hold me invisible against your sun
rating: pg
crossover: Avengers/Supernatural
character: Phil Coulson
summary: A good man makes an old-fashioned deal.

hold me invisible against your sun

He finds the pieces readily enough, taking a black cat's bone from the voodoo man in Kentucky, sifting out a pinch of dirt from the cemetery with cracked and mossy wrought iron gates. They all go into the small wooden box, fitting in neatly beside each other with an order that can't be imposed on the real world. The old Polaroid is the last, put carefully on top so his grandfather's beaming face is unobstructed by the edges of the plastic bags. He looks at the faded photograph for a moment, taking in the happiness in his own gap-toothed grin, the pale outline of what could be a trading card, before he closes the top and sets the box aside.

It's not long, only a few hours before the rundown motel is completely silent, even the trucker and his hooker finally exhausted. He rises from the thin mattress, takes the box in one hand, and slips out of the room.

Everything is washed out in the pale moonlight; his dark suit, the gravel, the skin of his hands. He scoops out a hole in the middle of the crossroads, the soil soft and giving after the rain, coating his white fingers until they are black. The box is set neatly in the center; all it takes is two smoothing gestures to cover it completely.

"Phil Coulson," a bemused voice says. He rises, turns to face the dark-skinned woman standing with her hands on her hips and her head tipped to the side. "Making a deal with the Devil."

"With a crossroads demon, actually," he corrects her.

"Always precise," she drawls. "So what does the good man want with a crossroads demon?"

"We need a hero."

She looked around.

"I don't see anyone here but you, Phil. Or should I say, Agent?"

"Say what you want to. I want a team of heroes; I want the Avengers."

Her eyebrows lift.

"You want a whole team of superheroes, most of whom will be paying us a permanent visit? One who's already dead? You must think your soul is worth a lot."

"You know it is."

She studies him, giving the truth of his statement away with how long she takes.

"Fine. Six superheroes for the price of your soul, Coulson."

"How long do I get?" He asks as she moves closer, eyes focused on his lips. She laughs.

"Long enough." And then she's kissing him, her mouth warm and inviting, and the moonlight throws shadows against the pale, pale ground.

Four hours later, the Hulk spits a twisted bullet out onto the broken concrete.

Two days later, Obidiah Stane gives an Afghanistan warlord the order for Tony Stark's death.

Three years later, SHIELD finds a plane covered with ice and a shield that matches the one in a photograph that rotted long ago.

Four years and one kiss for his soul later, Phil Coulson gets his wish.

the end