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tarotgalIn which... wait, is anyone actually reading these introductions? If you are, hi! *waves* Hope you like this chapter :-) Thanks for reading!
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 11
Coulson woke, gasping for breath in a state of pure panic. His eyes shot open, and he stared at the closet door across the bedroom from his bed for almost a full minute until his heart rate began to drop down toward normal again. Automatically, he climbed out of his very warm and very safe bed and into the chilly morning air in his apartment. Goosebumps dotting his bare arms, he walked straight to the door, hit the buzzer to unlock the door downstairs for Clint, and then unlocked his own door. He threw it open and started down the hallway.
Repeatedly, pressed the button for the elevator, as if that would hurry it along faster. He didn’t care that Mrs. Sampson got a look at him in his underwear when the doors rolled open. He didn’t care that it was freezing in the apartment building’s hallway. He didn’t care that Clint was taken completely off guard when Coulson grabbed him, pulled him out of the elevator, and wrapped both arms around him in a tight hug. He didn’t even care when Clint sneezed down his back.
“Hahh-Ktshhhhh!” And then, of course, “Huh huh-KIHtchhh!”
Clint tried to pull out of the hug, but Coulson clung to him tightly, not ready to let him go yet. “Um, good to see you, too, Agent Coulson. You may not want to be doing that, though. I’ve come down with a pretty bad cold, and I’m probably still contagious.”
“I know.” Coulson squeezed him even tighter. “And I don’t care.”
Clint waited a few seconds before replying, “How does S.H.I.E.L.D. always seem to know everything about me?”
“Not S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Coulson explained. “Just me. I’m stuck in a time loop, and I was just tortured and killed before waking right back up in my bed like always.”
Clint sniffled as he stood there, then his hands found Coulson’s back and rubbed comfortingly. “And where was I when this was going on?”
“Tied to a chair with probably a broken arm and some burns from being tased repeatedly.”
“Ah. That doesn’t sound very enjoyable.”
“I would like to avoid that particular outcome today, if possible.”
“And standing here hugging me all day will accomplish that, will it?”
“Ha…” Coulson gave a half-hearted laugh and finally pulled back. He felt a little embarrassed, yes, but he also felt the instinct to step forward and embrace the man again almost immediately. Fighting against his instincts, he gestured toward his open front door. “Come in. There’s time for me to start a pot of water for tea before Agent Hill calls me in the middle of my supposed vacation to go after an object at the museum just a few blocks away. Do you actually take honey in your tea, or were you just humoring me about that because we were tied up and being tortured and trying to stall for time?”
“Um… honey’s fine, Sir.”
As he lived mostly on the bus now, Coulson didn’t have very much in his apartment. But he did have water, teabags, and half a plastic bear of honey. He parked Clint in his bed with the tissue box and his cell phone close at hand. “Answer it when it rings in a few minutes,” he ordered. Then he went to heat up the water. It felt like a dream to be moving around again. One moment he was dizzy, losing air, losing his vision, and the next moment he was back in bed, just fine as if the day had never happened.
But it had. Clint might not remember it, but Coulson sure did. Coulson knew he’d never forget it. And while he didn’t feel any closer to ending this time loop situation he found himself in, he did have a brand new piece of the puzzle called a Shandari bullet. The man had called it a Shandari bullet. He didn’t know the Shandari, but that sounded alien to him. Luckily, he knew some people who knew a thing or two about aliens.
The hot water in the kettle reached its boiling point just as he heard his phone buzz from his bedroom. As he poured water over the teabags in mugs, he listened to Clint’s side of the conversation with Agent Hill again. “This is Agent Phil Coulson’s phone, Agent Barton speaking. Go ahead.” Then Agent Hill said something on her end that made Clint reply, “I see.” Agent Hill followed-up, presumably asking about Coulson’s availability… perhaps wondering if he were on some sort of operation already with Agent Barton; Agent Barton did not often answer Coulson’s phone for him, after all. “I’m sure he’s available, yes. He’s just looking after me this morning. I’m not feeling so hot. Sniff!” There was another pause, during which time Coulson carried the tray of tea down the hall toward the bedroom. “I will tell him. But I guess he could.” When Coulson entered, he saw Clint pressing tissues to his nose and trying to concentrate on the details Agent Hill was relaying to him over the phone. “Yes. That’s just a few blocks away, I understand.” Once again, Clint looked up at Coulson and smiled. “You’re in luck. He just walked in. Here you are, Agent Hill.” He handed the phone over to Coulson.
Coulson exchanged it for a cup of tea and settled down on the edge of the bed, the tray between the two of them. “You have a job for me to do, Agent Hill?”
“There’s a potentially dangerous object of unknown origin at the museum near your present location. I’m calling to ask if you could retrieve it for us.”
“Absolutely. I’m on it. Just don’t make a habit of it, Agent. This was supposed to be my vacation.”
“Right, Sir. Sorry. And, Sir, Agent Barton…?”
“Staying with me while he recovers from an illness. I trust you have already removed him from the active duty roster?”
“Oh, I will as soon as I’m off this call.”
“Glad to hear it. Keep up the good work, Agent Hill. My team and I will take it from here.”
“Actually, you don’t need to—” Coulson hung up as if he had not heard this last bit from her.
“How’s the tea?” he asked, taking the teabag out of his and adding honey. He stirred with a spoon and then blew on a spoonful to cool it down enough to drink it.
“Wonderful,” Clint replied. “So… you’re really in a time loop?”
“I am.”
“So Agent Hill has called you about this 0-8-4 how many times?”
“Today makes number eleven.”
“I see.” Clint sipped from his mug of tea. “And how many times have you made tea for me?”
Coulson smiled and took a drink from his own mug. “This is the first. And, if I don’t find a way to stop this time loop, it won’t be the last.”
“Huh…” Clint reached for a tissue, but Coulson did as well, out of instinct. Listening to Clint sneeze and sneeze and sneeze without help had been painful. He didn’t want Clint to ever go through that again. So his hand reached the tissue box first and pulled out a few tissues that he put into Clint’s hand for him. “Huhh…” Clint buried his nose and mouth into them. “Hehhh-Ehhhh… ehhh-HIHShhhhh!”
“Bless you.” Coulson got up and set the tray on the nightstand. “Get some rest while I’m at the museum.”
Clint shook his head and set his tea aside on the tray. “I can come with you.” He started to push the covers down in order to climb out of bed.
“You can. You have before. But there’s no need for you to do so. I can make it there and back without dying, as long as I look both ways…” And look out for a certain face that was now burned into his memory. “I need you well rested for this afternoon.” He pulled the covers back up. “So stay put and stay warm. I’ll be back with the 0-8-4 as soon as I can be.”
