Soul Bonds are universally accepted as the very epitome of romance. For one's heart and soul to be so entwined with each other, they are complete only when they are together.

Pity the Soulless, for they will never know completion. They will only know the pain of loneliness and the hollowness of being incomplete. ~ The Teen Age Guide to Soul Bonds.

Phil Coulson smiled at his long term partner who was industriously folding laundry with a military precision. The two of them weren't Soul Bonded, as quite frankly, Phil had read the Guide and thought it full of shite. In fact, he had tossed the book soon after his Soul Mate Mark, 'Everything has its beauty but not everyone sees it' had first appeared on his left arm. Plus his lover was a tested and confirmed Soul Mute, mockingly called the Soulless by those possessing no kindness and utterly lacking in empathy.

And really, what the two of them had together, was pretty damn good, especially since they didn't need to be so damn careful around each other. Soul Bonds were pretty much a one way to ticket to insanity, Phil Coulson sincerely believed. To be so concerned about your partner that it was the end all, be all of your life. To be utterly suffocated in oneness, while in this relationship, their uniqueness, their individuality was cherished and prized, not treated as an abomination.

No, he was quite content with his relationship as he could drop his socks in the middle of the living room and not worry about the displaced dismarked duo causing mutual psychic trauma. However, he preferred not to do that, as the tempting sight of defenseless socks would cause one of their 'children', two rough and tumble terrier mixes to attack and maul them into shreds. And really, they were rather nice socks as Felix always bought him lovely presents.

And while his lover was Soul Mute, he still wore a rather intrinsic faux Soul Mate Mark that proclaimed to the world at large his suitability. His arm emblazoned with a jagged, cutting script which announced to all that his soul mate would greet him with the words, 'I know you.' The faux Mark had been a gift from Phil, as he knew his lover well enough to know how being deemed Soulless, unworthy of having a life partner, had eaten away at his soul. It was bad enough to be one of the Uncompleted, but for others to view his Markless body, it had rankled. Badly. Causing no end of arguments and battles when the other agents had commented on the lack.

Early on in his career, Phil had stumbled across an underground operation where a man, Phil had promptly forgotten, had tattooed the Soul Mute with a faux Soul Mark. His kindness, his gift of art was considered by many to be a High Crime against the Natural Order of Things. Instead of turning in the artist, Phil had exchanged the man's continuing freedom for a Soul Mark for his lover. Better to be thought a later bloomer, a cradle robber than Soul Mute.

It didn't change his lover, not all, not down deep. Not the part of him that made him the man that Phil cherished. However, the gift had still affected him, as he was no longer mocked by the other agents. They had thought it was just good natured teasing, but their taunts had scarred and wounded him. Now, he was one of the accepted, no longer a social pariah.

Once or twice, ok, more than that, Phil had pondered the graceful cursive on his arm and to whom it might belong to before locking such unnecessary thoughts into a mental lockbox. These days, he was quite content with his now relatively easy relationship. His lover was stubborn, as it had taken years… YEARS… of patient pursuit (ok, there had been more than a few episodes of earth quaking, bed slat breaking, no commitment sex) before he had worn his lover down into sharing an apartment, to entwine their lives together.

His lover was terribly fearful that Phil's Soulmate would show up one day, complete with trumpet fanfare and tear his life asunder.

Not likely happening, not at Phil's advanced age. Especially with someone familiar with Confucius. Most importantly, Phil wasn't in the market for a Soul Mate, because he was happy and content with his irascible, idiosyncratic companion. Really, it was probably quite utterly boring to have a Soul Mate.

The day that his life went ass over tit started much like any other. It began with an early morning phone call, his drowsy lover handing him his phone after confirming that it was Phil's phone, not his, and a quick escape to the hall to listen to his latest adventure.

He returned back and his space in the bed had already been replaced by the puppies. They knew the drill as well as their parents. Dad (or Mum) was leaving home so the other parent would spoil them. They were opportunistic little scavengers and Phil adored them.

"Have to go to New Mexico," he explained.

A sleepy head nod was his response as his partner was close to sleeping again. Phil was loathe to disturb him, as he was a light sleeper at the best of times, so he didn't gift him with a goodbye kiss. He believed that there would be countless other goodbye kisses, as there had been before, and would continue on indefinitely.

