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dizmo
Title: Red Hot
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: Clint's got issues. Issue number one, he's in love, issue number two, Coulson is clueless.
Clint/Coulson! :D Clint finally manages to distract him from his paperwork.
He'd started with the usual bribes; lunch and coffee. Usually lunch or a good cup of coffee would get him at least five minutes of conversation and once the groundwork was established he could gradually expand upon those five minutes until he was soon getting a half hour of conversation and after that sleeping with the other person was easier than finding out their favorite kind of coffee and bringing it to them without seeming like a stalker. Lunch and coffee were a hit with Coulson… as much as getting give minutes of conversation and then told to go finish his paperwork could be called a hit. He started to up the ante, snacks (he knew Coulson loved snacks), late night coffee, even a home-made dinner once. The last one had gotten Clint a good solid half an hour before paperwork had sung its siren song yet again.
It wasn't that Clint couldn't understand it. In his book paperwork was a necessary evil and the Avengers initiative generated a lot of it so Coulson was doing his superhero part by wrestling the paperwork monster into submission. Clint got it, he did. But he'd never taken this long to seduce someone before and the only reason he was even trying was to get the ridiculous crush he'd developed out of his system.
The crush had started about two months after he had first joined SHIELD. Coulson wasn't Clint's usual type, Clint always managed to pick heartbreaking beauties of either sex, but there was something about the man that had drawn Clint in. Maybe it was the air of mystery that surrounded the agent, not quite James Bond but instead very Clark Kent. The fact that Coulson could (and would) kick his ass in a sparring session proved there was a Superman under those well-tailored but dull suits. The fact that Clint had a thing for authority figures (as well as issues with authority) cemented the crush after one too many missions with Coulson's voice in his ear while he sat silent and observant in a sniper's nest.
But it had really stepped up once the Avenger's Initiative started. He'd realized he was jealous of the attention that Coulson paid to the other Avengers. He didn't want Coulson cleaning up Tony Stark's messes or hovering over the surveillance videos of Banner or doing all of that godforsaken paperwork. He missed when he was the only agent that Coulson had to track down to debrief. So, seeing as he was beginning to realize his crush was probably something more, Clint had turned to Natasha.
Clint sat heavily down on the couch beside Natasha. Most SHIELD issue offices came with a desk and uncomfortable desk chair, if you were a big leaguer they came with a chair or two across from your desk. Most of the agents who had been around over a year learned how to trade out their chairs for better ones, either sneaking in contraband or trading for it. Natasha was the only member of SHIELD to have a plush leather couch in her office. Clint had helped her carry it in about two months after their partnership began.
And no one was going to tell Natasha to remove it.
"I think I'm in love." Clint said, his tone both surprised and despairing. "'tasha, I'm in love."
Natasha laughed, which should have been expected, but stopped short at the affronted look on Clint's face. "...you're serious." She turned and placed the back of her hand against Clint's forehead. "Well, you're not feverish."
"Oh c'mon." Clint pushed Natasha's hand away and sighed. "I'm in love. It's... well, it's kind of like an illness. I want to vomit words." Stupid words, too. He wanted to compliment Phil on his tie, or recite poetry. Roses are red, violets are blue, I'd really like to **** with you. He couldn't stop himself from saying 'hello' when he passed Coulson in the hallway, anymore. Every time Coulson talked quietly with some member of the Avengers or another it was all Clint could do not to eavesdrop or interrupt. "I think it's going to kill me."
"I read somewhere that love makes you live longer." Natasha provided, utterly unhelpful. She leaned against Clint's side and Clint, ever the gentleman, wrapped an arm around her shoulder and hauled her close for more constructive cuddling. "Although in our line of work…"
"And with the person I'm in love with…" Love wasn't a new emotion to Clinton Francis Barton. He'd experienced lust and even the faintest hints of love from his pre-teen years. Despite his chosen weapon Clint was almost always the person to be hit by Cupid's arrow instead of the other way around, and when Clint fell in love he fell in love hard. His relationship with Natasha had been destined for heartbreak the first time that they'd set eyes on each other, as much as 'tasha could and did love him she wasn't the type of woman to fall in love easily. And now there was Coulson… Clint was so screwed.
"Well, you know what you have to do." Natasha shoved lightly (for her anyway which meant it wouldn't bruise much) on Clint's shoulder, he fell over the couch edge and blinked up at her from the floor. "Go sleep with him and get it out of your system. If you moon over him in the field and get shot I'll be the one forced to clean up the mess."