Coulson put on his usual clothes, making sure to put his phone into one pocket and a handkerchief into the other, just in case Clint needed one from him later in the day. He headed to the museum straight away. He fought through the busy crowd of museum-goers. He apologized when the little girl bumped into him, even though he was beginning to think she should be the one to apologize to him instead of looking startled and running off as she did every time their paths met. He made his way through the security checkpoint and to the lab along with the sea of other researchers bound for the same destination.
It was strange how at home he was beginning to feel in this room, even though everyone around him wore lab coats and he was the only suit in sight. After all this time, after all these days, he was starting to think of this object as his. Even though he had let someone take possession of it last night, he hadn’t told its secrets (as if he had actually known its secrets). And even though it had gotten him kidnapped and tortured and, yes, killed, he still came back for the object today. The Shandari bullet.
“I am S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Phil Coulson,” Coulson said, showing his badge for a brief moment before putting it away again. “Who’s in charge here?” he asked, trying to not look directly at Dr. Daniels when he said it.
Because, of course, Dr. Daniels spoke up. “I am. I called this morning when the object started doing… this. It’s been dormant for months while I was studying it. And then, suddenly…”
“This. I got it.” Coulson pretended to be studying it when, in actuality, he was looking past the Shandari bullet’s impressive energy display at the faces of the researchers in the room. They all looked fascinated and interested by the object; any one of them could have been the kidnapper. Even after crossing the women in the room off the list, that still only left him with two-thirds of the room. He studied each face for a second, seeing if any of them looked like the face of the man who had taken him by the throat not long back and squeezed the breath and life out of him so violently. He tried to get a look at all of them, but some of them were on the move, trying to peer through the spectators and get better looks or just different looks. So Coulson was forced to move around as well, checking out everyone he could see. But not one of them matched the face in his memory of his most recent death.
Finally, he gave up the search here and picked up the Shandari bullet, to the genuine astonishment of everyone. He smirked, wondering if that was ever going to get old; he hoped it wouldn’t. He placed it in its case and thanked Dr. Daniels for the phone call. The man had done the right thing in calling S.H.I.E.L.D. so quickly. Lives had been saved due to that action, Coulson threw in there as well, pleased when Dr. Daniels blushed.
Then Coulson left the museum. He checked for rampaging elephants and saw some destruction on the street that must have meant the elephant had already been through, taking some trash cans and a bus stop down along the way. He double-checked to be sure nothing was coming before crossing at the crosswalk. Never before had Coulson been so glad to be such a rule-follower. Sometimes it limited you, but other times it came in handy. Coulson filled a shopping cart with all the essentials—from orange juice without pulp to the strongest cold medicine he could find in the store to far too many tissue boxes… though Coulson was starting to think you could never have too many tissue boxes.
He carried his purchases the remaining block and a half home where he promptly dropped them at the sight before him. The apartment building was on fire. Again. Flames leapt from windows on the fifth floor all the way up to the penthouse. Huge plumes of dark smoke soared boldly upward, making the statement that Coulson had, once again, failed.
Around him, children cried. Sirens sounded. Emergency lights flashed. Police set up barriers and tried to keep people back from the danger, but there were many tenants of the building looking as shocked as Coulson now felt. Firefighters were on scene to handle the blaze, but the building was so far gone, Coulson knew anyone still inside would be a goner. He thought of Clint first and his collectibles second; he’d be lying if his worldly possessions hadn’t crossed his mind at all. Dogs barked. Cats meowed. And someone put a hand on his shoulder.
Coulson leapt away, knocking over some of the bags but keeping the Shandari bullet in its case gripped tightly in his hand. If that man had somehow tracked him down and set his place on fire, so be it, but he wasn’t getting his hands on the object again. But it wasn’t the man who had tortured them. It wasn’t even a neighbor or an emergency responder. It was Clint Barton.
Clint had a streak of ash on one cheek and a scrape on one arm. A thick gray blanket was draped around his shoulders, but otherwise he looked as well as a sick man could look. The handle of the case still gripped tightly in his hand, Coulson threw both his arms around the man and hugged him.
“Whoa!” Clint laughed. “Twice in one day. Agent Coulson, people are going to start talking!” he joked.
“Let them,” Coulson mumbled into the man’s blanket-covered shoulder. “What happened?”
“The smoke alarm went off. I grabbed my bow and arrows and got to the window just in time. I had a couple trick arrows that let me scale down the side of the building. I got a little too close to one of the windows at one point, and I caught my arm on a loose bit of a drainage pipe. But, in all, a pretty decent escape. I’m not sure all of your neighbors were as lucky.” He pulled back a little, eyes narrowed at Coulson. “You could have warned me this was going to happen.”
Coulson shook his head. “It doesn’t always. This is just the second time it has.”
“But it has happened before?”
“Just once. You and I both died in an elevator.”
“That sucks.”
“Yes, it did. But why did it happen this time and not every time before? What did I change?” He glanced at his watch and found it was just a few minutes after noon; he tried to commit that to memory, but there was so much he was already trying to remember—faces, poker hands, names, times, events. His memory just wasn’t good to keep it all in there. “Why did this have to happen to me?”
Clint shrugged helplessly. Coulson gave him one more hug, squeezing hard for effect. Then he pulled back and brushed the ash off Clint’s cheek as best he could. There was still a faint gray streak there when he picked up the bags. “All right. We need to go somewhere safe.”
“Uh…” This time, Clint didn’t sound like he was about to sneeze, for a change. “My place isn’t really a good idea, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Coulson had already ruled that out. Even knowing who was there waiting for them so they could be ready when they entered the apartment didn’t even put Clint’s place on the list of possibilities. Besides, all of Coulson’s weapons had just gone up in a fire. “No. I have somewhere else in mind, actually.”
“Ehhh…” Clint looked around to see if anyone was around to hear him. Some of Coulson’s neighbors were around. He ended up pinching his nose closed anyway. “Hehhh… heh-eh… Keh’Hixxtttt!”
Coulson looked around as well, searching for his car. He finally found her behind a firetruck where several parts of the building had rained down on her. She was not beyond fixing, but she was not in any condition to be driven just now.
They walked a few blocks over to be able to catch a cab heading uptown. A few cabs passed them by; Coulson thought it might have to do with Clint in a blanket, but he wouldn’t hear of Clint taking it off even briefly. It was chilly out and Clint still insisted on wearing a uniform that had no sleeves. One finally stopped for them, and Coulson ushered Clint in just like before, placed the bags inside, and then climbed in along with the case. He found himself studying the cabbie’s face in the rear view mirror, just to be sure this man wasn’t coincidentally the man from the night before; of course he wasn’t.
“Where to, guys?”
“Eighth, Broadway, and Central Park, Please.”
The cabbie’s eyebrows shot up. “Columbus Circle then?”
