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[personal profile] kat8cha
Title: Icy Fresh
Fandom: Marvel movies
Pairing: Coulson/Clint
Rating: R
Disclaimer: NOT MINE NOT MINE NOT MINE because oh god I cannot afford Clark Gregg or Jeremy Renner.
Summary: Barton always lead him to make bad decisions. It must be the eyes... or the hair or the butt or the arms...
A/n: Coulson's PoV on Red Hot YES I WANT GUM ALRIGHT.

Phil Coulson knew what it meant when a junior agent started to bring you food. There were a couple of possibilities, some more likely than others. Sometimes the agent was just attempting to show their appreciation and thought that bribes would be the best way, more often than not the agent was either buttering you up or apologizing for breaking something that you don't know about yet (hence the buttering up). With Barton, Coulson had a feeling it would be the latter. Still, there was nothing wrong with accepting coffee, snacks, lunch, and on one memorable occasion a late night dinner, from a subordinate. The coffee was good (just the blend he liked actually) and the food kept him from making mistakes due to low blood sugar and they were healthier than what Coulson would normally have eaten (anything from a vending machine was good enough in Coulson's opinion while Barton tended to shop at Farmer's Markets and tiny out of the way indie stores). As nothing was ever brought up and Barton didn't seem to ever wish to tell him what was going on Coulson felt that he should, preemptively, nose around.

It was a bad idea, of course.

It always was with Barton.

Coulson wasn't sure when he began to feel things towards Hawkeye that he shouldn't. It might have been the minute he laid eyes on the archer, although Coulson doubts it. Before the feelings for Barton had developed he'd never really… felt the sexual pull of a human being. Oh, he'd had sex but it had been devoid of passion and done because you were supposed to have sex. There had been his highschool sweetheart (they'd lost their virginities to each other awkwardly in the backseat of his father's car and broken up a month later), two girls in college (who had taught him tricks to satisfy them but had never truly satisfied him), and three boys (he'd thought for a while that perhaps he was gay but none of the boys had sparked a romantic or sexual spark). After that Coulson had decided that he would stop pushing it and wait.

And so he waited, and waited, and waited. Work within the government kept him busy, he had a few romantic relationships that were formed out of mutual convenience and never passed into the bedroom, but primarily he worked. Work with SHIELD was of course a whole other ballgame. He had no idea how people in relationships managed to juggle both the workload (and that was when he was only starting out at SHIELD before he became the de facto administrator under Fury) and a relationship.

Then there had been Barton. Barton who questioned his calls and pushed at his boundaries and looked far too intriguing in SHIELD's black ops uniform. Barton who would cradle his bow and call it 'baby' and yet was a trained and supposedly merciless assassin. Barton who had laughed at Coulson's jokes and attempted to finish his paperwork on time and had been known to flirt with anyone.

Taking a look at the surveillance tapes had been a bad idea. He hadn't realized it until, of course, he hit the point of the tapes where Barton had his hand down his pants and was groaning into a pillow. Once he'd started however he found that he was reluctant to stop.

It had made the next week very awkward and Coulson had avoided Barton as much as possible. He had enough paperwork that his avoidance couldn't really be seen so much as avoidance as coming in early, working late, and keeping his office door locked. Oh, he'd had to interact with the Avengers but except for Barton and Agent Romanoff he found it easy to interact impersonally with the team.

It was Romanoff who had spotted what was bothering him.

"Those really aren't good for you." She said from behind him. He did not spin around to face her or jump shocked even though he had not heard her step into the break room or creep up behind him. Instead he pulled out his microwave ramen noodles and stirred them up. "You'll get high blood pressure."

"If I don't have it already I doubt I will suddenly contract it." After being around Tony Stark, Coulson knew about high blood pressure. He turned around and found himself cornered against the break room's counter top by Agent Romanoff's body. Had it been anyone else he may have stepped by them or pushed them aside but even he was not about to attempt to do so to the Black Widow. In a fair fight they might be relatively evenly matched but he had no doubt that neither of them would make it fair. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Clint." That was the good thing about Natasha, for as mysterious as she could be she could also be painfully blunt. "You're driving him crazy, you know, he's going to do something stupid."

Of course. He'd been obvious in his regard and Barton felt pressured, Coulson had known that the fact he had superior status would mean that any revelations about his feelings would lead to improper conduct. Perhaps that was the reason behind the gifts; Barton was hoping he would not force an improper relationship. "I assure you, Miss Romanoff, that was never my intention."

She stared at him until he acknowledged mentally that a normal man would be squirming before she turned and left Coulson to eat his now luke warm and bloated noodles.


It was of course the next day that Clint had injured himself in the field. It had taken every ounce of his formidable self-control not to stalk down to medical and either berate Clint or hover at his bedside. He accessed the security cameras instead to take a quick peek, even though he knew it was only bruised ribs. After assuring himself that Barton would live he settled down to drown himself in forms, and numbers, and ink. Eventually he needed to sleep. The next day he saw that Barton was off active duty until the ribs healed and noted that all of the proper forms had been filed.