So, since Natasha usually had the right idea, Clint decided to follow her advice. Sadly seducing Coulson was just as hard as it looked and far harder than Natasha had made it sound. The man was married to his work. When Clint was the work he didn't mind but when he was trying to distract Coulson from the work he found he had… problems he had to deal with. Coulson slept four hours a night, eight if somehow he managed to get time off and there weren't any superhero battles or supervillain attempts to destroy the Earth that day. In between that sleep time (taken in one of the utterly homey apartments SHIELD provided for its assets) he worked more house than even Fury. It made finding a time for seduction increasingly hard. Coulson didn't even seem to notice that he was trying. It was starting to get a little frustrating, to be honest.
It was probably desperation that drove him to do what he did next. Desperation and a combination of too much coffee (Fury had banned Clint from drinking coffee when he had a mission because it made him jittery and a little unbalanced but everyone on base drank coffee to get through paperwork), too little sleep, and painkillers for the bruises blossoming on his ribs from yesterday's fight. Doing what he did was just plain crazy not to mention blatantly violating SHIELD's rules on acceptable conduct in the workplace and probably making Clint into a slut since he was planning on sleeping with Coulson without even going on a first date.
He had carefully set the piles of paperwork around Coulson's desk during one of the few bathroom breaks that the man took. He'd worked quickly because there was no telling when Coulson would be back and quietly because he didn't want anyone outside the room to peek in. After he'd set the paperwork down he placed his own small stack on the desk and stripped and folded his uniform. Then he lay down on the desk in nothing but a jockstrap and began to write on the dotted line, date, sign, and initial a variety of papers. The desk was a little too small for Clint to lie on any way that looked anything short of ridiculous. He could have laid on his front with his legs folded at the knee, swinging like some sort of popstar-pornstar and only needing tube socks to look more ridiculous, or curled up on his side facing the door. He could have lain on his back with the paperwork propped on his knees or just sat up. He chose to go with the side approach even though it gave him a crick in his neck and made his ribs ache.
The door swung open.
"…Barton." It was rare to see Coulson even mildly flustered but he was definitely past 'mild' and onto medium at this point. He stepped inside and closed the door quickly behind him as if he was afraid someone would pass by and see. "What are you doing?"
Clint had an answer prepped for that inevitable question. "Paperwork." He dotted an I and crossed a T before he licked his thumb and flipped the page. Coulson continued to stare at him with one hand on the doorknob and his back pressed against the door, Clint glanced between paperwork and the other agent and found that Coulson's lips had thinned into a disapproving line.
"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Barton, but I won't take part-" That sounded like a tirade ready to happen. And game? He wasn't playing a game! Clint sat up, legs swinging over the desk and narrowly missing one of the stacks of files that he had been so careful to put down. "-But I want no part of it. Please tell Agent Romanoff that her joke is in poor taste."
"Whoa, wait, what does Natasha have to do with it? And this isn't a joke." Well, okay, being naked and stretched out on a desk with his ribs wrapped up and high on painkillers and coffee probably made him a joke but the whole seduction thing wasn't.
Coulson looked… angry, which was weird because Coulson rarely looked more than mildly displeased. It took him two strides to grab the pile of Clint's folded clothes and one to bring him right up to the desk. "Do not try to play dumb with me, Barton, now get dressed and-"
Desperation, drugs, coffee, the fact he'd only been sleeping with Mrs. Palm and her five lovely sisters… Clint grabbed hold of Coulson's dry-clean only lapels and pulled him into a kiss. The kiss was chaste, Clint's partially opened mouth against Coulson's closed one, and their bodies were separated by the fistful of clothes in Coulson's hand for a second before suddenly there were warm calloused hands on Clint's shoulders and a mouth opening up over his.
The kiss didn't last long at all, if eternity can be considered short anyway, and soon Coulson pushed Clint away and pulled back. "We can't do this here." Coulson glanced down at the piles of paperwork all around his desk and then he looked into Clint's eyes. "You'll make a mess."
"I'll make a mess?" Clint felt he had to protest. He did, after all, have a reputation for rocking worlds to keep. "We'll need someplace soundproof from all the noise you'll be making."
"Mm." Coulson considered Clint, the piles of paperwork, the formerly neat stack of clothes now crumpled at their feet, and then he pushed Clint slightly to the side so he could sink to his knees. "We'll see about that." A hot wet mouth pressing against his dick through the fabric of his jock had never felt so good. Neither had fingers underneath the elastic, or a cold hard desk under his bare ass that was eventually replaced by warm hands when Coulson dragged him forward so they could rock against each other.
Thankfully, neither of them was loud enough to alert SHIELD's security to anything untoward (although Natasha may have played a small part in routing the personnel away from Coulson's office). Clint had fallen asleep on Coulson's shoulder shortly afterwards and woke up in one of SHIELD's featureless apartments which was still, distinctly, not his. This was a realization that he came by primarily because his sheets tended to be dark colors to hide stains better and because his nose was pressed into the warm crook of Coulson's neck.
