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tarotgalSorry I was a little late with this one. Hope it's worth it!
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 14
Coulson woke when the door buzzer went off. He sat up in bed with only one thing on his mind: Clint. He thought he’d had it figured out last time, thought having Clint along to watch from above would be enough. But he hadn’t counted on there being two of them… and he hadn’t suspected anything like that from the sweet, lost little girl who had run into him at the museum so many times. Hell, he’d even told Clint she wasn’t a threat and to stand down… and that mistake had gotten them both killed. This time was going to be different.
Jumping out of bed, Coulson trudged across his bedroom and down his hall, plunged his hand into his linen closet, and ripped open the tissue box with the chevron design on it. He pressed the button by the buzzer and spoke into the panel there, “Come on up, Agent Barton.” Then he pressed the button to unlock the front doors to the apartment building. As he waited for Clint to arrive, he tried to go over everything he’d learned in the previous time loops, but there was so much it made his head hurt. So he focused just on yesterday. He knew exactly what needed to be done, what needed to change. And he knew just what to do. Now the trick was just to stay alive long enough to do it.
He knew he had to wait for Clint to leave the elevator on his own. What he wanted to do was race over and take the man in a bear of a hug again, but he knew that if he did that, his apartment building would burn down… and Clint would be understandably confused. So he waited, tissues at the ready. And when Clint stepped out of the elevator and came toward him, Coulson held the tissues up in just the right place.
“Hahh-Ktshhhhh!” The sneeze was strong, and Coulson felt the force—not the wetness—of it against his hand through the tissues. And he held the tissues in pace, even though Clint started to pull back, knowing Clint would of course sneeze again. “Huh huh-KIHtchhh!”
“Bless you,” Coulson said definitively. He thrust the tissue box at Clint. “Come in. I know you’re not feeling well. Let me get you into bed while I tell you what’s going on and how I knew what you were doing. But, first… I’m going to have to hug you.” He wrapped his arms around Clint and drew him close. It was the solidness of the man in his arms that he liked the most, but there was more to it—the way he smelled like aftershave and honey, the steady beat of his heart, the brush of his hair against Coulson’s face, the shape and pressure of his body as it pressed against Coulson. If the world weren’t about to blow up, he’d choose to stay there all day like this. Instead, he pulled back, put a hand on Clint’s cheek, and kissed him softly on the lips. “I’m stuck in a time loop,” he told Clint. “And this is far from our first kiss. Now come inside.” And when he turned, he could sense Clint was directly behind him—exactly where he wanted the man to be from now on.
“Huh… hahhChushhhhh!” This time, Clint caught his own sneeze in a tissue, for which Clint and the back of his neck were grateful.
Coulson tucked Clint into bed again then sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his arm through the comforter. Not even sure Clint could feel the pettings, he moved his hand upward and stroked Clint’s head. He knew he ran the risk of moving things forward too quickly, but there wasn’t much time and there was too much that needed to be said. “Like I said, I’m in a time loop. Every day I wake up to you buzzing my apartment and sneezing twice in the hallway. Every morning Agent Hill calls me on that phone,” Coulson pointed to his nightstand. “She asks me to go to a museum nearby to pick up an 0-8-4. I now know its origin is the planet Shandari, and it’s called a Shandari bullet, part of a weapon used during the Battle of New York. But there are at least two Shandari here in the city looking for the object. When I slip up somehow and they realize I have it, they come after me, and that never ends well. But sometimes other things get to me. Every day I try to figure out what’s going on. Some days I figure out more than others. But every day I die. And then I wake up again right here in my bed as if nothing happened and you’re downstairs again with a case of the sniffles, needing me to take care of you.”
“That’s… hahhhh… hahhhKTShuhhh! Sniff! Sniff! That’s some story.”
“I know you’ll believe me now,” Coulson explained, “Because you always believe me. But, just in case you need extra proof, I want you to answer the phone when Agent Hill calls. You can tell her I’ve just stepped out for a moment.”
No sooner were the words out than the phone on the nightstand buzzed with an incoming call.
Coulson gestured for Clint to pick it up, then headed to his closet to get dressed. He stood in front of the rack of suits for a minute, wondering if he should change things and put on something different. In the end, he went with the same shirt as always, same suit as always, and same tie as always. He listened on and off to the phone conversation to see where Clint was. “I’m sure he’s available, yes. He’s just looking after me this morning. I’m not feeling so hot. Sniff!” That sniffle made Coulson smile to himself. It was reassuring to know that every time the day reset, he could count on certain things to remain constant. Which meant that he should be able to count on a certain little alien princess to run into him at the museum.
He tied his tie and straightened it in the mirror on the inside of the door to his closet, then he headed into the bedroom. Clint looked up at him from where he lay in bed. “You’re in luck. He just walked in. Here you are, Agent Hill.” Sniffling and rubbing at his nose, he handed the phone over to Coulson. Then he pulled a few tissues out of the box and blew his nose into them as quietly as he could.
Coulson lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello, Agent Hill. What can I do for you and S.H.I.E.L.D. today?”
“There’s an 0-8-4 at a museum a few blocks from your current position. It’s a simple assess and acquire—”
“With all due respect, Agent Hill, it’s not. I would like to call my team in on this one and utilize Agent Barton as well.”
“How do you know—”
“You’ve got to trust me on this.”
On the other end of the line, she sighed. “All right. It’s your team. I can’t stop you from using them on this mission. But are you sure Agent Barton is up to helping?”
