![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Inspired by this little bit of Clint/Coulson schmoo from the Avengers prequel comic - snagged from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
foxxcub.
Clint/Coulson Ficbit; 493 words - Too many times they function on adrenalin alone, missing sleep, missing meals, missing everything that make a life normal. Clint doesn't really have family to miss outside of the Avengers and... he smiles to himself thinking of them that way, family.
He recasts them in his head as he drives, lulled by straight road and darkness. He starts telling Coulson in the passenger seat all about them, how Tony is the drunken uncle who would embarrass you at your wedding but buy you the most kickass present so that you would just have to forgive him. Steve would be the older brother you run away from home to live with, Natasha the little sister that's terrifying and who would end up talking you into a makeover when she had a slumber party with her equally terrifying friends. Bruce would be that one that was talked about in whispers, the black sheep, and you'd never really be able to figure out how he was related to you.
Clint talks because if he doesn't he's going to fall asleep at the wheel, the last of the adrenalin draining away from his body like water down a window pane. He glances sideways to check on Coulson because the man usually doesn't let him ramble this much and he almost drives off the road at what he sees.
Coulson sleeps.
He's almost curled in the seat, arms crossed over his chest and face turned to the window. Because it's so dark, Clint can see the reflection of his face and can see the almost-smile that curves his lips up as Coulson breathes deep and even. Tony always says that he doesn't believe Coulson ever does anything as mundane as sleeping, that he's propped against a wall somewhere, plugged into a wall at the end of the day like a toy set aside.
Clint knows that Coulson's a person despite what Tony says, that presumably at the end of the day he goes... somewhere and lays down like everyone else. It's a little hard to picture Coulson out of the suit, bed-headed and soft around the edges. Not that Clint tries to picture it often...at all... really.
Crap.
They reach the mansion before too long, Clint mostly driving by reflex, pretty surprised they've made it in one piece. They pull up and Clint hesitates before he leans across, tentative hand on Coulson's shoulder. "Hey Coulson, wake up."
Coulson's confused for a second and that kills Clint. He's let go so completely that he's even forgotten where he is. Coulson's bleary but he's still got that almost-smile on his face. "Cli-" he starts to say, then kind of shakes himself, says, "Barton," instead, closer to the clipped gruffness he usually employs when addressing Clint.
"I was almost going to carry you inside," Clint says, offers a smirk to cover up the absolute ache he's feeling as he watches Coulson stuff himself back into his persona, carefully hiding away any vulnerability.
"I would have kicked your ass," Coulson says.
foxxcub.Clint/Coulson Ficbit; 493 words - Too many times they function on adrenalin alone, missing sleep, missing meals, missing everything that make a life normal. Clint doesn't really have family to miss outside of the Avengers and... he smiles to himself thinking of them that way, family.
He recasts them in his head as he drives, lulled by straight road and darkness. He starts telling Coulson in the passenger seat all about them, how Tony is the drunken uncle who would embarrass you at your wedding but buy you the most kickass present so that you would just have to forgive him. Steve would be the older brother you run away from home to live with, Natasha the little sister that's terrifying and who would end up talking you into a makeover when she had a slumber party with her equally terrifying friends. Bruce would be that one that was talked about in whispers, the black sheep, and you'd never really be able to figure out how he was related to you.
Clint talks because if he doesn't he's going to fall asleep at the wheel, the last of the adrenalin draining away from his body like water down a window pane. He glances sideways to check on Coulson because the man usually doesn't let him ramble this much and he almost drives off the road at what he sees.
Coulson sleeps.
He's almost curled in the seat, arms crossed over his chest and face turned to the window. Because it's so dark, Clint can see the reflection of his face and can see the almost-smile that curves his lips up as Coulson breathes deep and even. Tony always says that he doesn't believe Coulson ever does anything as mundane as sleeping, that he's propped against a wall somewhere, plugged into a wall at the end of the day like a toy set aside.
Clint knows that Coulson's a person despite what Tony says, that presumably at the end of the day he goes... somewhere and lays down like everyone else. It's a little hard to picture Coulson out of the suit, bed-headed and soft around the edges. Not that Clint tries to picture it often...at all... really.
Crap.
They reach the mansion before too long, Clint mostly driving by reflex, pretty surprised they've made it in one piece. They pull up and Clint hesitates before he leans across, tentative hand on Coulson's shoulder. "Hey Coulson, wake up."
Coulson's confused for a second and that kills Clint. He's let go so completely that he's even forgotten where he is. Coulson's bleary but he's still got that almost-smile on his face. "Cli-" he starts to say, then kind of shakes himself, says, "Barton," instead, closer to the clipped gruffness he usually employs when addressing Clint.
"I was almost going to carry you inside," Clint says, offers a smirk to cover up the absolute ache he's feeling as he watches Coulson stuff himself back into his persona, carefully hiding away any vulnerability.
"I would have kicked your ass," Coulson says.
Tags: