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tarotgalThe people I was writing with at a write-in during November challenged me to put this in. Of course I couldn't resist the challenge... my apologies!
Title: Assess & Acquire
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Marvel CMU (Avengers & Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Pre-Clint/Coulson
Spoilers: For the first Avengers movie and the first episode of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Warning: Character death. A lot of character death.
Summary: When Clint Barton shows up unannounced on Phil Coulson’s doorstep, Coulson is forced to change his vacation plans. So when a simple mission to assess and acquire an object of unknown origin comes up, he figures there’s no reason he should turn that down. Naturally, things are never as simple as they seem.
Author’s Notes: Written for NaNoWriMo 2014 all in one month (a first for me!). This story is finished but will be posted in pieces. Total word count: 73,274.
Chapter 9
Coulson woke to the sound of the buzzer, but he could still feel the kiss lingering on his lips. It was a sensation he would love to feel again, but he was not at all sure how to achieve that without dying again. He cared deeply for Clint; he had for some time. And maybe this kiss was just Clint’s personal way of saying the same thing. But, somehow, Coulson didn’t think so. The kisses hasn’t felt like touching, goodbye kisses. They had been more like preludes to passion, sweet, intense, sensual exchanges that had made it clear both parties would have liked more if one or both of them hadn’t been on the verge of death.
But what if, this time around, Coulson tried to initiate a kiss when imminent peril or death wasn’t a factor? How would Clint react to that? What would happen to what they were? Did he dare use the time loops to find out?
Coulson wasn’t sure he was ready to find out just yet. But he was ready to get up and answer the door yet again. He donned his bathrobe and slippers and grabbed the tissue box along the way as well. He already had two tissues pulled out and in hand when he pressed the button on the intercom. “Yes?” he asked innocently, as if he had no idea who was there.
“Agent Coulson, it’s me.”
Of course it was. Coulson found himself smiling as he replied. “All right. Come on up, Agent Barton.”
Coulson fussed over himself while waiting for the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to arrive at the top floor. He ran a hand over his hair. He tightened the tie around his bathrobe. He looked down to make sure there were no surprises. Thinking about Clint that morning had been more pleasant than he had anticipated, but he had not had time to do anything about that or even reflect about it. If this day ever ended, that would be the first thing he addressed with Clint… though the first thing he wanted to do was just lie down and sleep like the dead.
There was a knock on his door, and Coulson realized he hadn’t opened it ahead of time this time around. So he opened the door and almost forgot to raise his tissues in time. He was met with the sight of Clint Barton falling forward. “Hahh-Ktshhhhh!” And then, directly after, “Huh huh-KIHtchhh!” Clint snuffled, rubbing his nose into the tissues still in Coulson’s hand. He lifted his head and, when he found Coulson still smiling, he smiled back. “S-sorry. Sniff! Sniff! I’m fighting the worst cold, and it’s kicking my ass. Apparently colds don’t go away in half the time if you down a double dose of cold medicine.”
“That can’t be good for you.”
“I’m an Avenger. I can handle it,” Clint shrugged. Then he tiled his head forward again until his nose was nestled back in the tissues Coulson still held. “Hah… heh-KEHTchhhhh!”
“Yeah. I see that.” Coulson pulled a few tissues out of the box and handed them over. “Here you go, mighty Avenger. Blow your own nose.” He pulled Clint inside and closed and locked his door behind, though he knew he’d be opening it up again soon. When he turned, his first instinct was to direct Clint toward the couch again. And, once again, he would explain about not putting shoes on the couch cushions and not tossing used tissues on the floor.
But then he thought about the kiss, and about what it meant to him. Clint was more to him than just a fellow agent. Coulson put his hand on Clint’s back, directing him not toward the couch but toward the hallway and bedroom. “Come on. I want you to lie down and get warm. I don’t have any cold medicine, so I’ll have to go out and pick some up for you.”
Clint didn’t even pause before climbing into Coulson’s bed, still rumpled from sleep from when Coulson had thrown off the covers and climbed out when the intercom had buzzed. He laid his head on Coulson’s pillow and smiled as Coulson covered him in the bed sheet, blanket, and comforter. “What’s that smile for, Agent Barton?”
