"Happy Hogan. Former boxer. Saved Tony Stark from a racing accident fifteen years ago, later hired as his driver and bodyguard."
Inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. office, Coulson droned through the file, but it was all background noise Fury had heard a hundred times before.
"Stop." Fury cut him off. "Tell Barton and the others to come back."
The plan to cozy up to Stark Industries had gone sideways, and Fury hated wasting time.
"And keep eyes on Bruce Banner," Fury added. "I don't want him slipping off the grid again."
"Yes, Director."
Fury leaned back, scowling. Stark was supposed to be part of something bigger—something that would need deep pockets and Stark-level genius to finance.
But instead of a neat, controllable operation, Tony had just waltzed back into the country courtesy of… his chauffeur?
"Coulson," Fury said, "dig into Hogan's movements."
That afternoon, Coulson dropped a thicker file on Fury's desk.
"Director. A few days ago, Stark's driver and secretary contracted several law firms to search Afghanistan. One in particular stands out—the Murdock Firm in Chinatown."
"Reason?" Fury asked.
"Simple. Every other firm is still combing Afghanistan. They don't even know Stark's home yet. Only the Murdock Firm closed the case early. And Stark's reentry records are blank—no flights, no manifests."
Fury's one good eye sharpened. "Go on."
Coulson hesitated, then pulled out a personal note. "The primary suspect: Finnian Murdock. Twenty-three, born in Manhattan. Father Jack Murdock. Brother Matthew Murdock…"
"And?" Fury prompted, sipping from his glass.
"And…" Coulson cleared his throat. "…he's also Agent Hill's first love."
Pfffft! Fury spat tea across his desk.
"Wait. Hill's ex-boyfriend? One of ours?"
"Looks that way," Coulson said, almost amused.
For once, Fury actually smirked. This wasn't just intel. This was gossip.
"…Assist Hill with this one," Fury ordered. "If it blows up, I want her fingerprints on it, not mine."
"Yes, Director."
Coulson found Hill half-dozing in front of her computer.
"Hey," he said casually, "overseas op."
Hill perked up instantly. "Finally. I'm rusting in this damn office. What's the mission?"
"It's about your ex."
Her legs crossed tightly, an involuntary tell. "What about him? He break the law?"
Coulson glanced around before leaning in. "On the way. I'll fill you in."
By the time they were driving toward Chinatown, Coulson had explained everything—Tony Stark, Afghanistan, the suspicious law firm.
"Stark?" Hill blinked hard. "And Finnian's mixed up in this? That makes no sense."
"That's why you're here." Coulson smirked. Then, unable to resist: "So… why'd you two break up?"
"Uh…" She coughed. "He was kind of a playboy."
Coulson's smile dropped. "File didn't mention that."
"He's just an ordinary guy. Handsome. Reckless. Too much of both." Hill trailed off, staring out the window. If I'd been more patient…, would we be married now?
But the car stopped before she could answer that thought. Coulson glanced in the rearview mirror. Hill was in the backseat, putting on lipstick.
Sure enough—old flames burned stubborn.
Twenty minutes later, Hill approached the Murdock Firm with a small bag slung over her shoulder. She was ready—nervous, but ready.
Until she looked through the glass door.
There he was—Finnian Murdock, smiling, laughing… with a beautiful, dark-haired girl barely out of her teens.
"Son of a bitch. Scumbag never changes."
Inside the front office, the girl in question—Skye—was practically glowing.
"Boss, I'll move my stuff in this afternoon. Start officially tomorrow, yeah?"
"No problem." Finnian nodded. The timing was almost comical—he'd posted one job ad online, and fate dropped his first nuclear-powered workhorse right into his lap.
Nuclear Workhorse #1: Skye, secured.
She bowed gratefully. "Thank you, Boss. I'll grab my things."
As she turned to leave, she flashed a brilliant smile—directly at Hill, who had just stepped inside.
Hill froze. Young. Gorgeous. Smiling. She hated her already.
"...Aunt Robin?" Finnian blurted. "What are you doing here?"
Hill's face went nuclear. "Get lost. My name is Hill. Maria Hill. Not Aunt Robin."
And that—more than the cheating, more than the womanizing—was why they broke up. Because at their most intimate, Finnian once called her by another name.
She still hadn't forgiven him.
Finnian, unbothered, poured a glass of cold water and sat across from her. "Long time, no see."
"...Long time." Hill's face warmed. She avoided his eyes, fiddling with the glass. The presence of Skye, fresh and young, only made her chest tighten.
Silence. Tension. The kind that hummed in the air.
Finnian broke first, rising and leaning close.
"Don't," Hill started, her protest cut off by his kiss in lips.
Outside, Coulson had been watching with the quiet satisfaction of a gossip columnist. Then the firm's rolling shutter started to slide down.
"…Well. There goes the mission." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fury's gonna kill me."
After a moment, Coulson sighed and walked away, looking oddly defeated.
Upstairs, in the firm's bedroom.
When a long drought finally meets rain, the storm is inevitable.
-XXXXX-
Two and a half hours later, Hill lay curled in Finnian's arms, too tired to move.
"Who was that girl?" she asked finally.
"A new hire."
Hill smirked, satisfied, and snuggled closer and started kissing fiercely.
Which was exactly when Round Two began.
-XXXXX-
Later that night, Skye parked her van outside the Murdock Firm, clutching her bag of belongings. She looked at the closed shutter in confusion.
"…What the hell?"