2. Chapter 2

Steve did not fall in love with Agent Phil Coulson in the months following the funeral. He was too busy adjusting to the modern world and being an Avenger and secretly working on his art. It was hard not to think about Coulson, though, with the way Clint "Hawkeye" Barton went around looking perpetually devastated.

Steve invited Clint to baseball games with him, and even though they were stuck in Stark's private box they still got to eat too many cheap hot dogs while yelling at the umpires. He went and tracked Barton down whenever Bruce (and it was always Bruce) declared a team movie night, because Clint usually tried to back out. Steve preferred training with Clint because he was a sneaky, dirty fighter and that was the kind of fighting Steve needed practice with, since strength wasn't really an issue. But Clint still remained at arm's length most of the time.

Then they discovered that they were both motorcycle men, and that changed everything.

"So this is my girl! She's a little old but she's rock steady and flies like a jet." Clint patted his motorcycle affectionately. "She's a Honda CBR1000RR, 2005. Custom paint job. I, uh, get her scratched up sometimes." He bobbed his head. "Never mean too. She's my baby."

Steve was still getting used to Japanese manufacturing companies being standard fare, even high-end fare, for motorcycles so he just smiled. He had to admit the bike looked a lot like a folded up bright purple quinjet, ready to take flight at any second.

They were down in the bowls of the Stark (Avengers) Tower garage. Steve studied the bike for a moment. "When was the last time you took her out?"

Clint rubbed the seat. "Not for a while. Not since…well, me and Phil used to ride together a lot, you know?"

"Oh. Sorry." Steve rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to spend any time thinking about charming, kick-ass Agent Coulson on a motorbike.

"No! It's okay. I should probably get a ride in." He took a deep breath.

"We'll go together. Although I don't think we'll match." Steve waved a hand over at his SHIELD-customized Harley-Davidson Sportster. It was a modern machine through and through but at least reminded Steve of his old war-time Harley, despite riding a lot smoother. He was very impressed with the advances made in suspension.

Clint eyed it. "Can you go fast?"

Steve smiled, the thrill of the chase already warming his blood. "Try and keep up."

"Then we'll match perfectly." Clint grinned.

After the first couple of weeks of the two of them disappearing for hours at a time on long rides, Pepper gave them matching leather jackets emblazoned with a ridiculous logo full of arrows and American flags that proclaimed them "The Avenging Angels". Eventually, Natasha showed up out of nowhere on a brand new, black and red MV Agusta F4, which Clint called "sex on wheels" and Steve tried not to have inappropriate thoughts about in mixed company. She took turns like a devil and Steve found himself relying on the long-range reliability of his Harley to win any races.

Natasha's Avenging Angels jacket showed up a week later. Tony tried to pretend he wasn't jealous.

They rode together and trained together and every once in while compared "how horrible was your orphanage" stories, but Steve never asked Clint about Coulson. He didn't have to, because Clint talked about him all the time.

"…so, you know, Coulson grabs this bag of flour and nails that asshole in the face!" Clint was laughing hard and Steve was already clutching his side. They were both in tears, and the story wasn't even done yet. "No really! Someone put the security tape footage on youtube! Oh God!" Clint fell over on the couch laughing, finishing the story of 'Phil stops a robbery' in between gasping breaths of air, barely getting out the final line about Phil taking both kinds of donuts before driving away. They rolled onto the floor laughing, and Steve felt his face going beet red.

"I swear to god, that asshole, he always drove away smelling like roses," Clint wiped his face as he tried to calm his breathing. "Until, you know."

The reminder of Coulson's death sobered them up a little. "I wish I could have gotten to know him better. Sounds like my kind of soldier."

Clint settled back against the couch, legs splayed on the floor. "Because he worshiped you. His first thought was always 'what would Steve Rogers do?' He read everything he could get his hands on about you. You're the reason he joined the damn Army in the first place."

Steve nodded, always a little embarrassed to be reminded of Coulson's admiration of him. "Rangers, right?"

Clint nodded proudly. "Bad ass mother fucker."

Steve smiled. Clint talked about Coulson the same way Steve thought about Bucky; that pain, still raw, was starting to scar over. Memories hurt but they also healed. "How long were you two, uh, together?"

Clint frowned at the question for a second before his expression cleared. "I guess we were, weren't we? Matched set, even before Nat showed up. Huh. About ten years."

Steve's heart broke for Clint again. He folded his hands in his lap. "I never said, but I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks. I mean, it's hard. He was family." Clint rubbed the back of his neck.

Steve nodded, and then Tony came in and bitched at them about something to do with something, which only Tony seemed to understand.

Life went on, and before Steve knew it, he had been in the future for over six months. He was close friends with Clint and Bruce, and had great working relationships with Tony, Natasha, Thor, and the always mysterious Spider Man kid. He still missed Bucky and Peggy and even Howard (occasionally, although Tony always reminded him why every Stark could be a pain in the ass most of the time). Steve had therapy and his "cultural re-integration" classes and occasionally, they all assembled to save the world.

And then everything changed.

The call to assemble was familiar enough, but this time they were told to forgo their uniforms/battle armor/suits/gadgets and just report to SHIELD medical at the New York offices. Fury himself met them at the entrance to the medical ward, along with what looked like a platoon of heavily armed SHIELD agents. Steve was the official team leader so while Tony complained Steve stepped forward.

"Sir?" He tipped his head at the armed agents ringing around them.

"They're for me, Captain," Fury ground out through clinched teeth.

Even Natasha looked confused, which said a lot to Steve.

"What? You've been compromised?" Tony sniped, standing a little behind Steve.

"Shut your damn mouth and follow me." Fury turned on his heel and walked off, his armed guard smart in his wake. Steve shrugged and motioned for the Avengers to follow as well, although he tried to put himself between them and Fury just in case.

Deep inside the building, they walked up a set of stairs into what was clearly an observation deck, although the windows angled out over into a room below were blacked out. Fury nodded at his guard, who all stood around the walls trying not look intimidated by the Avengers. Steve kind of felt sorry for them.

"This was my idea. It's on me, and I understand this is going to affect our working relationship. What I want you to keep in mind is that I did not intend to keep things going quite this long, but there were complications."

Clint and Natasha threw each other dark looks, and Steve squared his shoulders.

"Whatever it is, sir, I'm sure we can all come to some kind of understanding." Steve was absolutely positive that when the glass cleared he was going to see Loki on the other side, so he was unprepared to look down into the small private medical suite to find Agent Phil Coulson sitting in bed, reading a book.

It took Steve, Thor, and three guards to pull Clint off of Fury, but by that time both men had blood streaked over the glass. Phil looked up at the thumping noises, frowning, but the glass was obviously one-way and he had no idea what had just happened.

Natasha spit on Fury as she walked out after Clint to go visit Coulson. Tony, looking genuinely rattled, sat down in one of the chairs while a medic argued with Fury about stitches to his ear. Bruce had simply disappeared, which was always the best-case scenario in stressful situations. Steve stood next to Thor, watching the reunion below them.

"It is good to have regained such an honorable man into our ranks, but I dislike Director Fury's subterfuge," Thor said softly. In the room, a shell-shocked Coulson wrapped his arms around Clint, who was sitting on the bed, his face shoved into Coulson's chest, his shoulders heaving with sobs. Natasha had one hand on Clint's back and another on Phil's face, and she looked both sad and furious.

"Let's give them some privacy." Steve hit the control that clouded up the glass again.