce is stressed, and shoving away anger.
Natasha and Clint both see too, and Phil nods in approval as Clint deliberately places himself between Bruce and Levine, relaxed but ready for trouble.
Phil can’t see Levine’s face now, but he sees Clint’s. Clint isn’t saying anything, and his eyes are so, so, blank.
He wants to punch something.
Actually, he may go up to the headquarters and punch Fury.
But he’s supposed to be a professional, so he texts Natasha. Don’t do anything stupid.
Her reply is immediate. If this meeting lasts for five more minutes, there will be one less living person in this room and I will be a fugitive again.
Fine, Phil texts back.
Then he racks his brain. He needs to end this meeting now, apparently.
“J.A.R.V.I.S.? Do you have access to the alarm systems?”
“No, Agent Coulson, I do not. I can look into it for future occasions.”
“Okay,” Phil says absently. Plan B. Darcy.
He calls his office. As expected, Darcy picks up.
“Hey, boss-man. What’s up? Why’re you calling me? You know I don’t like talking on the phone.”
“I need you to trip some kind of alarm. A fire alarm, or a carbon monoxide one,” Phil says.
There is silence on the other end as Darcy processes this request. “Okay,” she says finally, “But you’re going to explain later. By the way, why aren’t you in today?”
“The Director suggested I take a day off,” Phil says. “Just, go do what I asked. Try not to make it too obvious and I’ll buy you cupcakes tomorrow.”
“You got it, boss,” Darcy says. “Man, I love this job.”
Phil watches the meeting room, and less than a minute later, Tony bolts out the door, the others close behind him.
His phone beeps. From Clint. Thanks.
* * *
Agent Charles Levine, Phil realizes, is a bit of a sociopath, more than a little insensitive, and simply could not give a damn about this team.
Phil doesn’t like him, although he’s honest enough with himself to admit that he never gave Levine a chance.
It makes him feel better, though, when Darcy comes crashing into his office one day with lunch from their favorite Chinese restaurant and snarls, “I swear, Phil, if Levine says one more fucking thing to Bruce about the Hulk being a ‘menace,’ he and I are going to have a conversation, and it will include Tony’s newest taser. I will not hesitate to electrocute the man into next week. Asshole.”
Phil looks up from the report he’s reviewing to see an extremely displeased Darcy sprawled across his couch.
“Come eat with me,” she growls. “I need to eat away my anger.”
“Stress eating isn’t good for you,” he says evenly, but comes out from behind the desk.
“Oh, this is not stress,” Darcy says. “This is anger-eating. This is I-need-this-Levine-guy-the-fuck-away-from-us eating.” She stabs her chopsticks into the lo mein with more gusto than strictly necessary.
Phil doesn’t bother asking what happened, because he knows that Darcy will fume for five to ten more minutes before telling the story. He just calmly reaches for his own pair of chopsticks and goes for the kung pao shrimp and steamed rice.
Sure enough, six minutes into their meal, Darcy says, “So, this morning, I was sitting at the table with Bruce and Natasha, and really it was turning out to be a nice breakfast, and then Agent Dickhead calls and asks Bruce could he please come into headquarters to discuss the civilian casualties his “mindless alter-ego” caused during last month’s AIM attack. I thought Natasha was going to order a hit on him then and there.”
Phil says, “I took care of the AIM paperwork. None of it was Bruce’s fault.”
Darcy narrows her eyes. “Of course you took care of it, because you’re scarily competent and an awesome person, but Levine just wants to fuck with Bruce and we all know it.”
Phil does know, and he’s already mentioned it to Fury. Fury, however, had just glared and said that the Avengers were big kids and would learn to deal with it. Phil had accepted the answer, but he also knows that if any of them get hurt unnecessarily because Levine is being careless or too ruthless, he will not accept this answer from Fury.
“If it helps,” Phil says, “He probably won’t last long.”
Darcy stares at Phil, and her eyes hold none of the mischief and laughter they usually do. “It’s already been too long,” she says. “Or haven’t you noticed? Bruce won’t leave his room, Tony hasn’t come out of his lab in days, and Clint only moves through the air ducts. Pepper’s gotten into three shouting matches with him. Natasha won’t speak to Levine unless he asks her a direct question, and even Thor spends more time with Jane here at headquarters than at the tower. Steve spends all his time beating up punching bags. I haven’t tased Levine yet, but he’s got it coming to him if he keeps this up.”
Phil looks at her sharply, because Darcy is far, far more observant than she lets on, and Phil knows this, but it’s still jarring to realize how much she notices about the team.
“I’ll talk to Clint and Natasha,” Phil says. “And Steve.”
Darcy makes a face at him. “Leave me with the difficult ones,” she says, but without any force.
“Thor’s not difficult,” Phil says, face completely straight.
“Shut up,” Darcy says, sighing. “Operation: Comfort Avengers is a go.”