In Bond, Not Blood (PG)
Title: In Bond, Not Blood
Rating: PG
Word Count: 396
Summary: Sometimes, families are things of your own making. ( this prompt at avengerkink)
Steve tries to reconcile the image in front of him. He knows, having been in war himself, that when you put on the uniform, it's easy to become a different person. Agent Coulson is the consummate professional, dictating orders over the comms. Agent Barton remains unseen, perched up high with a bow of all things - Steve cannot deny he's a damn good marksman, the best he's ever seen. Agent Romanov slips in and out of shadows, a whirling movement of Death personified. (They're fighting a war, Steve knows it's necessary.)
It takes a while, still, to connect those people he fights beside with the sight of the three in front of him. Coulson is still wearing his suit but he's at the small table in the break room, watching the other two steal food from each other's plates across from him. His expression is almost affectionate. Barton reaches for the remaining strawberry on her plate and Steve tries not to frown when Natasha nearly spears his hand with her fork.
Coulson gives them both a look and Steve amends his thought that the man is paternalistic to the two younger SHIELD agents, not just fondly amused. It's the same look he remembers seeing on the faces of young fathers in the 1940s, when their children would act up and antagonize each other.
“She started it,” Clint mutters. Natasha rolls her eyes and Coulson's stare remains unimpressed. Steve smothers a laugh and turns away to the coffee pot. He turns back, leaning against the counter and watches the interplay silently as Coulson reprimands without saying a single word.
Coulson is clearly the father-figure, gently directing the movements of the other two. Barton reads as the older brother - Steve isn't sure if he or Natasha is actually older but it doesn't much matter. The blond haired man clearly looks out for the other two, if the rumors Steve heard about a fight in the gym hold any basis in truth. The woman is frightening but sweet in her own way; Steve remembers the bundle of drawing paper and sharpened pencils left in his room.
He isn't surprised these three have formed a family of their own. It makes sense that these three have come together, separate from the rest of SHIELD by dint of training and the expectations placed upon them. Steve wonders if there's room for him.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 396
Summary: Sometimes, families are things of your own making. ( this prompt at avengerkink)
Steve tries to reconcile the image in front of him. He knows, having been in war himself, that when you put on the uniform, it's easy to become a different person. Agent Coulson is the consummate professional, dictating orders over the comms. Agent Barton remains unseen, perched up high with a bow of all things - Steve cannot deny he's a damn good marksman, the best he's ever seen. Agent Romanov slips in and out of shadows, a whirling movement of Death personified. (They're fighting a war, Steve knows it's necessary.)
It takes a while, still, to connect those people he fights beside with the sight of the three in front of him. Coulson is still wearing his suit but he's at the small table in the break room, watching the other two steal food from each other's plates across from him. His expression is almost affectionate. Barton reaches for the remaining strawberry on her plate and Steve tries not to frown when Natasha nearly spears his hand with her fork.
Coulson gives them both a look and Steve amends his thought that the man is paternalistic to the two younger SHIELD agents, not just fondly amused. It's the same look he remembers seeing on the faces of young fathers in the 1940s, when their children would act up and antagonize each other.
“She started it,” Clint mutters. Natasha rolls her eyes and Coulson's stare remains unimpressed. Steve smothers a laugh and turns away to the coffee pot. He turns back, leaning against the counter and watches the interplay silently as Coulson reprimands without saying a single word.
Coulson is clearly the father-figure, gently directing the movements of the other two. Barton reads as the older brother - Steve isn't sure if he or Natasha is actually older but it doesn't much matter. The blond haired man clearly looks out for the other two, if the rumors Steve heard about a fight in the gym hold any basis in truth. The woman is frightening but sweet in her own way; Steve remembers the bundle of drawing paper and sharpened pencils left in his room.
He isn't surprised these three have formed a family of their own. It makes sense that these three have come together, separate from the rest of SHIELD by dint of training and the expectations placed upon them. Steve wonders if there's room for him.