#shieldrecruiter

@shieldrecruiter

Tony had genuinely grieved for Coulson. The Agent was a guy who had been with him since the start of his Iron Man voyage, who had been present and helped keep Pepper safe when Obadiah was still a threat, and who had, albeit in less than complimentary fashion, been the representative who did his best to make sure he lived. Natasha didn’t count, not for that, because Coulson never lied about being an Agent, and he respected that.

So nearly four years of history, of working with the man both before and after becoming a consultant... Well. The only ones on the team who might have more claim to being upset about the men were the two agents in the collection, even if he didn’t do much in the way of sharing his sadness over him with them.

Instead, he’d helped defeat the guy who killed him, then did his best to move on. That lasted all of two years, and then those files. Steve and Natasha had done a hell of a number on the world with their little dump and dash maneuver, and Tony had spent weeks trying to clean it up. It was enough to see there were files on Coulson, though how they were marked was weird and he’d put it out of his mind in favor of a much bigger, and more important disaster.

The next time he’d looked, those files had been gone. 

And then life happened, Ultron, the fight... Which was what he was rebuilding from now, doing his best to recover and rebuild, focused on the project he’d started shortly after the temporary base he’d built out of a storage facility was done. He’d never want to live there after all, and he’d known that. It was a temporary measure until he could get something bigger and better off the ground.

The fact that most of the people he’d wanted the facility for were suddenly just... not around anymore because of their own rather skewed perception on a fact of people, well. Nothing for it but to move ahead. 

Of course, that there were tips, hints, and even cautious inroads to try to bridge the gaps when he wasn’t looking...

JARVIS would have told him immediately. FRIDAY, young as she was, took a little longer to notice, and to bring Tony in on the oddities. To SHIELD and the messes they’d been making.

To Coulson. 

He didn’t show up the way any normal guy would of course. He was Tony Stark, he didn’t do normal. Instead, he waited for the man to show in public, then simply sat down across from him, staring at him with a stern, level gaze as he took in his health, the way his face had changed in little ways in the years since he’d seen him last. The fact that he seemed more expressive, of all things. 

Being dead had clearly been good for the man. 

[Closed starter for @shieldrecruiter]

"Okay, calm down, Walt Disney," Amelia began, cutting off the wedding planner's angry rant to her suggestion about a pre-nuptial agreement, not even paying attention to the fact that the bride and groom left the room, seeing the two were (most likely) going to get into a lengthy argument ("Thai food?" "Thai food" had been the ending conversation).

Steve leaned against the pillar while he sipped his coffee. It was early morning. The sun was just coming through the windows of the Starbucks. He thought the fancy coffee was silly, but he did like their regular stuff enough to fork over a couple of bucks for it. It was also a good place to meet his new partner away from the shop—where he could really find out what made Phil Coulson tick.

He checked his watch although it wasn’t really necessary. Coulson wasn’t late. Steve was early. It was a dominance game he’d learned long ago in college when dealing with the rich assholes in his fraternity. Pushing off the pillar once he saw Coulson heading his way, Steve grabbed one of the tiny tables for two with its chessboard pattern and sat his coffee down.

“Coulson,” he said with a bright smile while the other took a seat. “Thought we should have some coffee and sniff each other’s butts before I fly us out of here tonight. What made someone like you interested in a government job?” Which was better than openly asking about SHIELD, especially since Phil didn’t look like the dangerous type let alone a spy.

If there was one thing Melinda had found, it was that being a SHIELD recruit left you with very little free time. Not that she’d been surprised at that - having grown up with a mom in the CIA had given her a pretty good idea of the demands of life as an agent. Even so, it was a welcome respite whenever they did manage to grab an evening such as this to themselves and just relax and unwind for a few hours.

As the clock ticked past midnight and into the early hours of the morning, people at last began to filter off back to their own rooms until Melinda was the only one left, apart from the sleeping Phil Coulson. The credits of the last movie started to roll and she stood up from the couch, stretching a little as she crossed the room to switch the TV off. Then she turned to face the arm chair where Phil had yet to stir.

  1, 3, 8, 11, 14

Phil would like to disagree with that last statement. Also he says Tony is absolutely not allowed to go on a road trip with Thor or Hawkeye or Stark

@shieldrecruiter

There were worse things, Tony supposed, than a government agency making their name ridiculously long for the soul purpose of their acronym being SHIELD. For instance, they could show up unannounced on draft day, standing in the corners of the room, far away from the cameras, watching everyone. 

Tony had already said no to SHIELD, told them that he was pursuing a career in football, not working for some shadow agency. He’d thought that would be enough to get them off his back, to get them leaving him alone. He had told them he wasn’t interested, after all. They wouldn’t force him to join them... would they? The men currently standing just to the left of the stage where draft day was about to start said otherwise.

Sighing, Tony got up from his table, shaking his head at Coach Cooper. He moved towards the SHIELD agents, heading straight for the one who looked like he was in charge. Rocking back on his heels as he came to stop, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his suit pants.