“It’s still warm,” he said, his voice soft and edged with something like reverence. “And… ah-and…”
“Oh, here.” Coulson dropped the tissue box on the bed for him. “I’m going to get dressed because—” His phone buzzed. He held up a finger, indicating for Clint to hold on for a moment while he answered. “This is Agent Coulson. Go ahead.”
Knowing already that it was Agent Hill didn’t mean it wasn’t reassuring to hear her voice and her predictable request. “There’s a situation at the New York City Science Museum, an employee has reported a new 0-8-4. I hate to ask, but our resources are stretched at the moment and you’re close, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“Hehhh-Kehshhh! Hehh… ehhhh… hehhhhhh… eh-heh… hehhh-KSHHHHHH!”
Coulson tried not to smile. “Bless you, Agent Coulson.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds longer than there should have been. “You’re busy.”
“What?”
“You’re otherwise engaged.”
“No. I mean, yes. But it’s just Clint with a bad head cold. I’ve put him to bed—”
“In your bed?”
“No, I mean, yes. But just because he’s sick.” And maybe also a little bit because he kisses so well. Coulson wondered what it would feel like to experience one of those kisses some time when he wasn’t about to die a terrible death. Not that inviting Clint to sleep in his bed when sniffly was going to get him one step closer to finding out, but it was the least he could do to help Clint feel better. After all, he’d managed to get the man killed several times over the past eight days. And he still didn’t know what had started that fire. “I will go to the museum and pick up the 0-8-4, Agent Hill.”
“You are certain you can fulfill the mission?”
“Hahhh… hahh… hah-IHTChhhhh!”
Coulson winced as he heard Clint blow his nose. “Yes, I am certain. I will be at the museum within fifteen minutes. Could you let Director Fury know this particular agent and Avenger are not available for any other missions that might arise later today?”
“I do not think he planned to send either of you—”
“Trust me on this, Agent.”
“All right.”
“Thank you. My team will take over analysis of the object once I have it in my possession.”
“That won’t be necessary—”
“Trust me. It will be.”
She sighed. “All right.”
“Heh… heh-ehhhh… hehhhhhhhhhhKETChhhhhh!” Clint sneezed, shaking the bed with its strength just as Coulson hung up and sat down on the edge of the bed. Clint was curled on his right side around the tissue box, covers up to his ears.
Coulson sat behind him and rubbed his arm through the layers. “Bless you.” And, suddenly, for the first time, he truly felt bad that he had to leave on the operation. For the first time, he actually wanted to stay and look after Clint—hand him tissues, stroke his hair, rub his arm through the blankets… or not through the blankets… from under the blankets. “Ahem!” Coulson cleared his throat and hopped up, turning so there was no way for Clint to see the reaction his body was having to these thoughts just strolling through his mind. Besides, he had to get dressed and get to the museum before the 0-8-4 leveled the city.
He put on his usual everything—his time loop suit, as he was starting to think of it. “You’re going?” Clint asked, his voice muffled under the covers.
“Agent Hill needs me to retrieve an 0-8-4 from the local museum. My team needs to take a look at it. And you need to rest.”
Clint lifted his head, rubbing at his red nose. “And what do you need, Agent Coulson?”
Coulson stood for a moment, thinking about his answer. There were a hundred things he wanted right now. He wanted to figure out what the 0-8-4 was. He wanted these time loops to stop. He wanted to quit dying and coming back to life. But what he needed? That was a different story. “I need…” He walked around the bed and pressed a kiss to Clint’s lips. “That.” Then he tugged the covers back up again. “Get some rest. I will back with medicine.”
This particular walk to the museum was the hardest one yet. He’d brought Clint with him before, and that wasn’t what he wanted this time. He wanted to be back in his apartment with Clint. Things there were… well, not simpler exactly, but a challenge he had actually a hope of conquering.
But he knew he had to return to the museum for the object. So he walked the several blocks there, endured being bumped into by the little girl, and found his way to the lab.
This time around, Coulson had never been more efficient. The moment he had finished introducing himself to Dr. Daniels, he was already reading for the 0-8-4. With it safely nestled in its padded case, the foam inside cushioning and protecting it, he strode out of the museum. He was sure he had saved a lot of time that was usually spent speaking with the researchers or trying to reassure them it would be all right for him to take over. But he didn’t realize how significantly removed from his usual timetable he was until he stepped out into the street, heading for the supermarket, and was trampled to death by a large, rampaging elephant.
