#avengers ensemble

“Okay, who ate the last spring roll?” Tony asks with narrowed eyes.

“You made the mistake of leaving it unattended,” Clint says with a Cheshire Cat grin.

“Fuck you,” Tony says.

Clint dodges the empty take away container easily when Tony chucks it at his head. It seems the genius believes he’s the culprit. Well, no sense in wasting a good opportunity to fuck with him. He rests his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands.

“Wasn’t me. It was Phil,” Clint informs him smoothly.

“What? Phil, you son of—… wait, where the hell is he?” Tony asks, looking around their gathering.

“I think he said something about going to bed,” Steve says. The soldier pokes at his lo mein with a frown. “He’s seemed kind of worn out lately.”

“Indeed. The Son of Coul has not seemed quite himself these past weeks,” Thor agrees.

“Well, he’s certainly been sleeping enough,” Bruce comments. “He told me he slept straight through his alarm last week. I advised him to see someone in medical, but he waved me off.”

“Wait a minute,” Tony says. He looks at Clint. “Is he the one who’s been ninja-ing my snacks?”

“Yup,” Clint answers, popping the ‘p’ on the end of the word.

“Son of a bitch,” Tony says. “How?”

“Do you think he’s… depressed or something?” Steve asks.

“He’ll probably call it a cold,” Natasha pipes up. “That’s what he usually goes with.”

“What exactly do you mean by usually?” Bruce presses.

Natasha and Clint share a look. Natasha shakes her head, her red curls bouncing, as Clint just smirks at her. It’s clear the Russian doesn’t want whatever’s got Clint so amused to be let out.

“He’s a werebear,” Clint declares.

The group groans collectively and Clint has to dodge thrown cups and cutlery. He warns them to take him seriously, but they’ve moved on and won’t pay him any mind. None of them seem to notice that Natasha appears quietly pleased by their reaction, save for Clint. He shrugs his shoulders, apparently washing his hands of the situation and they go back to quietly picking apart the spread before them.

Clint wanders into the kitchen a week later, only to find Steve holding a bag if frozen peas to Tony’s face. Apparently Captain America had gone a little overboard during a training session.

“It’s wasn’t Steve,” Tony declares, pushing the super soldier away. He groans, shifting the frozen vegetables. “It was Phil.”

Clint doesn’t bother holding back his amusement. “What did you do?” he asks with a laugh.

“I was just joking!” Tony grouses.

“To be fair, you kind of had it coming,” Steve says with a snort. “Although, Phil’s been a little, well… short lately.”

“Grumpy as hell, you mean,” Tony grumbles. “I remembered the werebear joke you made at dinner the other night and I found him eating a donut while he was doing paperwork. So I walked up behind him and squeezed his stomach and asked if he was packing on the pounds for the winter. He fucking decked me.”

“JARVIS, please tell me you have that recorded,” Clint says, looking nothing short of delighted.

“Of course, Agent Barton. Am I correct in assuming you’d like a copy?”

“JARVIS, why do you always seem to cater to everyone else’s needs before mine?” Tony asks, lowering the bag of peas.

Clint and Steve wince in sympathy. There’s a beauty of a shiner and his eye’s nearly swollen shut.

“He’s sensitive about it. Hates putting on the weight,” Clint declares. “Don’t take it personally.”

“I can’t see out of my left eye,” Tony says flatly.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have grabbed him,” Clint says with a cluck of his tongue, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. “And maybe you should have listened to me.”

Eventually Tony storms off, declaring his intention to get the agent back for his injury, and leaving Steve and Clint alone. Clint munches contentedly on his apple, but Steve looks somewhat conflicted. The archer knows what the soldier’s going to do; he’s going to wait another minute before trying to get Clint to tell him what’s really wrong with Phil. Because he’s the captain and he has to look out for his team. Clint feels briefly guilty about that; he’s been having fun teasing all of them, but Steve’s likely been worrying all the while.

“Clint, I was wondering—“

“He’s a werebear,” Clint says, cutting him off.

Steve crosses his arms over his chest and stares Clint down. Clint patiently continues to chomp on his apple, waiting to see what Steve’s going to say.

“You know, you’re really good at lying,” the captain declares. “Everything I’m getting off you says you’re telling the truth.”

“That’s because I am,” Clint says with a shrug.

“Clint,” Steve sighs. “I know you think it’s funny and if you want to keep the joke up, that’s fine. But I need to watch out for my team. Is there something going on with Phil that I should be concerned about?”

“No,” Clint says. “If you just leave him be he’ll straighten himself out in a few weeks. It happens every winter.”

“Okay. That’s all I need to know,” Steve says.

Watching him walk away, Clint shrugs and grabs another apple. It’s not his fault if they don’t believe him.