He was wrong.

Phil Coulson arrived in New Mexico as the Senior Agent in Charge to discover an absolute mess. An absolute stinking mess as whatever it had been, had been decomposing for some time in the dry New Mexico heat before S.H.I.E.L.D. had become aware. The god-awful smell emanating from whatever it had been, was rather putrid. However the various scientists were in their glory and he could not even try to hide his instinctive reaction of needing to hurl. Fortunately his partner had bequeathed him the secret of dabbing Vicks VapoRub by his nostrils. Couldn't smell a darn thing besides that so he was able to keep his dignity intact. Really, nothing destroyed a Senior Agent's reputation faster than puking on one's shoes.

Really, he'd have to remember how to adequately describe the smell when he returned home. Reeking, didn't adequately describe it. The stench permeated everything even after it was quickly housed into a refrigerated lab. It even got into the food, making it almost inedible. The puppies would have been in their element, as they would rolled around in the muck and then clambered into bed with their parents.

One of the scientists saw his disgusted look in the chow line, as what they were serving looked a great deal like the alien's entrails. So much so, that he had planned on talking to the head chef later that evening to confirm that it was actually Chicken ala King. His revulsion disturbed her sensibilities as she snipped, in a very posh British accent, "Everything has its beauty but not everyone sees it."

His response was instinctive, as though something had taken hold of his soul, as he responded, "The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone."

Her expressive eyes widened, and he realized who exactly she was.

The Call.

The Answer.

She was the other part of his soul, who very much wasn't the man he had been involved with for the last twenty years. The man he loved.

"Von Gothe," the scientist murmured in what he knew to be nervous approval. "Not very many people know about him."

"About as many that can quote Confucious," admitted Phil. "Would you mind sitting with me? Don't you get tired of walking alone?"

"I'm not sure about sitting with you, though I think I would like to walk with you," she admitted. There was a wariness in her eyes, and it was overwhelming, as he longed to reassure her, to protect her. However, there wasn't a noticeable taint of 'Oh My God, he's so old' for which he thanked the heavens.

"Can I show you my Soul Mark?" he requested. Really, that was terribly gauche, as Soul Marks weren't normally displayed in public. They were sacred and revered, except in the men's locker room where they were fair game.

"I believe I know what it says," she slowly admitted. "I feel… drawn to you."

"Let's sit and talk," Phil requested. "I don't even know your name, and this is entirely too fast for me."

They sat in the cafeteria and talked until they were chased out by the cleaners. Phil found himself confiding in her about his life, his hopes and his fears and she rewarded him with a warm laugh before she confessed all to him. He found himself holding her hand by just his fingers, and he flinched at the intoxicating feeling of 'rightness', of 'completeness'.

"Is there a problem?" she asked. Her voice was hoarse from all their talking, "Tell me, I know something is bothering you. I can feel that you're uneasy."

"This is going entirely too fast for me, and I'm involved with someone. Have been together for years. This feels like cheating, because it is," he explained.

She withdrew from him, physically, not emotionally. "We can be platonic soul mates. It happens."

"It does," he agreed. Not often, but he knew of a few. Clint and Nat, for example. However their relationship was so far beyond complex, he needed a Gann Chart to follow it.

"I wouldn't want to hurt her, as it would hurt you," Jemma murmured. "Do you have children?"

"Two puppies," he explained, as he wasn't sure how to explain the fact that Felix was quite utterly male.

"I like dogs," she admitted, with the sweetest smile.

Jasper Sitwell returned to the cafeteria for a quick cup of the liquid swill that impersonated coffee. He was required to finish a few reports for tomorrow on the Great Glob of Alien Guts and tonight promised to be an all-nighter. Therefore rocket fuel in his veins was required. He stopped dead when he realized that Phil Coulson and Jemma Simmons were still talking to each other. They looked utterly infatuated, like the very prototypes of Soul Mates meeting for the first time and he stepped away to give them privacy.

