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The small bottle of scotch on his desk is the first thing Phil sees when he wakes up in his quarters at The Playground – mainly because he knows it wasn't there when he went to bed.
He knows he should probably be alarmed by the idea of someone in his quarters while he is sleeping and vulnerable, but he is good friends with some of the best spies in the world. They consider it practice to sneak past his alarms and his defenses, and experts in espionage or not, they wouldn't get by him if he didn't already trust them.
Picking up the little bottle of Laphroig 18, he cradles it in his hands with a smile before tucking it into a desk drawer. Melinda will be by to share it with him sooner or later. Their reminiscing is done silently these days, but he looks forward to her quietly drinking him under the table.
He showers and dresses quickly, setting out to find his team. A few other agents have made their way to The Playground, rescued here and there by Phil's team, or on their own. Many – too many – were left out in the cold when SHIELD fell, and all of them weigh heavily on Phil's shoulders. Base is getting full -- everyone is sharing quarters except Phil, in deference to his role as director, and Koenig, because he's base command.
He smells something delicious coming from the kitchen – somewhat of a rarity – and he perks up. His standard diner birthday breakfast with Jasper is on hold while the other man recovers from injuries incurred while undercover for Fury, and Phil had resigned himself to cold cereal.
"Good morning," he says as he heads for the coffee maker.
Trip and Jemma are at one table, heads bent together. Skye is busy at the stove, and May is nowhere to be found, but she usually takes the morning to herself when the team is on base. The three members of his team look up with smiles and greetings. There are a couple of other agents in the corner bent over cereal bowls, and they give him pleasant nods.
"Good, you're up!" Skye says brightly behind him as he's getting coffee, and he turns, pulling up short just in time to avoid running into her.
She thrusts a tray in his face, and Phil takes an appreciative sniff.
The pancakes are little lopsided, but they're golden brown and glistening with blueberries, and they smell heavenly.
"Happy birthday, DC!" she says with a grin.
He smiles as he takes the tray. "Thank you, Skye. It wasn't necessary, but I appreciate it."
"Wasn't necessary?" she repeats, raising an eyebrow. "Uh, yeah, it kinda was. 50 is something to celebrate!"
Phil winces at the reminder, and Skye shrugs, knocking his shoulder with hers.
"Better than not reaching 50, right?"
In lieu of answering, Phil forks up a bite of pancakes. "These are wonderful, Skye, thank you."
She beams at him as she sets plates in front of Trip and Simmons before sitting down with her own.
"Happy birthday, sir," Jemma says, handing him a card. "We all signed it."
"Thank you, Jemma," he says with a smile as he takes it from her.
"Leo wanted to sign it," she says softly, "but we're still working on his fine motor skills."
The smile she gives him is more brave than anything, and he smiles reassuringly back at her even as his own heart aches. "He'll get there," he says, and she nods.
"He did tell me to wish you a very happy birthday."
"Thank him for me," Phil tells her. Though they have all been to see Fitz, at the moment he is only comfortable talking to Jemma, embarrassed by his slurred speech and occasional aphasia. He is well on the road to recovery, but it will be quite a while yet before he can join them in this fight.
"I will, sir."
Trip shifts uneasily in his seat, drawing Phil's attention to him.
"Once Skye told us your birthday was coming up, I had my mom look through some old stuff," Trip tells him, and Phil's heart jumps in excitement, though he remains outwardly calm.
"Oh?" he says, and judging by the way Jemma and Skye grin at each other, maybe he's not as calm as he's trying to be.
"Gramps was real leery of his personal stuff getting passed around by strangers, so a lot of his stuff is still up in our attic. But I think if he knew you, he'd be okay with you having this. Happy birthday, sir."
The photo he hands Phil is framed but unwrapped, and Phil's breath catches in his throat. It's a group shot, taken around the table in a bar somewhere in Europe – Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes sit in the center, Gabe Jones to Rogers' left, Jim Morita to Barnes' right, the rest of the Commandos ranged behind them. They are all smiling.
It's a wonderful photo, and not one Phil has seen before – and Phil has seen every Howling Commandos photo that has ever come to light.
He stares at Trip, open-mouthed, for a moment.
"Antoine, thank you," he says eventually. "This is wonderful!"
Trip shrugs. "It's just a scanned print, not the original. Mom still has that."
"Still – it's – thank you."
He puts out his hand, but before the other man can shake, the base perimeter alarm goes off.
Phil reluctantly leaves the photo next to his plate of half-eaten pancakes – if it goes missing, he will have no qualms about putting the base on lockdown until it's found.
They all gather in the entryway, weapons at the ready. A few agents have found their way here on their own, and it is always nerve-wracking.