“Yes. Stark Tower, more specifically.”
The cabbie pulled back into traffic. “I hear they’re calling it Avengers Tower now.”
“You don’t say…” Coulson said, smirking again.
But Clint seemed dead set against this. “Okay, look, you can take me home if you want. Just not the tower.”
Lowering his voice, Coulson replied, “We’re not going to your place. There’s a guy in a tracksuit there waiting to shoot me. Or, rather, he’s waiting to shoot you, but I’m pretty good at getting in the way.”
Clint looked guilty about this something that wasn’t his fault. At least, it probably wasn’t his fault. Coulson hadn’t exactly stopped to ask why the tracksuit dracula had been there. But whatever had gone down, Coulson was pretty sure he didn’t need to get killed because of it.
“Okay, but we can’t go to the tower.”
“Why not?”
Clint shrugged, which wasn’t much of an answer. Neither was sneezing, which was what he did next. “Uhhh-HITCHnxxxt! Heh… heh-KTngxttt! Sniff!” He sneezed into the side of his hand, restrained as best he could. Coulson offered over one of the tissue boxes and Clint dove right into it, blowing his nose, avoiding answering again.
“Agent Barton… Clint… why can’t we go to the tower?”
“I won’t be allowed. You might not even be.”
“That’s absurd. You’re an Avenger. There’s no reason to not go there. It’s the safest place we could be.” Coulson wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. All right, it was true that not all of the Avengers had been told that Coulson wasn’t dead. His death hadn’t been solely a manipulation to get the superheroes working together as a team. He truly had been killed by Loki; Fury had used that death, sure, but it had all been for the best. Meanwhile, Coulson had been rushed straight to S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors and had been revived while the Avengers had joined hundreds of alien invaders in battle. In the aftermath, no one had informed the Avengers that Coulson was going to survive. It had been touch and go for a while, and Coulson had really been dead for minutes, so it hadn’t been a lie at the time. “Tony does know I’m alive, doesn’t he?”
Clint shrugged again. “I’m actually not sure.”
Oh. Well, this did change things a little. There was no predicting how Tony was going to react to this news. But Tony would cope and, while he did, they would be safe in the tower. Clint would have somewhere warm to rest and Coulson would have at his disposal a wealth of technology and knowledge. If Thor were around, he could even ask about the Shandari; an Asgardian was sure to have heard of any alien race that was involved in the Battle of New York.
“We’re not going to be able to get in, though. Sniff! Sniff! I told you, I can’t go to the tower.”
“We’re at the tower,” the cab driver said cheerfully. Coulson swiped his card and added a good tip to the fare. He gathered up the bags and got out of the car, but Clint remained inside.
Rolling his eyes, Coulson leaned over. “Agent Barton, do I have to order you to get out of a taxi cab?”
Reluctantly, Clint climbed out of the car and closed the door behind, careful to not get the blanket stuck in the car door. He stood outside the tower and looked up at it as the tallest tower in Manhattan loomed above him. “This is such a bad idea, Sir.”
“It will be fine once Tony gets over the initial shock of seeing me.”
“That’s what you think.”
They entered from the back instead of through the public front entrance. If Coulson had been driving Lola, he could have parked it here in Stark’s garage. They took the elevator up to the top. Clint used his access code and also placed his palm on the panel to convince the elevator to reach the restricted floors. Clint then stood, leaning on one of the mirrored walls of the elevator, arms crossed over his chest, sniffling ever few seconds from a nose that wouldn’t quit running. When the elevator got to the top, he took a deep breath as if stealing himself against what was to come next. They walked out of the elevator and not even a second passed when an alarm sounded. The sound was painfully shrill, surrounding them in repetitive waves. Coulson fought the desire to cup both hands over his ears to lessen the impact. At the same time, Plexiglas walls were rising up from the floor to meet the ceiling on all sides of Clint and Coulson. It left them in a clear box about five feet by five feet in size. “What is this?” Coulson asked, knocking on one of the walls.
Down the hallway, a door opened and Tony came out, looking serious, concerned. “Alarm off,” he said calmly, and, mercifully, the siren stopped its wailing. Tony walked to them, his own arms crossed over his chest. He took a look at the two of them, then asked through the Plexiglas, “Who are you?”
“I know it’s probably a shock to see me alive,” Coulson began. “And I was dead, really. But S.H.I.E.L.D. was able to revive me.”
Tony took a long look at him, then finally nodded his approval. “Seems like something S.H.I.E.L.D. would do. Okay, Agent.”
“Good. Now would you let us out?” Coulson knocked on the clear wall dividing them.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“JARVIS,” Tony said in a voice a little louder than the one he had just been using. “Tell Agent and Hawkeye why they won’t be coming out.”
JARVIS, Tony’s computer AI, spoke up with its calm, reasonable tone and English accent, “Quarantine was initiated because a virus was detected in one of the individuals.”
Tony nodded in agreement. “What virus?”
“A rhinovirus, more typically known as the common cold. Contagion level risk high.”
“Exactly.” Tony nodded again. This time, he looked from Coulson to Clint. “Hawkeye, you know better than to come here when you’re sick.”
Clint sniffled, rubbing his nose before replying. “I do. Sniff! Sniff! I tried to stop him, but these aren’t ordinary circumstances. His entire apartment building just burned down and… and… a-and-hahhh… hahh-HIH!” The sneeze waited just long enough for Clint to pinch his nose. That didn’t get rid of the sneeze entirely, but it did help him stifle it. Still, Tony couldn’t have missed it. “H’nixxtttt! Urhhhhhh….” He scrubbed at his nose again before continuing half-heartedly. “And he’s caught in a time loop.”
Curiosity flared up behind Tony’s eyes. “Really?”
Coulson nodded. “It has something to do with this Shandari weapon that’s giving off energy readings. But I don’t know how to end the time loops. I don’t even know how they started in the first place.” Coulson sighed. “Will you help, Tony?”
“I’d love to,” Tony said with a smile.
“H’Nixttt! Heh-Ehppttch!”
Tony winced. “Unfortunately, I can’t do much from out here and there are way too many germs for you to come in here. Sorry. You two are going to have to go.”
Clint, looking miserable, shrugged at Coulson. “I tried to tell you I couldn’t go to the tower.”
Coulson rubbed his forehead, where a tension headache was starting up. “Yes… I guess you did.” He made eye contact with Tony through the Plexiglas. “Can you at least start researching what a Shandari bullet is? See if Thor has heard of it. See if anyone is talking about it on the Internet.”
“Sounds like you’re asking for a little more than a simple Google search.”