Who, it should be noted, smelled like cinnamon.
dizmoTitle: Red Hot
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: Clint's got issues. Issue number one, he's in love, issue number two, Coulson is clueless.
Clint/Coulson! :D Clint finally manages to distract him from his paperwork.
He'd started with the usual bribes; lunch and coffee. Usually lunch or a good cup of coffee would get him at least five minutes of conversation and once the groundwork was established he could gradually expand upon those five minutes until he was soon getting a half hour of conversation and after that sleeping with the other person was easier than finding out their favorite kind of coffee and bringing it to them without seeming like a stalker. Lunch and coffee were a hit with Coulson… as much as getting give minutes of conversation and then told to go finish his paperwork could be called a hit. He started to up the ante, snacks (he knew Coulson loved snacks), late night coffee, even a home-made dinner once. The last one had gotten Clint a good solid half an hour before paperwork had sung its siren song yet again.
It wasn't that Clint couldn't understand it. In his book paperwork was a necessary evil and the Avengers initiative generated a lot of it so Coulson was doing his superhero part by wrestling the paperwork monster into submission. Clint got it, he did. But he'd never taken this long to seduce someone before and the only reason he was even trying was to get the ridiculous crush he'd developed out of his system.
The crush had started about two months after he had first joined SHIELD. Coulson wasn't Clint's usual type, Clint always managed to pick heartbreaking beauties of either sex, but there was something about the man that had drawn Clint in. Maybe it was the air of mystery that surrounded the agent, not quite James Bond but instead very Clark Kent. The fact that Coulson could (and would) kick his ass in a sparring session proved there was a Superman under those well-tailored but dull suits. The fact that Clint had a thing for authority figures (as well as issues with authority) cemented the crush after one too many missions with Coulson's voice in his ear while he sat silent and observant in a sniper's nest.
But it had really stepped up once the Avenger's Initiative started. He'd realized he was jealous of the attention that Coulson paid to the other Avengers. He didn't want Coulson cleaning up Tony Stark's messes or hovering over the surveillance videos of Banner or doing all of that godforsaken paperwork. He missed when he was the only agent that Coulson had to track down to debrief. So, seeing as he was beginning to realize his crush was probably something more, Clint had turned to Natasha.
Clint sat heavily down on the couch beside Natasha. Most SHIELD issue offices came with a desk and uncomfortable desk chair, if you were a big leaguer they came with a chair or two across from your desk. Most of the agents who had been around over a year learned how to trade out their chairs for better ones, either sneaking in contraband or trading for it. Natasha was the only member of SHIELD to have a plush leather couch in her office. Clint had helped her carry it in about two months after their partnership began.
And no one was going to tell Natasha to remove it.
"I think I'm in love." Clint said, his tone both surprised and despairing. "'tasha, I'm in love."
Natasha laughed, which should have been expected, but stopped short at the affronted look on Clint's face. "...you're serious." She turned and placed the back of her hand against Clint's forehead. "Well, you're not feverish."
"Oh c'mon." Clint pushed Natasha's hand away and sighed. "I'm in love. It's... well, it's kind of like an illness. I want to vomit words." Stupid words, too. He wanted to compliment Phil on his tie, or recite poetry. Roses are red, violets are blue, I'd really like to **** with you. He couldn't stop himself from saying 'hello' when he passed Coulson in the hallway, anymore. Every time Coulson talked quietly with some member of the Avengers or another it was all Clint could do not to eavesdrop or interrupt. "I think it's going to kill me."
"I read somewhere that love makes you live longer." Natasha provided, utterly unhelpful. She leaned against Clint's side and Clint, ever the gentleman, wrapped an arm around her shoulder and hauled her close for more constructive cuddling. "Although in our line of work…"
"And with the person I'm in love with…" Love wasn't a new emotion to Clinton Francis Barton. He'd experienced lust and even the faintest hints of love from his pre-teen years. Despite his chosen weapon Clint was almost always the person to be hit by Cupid's arrow instead of the other way around, and when Clint fell in love he fell in love hard. His relationship with Natasha had been destined for heartbreak the first time that they'd set eyes on each other, as much as 'tasha could and did love him she wasn't the type of woman to fall in love easily. And now there was Coulson… Clint was so screwed.
"Well, you know what you have to do." Natasha shoved lightly (for her anyway which meant it wouldn't bruise much) on Clint's shoulder, he fell over the couch edge and blinked up at her from the floor. "Go sleep with him and get it out of your system. If you moon over him in the field and get shot I'll be the one forced to clean up the mess."