“Huhhhhhh huhh-Hischhhhhh! Huhhh-Ketchooo!”
“Hmmm?”
Coulson had to admit this was not a very convincing argument. “I’m sure.”
“All right then. Just retrieve the 0-8-4.”
“We will.” He hung up and sat back down on the bed. “Are you all right?” he asked Clint, petting the man’s head again, his hand gracing through the soft dark blond hair.
Clint nodded. “So you’re really in a time loop?” Coulson nodded. “And every day you really die?” Coulson nodded again. “And you actually think you’re going to get me up and out of this extremely comfortable, warm bed now that you have tucked me in here?”
Coulson chuckled. “All I’ve had to say before is that I need your help.”
Smiling, Clint sat up. He rubbed his gloved hand at his nose, but he sat up. “Let’s go.”
“Hold on,” Coulson laughed. “A few things before we start out.” Coulson held a finger up. “First, you can’t touch the 0-8-4. When I touch it, the energy leaping around it dies down. But when you touch it, the energy increases and takes out the entire city.”
Clint rubbed his nose again. “Ah, all right. I promise to keep my hands off it.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard, as I’m going to need your help with the Shandari. That should keep you occupied. Second, I’m bringing my team in, so you’re going to have to work with them.” Clint didn’t look too happy about this, but he nodded before blowing his nose.. “Third, try to keep your tissues off my floor and in the trashcans as often as possible.” Clint gave him a weak smile and palmed the balled-up tissue he was just about to toss over the side of the bed. “And, last, I want you to do anything in your power to keep me from dying today.”
“But sniff! But you said you always die.”
“And I’m getting tired of it. So help me keep a lookout for fires, explosions, muggers, and rampaging elephants. Sound doable?”
“Rampaging…” Clint chuckling. “Oh, you’re going to tell me all about that one when this is over.”
Clint picked up his bow and quiver and they headed out of the apartment, toward the museum. On the walk there, Coulson made a phone call and explained as much as he could to his team. Clint, sniffling as the late autumn wind whipped around him, stayed ever vigilant. He didn’t let Coulson cross the street until he was sure no one was running the light. He insisted on walking ahead a few steps in case he needed to intercept someone about to charge and attack Coulson. And even though he did a good deal of rubbing at his nose and sniffling and coughing here and there, he only faltered once. He stopped in his tracks, pinching his nose and puffing up his chest, trying to hold his breath.
Coulson took him by the shoulders, easing him off to the side. Shaded under the canopy of a quick stop shop, Coulson put both his arms around the man. With a hand on the back of Clint’s head, he directed it downward, hiding it against his dark time loop suit jacket. “No one’s watching,” he assured Clint.
And, almost instantly, Clint let loose with sneezes. “Hetchfff! Hehkshfffff! Hehshffffff!” He lifted his head, feeling better, and sniffled again. He didn’t need to ask Coulson how he knew. But Coulson smiled at him and gave him a quick, light kiss. Then they resumed their trek toward the museum.
When they got there Clint, who had just been briefed on how to pass through security with weapons, took Coulson’s gun and sailed right through with the help of the two autographs he’d left with the beaming security guard. Clint and Coulson wore earbuds again, but this time they weren’t alone. Clint hung back a little, letting Coulson go forward on his own.
Coulson walked at the same pace as usual. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the familiar bouncy brown ponytail coming at him. Relieved he had timed this right, he let her collide with him. “Sorry,” he said as she pretended to get the wind knocked out of her. But instead of letting her run off to catch up with her manservant, Coulson grabbed her by the arm. “Sorry, your highness. I’m a little tired of you. This ends now.”
The girl shrieked, startled, and tried her best to pull away. But Clint was right behind her now, holding both her arms. She struggled and kicked, and Coulson remembered only too well the way he had struggled against his bonds in the previous version of this day when she had orchestrated their kidnapping and torture. He had little sympathy for her now. She shrieked more loudly for help, but none came. The noise did attract the attention of some of the museum patrons, but once Coulson showed them his badge and warned them, “She’s dangerous and carrying a weapon! Stay back where it’s safe!” everyone backed up at once, giving them space.
Glancing over at the spot where he had so many times seen her “father” standing, he now saw Agent Ward and Skye. Skye had her gun trained on the alien and Ward had him in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s securest pair of restraints. “I’ll take her,” came May’s voice from behind Coulson, and he turned back around to see Agent May taking custody of the other alien, freeing Clint up. His first move was to, sheepishly, rub again at his runny nose. Coulson had expected no less, but he’d done his job well.
“Everything in place?” Coulson asked her.
She gave him a reassuring smile. “Of course, Sir. She’s waiting for you.”
“Excellent.” He patted his chest and sides, feeling there the gun Clint had given back to him still under his suit jacket and feeling his S.H.I.E.L.D. badge in an inner pocket, but also feeling his wallet still in his pocket. She hadn’t even been a convincing pickpocket. He wondered if all Shandari were so stupid or just the royalty and their stooges.
“Excellent.” He glanced over at Clint. “Coming?”
Clint was at his heals. After both showing their IDs, they were allowed into the Authorized Personnel Only area. Clint putting his hand on Coulson’s shoulder so as not to lose him as they weaved through the mass of researchers and scientists flocking to the laboratory was never going to get old for Coulson. He wanted to reach up and lay his hand over Clint’s holding it there, stoking the back of the man’s gloved hand as he led them on toward an object he knew the name of but was still not much closer to figuring out. But that’s where Fitz-Simmons came in.
“Hello, Sir!” Simmons said cheerfully as soon as he entered the laboratory. She had her lab coat on and a tablet in hand. From the look of it, she and Fitz had made friends with Dr. Daniels, who was still somewhat enchanted with the Shandari bullet’s impressive and beautiful energy display. “Dr. Daniels was showing us some of his research. This object is simply fascinating. The energy just started up like this from seemingly out of nowhere this morning.”
Coulson smiled to himself and succeeded in not glancing over his shoulder at Clint. But he couldn’t help thinking about what they were now. They were more than friends. More than partners. More than agents. But they weren’t anything else yet… even if he wanted them to be. Suddenly, he felt Clint squeeze his shoulder. Coulson’s smile widened and he tilted his head toward the touch.
Like a hummingbird, Fitz was darting around the table, analyzing the Shandari bullet from all directions as he watched the energy dance. He held a scanning instrument of some sort, recording the readings but barely looking down at the instrument’s screen. “Hello, Sir,” he said, still staring unblinkingly at the 0-8-4.
Simmons explained, “We’re trying to gauge if it’s possible to actually move this object. The object gives off a very specific energy signature.”
“It’s safe for me to move it,” Coulson told her. “Do you two have the readings you need?”
“Yes,” Simmons answered. “But, Sir…”
Not listening to her protests, Coulson strode over without Clint right behind him. Coulson picked up the object, inciting gasps from everyone, including members of his team. But not from Clint. When he set the case on the laboratory table and set the object inside, he noticed Clint smiling with something like pride in his expression. Though that didn’t last too long.
“Huhhh… hahhhh-INGhtttt!” Despite the attempt at stifling his sneeze, almost all eyes turned toward Clint, especially now that there was no pretty teal and purple energy to entertain them.
Coulson decided it was time for introductions. “Agents Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons, meet Agent Clint Barton. He’s a little under the weather, but I needed an Avenger to watch out for me today.” Clint gave a wave and a step back, avoiding anything that might look like a handshake. “I’ll see you two back on the bus shortly?”
“Just need to finish up here,” Fitz said, glancing over at one of the computer monitors on the far wall.
“Good. Clint?” Coulson said, gesturing for them to leave. And, with the case with the object safely in hand, they headed out. But they didn’t go back through the entrance hall, the way they’d come. Coulson navigated through hallways as if he had done this a hundred times—or even one time—before. Finally, the glowing red EXIT signs he had been following ended in an actual door. At the back of the museum, there were large loading docks and some staff parking. But right outside the entrance sat a familiar car. “Clint, I think you remember Lola?”
Clint nodded and slipped into the passenger seat. Coulson started to hand over the case, but Clint pulled back, instinctively. “You said I shouldn’t touch it.”
“It’s fine as long as it’s in its case. I promise.” Clint set the case on his lap and held onto it tightly. Coulson turned the key in the ignition and then fired up the systems. By the time they were halfway around the parking lot, the car was in the air. The jet was parked on the roof of the museum, giving his team easy access. Coulson drove Lola into the hanger only minutes after Ward, May, and Skye had returned.
“Are the aliens dealt with?”
“Delivered to S.H.I.E.L.D. Though Agent Hill seemed surprised to see them, Sir.”
Coulson grinned. “I thought it would make a nice surprise. Agent May, as soon as the others are on board, get us in the air and over open water.”
She nodded, acknowledging the order. “Anywhere in particular?”
“Somewhere we won’t cause too much damage if we explode.”
Skye’s eyes widened. “Is that likely?”
With a shrug, Coulson answered, “Let’s just say it has happened before.”
Coulson led Clint through the ship to his room. Clint set the Shandari bullet down, seemingly glad to put some distance between it and himself. But Coulson’s room was small, especially with the door closed behind. It wasn’t much more than a bunk and some storage compartments where Coulson kept his personal items and clothes. He took off his suit jacket and laid it on top of his bed. Then he started to undo his belt.
“Whoa,” Clint held both hands up. “Sir, I don’t know what exactly you and I did in previous time loops, but I’m not ready for…”
Coulson paused, his belt undone and his fingers poised over the button on his slacks. He had been so used to Clint following his lead and watching his back, he’d forgotten to explain. “This isn’t sexual. Several times now, those particular aliens have injected both of us with something. It’s usually something that knocks us right out immediately and we wake up an hour or two later. But once it was poison. It took some time to kick in, but my team didn’t have time to find a cure.” He neglected to explain that he had specifically told Fitz-Simmons to not look for a cure and to, instead, focus on the Shandari bullet. “We had direct contact with the aliens before they were detained; we need to make sure we weren’t injected with anything. I could have one of my team members look you over, if you prefer, but I thought you’d be more comfortable with me. I’m… more comfortable with you.”
Clint hesitated, then let out a slow, resigned sigh. “All right. What are we looking for?”
Undoing the button and zipper on his slacks and dropping them to his ankles, Coulson explained. “It’ll be small, the size of a pin prick. A little red dot; it persists even after a few hours, so if that little girl got us, we should be able to tell.” He unbuttoned his shirt and laid that on the bed on top of his jacket. With just the white tank on, he surveyed his arms closely and realized that Clint had stepped closer and was doing the same. He couldn’t help but be slightly self-conscious as he pulled off his shirt. The stab wound from Loki’s Asgardian staff had healed but had left a mark that would probably always be there. “I’ll need your help on my back, and the backs of my legs,” he said, turning on the balls of his feet. Though he had thought not seeing Clint at this time would be easier, it was actually harder. His mind raced, imaging Clint’s facial expressions or even just imagining what part of him Clint was presently looking at.