Felix Blake had been his S.O. when he was a junior agent, and he owed Felix big. He owed him his life numerous times and then some, plus a few other body parts. However, Jasper Sitwell knew that he had to inform Felix about Phil's bond activating, because … he didn't deserve to hear about it from Phil. Not while he was in the very intoxicating flush of the Bond Awakening, no, not at all. It would be need to be handled delicately, by someone who cared for Felix, as a friend, and who'd try to cushion the blow.

Because the two men had been together for over fifteen years. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn that they were bonded, but not now. Not after seeing Phil starry-eyed and enthralled with his Soul Mate. There was no way this wouldn't hurt, so really… if he had been in Blake's shoes, he'd want to know so he could lick his wounds before his lover came home. His ex-lover.

He returned back to his quarters, and he nervously dialed the phone. Felix Blake quickly picked up the phone and the older man didn't hide his concern that Jasper was calling him. "Hey, Sitwell. Why are you calling? Has something happened to Phil? He didn't answer his phone earlier. I thought he was busy, but with you calling… Is he ok? Is he hurt?"

"Felix… I've got some bad news," Jasper regretfully began. "It's about Phil. He's not hurt, but…"

"We'll talk some more tomorrow," Phil informed Jemma. She blushed and giggled, the warmness of her amusement boosting his tired soul, so he asked, "What? What did I say that was so funny?"

"It's two in the morning, Agent Coulson. Tomorrow is today," she giggled.

"It's that late?" Phil questioned, as he looked at his Captain America watch that had been a gift from Felix. "I was supposed to call…"

"I'm sorry. It's just once I started talking to you, it was like I had twenty five years of conversations that needed to be immediately voiced," Jemma Simmons confessed. "What will you tell her?"

"I don't know," he admitted.

"Should I meet her?" Jemma asked. "I'll promise her that this will be platonic."

"I don't know," he admitted. "I really don't know."

"I know you're worried," Jemma informed him. "I can feel how worried you are, but … I promise you… I won't interfere in your relationship. You're really quite nervous about her reaction, I can sense it. I won't cause any problems with you two and your fur children."

Somehow he doubted it would be that easy. Not with Felix, and how society had ingrained his Soul Mute unworthiness into his very soul. The forthcoming discussion would be traumatic for both of them, and he hoped that they'd still be together after he informed Felix of tonight's events. When he returned to his quarters, he discovered that Felix had called earlier that evening, had left a message and then had texted him only a few minutes earlier. He hadn't felt his phone vibrate which was not a good sign.

"Hey, it's Felix. Kids wanted to say goodnight before their bedtime," Felix advised on his voice mail. "I'll be up until eleven, so call me if you can. Miss you."

The text message was terse, but Felix was notorious about how much he loathed texting. Blamed it for the Imminent Downfall of the Human Race.

P - Radio silence. Not sure how long. F

It wasn't unusual that Felix would get pulled out of town into an assignment, as after all it was part of their job. Phil wasn't worried at first, until he realized that a week or more had passed without a word from his lover. Not even a picture of their kids had been texted to him, which was rather unusual.

Philip noticed that Jasper Sitwell and a few other senior agents were giving him the stink eye, so he took to being chaperoned when he was with Simmons, because… really he just wanted to talk to her, to get to know her. Nothing more. Certainly wasn't planning on seducing her, because they had just met, but still, he found himself squeezing her hand and then one night, he found himself kissing her, as ardently as she was kissing him.

It felt so right, that his soul was clinging to hers… and… and… how could he have ever thought of being Soul Bonded as a prison sentence? No, it was the coming together to create something stronger…something greater. He pulled back then, as he thought of Felix's reaction to this ultimate betrayal. His unease was easily noticed by Jemma who physically retreated. They were so in tune, and yet they weren't because he hadn't confided in her about FELIX.

"I think you need to go back to New York," she stated. "Or I need to go back to New York. Distance is required."

"This isn't your fault, it's mine," he begged her to believe.

It was most assuredly his fault, he realized anew when he returned home to find that Felix Blake had vacated their apartment, taking all his clothes, the dogs and their various necessities, leaving only his share of the rent for the next six months and a scrawled note.

I hope you and your bond mate have a wonderful life full of bonded bliss. I'm keeping the dogs as I deserve to be loved unconditionally and unreservedly, which you have proven that you cannot. I understand completely, it's your nature.

Felix Blake, the Soulless.