A Walk In The Park
Phil Coulson took pride in his common appearance. He often went unnoticed or overlooked, and it suited his needs more often than not.
For example, it meant that on his days off, he didn't have to deal with strange looks (like Director Fury did due to his eyepatch), or extremely unwanted advances (as Agent Romanoff often complained about, as much as the woman complained about anything). On this day, Phil had decided to relax in the park. It was something he tried to do at least once a month, get some fresh air and a change of scenery from the high tech bases and such.
A young mother and her toddler were feeding pieces of lettuce to the ducks by the pond. An elderly couple were settled on a bench further down the path from Phil's chosen bench. A young man flopped down on a blanket in the grass, ignoring the books lying around him. It was strangely reminiscent of Agent Barton when he had to do the more tedious of his mandatory training.
It may have been that comparison in particular that had the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division agent watching the kid. He really couldn't be out of his teens yet by Phil's estimate, though he could be out of high school by now.
After another two minutes of lying there, the boy sat up, running a hand through messy black hair.
"You know what, no," the boy muttered to himself, stacking the books.
He kept a cheap spiral bound notebook in his lap and pulled a bronze pen from his pocket. From there Phil watched with mounting curiosity as the boy started to scribble in symbols. Unable to restrain his curiosity, Phil got up and walked closer.
"Is that Greek?"
The guy looked up in surprise before glancing back at his notebook.
"Uh, Ancient Greek, actually. It's just a... personal project."
"Impressive."
The boy snorted.
"It really isn't, you should see what some of my friends can do, it's insane."
"I'm sure you're right, but that doesn't take away from your own accomplishment. Not many people here in New York keep up on their dead languages, let alone use them as a default."
The teen blushed with a wry grin.
"Thanks man. I'm not even close to the only person I know who keeps it up, but I appreciate it."
Phil looked at the kid again and was subtly reminded of the kid from the circus that had joined SHIELD under Phil's purview. World-weary but bright, all the same.
"I know I'm just a stranger, but I'd be curious to know more if you're willing to teach."
The boy eyed him before nodding.
"I think I can do that."
"Phil Coulson," he offered, moving to sit across from the teen on the blanket.
"Percy Jackson."