“I…” Clint trailed off, but not to sneeze. He sniffled a little but cleared his throat with his elbow over the lower half of his face. “I need you to slide your boxer shorts down for a minute so I can check your… ah…” Thankfully, another sneeze saved him from finishing his sentence. “Huh… huhhh-KETChhhhh! Huhhhh huh-Ihschhh! H’Chihhhh!”
“Bless you.” Coulson slid his underwear down, giving Clint an unhindered view of his ass. He surveyed his front while Clint checked his back. He leaned over a little, hands on his thighs, to get a proper look. With his shorts and undershirt back on, he took off his pants completely and pushed down his black socks to check his ankles. “Nothing?” Coulson asked.
Clint rubbed his hand over his forehead then back and forth across the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t say nothing exactly… but no injection marks. Sir…”
“I should check you over now.” Coulson pulled his pants up, buttoned up and tucked in his shirt, and topped it off with his jacket again.
“Yes, Sir.” He closed his eyes, pulled off his vest, and dropped his pants. “Do your worst!”
Coulson laughed and put a hand on his bare shoulder. “Briefs, huh? I’d had you pegged as a boxers sort of man.”
“All right for a suit but not such a good match for this uniform,” Clint told him. He sniffled as Coulson looked him over. Coulson checked him carefully, resisting the urge to run his hand over Clint’s skin to keep track of where he had looked and where he hadn’t. “Huhh… Coulson? Hahhh… I… I… huhhhhh… huhhhh!”
Resting a hand on Clint’s hip, Coulson stepped close behind the man. “Go ahead and sneeze, Clint.”
Not a second later, Clint snapped forward. “Heyhh-UHSchuhhhhh!” He shivered, possibly because he was standing there almost naked. But Coulson moved in closer, wrapping an arm around Clint’s front, pressing a kiss onto Clint’s shoulder. “Hah… I thought you said this wasn’t anything sexual? Sniff!”
“It wasn’t until now.” He stroked Clint’s chest. “I have a warm pair of sweats you can get into after I finish checking you.”
Clint nodded, sniffling, and rubbed the side of his hand at his nose. “Do you have a tissue too?”
“Oh, better.” Coulson pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dangled it over Clint’s shoulder for him. “Give your nose a blow into this.”
Clint spent a second fumbling with it, not sure how to go about using it. Then he finally picked a corner and gave a small blow into the cloth. Even from behind, Coulson could read the man’s body language, which said he was thrilled. His shoulders loosened and body relaxed. “Oh man…”
Coulson chuckled. “I know. Soft against your sore nose, isn’t it?”
Clint blew his nose again and again, rubbing and wiping in-between each blow.
Meanwhile, Coulson looked over every inch of Clint. This time, his fingers trailed over the skin and Clint shivered but didn’t tell him not to touch. Clint slid his underwear down briefly for the final bit of the inspection, but Coulson kept his hands off there… mostly. There were worse ways to spend time than being inches from Clint Barton’s ass… but there weren’t too many better ways. When he was satisfied Clint had not been poisoned, he helped Clint tug the pair of underwear back up again. Then he went through his drawers for the sweats.
As he handed over a pair of black sweats with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo large on the front of the hooded sweatshirt, Clint shivered again; his timing couldn’t have been better. “We’re going to have to talk about this later, too,” Clint told him, not hesitating to climb into the warm, comfortable clothes.
“Tomorrow,” Coulson told him, hoping that this time there would be a tomorrow. “Let’s go see what my team has for us on the Shandari bullet. Are you all right with the one hanky, or do you want a second one?” Soon, several handkerchiefs were nestled in the front pocket of the hoodie, along with Clint’s phone and S.H.I.E.L.D. ID badge. He followed Coulson out of the small bedroom and through the plane. Coulson knew from experience that Clint was memorizing the layout of the bus as he went; he might have been raised as a circus performer and he might be an Avenger now, but he was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent at heart.
Coulson brought the case to Fitz-Simmons’ lab and set it on the table. Once he took it out of the case, Clint took a few steps back, until he was almost flat against the wall by the door; he wasn’t taking any chances.
“Much less impressive without all that…” Fitz gestured toward the object, wiggling his fingers. “All that energy stuff, isn’t it?”
“But it’s still giving off an energy reading,” Coulson told him. “Check it out.”
Fitz snatched his instrument and checked. He whistled, impressed. “You’re right about that, Sir. The frequency isn’t the same—it’s lower now—but it’s definitely still there. How did you know?”
“I’ll tell you later. Like I said on the phone, the frequency is the key to all of this.”
Fitz was moving around it again, circling the much larger table now, watching the readings on the screen in his hand with a slightly puzzled expression. It wasn’t until he was on the other side of the table that he uttered a surprised, “Ha!”
Simmons rushed to his side. She hung off him and peered at the screen as well. “Oh… oh that’s interesting, isn’t it?”
Coulson grew impatient. “Care to share with the rest of the class?”
“Oh, sorry, Sir.” Simmons moved aside to Fitz could walk over to him and explain.
