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The relationship, such as it is, is only really just beginning. True, Phil and Jim have known each other for years by now, but it’s been a passing, professional acquaintances level thing. One joint mission, one exchange of phone numbers, occasional texts back and forth.
Then Phil had died. And then he’d come back to life.
Priorities tend to shift a little bit when you—or someone you love—go through that. And when Phil had reached back out to Jim to let him know he was back to work, Jim had called him, with evident relief in his voice and Phil had realized, with an abrupt and unusual bit of introspection, that he wasn’t going to let this second chance go.
So, here they are now. On a date.
In Gotham, of course, because Phil has a lot more freedom (to move about the country, he thinks in that classic jingle that’s always lurking in the back of his memory) in his current position than Jim has in his.
And they’d thought, given their location, it would be more likely for one of Jim’s various [underlings] to run into them.
Instead, it’s Melinda May sitting at the bar as if chaperoning them at a distance.
She doesn’t come over, at least, but she’s watching. Phil knows she’s watching because that’s what she does. He can feel her eyes on the back of his neck.
He does his best to ignore her and focus instead on what Jim’s saying about growing up in Gotham.
Their second date is also in Gotham.
Phil’s sent his team off for some down time, told the powers that be that he’ll be unavailable for the next day or two, and turned his ringer off except in case of emergencies.
It’s two days. There can’t possibly be any emergencies in two days that the rest of SHIELD can’t collectively handle.
Jim has also taken the day off and they’re strolling through Robinson Park towards the river that divides Gotham in half, coffees in hand and as incognito as they can be considering Jim’s position as police commissioner.
It’s as nice as day as it ever is in Gotham. The clouds aren’t the dark grey of an impending thunderstorm, but the bright, lightness that tricks you into thinking you can almost see the sun. There’s a bit of a spring pep to the air, with early flowers adding a pop of color to the park and fresh, baby green leaves on all of the trees.
There are even, Phil discovers, ducks quacking happily in the river.
He turns to Jim to inquire as to whether the birds get affected by the various amounts of dangerous chemicals that get dumped into Gotham’s waterways, but he holds the question back at the last second. First, because it feels like a rude question to ask, and second because Jim is also staring in astonishment at the river before them.
Jim is not staring at the ducks.
Jim is staring at a state-of-the-art SHIELD incognito motorboat being piloted by none other than a not-as-inconspicuous-as-he-could-be Grant Ward.
Phil sighs heavily, and steers their path away from the water, hoping to delay the inevitable at least a bit longer.
There’s a large gap of time between their second and third date.
A lot of shit has gone down in Phil’s world, and he hasn’t had time to do more than send Jim a few quick text updates to let him know that Phil has not died again. Thankfully. He’s maybe come closer than is comfortable a few times, though, and SHIELD as it was no longer exists, and there’s just a lot of chaos in Phil’s world now.
Not that there wasn’t before, but it was at least predictable chaos. This new paradigm is going to take a lot of time to get used to.
So he doesn’t even try to suggest they meet up in person, but they schedule a little Friday night skype date, just to see each others’ faces again and have a (virtual) drink together.
Jim has started his second glass of whisky and Phil is most of the way through his first glass of wine, when the entire building containing ‘SHIELD’ headquarters shakes, hard enough and loud enough that Jim asks if that’s on his end or on Phil’s.
Phil apologizes sadly, and is already reaching up to end the call when his office door slams open with one Leo Fitz claiming everything is under control. (If it was under control, Phil reasons, there would be no need for slamming doors. He’s correct in his reasoning.)
Phil picks Jim up in Lola for their fourth date.
He drives the two of them to a little town in upstate New York. He hadn’t told anyone where exactly he was heading, but they’re all spies anyway so he assumes they can and will figure it out.
They manage to get most of the day to themselves—lunch at a cafe, a hike out to a breathtaking waterfall, dinner at a local brewpub. They’re finishing up dessert and Phil is contemplating whether and how to ask Jim if he’d like to, well, extend their date when Bobbi and Hunter waltz into the place and beeline directly for them with serious (or as serious as Hunter can manage) looks on their faces.
Phil thinks, uncharitably, that Hunter’s murmured ‘sorry boss’ is not nearly as sympathetic as it could have been.
Before their fifth date, Phil makes an announcement. To his entire team. He’s going to be off base, he’s taking a holiday, he is not to be disturbed. For any reason. Any kind of worldending invasions or uprisings or scientific horror shows can be dealt with by Someone Else.
He goes to Gotham, he picks up Jim, they go to a nice steakhouse.
They make it all the way through the meal, even!
They’re walking down the street, holding hands, and Phil goes in for a kiss.
And finds himself grappled, pulled through the air, and swung (gracefully, at least) onto a nearby rooftop.
Jim lands next to him a half-second later, deposited by his own masked vigilante.
There’s a collection of people on the rooftop with the two of them.
Or, really, a colony of Bats.
Phil does not giggle to himself, but it’s a close thing.
They’re never going to finish a date, are they?