Coulson set the case down and knelt beside it. He opened the case up and held up the object of unknown origin that now had a known origin. “I assume that if your tech can tell Clint has a head cold, you can get some scans of this from in here. He closed the case and set the object down on top of it. Then he took a step back from it, in case Tony’s tech needed a full 360 degrees to get a proper reading. He also put his hand on Clint’s chest and guided him to back up a few feet as well. He didn’t know what would happen if the Shandari bullet started up with its energy with the same intensity before, trapped inside an airtight Plexiglas box, but he didn’t want to find out.
Tony sighed. “Of course. JARVIS, please scan the object Agent just set down.” Tony leaned against the wall, arms still crossed over his chest. “When Hawkeye feels better and you’re not crawling with his germs, I expect you back here to talk about why you’re not dead.”
“The object is made of an unknown material,” JARVIS’s voice explained.
“Interesting…” Tony took out his phone as the schematics downloaded automatically to it. “Fascinating. It’s giving out weak energy readings….” He turned, walking back down the hallway toward his lab.
“You don’t say.” Coulson hit the button for the elevator. Then he retrieved the object, fitting it safely back into its case. “Call me if you find something out! Ask Thor about the Shandari!”
Tony didn’t turn around, but he did raise a hand, waving dismissively over his shoulder. Coulson hoped that Tony had heard.
The elevator dinged behind them and the doors rolled open. As Clint, nose pinched between his fingers, leaned against the side of the doorway to keep the doors from rolling closed again, Coulson picked up the case and the shopping bags to take those with them to wherever they were going next. Then they took the elevator back to street level.
Clint stopped pinching his nose and covered his mouth with both hands, praying-style, and coughed a few times. Then he pitched forward with sneeze. “Hehhh-EhkShhhhhhh!”
“Bless you.” He had to admit that Clint was a mess just now. Tony was probably right; Clint was probably contagious. Maybe it was the time loop resetting him every day… or maybe it was the memory of those kisses, but Coulson just wasn’t concerned about catching this from him—certainly not as concerned as Tony seemed to be. “So when did Tony go all Howard Hughes about germs?”
“Don’t know.” Clint pulled another tissue out of the box and blew his nose. He pocketed the balled-up tissue when he was done. Coulson wondered what it meant that he was willing to toss used tissues all over his own and Coulson’s place but he didn’t dare doing that in Tony Stark’s elevator. Now that he thought about it, Clint wouldn’t even sneeze properly in Tony’s presence, despite the fact that they had been quarantined. “He’s been like that since I met him.” Clint looked thoughtful for a moment. “But he’s been different since the Battle of New York.” He gave Coulson a sympathetic smile. “I guess we’ve all been a little different.”
Coulson shrugged in a noncommittal way and leaned against the opposite wall of the
“Thor took off to Asgard to deal with his brother. Tasha’s always working. Cap left for Washington, D.C. Bruce barely leaves his lab. Tony’s an unstable mess and pretends like hell he’s normal. And you… well, you died.”
“I die every day now,” Coulson said, his weak smile not the least bit reassuring to either of them.
“Sniff! Maybe Tony will find something.”
“I hope so. I’m starting to run out of options, and I can’t keep up with the changes. It’s too much for just one man to keep in his head. I make one little change and my whole building burns down. Or the city explodes in a ball of energy. What if I do the wrong thing tomorrow and accidentally trigger something that brings another horde of aliens to invade the world? Or what if get us tortured again, and this time I can’t talk the guy out of killing you? What if my team doesn’t believe that I’m in a time loop and immediately ships me off to the crazy farm? What if—”
Pushing off from the wall, Clint launched himself across the elevator and pressed his lips to Coulson’s in a strong kiss. Clint’s head was turned slightly, eyes closed, kissing deeply, firmly. Surprised by it, Coulson took a few seconds to realize this was actually happening. Then he reached up and put a hand on the back of Clint’s head to ensure that it would keep happening. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Though begun in sympathy, this kiss bore little resemblance to the tender, bittersweet kisses exchanged on his deathbeds. This was powerful, full of desire, full of meaning. Clint was a goddamn master of kissing, his tongue moving in exactly the right way, his hands groping in just the right places, his body pressing close with just the right pressure. Coulson would have ridden that elevator up and down for the rest of the day if it meant Clint wouldn’t stop kissing him like that.
But it ended all too soon when Clint gave a gasp and his body gave a start. He pulled back, pressing the back of his gloved hand to his nose and mouth, squishing his nose against his hand as he took quick, shallow breaths. He turned to the side, eyebrows raised then brow furrowing. “Ihh hehh hehh hahh uhhh uhhhhhh… huhh-KITSchhhhh! HurKshhhhhh! Ehptishhhhh!”
“Bless you,” Coulson told him again. He, too, pushed away from the wall of the elevator and put an arm around Clint. Clint seemed to melt into the touch, trying to get closer. “You came to me this morning so that I could take care of you, and all I’ve done is endanger you and drag you uptown. Let me find you somewhere safe to rest and feel better, all right?”
Clint nodded, scrubbing at his nose with the glove, the end of his nose moving left then right then left again as he sniffled wetly.
The problem was, Coulson was almost out of ideas. He could call the jet to pick them up, but the last time he did that, they had ended up kidnapped. That was the last thing Coulson wanted right now. With a giant S.H.I.E.L.D. jet heading straight for them, they were conspicuous targets. Coulson’s building was gone, and along with it his bed and warm comforter. And they definitely couldn’t go back to Clint’s place, not with the mobster waiting there to shoot them. The best option now—probably the only option—was to get a room somewhere. He could register them under a fake name so anyone looking for them wouldn’t be able to find them. And then he could medicate Clint and put him to bed before calling Tony to see if he’d figured anything out yet.
When they got out of the building, Coulson hailed another cab. Instinctively, he studied this driver’s face as well, but he didn’t look a thing like the man who had kidnapped them to get a hold on the Shandari bullet. “Nearest hotel, please,” Coulson said, wishing he had an exact destination to give. An open-ended instruction like that to a cabbie meant doubling a fare, if not tripling it. He’d have to keep his eyes open for hotels coming up so he didn’t get screwed and driven all over New York now.
The cabbie started the meter and threw his left turn signal on for a split second before diving back into traffic. The guy he cut in front of honked and nearly rear-ended him, but he seemed oblivious as he weaved in and out of traffic, not unlike the way Coulson now easily navigated through the crowded museum every morning. Clint sat beside him, sniffling, and Coulson reached over, drawing him over. Clint came at once, melting into his side, snuggling close in his blanket. He rested his head on Coulson’s shoulder and closed his eyes, perfectly trusting.
Coulson wished he had had more time to enjoy the sensation of having Clint Barton—marksman extroidinare, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and Avenger—curled up next to him. Because, as the cab made a right turn, it was hit from the side by a moving van trying to beat the yellow light that had already turned red. There was a brief moment of realization, an even briefer moment of pain, and then nothingness.