So, since Natasha usually had the right idea, Clint decided to follow her advice. Sadly seducing Coulson was just as hard as it looked and far harder than Natasha had made it sound. The man was married to his work. When Clint was the work he didn't mind but when he was trying to distract Coulson from the work he found he had… problems he had to deal with. Coulson slept four hours a night, eight if somehow he managed to get time off and there weren't any superhero battles or supervillain attempts to destroy the Earth that day. In between that sleep time (taken in one of the utterly homey apartments SHIELD provided for its assets) he worked more house than even Fury. It made finding a time for seduction increasingly hard. Coulson didn't even seem to notice that he was trying. It was starting to get a little frustrating, to be honest.
It was probably desperation that drove him to do what he did next. Desperation and a combination of too much coffee (Fury had banned Clint from drinking coffee when he had a mission because it made him jittery and a little unbalanced but everyone on base drank coffee to get through paperwork), too little sleep, and painkillers for the bruises blossoming on his ribs from yesterday's fight. Doing what he did was just plain crazy not to mention blatantly violating SHIELD's rules on acceptable conduct in the workplace and probably making Clint into a slut since he was planning on sleeping with Coulson without even going on a first date.
He had carefully set the piles of paperwork around Coulson's desk during one of the few bathroom breaks that the man took. He'd worked quickly because there was no telling when Coulson would be back and quietly because he didn't want anyone outside the room to peek in. After he'd set the paperwork down he placed his own small stack on the desk and stripped and folded his uniform. Then he lay down on the desk in nothing but a jockstrap and began to write on the dotted line, date, sign, and initial a variety of papers. The desk was a little too small for Clint to lie on any way that looked anything short of ridiculous. He could have laid on his front with his legs folded at the knee, swinging like some sort of popstar-pornstar and only needing tube socks to look more ridiculous, or curled up on his side facing the door. He could have lain on his back with the paperwork propped on his knees or just sat up. He chose to go with the side approach even though it gave him a crick in his neck and made his ribs ache.
The door swung open.
"…Barton." It was rare to see Coulson even mildly flustered but he was definitely past 'mild' and onto medium at this point. He stepped inside and closed the door quickly behind him as if he was afraid someone would pass by and see. "What are you doing?"
Clint had an answer prepped for that inevitable question. "Paperwork." He dotted an I and crossed a T before he licked his thumb and flipped the page. Coulson continued to stare at him with one hand on the doorknob and his back pressed against the door, Clint glanced between paperwork and the other agent and found that Coulson's lips had thinned into a disapproving line.
"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Barton, but I won't take part-" That sounded like a tirade ready to happen. And game? He wasn't playing a game! Clint sat up, legs swinging over the desk and narrowly missing one of the stacks of files that he had been so careful to put down. "-But I want no part of it. Please tell Agent Romanoff that her joke is in poor taste."
"Whoa, wait, what does Natasha have to do with it? And this isn't a joke." Well, okay, being naked and stretched out on a desk with his ribs wrapped up and high on painkillers and coffee probably made him a joke but the whole seduction thing wasn't.
Coulson looked… angry, which was weird because Coulson rarely looked more than mildly displeased. It took him two strides to grab the pile of Clint's folded clothes and one to bring him right up to the desk. "Do not try to play dumb with me, Barton, now get dressed and-"
Desperation, drugs, coffee, the fact he'd only been sleeping with Mrs. Palm and her five lovely sisters… Clint grabbed hold of Coulson's dry-clean only lapels and pulled him into a kiss. The kiss was chaste, Clint's partially opened mouth against Coulson's closed one, and their bodies were separated by the fistful of clothes in Coulson's hand for a second before suddenly there were warm calloused hands on Clint's shoulders and a mouth opening up over his.
The kiss didn't last long at all, if eternity can be considered short anyway, and soon Coulson pushed Clint away and pulled back. "We can't do this here." Coulson glanced down at the piles of paperwork all around his desk and then he looked into Clint's eyes. "You'll make a mess."
"I'll make a mess?" Clint felt he had to protest. He did, after all, have a reputation for rocking worlds to keep. "We'll need someplace soundproof from all the noise you'll be making."
"Mm." Coulson considered Clint, the piles of paperwork, the formerly neat stack of clothes now crumpled at their feet, and then he pushed Clint slightly to the side so he could sink to his knees. "We'll see about that." A hot wet mouth pressing against his dick through the fabric of his jock had never felt so good. Neither had fingers underneath the elastic, or a cold hard desk under his bare ass that was eventually replaced by warm hands when Coulson dragged him forward so they could rock against each other.
Thankfully, neither of them was loud enough to alert SHIELD's security to anything untoward (although Natasha may have played a small part in routing the personnel away from Coulson's office). Clint had fallen asleep on Coulson's shoulder shortly afterwards and woke up in one of SHIELD's featureless apartments which was still, distinctly, not his. This was a realization that he came by primarily because his sheets tended to be dark colors to hide stains better and because his nose was pressed into the warm crook of Coulson's neck.
Who, it should be noted, smelled like cinnamon.