“The object is giving off energy of a certain frequency, but at a very low strength. Coincidentally, you’re also giving off a bit of this same energy. Almost as much as the object, in fact, but not quite.”
“Hehh-N’ggxxphh!” Clint sneezed, squeezing his nose through the folds of one of the handkerchiefs, trying to not only stifle but smother his sneeze. Thanks to his cold and the cold temperature of the lab, he gave a violent shiver.
Without thinking about it, Coulson took off his jacket and draped it around Clint’s shoulders, hoping some of his own body heat would be transferred over as well.
Simmons practically shrieked as she looked over Fitz’ shoulder at his readings.
“What? What is it?” Coulson rushed back over.
“The readings changed,” Simmons said, one hand to her mouth, the other pointing at the reading device that was pointing not toward the Shandari bullet but toward Coulson.
“What do you mean?”
Fitz explained, his eyes fixated on the device in his hand. “Your reading is lower now.”
“It’s dropping?”
“No, it just dropped. It’s stable now, not fluctuating. But it’s less than it was a few seconds ago… before you took off your jacket.”
Understanding, Clint stripped off the jacket and held it out at arm’s length. Without looking up from the screen of his device, Fitz walked over and got a reading. “It’s the jacket,” he said. Pivoting in place, he took a reading of Clint while he was there as well. “And it’s you, too, though to a lesser degree as well. I don’t understand this. Humans give off mostly infrared radiation, which is elecromagnetic. What I’m reading on here is… something outside that spectrum.”
“Is it dangerous?” Coulson asked.
Simmons shook her head. “I don’t think so, Sir, but we can’t say for sure without extensive tests.”
“No gamma radiation!” Coulson said quickly.
“Okay, but what’s strange…” Fitz continued, looking at the readings, “is that this jacket is giving off some of the energy as well. It’s an inanimate device; it shouldn’t be doing that.”
Coulson glanced at the table. “An inanimate device like the Shandari bullet?” His jacket. Could this all come down to his time loop jacket? Was that the reason why he wore it every day, not his mild obsessive compulsion? He couldn’t have known, but maybe the Shandari bullet had targeted him that first day because of the jacket he was wearing?
“Sir, is there something special about this jacket?”
“Not that I know of,” Coulson said, though he certainly had been through a lot of adventures with this jacket on over the past two weeks.
Clint spoke up, “Maybe you should take your pants off and see if they’re special too?” Coulson looked over at him, eyes narrowed slightly, but Clint replied playfully, “Just returning the favor, Sir.”
“That’s a thought,” said Simmons thoughtfully. She walked over to the jacket and took it from Clint. “Oh,it’s heavy. What’s…” She pulled out Coulson’s phone, just as it buzzed with an incoming call.
With a yell and a jump, Fitz gestured toward the device in his hand. “That’s it!” He pointed it at the jacket, then back at the phone. “Aye, it’s the phone, not the coat. And these numbers… wait a second.” He darted over to a computer and started typing.
Coulson took his phone and checked the caller ID. Director Nick Fury. Damn. He would have to answer. “This is Agent Coulson.”
“Coulson, nice work on bagging those aliens this morning. How did you know they’d be there?”
“It’s a long story, Sir. I’ll file a report at my earliest convenience.”
“Good. Now Hill tells me that Barton is with you?”
“He is…” Coulson looked at Clint, who seemed to be trying to follow the thread of the conversation hearing only Coulson’s side of it. He also seemed to be holding back a sneeze, pinching his nose hard through the folds of the handkerchief.
“Excellent. There’s a job I need a good marksman for down by the docks.”
Coulson walked over to Clint and wrapped his hand around the handkerchief with Clint’s hand beneath it. Clint looked confused, but he didn’t put up much resistance when Coulson lowered their hands. Clint’s nostrils flared and his head tilted back. Eyes fluttered shut and, apparently trusting Coulson this time, he sneezed freely, despite the others in the room. “Huhhh-KIHShhhhh! Heh heh HUTChhhhh! Hehschhhh! Sniff! Sniff! Hehhh-IHTChuhhhhh! Hehshuhhhhh!” As the sneezes backed off, Coulson raised Clint’s hand again, nodding appreciatively at him.
Coulson put the phone back to his ear. “I’m sorry, Sir. I couldn’t hear you over all of Agent Barton’s uncontrollably loud sneezing. You were saying?”
“I’ll find myself another marksman.”
“Excellent idea.” He hung up quickly before Fury could hear either him or Clint laughing. Coulson rubbed his hand down the back of Clint’s head, against his short hair. Then he tugged the hood up and over the man’s head to keep him warmer.
“I have something!” Fitz called out. He waved his hand, motioning for everyone to come over. Coulson and Simmons joined him at the computer while Clint turned to the side, hunched over, and blew his nose lightly into the hanky some more. Fitz pointed at the screen. “The numbers were nagging at me, running through my head, and I was trying to make sense of them. Turns out, I can. Or, I almost can. Look at this.” He pulled up a graph of the energy the Shandari bullet was putting out. “And now here’s the energy that’s in Agent Coulson, Agent Barton, and the phone… and here they are together.” He touched the screen to drag one graph over the other. They matched up almost exactly. Almost.
“That’s too close to be a coincidence. So what’s the missing piece?” Simmons asked.
Coulson sat down in one of the chairs by the desk. “This doesn’t make sense. I can see how the energy would be in me and even in my phone. The first time I approached the object, the energy went right into me.”