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 11
Coulson woke, gasping for breath in a state of pure panic. His eyes shot open, and he stared at the closet door across the bedroom from his bed for almost a full minute until his heart rate began to drop down toward normal again. Automatically, he climbed out of his very warm and very safe bed and into the chilly morning air in his apartment. Goosebumps dotting his bare arms, he walked straight to the door, hit the buzzer to unlock the door downstairs for Clint, and then unlocked his own door. He threw it open and started down the hallway.
Repeatedly, pressed the button for the elevator, as if that would hurry it along faster. He didn’t care that Mrs. Sampson got a look at him in his underwear when the doors rolled open. He didn’t care that it was freezing in the apartment building’s hallway. He didn’t care that Clint was taken completely off guard when Coulson grabbed him, pulled him out of the elevator, and wrapped both arms around him in a tight hug. He didn’t even care when Clint sneezed down his back.
“Hahh-Ktshhhhh!” And then, of course, “Huh huh-KIHtchhh!”
Clint tried to pull out of the hug, but Coulson clung to him tightly, not ready to let him go yet. “Um, good to see you, too, Agent Coulson. You may not want to be doing that, though. I’ve come down with a pretty bad cold, and I’m probably still contagious.”
“I know.” Coulson squeezed him even tighter. “And I don’t care.”
Clint waited a few seconds before replying, “How does S.H.I.E.L.D. always seem to know everything about me?”
“Not S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Coulson explained. “Just me. I’m stuck in a time loop, and I was just tortured and killed before waking right back up in my bed like always.”
Clint sniffled as he stood there, then his hands found Coulson’s back and rubbed comfortingly. “And where was I when this was going on?”
“Tied to a chair with probably a broken arm and some burns from being tased repeatedly.”
“Ah. That doesn’t sound very enjoyable.”
“I would like to avoid that particular outcome today, if possible.”
“And standing here hugging me all day will accomplish that, will it?”
“Ha…” Coulson gave a half-hearted laugh and finally pulled back. He felt a little embarrassed, yes, but he also felt the instinct to step forward and embrace the man again almost immediately. Fighting against his instincts, he gestured toward his open front door. “Come in. There’s time for me to start a pot of water for tea before Agent Hill calls me in the middle of my supposed vacation to go after an object at the museum just a few blocks away. Do you actually take honey in your tea, or were you just humoring me about that because we were tied up and being tortured and trying to stall for time?”
“Um… honey’s fine, Sir.”
As he lived mostly on the bus now, Coulson didn’t have very much in his apartment. But he did have water, teabags, and half a plastic bear of honey. He parked Clint in his bed with the tissue box and his cell phone close at hand. “Answer it when it rings in a few minutes,” he ordered. Then he went to heat up the water. It felt like a dream to be moving around again. One moment he was dizzy, losing air, losing his vision, and the next moment he was back in bed, just fine as if the day had never happened.
But it had. Clint might not remember it, but Coulson sure did. Coulson knew he’d never forget it. And while he didn’t feel any closer to ending this time loop situation he found himself in, he did have a brand new piece of the puzzle called a Shandari bullet. The man had called it a Shandari bullet. He didn’t know the Shandari, but that sounded alien to him. Luckily, he knew some people who knew a thing or two about aliens.
The hot water in the kettle reached its boiling point just as he heard his phone buzz from his bedroom. As he poured water over the teabags in mugs, he listened to Clint’s side of the conversation with Agent Hill again. “This is Agent Phil Coulson’s phone, Agent Barton speaking. Go ahead.” Then Agent Hill said something on her end that made Clint reply, “I see.” Agent Hill followed-up, presumably asking about Coulson’s availability… perhaps wondering if he were on some sort of operation already with Agent Barton; Agent Barton did not often answer Coulson’s phone for him, after all. “I’m sure he’s available, yes. He’s just looking after me this morning. I’m not feeling so hot. Sniff!” There was another pause, during which time Coulson carried the tray of tea down the hall toward the bedroom. “I will tell him. But I guess he could.” When Coulson entered, he saw Clint pressing tissues to his nose and trying to concentrate on the details Agent Hill was relaying to him over the phone. “Yes. That’s just a few blocks away, I understand.” Once again, Clint looked up at Coulson and smiled. “You’re in luck. He just walked in. Here you are, Agent Hill.” He handed the phone over to Coulson.
Coulson exchanged it for a cup of tea and settled down on the edge of the bed, the tray between the two of them. “You have a job for me to do, Agent Hill?”
“There’s a potentially dangerous object of unknown origin at the museum near your present location. I’m calling to ask if you could retrieve it for us.”
“Absolutely. I’m on it. Just don’t make a habit of it, Agent. This was supposed to be my vacation.”
“Right, Sir. Sorry. And, Sir, Agent Barton…?”
“Staying with me while he recovers from an illness. I trust you have already removed him from the active duty roster?”
“Oh, I will as soon as I’m off this call.”
“Glad to hear it. Keep up the good work, Agent Hill. My team and I will take it from here.”
“Actually, you don’t need to—” Coulson hung up as if he had not heard this last bit from her.
“How’s the tea?” he asked, taking the teabag out of his and adding honey. He stirred with a spoon and then blew on a spoonful to cool it down enough to drink it.
“Wonderful,” Clint replied. “So… you’re really in a time loop?”
“I am.”
“So Agent Hill has called you about this 0-8-4 how many times?”
“Today makes number eleven.”
“I see.” Clint sipped from his mug of tea. “And how many times have you made tea for me?”
Coulson smiled and took a drink from his own mug. “This is the first. And, if I don’t find a way to stop this time loop, it won’t be the last.”
“Huh…” Clint reached for a tissue, but Coulson did as well, out of instinct. Listening to Clint sneeze and sneeze and sneeze without help had been painful. He didn’t want Clint to ever go through that again. So his hand reached the tissue box first and pulled out a few tissues that he put into Clint’s hand for him. “Huhh…” Clint buried his nose and mouth into them. “Hehhh-Ehhhh… ehhh-HIHShhhhh!”
“Bless you.” Coulson got up and set the tray on the nightstand. “Get some rest while I’m at the museum.”
Clint shook his head and set his tea aside on the tray. “I can come with you.” He started to push the covers down in order to climb out of bed.
“You can. You have before. But there’s no need for you to do so. I can make it there and back without dying, as long as I look both ways…” And look out for a certain face that was now burned into his memory. “I need you well rested for this afternoon.” He pulled the covers back up. “So stay put and stay warm. I’ll be back with the 0-8-4 as soon as I can be.”