“Was today not a period of rest for the Son of Coul?” Thor inquires at dinner.

“Yeah, it was his day off,” Tony says. “So what?”

“You do not find it strange that he has not left his quarters?” Thor presses.

“Sure he has,” Tony answers. He pauses and looks around the table for confirmation. “…he has, right?”

“I haven’t seen him since yesterday,” Steve admits.

“JARVIS, did Phil sneak back into work?” Tony asks.

“No, sir. Agent Coulson is currently asleep in his quarters.”

“Asleep?” Tony echoes. “It’s only six. How long has he been asleep?”

“Approximately twenty-three hours, sir.”

“You mean he’s been in his room for twenty-three hours,” Bruce corrects the AI.

“No, sir. My records indicate that Agent Coulson first fell asleep yesterday at 6:18 p.m. and has not woken since.”

“He’s fine,” Clint says.

“Christ, that’s not fine, Clint,” Steve says, hurriedly pushing away from the table and leaving his seat.

The entire group does the same, rushing from the room and leaving Clint and Natasha at the table. The Russian gives him a particularly unamused look from across the table as she sips at her glass of water. Clint grabs a roll from the basket in the center.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. You think it’s funny, too,” he says.

“It’s funny now,” Natasha says. “But I’m not explaining to Fury why Stark was bear food.”

“Phil wouldn’t do that,” Clint snorts. He picks at the roll. “Would he?”

“You tell me, funny man,” Natasha quips.

“From what I can tell… he’s just sleeping,” Bruce declares.

“Yeah, but he’s not waking up,” Tony points out.

It’s a little awkward, Steve thinks, all of them standing in Phil’s room. They’re gathered in a huddle by the man’s bed. Phil certainly looks as though he’s just sleeping, curled up beneath the sheets with his knees tucked up to his chest. But he hasn’t so much as stirred since they entered the room, not even during Bruce’s examination. Steve lays a hand on the agent’s shoulder over the sheets and crouches by Bruce beside the bed. He can feel each breath Phil takes and notes that they’re steady and even. He doesn’t appear to be in pain. In fact, Phil’s expression is about as relaxed as Steve’s ever seen it.

“He doesn’t seem like anything’s wrong with him,” Steve says.

“We should endeavor to make sense of the matter by contacting Fury,” Thor suggests. “Perhaps he has the answer we seek.”

“At the very least we should tell him what’s up,” Tony says, scratching the back of his neck.

Contacting Fury leaves them more perplexed than before. The director informs them that there’s nothing wrong with the agent, per se, and they should leave him alone. In fact, he suggests they lock the man in his quarters and wait until he emerges himself. When they demand that he tell them exactly what’s going on, he suggests they talk to Clint and Natasha. He promptly hangs up and further attempts to contact him go unanswered.

Reluctantly, they take Fury’s advice at Clint and Natasha’s insistence. Though the two continually tell them not to worry, it’s really all they can do. The situation takes a turn for the worse when Pepper returns from a conference in California.

“Did any of you hear that noise?” Bruce asks, squinting.

“Yeah. It kinda sounded like a—“

“Tony of all the stupid things you could do, this is by far the absolute epitome of stupidity,” Pepper yells as she suddenly emerges from the lift, running out of it looking like she’s scared out of her wits. “Are you trying to kill Phil? Or me?”

“What, what, what? Pep, calm down,” Tony implores, holding his hands up defensively as Pepper looks near to having a panic attack. “What are you talking about?”

“I went to check on Phil,” Pepper says. Clint groans as she catches her breath. “Why, for the love of god, did you put a bear in his room? And where is he?”

“A bear!?” Steve exclaims, looking hurriedly between Pepper and Clint. His eyes widen suddenly as he stares at the archer, a growing look of horror making its way to his face. “…no.”

“I told you I was telling the truth,” Clint says. “None of you wanted to listen.”

“I told him it was better if you didn’t know,” Natasha says with a shrug. “Too late for that now.”

“Didn’t know what?” Pepper asks.

Clint sighs loudly. “For the last time, he’s a werebear. Pepper, he didn’t mean whatever he did. He’s not himself when he’s like this and he’s probably embarrassed that you had to see him that way.”

They all stare silently at Clint and the archer can tell by the look in their eyes that they’re currently trying to assess just when exactly he bought a pass for the crazy train. He looks to Natasha imploringly. The Russian woman looks thoughtful for a moment before walking towards the lift.

“Come on. Let’s go see him and straighten this out,” she says.

They follow her, all of them looking incredibly perplexed but wanting an answer all the same. When they reach Phil’s floor, Natasha stops them, holding up a hand to halt their progress.

“Let Clint and I head the group,” she tells them. “We’ve seen him like this before and he’s not going to like the fact that we’ve brought all of you up here.”