Simmons and Fitz both looked confused. “The first time, Sir?”
“Long story,” he repeated. “But Clint wasn’t even in the room when it happened. How did the energy get attached to him?”
“Has he ever touched it?” Fitz asked.
“Once. When I touch it, the energy goes away. When he gets near it, the energy flares up.”
Everyone was silent for a while, lost in thought. Then Clint pulled his phone out and turned it on. “Check this,” he said, walking over to them and laying it down on the desk by the computer. Fitz scanned it at once and the data appeared on the screen.
“So close!” Fitz exclaimed, pointing.
Coulson stood up immediately. “Call me.” Everyone looked at him, but he looked at Clint. “When it touched me the first time, Clint was calling me. I think he needs to call me.” Clint was already dialing. And Fitz was already holding up the reading device.
As soon as Coulson’s phone buzzed. Fitz had the reading up on the screen. “That’s it. Don’t pick up. Just let it go, Sir.”
Coulson reached out and took Clint’s hand. He knew what had to happen now. Knew in a way he couldn’t explain. “We have to touch it together,” he said. Clint shrunk back, shaking his head. He wouldn’t budge, even as Coulson tugged on his arm. “If it works, the time loops stop—”
“Wait, did you say time loops?” That was Fitz.
“—if it doesn’t work, we all blow up and I start this over again with more information than I had this time around.”
“Wait, did you say blow up?” That was Simmons.
“Please, Clint. You have to trust me on this.”
It still took Clint almost a full minute to decide. A minute during which his phone gave up trying to reach Coulson’s. When he looked down at his phone, he took a deep breath and redialed. “Okay. Let’s do this.” He let Coulson lead him over to the table where the Shandari bullet sat. Clint scrubbed at his nose with the back of his hand, took another deep breath, and reached out for the item. Coulson reached out as well. Together, their fingertips made contact with the object.
Energy leapt from from it, and they both pulled their hands back instinctively. Glowing teal and purple strands of energy surrounded the silver cylinder in an impressive display. Then the energy faded all on its own.
Fitz rushed over with his device. “There’s nothing,” he said, hand running through his hair. “This is amazing, but there’s nothing. The energy is completely gone.” He checked them and their phones as well. Once again, Clint’s phone stopped calling and Coulson’s stopped buzzing. “Sir… would you mind if we did some more tests on this object?”
Realizing he was still holding onto Clint’s hand, Coulson gave it a tight squeeze. “Do all the tests you want,” Coulson said. “But no gamma radiation, just to be safe.”
Fitz-Simmons promised. Coulson started to lead Clint out of the lab, but then he stooped. “Simmons, you’ve got cold medicine here, right?” She nodded. “I’ll need it. Anything but NyQuil.” They got some food and tea from the kitchen. Then they retired to Coulson’s room where Coulson wrapped Clint in the blankets from the bed and sat down on the sheets beside Clint to drink their tea side-by-side.
“Do you think what we did actually hehhh…”
Coulson grabbed his tea from him.
“Thah… hahhhh-Hah… Hah-Kishooo!”
“Bless you.”
Coulson had liberated a sizable box of tissues as well, but Clint didn’t want to use it just then. He wiped his nose with a handkerchief, dropped it onto his thigh, and took the tea back from Coulson. Clint sniffed and cleared his throat again. “Thanks. Sniff! Do you think what we did actually changed things? Do you think the time loops will stop?”
Nodding, “I think so. But there’s only one way to find out.”
“Kill you and see if you wake up in your bed again in the morning to the sound of me at your front door?”
Coulson gave him a sly smile. “Okay, maybe there are two ways to find out. I’ll opt for the one where we just wait it out.” He sipped his tea and realized he couldn’t relax. He didn’t know for sure that what they had done had stopped or fixed anything. Moreover, he didn’t know how to be with Clint any more. For two weeks, he’d been working nonstop to solve this mystery. It had come with too many complications, too many changes. Now that it appeared to be all over, he didn’t know what to do.
Clint, however, apparently knew exactly what to do. He leaned forward and kissed Coulson. It wasn’t their first kiss—it wasn’t even their first kiss of the day. But it was the kiss Coulson knew he would measure every other kiss against for the rest of his life. The way Clint’s lips pressed against his perfectly. The way their heads tilted at exactly the right angles. The way Clint’s tongue explored tentatively at first then, in response to Coulson’s, more energetically. Clint didn’t even sniffle once, and it lasted for what felt like hours.
Finally, they pulled away from each other, lips wet and warm and wanting more. “The tea’s getting cold,” Clint said.
Coulson picked up his cup; it was lukewarm at best. He chugged it. “All gone.”
Clint laughed and followed suit. Then he lay down on Coulson’s bed and lifted the blanket in invitation.
Coulson smiled. He reached down and slid Clint’s shoes off for him. Then he took off his shoes and his time loop suit and shirt. He squeezed onto the bed and under the blankets with Clint. “We’ll talk about what all this means tomorrow, right?” Coulson asked.
Clint snuggled into him and, instinctively, Coulson wrapped an arm around him to pull him closer. Clint was soft and hard all at once, and Coulson never wanted to let him go. Clint sneezed into Coulson’s chest a few times, rubbing his nose into the soft, warm, white undershirt. But Coulson just rubbed his back or kissed his temple until the man fell asleep in his arms. Coulson stayed awake as long as he could, savoring the moment, but two weeks of time loops caught up with him. After one last look at Clint, snoring beside him, Coulson fell asleep.