Coulson put on his usual clothes, making sure to put his phone into one pocket and a handkerchief into the other, just in case Clint needed one from him later in the day. He headed to the museum straight away. He fought through the busy crowd of museum-goers. He apologized when the little girl bumped into him, even though he was beginning to think she should be the one to apologize to him instead of looking startled and running off as she did every time their paths met. He made his way through the security checkpoint and to the lab along with the sea of other researchers bound for the same destination.
It was strange how at home he was beginning to feel in this room, even though everyone around him wore lab coats and he was the only suit in sight. After all this time, after all these days, he was starting to think of this object as his. Even though he had let someone take possession of it last night, he hadn’t told its secrets (as if he had actually known its secrets). And even though it had gotten him kidnapped and tortured and, yes, killed, he still came back for the object today. The Shandari bullet.
“I am S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Phil Coulson,” Coulson said, showing his badge for a brief moment before putting it away again. “Who’s in charge here?” he asked, trying to not look directly at Dr. Daniels when he said it.
Because, of course, Dr. Daniels spoke up. “I am. I called this morning when the object started doing… this. It’s been dormant for months while I was studying it. And then, suddenly…”
“This. I got it.” Coulson pretended to be studying it when, in actuality, he was looking past the Shandari bullet’s impressive energy display at the faces of the researchers in the room. They all looked fascinated and interested by the object; any one of them could have been the kidnapper. Even after crossing the women in the room off the list, that still only left him with two-thirds of the room. He studied each face for a second, seeing if any of them looked like the face of the man who had taken him by the throat not long back and squeezed the breath and life out of him so violently. He tried to get a look at all of them, but some of them were on the move, trying to peer through the spectators and get better looks or just different looks. So Coulson was forced to move around as well, checking out everyone he could see. But not one of them matched the face in his memory of his most recent death.
Finally, he gave up the search here and picked up the Shandari bullet, to the genuine astonishment of everyone. He smirked, wondering if that was ever going to get old; he hoped it wouldn’t. He placed it in its case and thanked Dr. Daniels for the phone call. The man had done the right thing in calling S.H.I.E.L.D. so quickly. Lives had been saved due to that action, Coulson threw in there as well, pleased when Dr. Daniels blushed.
Then Coulson left the museum. He checked for rampaging elephants and saw some destruction on the street that must have meant the elephant had already been through, taking some trash cans and a bus stop down along the way. He double-checked to be sure nothing was coming before crossing at the crosswalk. Never before had Coulson been so glad to be such a rule-follower. Sometimes it limited you, but other times it came in handy. Coulson filled a shopping cart with all the essentials—from orange juice without pulp to the strongest cold medicine he could find in the store to far too many tissue boxes… though Coulson was starting to think you could never have too many tissue boxes.
He carried his purchases the remaining block and a half home where he promptly dropped them at the sight before him. The apartment building was on fire. Again. Flames leapt from windows on the fifth floor all the way up to the penthouse. Huge plumes of dark smoke soared boldly upward, making the statement that Coulson had, once again, failed.
Around him, children cried. Sirens sounded. Emergency lights flashed. Police set up barriers and tried to keep people back from the danger, but there were many tenants of the building looking as shocked as Coulson now felt. Firefighters were on scene to handle the blaze, but the building was so far gone, Coulson knew anyone still inside would be a goner. He thought of Clint first and his collectibles second; he’d be lying if his worldly possessions hadn’t crossed his mind at all. Dogs barked. Cats meowed. And someone put a hand on his shoulder.
Coulson leapt away, knocking over some of the bags but keeping the Shandari bullet in its case gripped tightly in his hand. If that man had somehow tracked him down and set his place on fire, so be it, but he wasn’t getting his hands on the object again. But it wasn’t the man who had tortured them. It wasn’t even a neighbor or an emergency responder. It was Clint Barton.
Clint had a streak of ash on one cheek and a scrape on one arm. A thick gray blanket was draped around his shoulders, but otherwise he looked as well as a sick man could look. The handle of the case still gripped tightly in his hand, Coulson threw both his arms around the man and hugged him.
“Whoa!” Clint laughed. “Twice in one day. Agent Coulson, people are going to start talking!” he joked.
“Let them,” Coulson mumbled into the man’s blanket-covered shoulder. “What happened?”
“The smoke alarm went off. I grabbed my bow and arrows and got to the window just in time. I had a couple trick arrows that let me scale down the side of the building. I got a little too close to one of the windows at one point, and I caught my arm on a loose bit of a drainage pipe. But, in all, a pretty decent escape. I’m not sure all of your neighbors were as lucky.” He pulled back a little, eyes narrowed at Coulson. “You could have warned me this was going to happen.”
Coulson shook his head. “It doesn’t always. This is just the second time it has.”
“But it has happened before?”
“Just once. You and I both died in an elevator.”
“That sucks.”
“Yes, it did. But why did it happen this time and not every time before? What did I change?” He glanced at his watch and found it was just a few minutes after noon; he tried to commit that to memory, but there was so much he was already trying to remember—faces, poker hands, names, times, events. His memory just wasn’t good to keep it all in there. “Why did this have to happen to me?”
Clint shrugged helplessly. Coulson gave him one more hug, squeezing hard for effect. Then he pulled back and brushed the ash off Clint’s cheek as best he could. There was still a faint gray streak there when he picked up the bags. “All right. We need to go somewhere safe.”
“Uh…” This time, Clint didn’t sound like he was about to sneeze, for a change. “My place isn’t really a good idea, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Coulson had already ruled that out. Even knowing who was there waiting for them so they could be ready when they entered the apartment didn’t even put Clint’s place on the list of possibilities. Besides, all of Coulson’s weapons had just gone up in a fire. “No. I have somewhere else in mind, actually.”
“Ehhh…” Clint looked around to see if anyone was around to hear him. Some of Coulson’s neighbors were around. He ended up pinching his nose closed anyway. “Hehhh… heh-eh… Keh’Hixxtttt!”
Coulson looked around as well, searching for his car. He finally found her behind a firetruck where several parts of the building had rained down on her. She was not beyond fixing, but she was not in any condition to be driven just now.
They walked a few blocks over to be able to catch a cab heading uptown. A few cabs passed them by; Coulson thought it might have to do with Clint in a blanket, but he wouldn’t hear of Clint taking it off even briefly. It was chilly out and Clint still insisted on wearing a uniform that had no sleeves. One finally stopped for them, and Coulson ushered Clint in just like before, placed the bags inside, and then climbed in along with the case. He found himself studying the cabbie’s face in the rear view mirror, just to be sure this man wasn’t coincidentally the man from the night before; of course he wasn’t.
“Where to, guys?”
“Eighth, Broadway, and Central Park, Please.”
The cabbie’s eyebrows shot up. “Columbus Circle then?”
“Yes. Stark Tower, more specifically.”
