This was a random idea that I couldn't let go. I really had no other reason for writing this that my own desire to showcase Phil Coulson's adorableness. I've seen a lot of AU's where Phil is the single dad, and I just really wanted to switch it up a bit.

To sym-posts, my lovely beta, you rock!

If there was one thing Phil Coulson hated with a passion, it was moving. Something about the multitude of boxes scattered about the floor, the general pain of packing and unpacking that always drove him mad, and then, just as soon as he thought he'd finished, he'd find some random knick-knack or forgotten dish in the back of a cabinet, that hadn't seen the light of day in years, and he'd groan at the unfairness of it all.

He sighed, thoroughly relieved as he dropped the last box of books onto a low pile in the foyer of his new apartment before stretching his stiff back, wincing at the knot that had formed between his shoulders. A hiss, however, had him jumping for the still open door and scrambling to catch the flash of orange that had passed through his feet in a dash to escape.

"No, no, you can't do that. You have to stay in here," he cooed gently at the ball of fur in his arms as he kicked the door closed. "I know you don't want to, but you'll get used to the new place, I promise."

The orange tabby had been a constant companion of his since he'd opened the door to his old apartment a few months back and found the tiny thing mewling pitifully in the rain, it's striped coat soaked and matted with mud as it shivered uncontrollably on his front steps. Unable to leave it, he'd taken it in and cleaned it up, and before the night was over, the tiny fuzzball had wormed its way into his heart and had claimed a permanent spot at his side.

Of course, the damn thing wasn't so tiny anymore and could eat him out of house and home, but that was neither here nor there, Phil thought with a wry grin. He stroked the tabby's fur until the cat let out a contented purr before he set the gentle beast back on its feet and watched as it hopped into an empty box.

He turned back to his books, determined to, at least, fill the bookshelves before he pulled out his pots and pans to make dinner and so he opened box after box, pulling out well-worn paperbacks until the built-in shelves were decorated with the colorful spines of his most cherished novels. He discarded the box only for a blur of fur to crash into the cardboard and he chuckled at the cat's playfulness, shaking his head in amusement.

"Alright, buddy, what do we want for dinner?"

On cue, the tabby's head popped out of the box, a garbled meow his only answer as he watched Phil through lazily blinking eyes.

"What about chicken?"

He heard rustling from inside the box, before the tabby jumped from it like a rocket and padded into the kitchen to take up residence on a stool at the counter, his master's laughter following behind.

Phil settled into his usual routine, the pattern only disrupted by boxes in inconvenient places and a series of interruptions from a tiny orange paw coming a bit too far across the counter, to which he swatted at gently between stirs of boiling pasta, in an effort to reinforce his furry charge.

They ate companionably before Phil went back to his boxes, searching for his rather large collection of Blu-rays. It took nearly an hour for him to locate all the right cords and even longer until they were hooked up to his television set correctly.

He practically fell onto the sofa, his exhaustion finally catching up with him as it rolled around to the eight o'clock hour. Phil grinned as his tabby jumped in his lap to curl up and he waited until the cat was settled before he flicked on the television and hit play. The opening tones to Skyfall were familiar, but the song had barely ended before his eyes were closing against the bright glare of TV.

Some hours later, he woke, body twisted in a cramped position and he groaned wearily as his back cracked uncomfortably.

Slowly, he became aware of a warm pressure on his chest and blinking into the dimly lit room, he was met with the sight of Cap, his green eyes watching his master's movements intently. It only took a few more seconds of their stare off for the cat to cave, an orange paw reaching out gently to tap against the tip of Phil's nose before he retracted it again.

Phil glared half-heartedly, but easily succumbed to the lethargy that still clung to him, his eyes slipping closed, and just before he fell into unconsciousness, there was a harder tap, sharp claws just barely peeking out to scrape against the soft skin at his jaw.

"Go away," he ordered to no avail as the taps continued periodically.

He was just a second away from shoving the cat off of him and onto the floor, but the beast was saved in the nick of time when his phone rang, the display blinding him slightly as it lit up to reveal the name of one of his employees.

"Clint?" he mumbled as he picked up the ringing device, confusion lacing his tone. It was unusual that there was ever a problem in his bakery and phone calls this early didn't bode well.

"Hey, boss man. You alright?"

"Yeah, Clint. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because it's after noon and you've yet to show your pretty face?"

As if he'd been doused with freezing water, he bolted upright, dislodging the feline rather unceremoniously and he groaned at the face on the clock.

"Shit."

"Yeah, shit," Clint commiserated with a dry chuckle. "You comin' in today? Or would you like me to push your sister's appointment back a few hours just to mess with her? I could always accidentally make the opposite of her bride's order again. I've heard that this one has a particular piece of hardware stuck in a very uncomfortable place, if you know what I mean."