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 14
Coulson woke when the door buzzer went off. He sat up in bed with only one thing on his mind: Clint. He thought he’d had it figured out last time, thought having Clint along to watch from above would be enough. But he hadn’t counted on there being two of them… and he hadn’t suspected anything like that from the sweet, lost little girl who had run into him at the museum so many times. Hell, he’d even told Clint she wasn’t a threat and to stand down… and that mistake had gotten them both killed. This time was going to be different.
Jumping out of bed, Coulson trudged across his bedroom and down his hall, plunged his hand into his linen closet, and ripped open the tissue box with the chevron design on it. He pressed the button by the buzzer and spoke into the panel there, “Come on up, Agent Barton.” Then he pressed the button to unlock the front doors to the apartment building. As he waited for Clint to arrive, he tried to go over everything he’d learned in the previous time loops, but there was so much it made his head hurt. So he focused just on yesterday. He knew exactly what needed to be done, what needed to change. And he knew just what to do. Now the trick was just to stay alive long enough to do it.
He knew he had to wait for Clint to leave the elevator on his own. What he wanted to do was race over and take the man in a bear of a hug again, but he knew that if he did that, his apartment building would burn down… and Clint would be understandably confused. So he waited, tissues at the ready. And when Clint stepped out of the elevator and came toward him, Coulson held the tissues up in just the right place.
“Hahh-Ktshhhhh!” The sneeze was strong, and Coulson felt the force—not the wetness—of it against his hand through the tissues. And he held the tissues in pace, even though Clint started to pull back, knowing Clint would of course sneeze again. “Huh huh-KIHtchhh!”
“Bless you,” Coulson said definitively. He thrust the tissue box at Clint. “Come in. I know you’re not feeling well. Let me get you into bed while I tell you what’s going on and how I knew what you were doing. But, first… I’m going to have to hug you.” He wrapped his arms around Clint and drew him close. It was the solidness of the man in his arms that he liked the most, but there was more to it—the way he smelled like aftershave and honey, the steady beat of his heart, the brush of his hair against Coulson’s face, the shape and pressure of his body as it pressed against Coulson. If the world weren’t about to blow up, he’d choose to stay there all day like this. Instead, he pulled back, put a hand on Clint’s cheek, and kissed him softly on the lips. “I’m stuck in a time loop,” he told Clint. “And this is far from our first kiss. Now come inside.” And when he turned, he could sense Clint was directly behind him—exactly where he wanted the man to be from now on.
“Huh… hahhChushhhhh!” This time, Clint caught his own sneeze in a tissue, for which Clint and the back of his neck were grateful.
Coulson tucked Clint into bed again then sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his arm through the comforter. Not even sure Clint could feel the pettings, he moved his hand upward and stroked Clint’s head. He knew he ran the risk of moving things forward too quickly, but there wasn’t much time and there was too much that needed to be said. “Like I said, I’m in a time loop. Every day I wake up to you buzzing my apartment and sneezing twice in the hallway. Every morning Agent Hill calls me on that phone,” Coulson pointed to his nightstand. “She asks me to go to a museum nearby to pick up an 0-8-4. I now know its origin is the planet Shandari, and it’s called a Shandari bullet, part of a weapon used during the Battle of New York. But there are at least two Shandari here in the city looking for the object. When I slip up somehow and they realize I have it, they come after me, and that never ends well. But sometimes other things get to me. Every day I try to figure out what’s going on. Some days I figure out more than others. But every day I die. And then I wake up again right here in my bed as if nothing happened and you’re downstairs again with a case of the sniffles, needing me to take care of you.”
“That’s… hahhhh… hahhhKTShuhhh! Sniff! Sniff! That’s some story.”
“I know you’ll believe me now,” Coulson explained, “Because you always believe me. But, just in case you need extra proof, I want you to answer the phone when Agent Hill calls. You can tell her I’ve just stepped out for a moment.”
No sooner were the words out than the phone on the nightstand buzzed with an incoming call.
Coulson gestured for Clint to pick it up, then headed to his closet to get dressed. He stood in front of the rack of suits for a minute, wondering if he should change things and put on something different. In the end, he went with the same shirt as always, same suit as always, and same tie as always. He listened on and off to the phone conversation to see where Clint was. “I’m sure he’s available, yes. He’s just looking after me this morning. I’m not feeling so hot. Sniff!” That sniffle made Coulson smile to himself. It was reassuring to know that every time the day reset, he could count on certain things to remain constant. Which meant that he should be able to count on a certain little alien princess to run into him at the museum.
He tied his tie and straightened it in the mirror on the inside of the door to his closet, then he headed into the bedroom. Clint looked up at him from where he lay in bed. “You’re in luck. He just walked in. Here you are, Agent Hill.” Sniffling and rubbing at his nose, he handed the phone over to Coulson. Then he pulled a few tissues out of the box and blew his nose into them as quietly as he could.
Coulson lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello, Agent Hill. What can I do for you and S.H.I.E.L.D. today?”
“There’s an 0-8-4 at a museum a few blocks from your current position. It’s a simple assess and acquire—”
“With all due respect, Agent Hill, it’s not. I would like to call my team in on this one and utilize Agent Barton as well.”
“How do you know—”
“You’ve got to trust me on this.”