The cabbie pulled back into traffic. “I hear they’re calling it Avengers Tower now.”
“You don’t say…” Coulson said, smirking again.
But Clint seemed dead set against this. “Okay, look, you can take me home if you want. Just not the tower.”
Lowering his voice, Coulson replied, “We’re not going to your place. There’s a guy in a tracksuit there waiting to shoot me. Or, rather, he’s waiting to shoot you, but I’m pretty good at getting in the way.”
Clint looked guilty about this something that wasn’t his fault. At least, it probably wasn’t his fault. Coulson hadn’t exactly stopped to ask why the tracksuit dracula had been there. But whatever had gone down, Coulson was pretty sure he didn’t need to get killed because of it.
“Okay, but we can’t go to the tower.”
“Why not?”
Clint shrugged, which wasn’t much of an answer. Neither was sneezing, which was what he did next. “Uhhh-HITCHnxxxt! Heh… heh-KTngxttt! Sniff!” He sneezed into the side of his hand, restrained as best he could. Coulson offered over one of the tissue boxes and Clint dove right into it, blowing his nose, avoiding answering again.
“Agent Barton… Clint… why can’t we go to the tower?”
“I won’t be allowed. You might not even be.”
“That’s absurd. You’re an Avenger. There’s no reason to not go there. It’s the safest place we could be.” Coulson wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. All right, it was true that not all of the Avengers had been told that Coulson wasn’t dead. His death hadn’t been solely a manipulation to get the superheroes working together as a team. He truly had been killed by Loki; Fury had used that death, sure, but it had all been for the best. Meanwhile, Coulson had been rushed straight to S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors and had been revived while the Avengers had joined hundreds of alien invaders in battle. In the aftermath, no one had informed the Avengers that Coulson was going to survive. It had been touch and go for a while, and Coulson had really been dead for minutes, so it hadn’t been a lie at the time. “Tony does know I’m alive, doesn’t he?”
Clint shrugged again. “I’m actually not sure.”
Oh. Well, this did change things a little. There was no predicting how Tony was going to react to this news. But Tony would cope and, while he did, they would be safe in the tower. Clint would have somewhere warm to rest and Coulson would have at his disposal a wealth of technology and knowledge. If Thor were around, he could even ask about the Shandari; an Asgardian was sure to have heard of any alien race that was involved in the Battle of New York.
“We’re not going to be able to get in, though. Sniff! Sniff! I told you, I can’t go to the tower.”
“We’re at the tower,” the cab driver said cheerfully. Coulson swiped his card and added a good tip to the fare. He gathered up the bags and got out of the car, but Clint remained inside.
Rolling his eyes, Coulson leaned over. “Agent Barton, do I have to order you to get out of a taxi cab?”
Reluctantly, Clint climbed out of the car and closed the door behind, careful to not get the blanket stuck in the car door. He stood outside the tower and looked up at it as the tallest tower in Manhattan loomed above him. “This is such a bad idea, Sir.”
“It will be fine once Tony gets over the initial shock of seeing me.”
“That’s what you think.”
They entered from the back instead of through the public front entrance. If Coulson had been driving Lola, he could have parked it here in Stark’s garage. They took the elevator up to the top. Clint used his access code and also placed his palm on the panel to convince the elevator to reach the restricted floors. Clint then stood, leaning on one of the mirrored walls of the elevator, arms crossed over his chest, sniffling ever few seconds from a nose that wouldn’t quit running. When the elevator got to the top, he took a deep breath as if stealing himself against what was to come next. They walked out of the elevator and not even a second passed when an alarm sounded. The sound was painfully shrill, surrounding them in repetitive waves. Coulson fought the desire to cup both hands over his ears to lessen the impact. At the same time, Plexiglas walls were rising up from the floor to meet the ceiling on all sides of Clint and Coulson. It left them in a clear box about five feet by five feet in size. “What is this?” Coulson asked, knocking on one of the walls.
Down the hallway, a door opened and Tony came out, looking serious, concerned. “Alarm off,” he said calmly, and, mercifully, the siren stopped its wailing. Tony walked to them, his own arms crossed over his chest. He took a look at the two of them, then asked through the Plexiglas, “Who are you?”
“I know it’s probably a shock to see me alive,” Coulson began. “And I was dead, really. But S.H.I.E.L.D. was able to revive me.”
Tony took a long look at him, then finally nodded his approval. “Seems like something S.H.I.E.L.D. would do. Okay, Agent.”
“Good. Now would you let us out?” Coulson knocked on the clear wall dividing them.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“JARVIS,” Tony said in a voice a little louder than the one he had just been using. “Tell Agent and Hawkeye why they won’t be coming out.”
JARVIS, Tony’s computer AI, spoke up with its calm, reasonable tone and English accent, “Quarantine was initiated because a virus was detected in one of the individuals.”
Tony nodded in agreement. “What virus?”
“A rhinovirus, more typically known as the common cold. Contagion level risk high.”
“Exactly.” Tony nodded again. This time, he looked from Coulson to Clint. “Hawkeye, you know better than to come here when you’re sick.”
Clint sniffled, rubbing his nose before replying. “I do. Sniff! Sniff! I tried to stop him, but these aren’t ordinary circumstances. His entire apartment building just burned down and… and… a-and-hahhh… hahh-HIH!” The sneeze waited just long enough for Clint to pinch his nose. That didn’t get rid of the sneeze entirely, but it did help him stifle it. Still, Tony couldn’t have missed it. “H’nixxtttt! Urhhhhhh….” He scrubbed at his nose again before continuing half-heartedly. “And he’s caught in a time loop.”
Curiosity flared up behind Tony’s eyes. “Really?”
Coulson nodded. “It has something to do with this Shandari weapon that’s giving off energy readings. But I don’t know how to end the time loops. I don’t even know how they started in the first place.” Coulson sighed. “Will you help, Tony?”
“I’d love to,” Tony said with a smile.
“H’Nixttt! Heh-Ehppttch!”
Tony winced. “Unfortunately, I can’t do much from out here and there are way too many germs for you to come in here. Sorry. You two are going to have to go.”
Clint, looking miserable, shrugged at Coulson. “I tried to tell you I couldn’t go to the tower.”
Coulson rubbed his forehead, where a tension headache was starting up. “Yes… I guess you did.” He made eye contact with Tony through the Plexiglas. “Can you at least start researching what a Shandari bullet is? See if Thor has heard of it. See if anyone is talking about it on the Internet.”
“Sounds like you’re asking for a little more than a simple Google search.”