He could not, however, hide all day in his office, eventually he had to step outside.

When he returned he found a nearly naked Barton lying on his desk.

Lying there.

He was spread out like some sort of Playgirl centerfold, possibly one aimed at business women or librarians, surrounded by stacks of paper and dutifully signing his name. Coulson had not been aware that one could be struck by an inappropriate erection in the work place, but there it was. He hadn't had an erection so fast since he was a teenager and his hormones were out of control. "Barton." Coulson closed the door behind him and licked his lips. This was wrong, this was all wrong. Was Barton hoping to spark something? Surely he knew that Coulson could not advance his career. "What are you doing?"

Clint looked up and under the fluorescent lights of Coulson's office his eyelashes left long shadows on his cheeks. "Paperwork." Casually, Barton leaned down and scratched at the paper. Coulson's lips thinned. He did not appreciate being played with, or taunted, or seduced in such a manner. It was… it just wasn't right.

And he had no idea how to handle the flux of emotions within him. Lust, rage, hope, love, rejection…

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Barton, but I won't take part and I want no part of it. Please tell Agent Romanoff that her joke is in poor taste." It was only the beginning; he could feel more words stirring up in his chest ready to spill out like knives, word vomit of the angriest sort. Barton said up and looked… surprised? Confused? Yes, both of those.

"Whoa, wait, what does Natasha have to do with it? And this isn't a joke." Coulson snatched up Barton's clothes and strode towards the desk with the package out in front of his body serving as both weapon and shield.

"Do not try to play dumb with me, Barton, now get dressed and-" Barton grabbed his suit jacket. It was a hold Coulson could easily have gotten out of but then Barton did something unexpected (although it should possibly have been expected). Barton kissed him. It was chaste enough, Barton's lips were a little chapped, and it didn't last long at all. It wasn't the kind of kiss you gave someone if you were seducing them. It felt, in Coulson's limited experience, like the kiss of someone who actually meant it.

Well, even if Barton didn't mean it, it wasn't like he was going to get another chance like this. If Barton didn't like him already he'd just have to seduce the other man.

Coulson pushed away and only managed to keep from kissing Barton again by glancing around his office. He was grateful that Barton had piled his paperwork carefully on the floor but he was also all too aware of how unstable those stacks were and of just how vigorously he planned to make love with Clint. "We can't do this here. You'll make a mess."

"I'll make a mess?" Coulson felt his lips twitch in a subtle smile. Barton sounded defensive. So he was the messy type, Coulson had figured he would be. "We'll need someplace soundproof from all the noise you'll be making."

A challenge like that, of course, could not go unanswered. "Mm." Coulson glanced from Clint to the piles of paper and then shifted Barton so he could sink to his knees. The jockstrap was clean and white, matching the bandages wrapped tight around Clint's ribs, it smelled faintly of laundry detergent and that deep musky aroma that Coulson supposed was classified as 'guy'. "We'll see about that." He pressed his mouth to Barton's groin and mouthed the hardness barely contained by a thin layer of cotton and spandex. He could almost taste Barton, although all he currently tasted was cloth. On the desk Barton pressed a hand to his mouth to keep from making noise. When Coulson sucked on the cloth and penis Barton did make a noise, a low moan that went straight to both of Coulson's heads.

He slipped his fingers under the elastic and played along the warm flushed skin of Barton's hip and then slipped his hand to cradle Barton's even hotter penis. It was warm and filled with blood and was just the right fit for his hand. Coulson had never felt so… so aroused, or so… well, he hesitated to use terms like 'in love' but he felt something for Barton, something besides lust and friendship.

He undid his own fly easily enough and pulled himself out. He wasn't going to get into a penis context with Barton, instead he directed his eyes to Barton's kiss bruised mouth and set about bruising it a little more while he gripped Barton's ass and pulled him close.

It was surprising how despite the noises they were making and the scraping sounds of his desk being pushed across the floor how no one came to investigate. It was also surprising how no one gave Coulson a second look when he half carried an asleep Barton (hastily dressed in his clothes) to his car and drove off. Clearly there were security measures that needed to be questioned, for everyone's sake. He had thought about taking Barton back to his own windowless and cheerless apartment but it had felt right to bring Barton to his, to place the man in his bed and after stripping down to his boxers (which were soiled slightly but he was too tired to change them) to crawl into bed beside Barton and curl up to go to sleep. Barton moved towards him and clutched faintly at his arms before pressing a cold nose against Phil's shoulder. Coulson tipped Barton's chin back enough to press a kiss to Barton's forehead.

Barton exhaled, and Coulson would have to ask him what kind of mouthwash he used, his breath still smelled of spearmint.

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June 2012

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