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five times kissed bc i didnt send it to you but i suppose its my time to be hurt

ONE | HE WAS A GIANT.

" it's all the in the back swing, slugger, " phil says with a laugh, readjusting roman's grip on the sammy sosa wooden bat - it's pint size, one he had to get at a walmart because the ones he had at home were practically the size of roman himself. the boy pulls his arms back and tries for a practice swing, one-two-three times, and with a fresh determination, adjusts the yankees cap phil had pushed onto his head before they got to the cages.

like this? " yeah, just like that. come on, now, chin up. focus and don't dare look away, 'cause that's what gets you -- taking your eye off the ball. " from the other side of the batting cage, carol whoops and shouts go roman! and shoots phil a wink. he's a good kid they tell each other at night when he's gone to bed. he's a good kid with a good head on his shoulders and he's got a hell of a life stretching out in front of him.

there's a long break before the next ball flies out the ejector and a longer pause between the shunk of the piston, and the crack of roman's bat finding leather. naturally, phil goes wild. " that's what i'm talking about! " they applaud obnoxiously and phil kisses the top of his head, ruffling his hair.

TWO | WICHITA LINEMAN.

things go wrong. it is the nature of the beast, it is what happens to people like them in this job and maria tells him this was always going to be the risk, that if anything were to go wrong, it may as well be now when nobody is in too deep. are you in too deep? i heard he's living with you. but phil knows now what he didn't before: he can't live without roman.

when maria mentions transferring roman into someone else's caseload, he grabs her wrist, keeps his voice low so as not to wake the sleeping boy in the hospital bed that looks so obscenely large next to his tiny frame. if you take him away from me, i'll burn your fucking house to the ground. he's my boy. the pause had been volatile. had been hard to process, for both of them, but when he let go, she had nodded. okay, she had said with an oddly proud look on her face, okay. get some sleep, coulson, you look like shit.

he waits until she's gone before he turns back and kisses roman's forehead, careful not to jostle any of the wires attached to him; when he sinks back into the too-small, shitty uncomfortable plastic chair, he opens a book and starts to read.

THREE | EVERYTHING ALL THE TIME.

she's not coming back, is she? roman stands in the threshold of the bedroom doorway, looking into the dim light cast by the bedside light; phil is awake with a report scattered over the duvet - not a usual move, but the living room still has a lot of boxes from the move, both his things and roman's - so needs must. he looks over at roman, over his glasses. he's always been a precocious kid. he's always been a good kid -- thirteen years old and already half a man.

a sigh pushes out between them, phil rubbing at the frown cutting into his own forehead. " no, slugger. she's not. " there must be some sort of sadness, some heaviness that he has not managed to cover quick enough because roman pads into the room then, in his pyjamas that look a little smaller than they did last week. (they'll go shopping tomorrow. he'll get him new clothes, and they'll have ice cream and he'll say to the waiter my son was wondering if you had the chocolate milkshakes again?) it is careful the way he puts his hand on phil's shoulder, but in a strange moment, he's almost the caretaker -- roman leans over and presses a kiss to phil's forehead. it's okay, dad.

FOUR | COURAGE, MY BOY.

jess watches the young man on the edge of the wellwishers carefully; he's hung far enough back, stood beside a red-head she doesn't recognise, that it shouldn't really draw her attention as much as it does, but the utterly devastated look on his face catches her breath. it's a deep sorrow - the kind she feels herself, in some small way. her brother was not the most forthcoming person. never mentioned friends or girlfriends -- or boyfriends? no, it doesn't seem the grief of a lover. it looks... christ, it looks like the grief of a son.

(that makes her baulk, makes her immediately dismiss the idea. because phil would have told her, surely, and their mother if he had a son. he would have mentioned it.)

somebody presses a folded flag into her mother's hands and says we thank your brother for his dedication to his country -- fucking steve rogers shakes her hand when he says it. she does not know what phil did for a living but it seems overwhelmingly important with the sad, sorrow filled face of captain america staring over at the white stone marker. the boy she'd been watching - twenty-ish maybe, she thinks - steps up to that marker after the priest disappears kisses his fingertips, pressing them lightly against the front, just above the words chiselled into it.

PHILLIP J. COULSON. FRIEND, BROTHER, SON. THE RIGHTEOUS SHALL GO INTO ETERNAL LIFE.

FIVE | ONE SMALL VICTORY.

phil is running a little late -- he doesn't mean to be and he texts roman to say he's on his way as soon as he leaves the office, apologises for the delay and that dinner is his treat. that he cannot wait to meet the mystery girl. he's so eager, in fact, to get into the restaurant that he even tosses the keys to the valet with a cheerful don't scratch it, chief and takes the steps two at a time upstairs to where the hostess had told him they've been seated.

the girl is facing away from him and carol forces a smile when he walks in, but roman stands. roman stands and hugs him and phil kisses his temple, " hey, slugger, sorry i'm late, i had a nightmare at the office -- "

phil turns then, to greet the girl and say hello and has his mouth open to introduce himself but -- he knows the face. he knows the exact shade and shape of the girl in front of him and she looks equally thrown off, looks slightly nauseas when roman says josephine, this is my dad, phil.

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