Koenig – this Koenig – stands just at Phil's shoulder, and Phil resists the urge to twitch. Koenig is not yet on the list of people Phil trusts to watch his back, and having him there is distracting.
Trip stands protectively in front of Skye and Simmons, though they both have their weapons ready too. They have been working on their aim as well as sparring with May – who appears from the corridor that leads to the sleeping quarters. She slips through the small knot of nervous agents, moving to flank Phil, and they exchange brief nods.
The doors open to reveal the last person Phil expects to see.
"Barton!"
His cheeks are ruddy and windblown, he's grizzled with a few days of stubble, and he's badly in need of a haircut. A heavy pack is slung over one shoulder, and his bow is slung over the other. He is grinning at Phil, his eyes sparkling, and he is the best thing Phil has seen in months.
"Sir," he says with a laugh.
It takes everything Phil has not to sprint across the distance between them and wrap Clint in his arms, and he can see, by the way Clint's hands twitch, that he feels the same.
Phil feels Koenig open his mouth to start his welcome speech, and he holds up a hand, surprised to see that it isn't shaking.
"Later," he snaps out.
"But, sir – " Koenig starts, and Phil makes a gesture to cut him off.
"Later!" Phil repeats. "Barton, with me."
He turns on his heel, walking briskly toward the sleeping quarters, knowing without looking that Barton is behind him.
"We don't even know how he found the base!" Koenig calls plaintively.
"We can explain," Skye says, and Phil resolves to look into that later, but right now there are other things on his mind.
The door to his quarters is barely closed behind them when Phil shoves Clint up against it, catching his mouth in a desperate kiss. Clint grunts into his mouth in surprise, dropping his pack, and -- to Phil's amazement -- his bow. His hands, so familiar, grip Phil's shoulders as he moans eagerly into the kiss, and Phil winds his hands into Clint's thick hair, longer than he's ever seen it.
Clint's body is hot and solid against his, his beard rough against Phil's skin, and Phil nearly sobs in relief at having Clint in his arms again. The kiss goes on and on until Phil pulls back with a gasp, and Clint is laughing as he rests his forehead against Phil's.
"Happy birthday, Director," he says breathlessly.
"How?" Phil asks in wonder, and then he shakes himself back to reality. As glad as he is to see Clint, Director Coulson needs a report from Agent Barton. He tries to step back, but Clint won't let him, wrapping his arms around Phil. Phil takes a breath, and gathers his professionalism around him as much as he can with Clint's beautiful face inches from his. "Your presence here is unexpected."
"Surveillance is in place throughout von Strucker's base," Clint reports. "Infiltration plans are set, and we're ready to go back in to get the twins whenever you say, sir."
Pride blooms within Phil. Of course Clint accomplished his mission -- it was, thankfully, off the books due to the danger of it, which kept Clint out of the fallout of Hydra's rise, and it is the reason he and Phil haven't seen each other in months -- haven't even talked to each other in months. All Phil could do was hope that Clint was safe, and to have him here now…
"My written report is complete and ready for submission," Clint adds, and laughs when Phil stares at him, wide-eyed. "Maybe that's part of your present too."
Phil can't help but pull him into another kiss. This one is softer, sweeter, and it centers Phil, brings him a sense of home he hasn't felt since before Pegasus and all that came after.
He buries his face in Clint's neck, breathing in the scent of him.
"How are you here?" he murmurs as Clint's hand comes up to cradle his head and hold him close.
"Your hacker has been putting out some tentative trails -- nothing anyone but a senior SHIELD agent out in the cold would recognize -- and her methods are solid."
"She's shown me -- we've brought a few agents in that way -- but she didn't say anything about you being on your way in!"
"I, uh, may have persuaded her that we were close friends, that I wanted to surprise you for your birthday. I didn't tell her any more than that about us, Phil, I swear, but, well, I think the cat might be out of the bag here."
"I don't care that they know," Phil says. "I only care about how we act in front of them. Right now, we're not in front of them."
"Congratulations, Phil. Director… and I'm so sorry about Nick. Damn, Phil. So sorry."
His thumb caresses Phil's cheek, and there's such grief and sorrow in his eyes that Phil's heart clenches.
"There's so much I need to tell you. So much, Clint. But we've got to get you properly checked in before Koenig busts in here. Get you a lanyard."
"Lanyard?"
Phil laughs. "You'll see. Christ, Clint, I can't believe you're here."
"I can't believe that we kept it a surprise for weeks!"
"It's almost as great a surprise as the undiscovered Howling Commandos photo Trip gave me," Phil says with a grin, and Clint laughs, shaking his head fondly.
"You are the biggest nerd. But you're my nerd. God, I missed you. Happy birthday, Phil."
"Missed you too," Phil murmurs, tugging him into a kiss once more. Clint's lanyard can wait a few more minutes…
END