“We’re not seriously going with this, are we?” Tony asks, looking to the group at large. No one answers him. “Okay, I guess we’re seriously going with this.”

The entire floor is darkened, with blinds drawn and lights dimmed. Unsurprisingly, they’re lead to the bedroom and even though they’ve been told what to expect to find in there, none of them are exactly prepared when they open the door. Clint turns on the low light and they catch movement from the far corner. The entire bed—frame and all—is overturned and propped against the wall, the falling sheets creating something like a fort. They hear snorting and from beneath the structure, a massive grizzly bear emerges.

Catching sight of them, its lip curls up in a snarl and it raises itself on its hind legs. They unconsciously take a step backward as the bear threatens them with a deafening rawr. Clint doesn’t seem phases at all, and instead walks towards the creature as it drops back down, still huffing and growling angrily.

“Phil, come on, knock it off,” the archer demands.

The bear growls loudly, swiping at Clint with a massive paw. Clint dodges the fearsome claws and, to their great surprise, smacks the bear on the noise. The bear moans, his ears laid flat against his skull as he covers his muzzle with a paw.

“We talked about this,” Natasha says, walking up beside Clint. “You knew you couldn’t keep it a secret forever.”

The bear backs away, scooting back towards the overturned bed, huffing in agitation. He seems torn between wanting to hide beneath the bed once again and staying out in the open with them.

“That is you Phil, isn’t it?” Pepper asks, gaining enough courage to pull away from Tony’s side. She looks back to the group before pointing. “Look. There, in his fur.”

At Pepper’s instruction, they do look. The bear, seeming to notice what they’re looking for, shifts anxiously, growling and huffing and generally sounding quite displeased as he moves around. All his shifting allows them a good view of what Pepper’s trying to get them to see. There are two spots where the thick brown fur will not grow in—a line running down the left side of the bear’s chest and a slightly larger, matching line along the ridge of his back. He turns his back to them and proceeds to plop down and curl up, snuffling unhappily.

“Phil, if that’s really you, it’s okay,” Steve says coaxingly, taking a step forward along with Pepper. “We’re surprised, but it’s not the strangest thing we’ve seen, right?”

“Hey, if we had a problem with people turning into big, hulking monsters, Bruce wouldn’t be here, would he?” Tony asks with a shrug.

“You’re a good friend, Tony,” Bruce says flatly. He sighs and looks to the big, furry lump curled in the corner. “What I think Tony is trying to say is that we just wish you had felt comfortable telling us. You’re hardly the strangest one in this bunch.”

“It is a most impressive form,” Thor says. “You should take pride in it.”

“See? No reason to be embarrassed. Now stop being a baby,” Clint says, prodding the bear’s rump with the toe of his boot.

Phil lifts his head, snorting in agitation. But he gets to his feet and turns to face them. He hangs his head, making a low, guilty noise, but doesn’t protest when Clint turns the overhead light all the way up so they can get a good look at him. He still shifts anxiously, crossing his front paws where he lies, much like Phil always crosses his arms in front of him. If they had any doubt left, it’s quickly erased when the bear looks up at them with a pair of blue-grey eyes that couldn’t really belong to anyone else but their resident agent.

“So,” Tony says with a slow nod. “Werebear.”

“Werebear it is,” Steve agrees with an easy shrug.

If they had been any other group of people, this wouldn’t have gone over so smoothly. Watching Phil apologetically nose at Pepper’s hand when she draws near, Clint decides he’s really, really glad they’re not any other group of people.

It’s another two weeks before they get the agent back. Phil smothers a low groan where he’s curled up on the sofa. Steve offers him a sympathetic look when Clint comes over with antacids.

“Not an easy transition, then,” Steve notes.

“It’s like every bad hangover I’ve ever had all at once,” Phil mumbles.

“Yeah, but it’s kind of cool you can turn into a bear,” Tony says. “I was thinking of making you our mascot.”

“I get fat and grumpy and turn into an animal. There’s nothing cool about it, Mr. Stark,” Phil says, making a face as he sits up and swallows the chalky antacids. He drops his head into his hands. “And if you do that, please remember that my threat to tase you still stands.”

“You’re not fat,” Steve assures him. “You were pretty grumpy though.”

“And sensitive. You get so sensitive, I swear it’s like every emotion you don’t have on the job comes pouring out,” Clint says with a laugh. “Like right now and the fact that you’re complaining about putting on a few pounds.”

Clint’s nearly in hysterics as Phil growls at him for the comment and promptly blushes at the noise he’s made. The agent clears his throat, looking heartily embarrassed.

“It, uh… takes a while to fully wear off,” he says.

“Whatever you say, Gentle Ben,” Tony teases. “Also you owe me for all the snacks you stole when I wasn’t looking.”