Coulson set the case down and knelt beside it. He opened the case up and held up the object of unknown origin that now had a known origin. “I assume that if your tech can tell Clint has a head cold, you can get some scans of this from in here. He closed the case and set the object down on top of it. Then he took a step back from it, in case Tony’s tech needed a full 360 degrees to get a proper reading. He also put his hand on Clint’s chest and guided him to back up a few feet as well. He didn’t know what would happen if the Shandari bullet started up with its energy with the same intensity before, trapped inside an airtight Plexiglas box, but he didn’t want to find out.
Tony sighed. “Of course. JARVIS, please scan the object Agent just set down.” Tony leaned against the wall, arms still crossed over his chest. “When Hawkeye feels better and you’re not crawling with his germs, I expect you back here to talk about why you’re not dead.”
“The object is made of an unknown material,” JARVIS’s voice explained.
“Interesting…” Tony took out his phone as the schematics downloaded automatically to it. “Fascinating. It’s giving out weak energy readings….” He turned, walking back down the hallway toward his lab.
“You don’t say.” Coulson hit the button for the elevator. Then he retrieved the object, fitting it safely back into its case. “Call me if you find something out! Ask Thor about the Shandari!”
Tony didn’t turn around, but he did raise a hand, waving dismissively over his shoulder. Coulson hoped that Tony had heard.
The elevator dinged behind them and the doors rolled open. As Clint, nose pinched between his fingers, leaned against the side of the doorway to keep the doors from rolling closed again, Coulson picked up the case and the shopping bags to take those with them to wherever they were going next. Then they took the elevator back to street level.
Clint stopped pinching his nose and covered his mouth with both hands, praying-style, and coughed a few times. Then he pitched forward with sneeze. “Hehhh-EhkShhhhhhh!”
“Bless you.” He had to admit that Clint was a mess just now. Tony was probably right; Clint was probably contagious. Maybe it was the time loop resetting him every day… or maybe it was the memory of those kisses, but Coulson just wasn’t concerned about catching this from him—certainly not as concerned as Tony seemed to be. “So when did Tony go all Howard Hughes about germs?”
“Don’t know.” Clint pulled another tissue out of the box and blew his nose. He pocketed the balled-up tissue when he was done. Coulson wondered what it meant that he was willing to toss used tissues all over his own and Coulson’s place but he didn’t dare doing that in Tony Stark’s elevator. Now that he thought about it, Clint wouldn’t even sneeze properly in Tony’s presence, despite the fact that they had been quarantined. “He’s been like that since I met him.” Clint looked thoughtful for a moment. “But he’s been different since the Battle of New York.” He gave Coulson a sympathetic smile. “I guess we’ve all been a little different.”
Coulson shrugged in a noncommittal way and leaned against the opposite wall of the
“Thor took off to Asgard to deal with his brother. Tasha’s always working. Cap left for Washington, D.C. Bruce barely leaves his lab. Tony’s an unstable mess and pretends like hell he’s normal. And you… well, you died.”
“I die every day now,” Coulson said, his weak smile not the least bit reassuring to either of them.
“Sniff! Maybe Tony will find something.”
“I hope so. I’m starting to run out of options, and I can’t keep up with the changes. It’s too much for just one man to keep in his head. I make one little change and my whole building burns down. Or the city explodes in a ball of energy. What if I do the wrong thing tomorrow and accidentally trigger something that brings another horde of aliens to invade the world? Or what if get us tortured again, and this time I can’t talk the guy out of killing you? What if my team doesn’t believe that I’m in a time loop and immediately ships me off to the crazy farm? What if—”
Pushing off from the wall, Clint launched himself across the elevator and pressed his lips to Coulson’s in a strong kiss. Clint’s head was turned slightly, eyes closed, kissing deeply, firmly. Surprised by it, Coulson took a few seconds to realize this was actually happening. Then he reached up and put a hand on the back of Clint’s head to ensure that it would keep happening. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Though begun in sympathy, this kiss bore little resemblance to the tender, bittersweet kisses exchanged on his deathbeds. This was powerful, full of desire, full of meaning. Clint was a goddamn master of kissing, his tongue moving in exactly the right way, his hands groping in just the right places, his body pressing close with just the right pressure. Coulson would have ridden that elevator up and down for the rest of the day if it meant Clint wouldn’t stop kissing him like that.
But it ended all too soon when Clint gave a gasp and his body gave a start. He pulled back, pressing the back of his gloved hand to his nose and mouth, squishing his nose against his hand as he took quick, shallow breaths. He turned to the side, eyebrows raised then brow furrowing. “Ihh hehh hehh hahh uhhh uhhhhhh… huhh-KITSchhhhh! HurKshhhhhh! Ehptishhhhh!”
“Bless you,” Coulson told him again. He, too, pushed away from the wall of the elevator and put an arm around Clint. Clint seemed to melt into the touch, trying to get closer. “You came to me this morning so that I could take care of you, and all I’ve done is endanger you and drag you uptown. Let me find you somewhere safe to rest and feel better, all right?”
Clint nodded, scrubbing at his nose with the glove, the end of his nose moving left then right then left again as he sniffled wetly.
The problem was, Coulson was almost out of ideas. He could call the jet to pick them up, but the last time he did that, they had ended up kidnapped. That was the last thing Coulson wanted right now. With a giant S.H.I.E.L.D. jet heading straight for them, they were conspicuous targets. Coulson’s building was gone, and along with it his bed and warm comforter. And they definitely couldn’t go back to Clint’s place, not with the mobster waiting there to shoot them. The best option now—probably the only option—was to get a room somewhere. He could register them under a fake name so anyone looking for them wouldn’t be able to find them. And then he could medicate Clint and put him to bed before calling Tony to see if he’d figured anything out yet.
When they got out of the building, Coulson hailed another cab. Instinctively, he studied this driver’s face as well, but he didn’t look a thing like the man who had kidnapped them to get a hold on the Shandari bullet. “Nearest hotel, please,” Coulson said, wishing he had an exact destination to give. An open-ended instruction like that to a cabbie meant doubling a fare, if not tripling it. He’d have to keep his eyes open for hotels coming up so he didn’t get screwed and driven all over New York now.
The cabbie started the meter and threw his left turn signal on for a split second before diving back into traffic. The guy he cut in front of honked and nearly rear-ended him, but he seemed oblivious as he weaved in and out of traffic, not unlike the way Coulson now easily navigated through the crowded museum every morning. Clint sat beside him, sniffling, and Coulson reached over, drawing him over. Clint came at once, melting into his side, snuggling close in his blanket. He rested his head on Coulson’s shoulder and closed his eyes, perfectly trusting.
Coulson wished he had had more time to enjoy the sensation of having Clint Barton—marksman extroidinare, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and Avenger—curled up next to him. Because, as the cab made a right turn, it was hit from the side by a moving van trying to beat the yellow light that had already turned red. There was a brief moment of realization, an even briefer moment of pain, and then nothingness.