As thoroughly amusing as the idea was, Pepper was a force to be reckoned with when riled up and he'd watched that situation play out in many painful and interesting ways over the years. It really was a shame that his staff enjoyed messing with her so much, but Phil had a suspicion that Pepper secretly enjoyed the challenge—and the attention.

"Now Clinton, what have I told you about messing with customers?"

The was a pause on the end of the line and Phil could only guess at what ridiculous incidents were passing through Clint's mind.

"Which time?"

Phil rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. "Just give me an hour and I'll be there, alright? Start them off with the brochures and a list of our prices and go from there, okay?"

"You got it, boss. See you soon."

Tossing the phone onto the cushion beside him, he stretched, working his muscles that had grown stiff from the uncomfortable position he'd been sleeping in on the sofa. He showered quickly before dressing in his usual black slacks and white button up shirt combination, selecting a brightly colored blue tie off the back of his closet door and knotting it perfectly as he headed towards the kitchen.

Cap was no where to be found, but he swapped out the stale cat food from the night before and freshened up his water bowl, before quickly opening the door, shutting it behind him as fast as he could manage in the hopes that Steve wouldn't attempt another escape, but the coast was clear.

The taxi ride was uneventful and he arrived with barely five minutes to spare before his meeting. Upon entering the double doors, Phil made a beeline for his office, stopping only to greet Natasha and Bobbi who stood behind the counter handling an order from a dark haired woman and the bouncy little girl at her side.

His bakery was a source of pride in his life, with it's old-fashioned charm and vintage fixtures. Sweetie's had once been a pub and during the remodeling phase, he'd decided to keep the industrial vibe that came with the stainless steel piping overhead and the dark, natural wood. Of course, he'd added color here and there, to liven the place up a bit, which Pepper had been extremely grateful for, but his favorite item amongst all of his renovations—was the logo. His mother had been adamant that his bakery be his, in both the design and in the pastries that left his door, but after some time, he'd finally convinced her to put her own creative mark on his place. For months, he'd waited, until one day, just two weeks before opening day, she walked in with six large buckets full of sea-glass and then, for forty-eight hours, his mother had kicked him out without a word.

Even now, the beautiful mosaic behind his front counter still captivated him with its dark indigo and crimson pieces, interspersed with a milky white, and he smiled at his mother's hidden nod to his favorite comic book character.

His smile remained on his face all the way up to his office, only to disappear at the sight of his sister perched in front of his desk.

"Aren't you supposed to be downstairs with your client?" he asked, eying her warily. He loved his sister dearly and normally, they got along famously, but Pepper was cunning, ruthless even, when it came to business.

"Oh, they didn't tell you?" she answered sweetly, with just a hint too much sugar, and her grin merely turned smug at his confusion. "I told my client to be here at two and then I locked in a one thirty appointment with you to give you some leeway."

"What?" he blinked.

"I know how you get when you're exhausted and I knew that after moving, you'd crash hard, as you always do, so to save your ass, I lied." She shrugged as if it was nothing, but there was a spark in her eyes that said he'd pay later.

"Well, thank you, but as you can see, I still have two minutes to spare before your fake one-thirty time slot. Technically, I'm not late."

"Yes, but only because you've left your brochures and samples in the care of Clint, which honestly makes me question your sanity."

Phil frowned at her assessment. "Clint is young, but he knows what to do and despite his playfulness, he's professional when he needs to be. Say what you will, but it's a wedding cake order and no one here has an eye for detail like that kid does. Hell, that's why I hired him. He's got the eyes of a hawk."

Pepper smiled. "Then what's your excuse for Hunter?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "He was an accident, but Bobbi keeps him in line."

"I'm not quite sure how she does it," she laughed lightly.

"Oh, come on, it can't be much different that putting up with Tony Stark," he replied, eyes fixed on his sister's face as she blushed. To her credit, Pepper tried to play it off, but a grin crept onto her face anyways.

"We are not discussing my love life, Philip," she declared in mock seriousness before switching gears completely. "Now, back to business. Are all of the samples prepared and ready to go? Miss Kane has a dress fitting at four."

"I've heard this one's a bit of a hell-beast."

She glared pointedly. "And you've been spending way too much time with your employees."

He stopped on the way to his desk chair, thinking it over before continuing on. "Yeah, probably."

"Besides, how could you possibly know that?"

"It's a running theme, unfortunately. I'm afraid it comes with the job."

He laughed when she threw a pen at him, hitting him square in the chest. "But yes, your precious samples that she requested are finished. One vanilla sponge cake with a french buttercream and raspberry filling, one Devil's food cake with a salted caramel ganache and a similar version with a strawberry filling instead. Oh, and we can't forget the banana cream with a marzipan glaze. All she has to do is decided which one."

The grin that spread across Pepper's face was alarmingly wicked and two hours later, one vanilla sponge cake with a mixed berry ganache that wasn't even on his menu, and a postponed dress fitting later, he was relieved when his sister finally called a cab to end his torment.

Leave a review, please, and tell me what you think. Let me know if you'd like me to continue!