Title: Assess & Acquire
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: Marvel CMU (Avengers & Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Pre-Clint/Coulson
Spoilers: For the first Avengers movie and the first episode of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Warning: Character death. A lot of character death.
Summary: When Clint Barton shows up unannounced on Phil Coulson’s doorstep, Coulson is forced to change his vacation plans. So when a simple mission to assess and acquire an object of unknown origin comes up, he figures there’s no reason he should turn that down. Naturally, things are never as simple as they seem.
Author’s Notes: Written for NaNoWriMo 2014 all in one month (a first for me!). This story is finished but will be posted in pieces. Total word count: 73,274.
Chapter 9
Coulson woke to the sound of the buzzer, but he could still feel the kiss lingering on his lips. It was a sensation he would love to feel again, but he was not at all sure how to achieve that without dying again. He cared deeply for Clint; he had for some time. And maybe this kiss was just Clint’s personal way of saying the same thing. But, somehow, Coulson didn’t think so. The kisses hasn’t felt like touching, goodbye kisses. They had been more like preludes to passion, sweet, intense, sensual exchanges that had made it clear both parties would have liked more if one or both of them hadn’t been on the verge of death.
But what if, this time around, Coulson tried to initiate a kiss when imminent peril or death wasn’t a factor? How would Clint react to that? What would happen to what they were? Did he dare use the time loops to find out?
Coulson wasn’t sure he was ready to find out just yet. But he was ready to get up and answer the door yet again. He donned his bathrobe and slippers and grabbed the tissue box along the way as well. He already had two tissues pulled out and in hand when he pressed the button on the intercom. “Yes?” he asked innocently, as if he had no idea who was there.
“Agent Coulson, it’s me.”
Of course it was. Coulson found himself smiling as he replied. “All right. Come on up, Agent Barton.”
Coulson fussed over himself while waiting for the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to arrive at the top floor. He ran a hand over his hair. He tightened the tie around his bathrobe. He looked down to make sure there were no surprises. Thinking about Clint that morning had been more pleasant than he had anticipated, but he had not had time to do anything about that or even reflect about it. If this day ever ended, that would be the first thing he addressed with Clint… though the first thing he wanted to do was just lie down and sleep like the dead.
There was a knock on his door, and Coulson realized he hadn’t opened it ahead of time this time around. So he opened the door and almost forgot to raise his tissues in time. He was met with the sight of Clint Barton falling forward. “Hahh-Ktshhhhh!” And then, directly after, “Huh huh-KIHtchhh!” Clint snuffled, rubbing his nose into the tissues still in Coulson’s hand. He lifted his head and, when he found Coulson still smiling, he smiled back. “S-sorry. Sniff! Sniff! I’m fighting the worst cold, and it’s kicking my ass. Apparently colds don’t go away in half the time if you down a double dose of cold medicine.”
“That can’t be good for you.”
“I’m an Avenger. I can handle it,” Clint shrugged. Then he tiled his head forward again until his nose was nestled back in the tissues Coulson still held. “Hah… heh-KEHTchhhhh!”
“Yeah. I see that.” Coulson pulled a few tissues out of the box and handed them over. “Here you go, mighty Avenger. Blow your own nose.” He pulled Clint inside and closed and locked his door behind, though he knew he’d be opening it up again soon. When he turned, his first instinct was to direct Clint toward the couch again. And, once again, he would explain about not putting shoes on the couch cushions and not tossing used tissues on the floor.
But then he thought about the kiss, and about what it meant to him. Clint was more to him than just a fellow agent. Coulson put his hand on Clint’s back, directing him not toward the couch but toward the hallway and bedroom. “Come on. I want you to lie down and get warm. I don’t have any cold medicine, so I’ll have to go out and pick some up for you.”
Clint didn’t even pause before climbing into Coulson’s bed, still rumpled from sleep from when Coulson had thrown off the covers and climbed out when the intercom had buzzed. He laid his head on Coulson’s pillow and smiled as Coulson covered him in the bed sheet, blanket, and comforter. “What’s that smile for, Agent Barton?”
“It’s still warm,” he said, his voice soft and edged with something like reverence. “And… ah-and…”
“Oh, here.” Coulson dropped the tissue box on the bed for him. “I’m going to get dressed because—” His phone buzzed. He held up a finger, indicating for Clint to hold on for a moment while he answered. “This is Agent Coulson. Go ahead.”
Knowing already that it was Agent Hill didn’t mean it wasn’t reassuring to hear her voice and her predictable request. “There’s a situation at the New York City Science Museum, an employee has reported a new 0-8-4. I hate to ask, but our resources are stretched at the moment and you’re close, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“Hehhh-Kehshhh! Hehh… ehhhh… hehhhhhh… eh-heh… hehhh-KSHHHHHH!”
Coulson tried not to smile. “Bless you, Agent Coulson.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds longer than there should have been. “You’re busy.”
“What?”
“You’re otherwise engaged.”
“No. I mean, yes. But it’s just Clint with a bad head cold. I’ve put him to bed—”
“In your bed?”
“No, I mean, yes. But just because he’s sick.” And maybe also a little bit because he kisses so well. Coulson wondered what it would feel like to experience one of those kisses some time when he wasn’t about to die a terrible death. Not that inviting Clint to sleep in his bed when sniffly was going to get him one step closer to finding out, but it was the least he could do to help Clint feel better. After all, he’d managed to get the man killed several times over the past eight days. And he still didn’t know what had started that fire. “I will go to the museum and pick up the 0-8-4, Agent Hill.”
“You are certain you can fulfill the mission?”
“Hahhh… hahh… hah-IHTChhhhh!”
Coulson winced as he heard Clint blow his nose. “Yes, I am certain. I will be at the museum within fifteen minutes. Could you let Director Fury know this particular agent and Avenger are not available for any other missions that might arise later today?”
“I do not think he planned to send either of you—”
“Trust me on this, Agent.”
“All right.”
“Thank you. My team will take over analysis of the object once I have it in my possession.”
“That won’t be necessary—”
“Trust me. It will be.”
She sighed. “All right.”
“Heh… heh-ehhhh… hehhhhhhhhhhKETChhhhhh!” Clint sneezed, shaking the bed with its strength just as Coulson hung up and sat down on the edge of the bed. Clint was curled on his right side around the tissue box, covers up to his ears.
Coulson sat behind him and rubbed his arm through the layers. “Bless you.” And, suddenly, for the first time, he truly felt bad that he had to leave on the operation. For the first time, he actually wanted to stay and look after Clint—hand him tissues, stroke his hair, rub his arm through the blankets… or not through the blankets… from under the blankets. “Ahem!” Coulson cleared his throat and hopped up, turning so there was no way for Clint to see the reaction his body was having to these thoughts just strolling through his mind. Besides, he had to get dressed and get to the museum before the 0-8-4 leveled the city.
He put on his usual everything—his time loop suit, as he was starting to think of it. “You’re going?” Clint asked, his voice muffled under the covers.
“Agent Hill needs me to retrieve an 0-8-4 from the local museum. My team needs to take a look at it. And you need to rest.”
Clint lifted his head, rubbing at his red nose. “And what do you need, Agent Coulson?”
Coulson stood for a moment, thinking about his answer. There were a hundred things he wanted right now. He wanted to figure out what the 0-8-4 was. He wanted these time loops to stop. He wanted to quit dying and coming back to life. But what he needed? That was a different story. “I need…” He walked around the bed and pressed a kiss to Clint’s lips. “That.” Then he tugged the covers back up again. “Get some rest. I will back with medicine.”
This particular walk to the museum was the hardest one yet. He’d brought Clint with him before, and that wasn’t what he wanted this time. He wanted to be back in his apartment with Clint. Things there were… well, not simpler exactly, but a challenge he had actually a hope of conquering.
But he knew he had to return to the museum for the object. So he walked the several blocks there, endured being bumped into by the little girl, and found his way to the lab.
This time around, Coulson had never been more efficient. The moment he had finished introducing himself to Dr. Daniels, he was already reading for the 0-8-4. With it safely nestled in its padded case, the foam inside cushioning and protecting it, he strode out of the museum. He was sure he had saved a lot of time that was usually spent speaking with the researchers or trying to reassure them it would be all right for him to take over. But he didn’t realize how significantly removed from his usual timetable he was until he stepped out into the street, heading for the supermarket, and was trampled to death by a large, rampaging elephant.