On the other end of the line, she sighed. “All right. It’s your team. I can’t stop you from using them on this mission. But are you sure Agent Barton is up to helping?”
“Huhhhhhh huhh-Hischhhhhh! Huhhh-Ketchooo!”
“Hmmm?”
Coulson had to admit this was not a very convincing argument. “I’m sure.”
“All right then. Just retrieve the 0-8-4.”
“We will.” He hung up and sat back down on the bed. “Are you all right?” he asked Clint, petting the man’s head again, his hand gracing through the soft dark blond hair.
Clint nodded. “So you’re really in a time loop?” Coulson nodded. “And every day you really die?” Coulson nodded again. “And you actually think you’re going to get me up and out of this extremely comfortable, warm bed now that you have tucked me in here?”
Coulson chuckled. “All I’ve had to say before is that I need your help.”
Smiling, Clint sat up. He rubbed his gloved hand at his nose, but he sat up. “Let’s go.”
“Hold on,” Coulson laughed. “A few things before we start out.” Coulson held a finger up. “First, you can’t touch the 0-8-4. When I touch it, the energy leaping around it dies down. But when you touch it, the energy increases and takes out the entire city.”
Clint rubbed his nose again. “Ah, all right. I promise to keep my hands off it.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard, as I’m going to need your help with the Shandari. That should keep you occupied. Second, I’m bringing my team in, so you’re going to have to work with them.” Clint didn’t look too happy about this, but he nodded before blowing his nose.. “Third, try to keep your tissues off my floor and in the trashcans as often as possible.” Clint gave him a weak smile and palmed the balled-up tissue he was just about to toss over the side of the bed. “And, last, I want you to do anything in your power to keep me from dying today.”
“But sniff! But you said you always die.”
“And I’m getting tired of it. So help me keep a lookout for fires, explosions, muggers, and rampaging elephants. Sound doable?”
“Rampaging…” Clint chuckling. “Oh, you’re going to tell me all about that one when this is over.”
Clint picked up his bow and quiver and they headed out of the apartment, toward the museum. On the walk there, Coulson made a phone call and explained as much as he could to his team. Clint, sniffling as the late autumn wind whipped around him, stayed ever vigilant. He didn’t let Coulson cross the street until he was sure no one was running the light. He insisted on walking ahead a few steps in case he needed to intercept someone about to charge and attack Coulson. And even though he did a good deal of rubbing at his nose and sniffling and coughing here and there, he only faltered once. He stopped in his tracks, pinching his nose and puffing up his chest, trying to hold his breath.
Coulson took him by the shoulders, easing him off to the side. Shaded under the canopy of a quick stop shop, Coulson put both his arms around the man. With a hand on the back of Clint’s head, he directed it downward, hiding it against his dark time loop suit jacket. “No one’s watching,” he assured Clint.
And, almost instantly, Clint let loose with sneezes. “Hetchfff! Hehkshfffff! Hehshffffff!” He lifted his head, feeling better, and sniffled again. He didn’t need to ask Coulson how he knew. But Coulson smiled at him and gave him a quick, light kiss. Then they resumed their trek toward the museum.
When they got there Clint, who had just been briefed on how to pass through security with weapons, took Coulson’s gun and sailed right through with the help of the two autographs he’d left with the beaming security guard. Clint and Coulson wore earbuds again, but this time they weren’t alone. Clint hung back a little, letting Coulson go forward on his own.
Coulson walked at the same pace as usual. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the familiar bouncy brown ponytail coming at him. Relieved he had timed this right, he let her collide with him. “Sorry,” he said as she pretended to get the wind knocked out of her. But instead of letting her run off to catch up with her manservant, Coulson grabbed her by the arm. “Sorry, your highness. I’m a little tired of you. This ends now.”
The girl shrieked, startled, and tried her best to pull away. But Clint was right behind her now, holding both her arms. She struggled and kicked, and Coulson remembered only too well the way he had struggled against his bonds in the previous version of this day when she had orchestrated their kidnapping and torture. He had little sympathy for her now. She shrieked more loudly for help, but none came. The noise did attract the attention of some of the museum patrons, but once Coulson showed them his badge and warned them, “She’s dangerous and carrying a weapon! Stay back where it’s safe!” everyone backed up at once, giving them space.
Glancing over at the spot where he had so many times seen her “father” standing, he now saw Agent Ward and Skye. Skye had her gun trained on the alien and Ward had him in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s securest pair of restraints. “I’ll take her,” came May’s voice from behind Coulson, and he turned back around to see Agent May taking custody of the other alien, freeing Clint up. His first move was to, sheepishly, rub again at his runny nose. Coulson had expected no less, but he’d done his job well.
“Everything in place?” Coulson asked her.
She gave him a reassuring smile. “Of course, Sir. She’s waiting for you.”
“Excellent.” He patted his chest and sides, feeling there the gun Clint had given back to him still under his suit jacket and feeling his S.H.I.E.L.D. badge in an inner pocket, but also feeling his wallet still in his pocket. She hadn’t even been a convincing pickpocket. He wondered if all Shandari were so stupid or just the royalty and their stooges.
“Excellent.” He glanced over at Clint. “Coming?”
Clint was at his heals. After both showing their IDs, they were allowed into the Authorized Personnel Only area. Clint putting his hand on Coulson’s shoulder so as not to lose him as they weaved through the mass of researchers and scientists flocking to the laboratory was never going to get old for Coulson. He wanted to reach up and lay his hand over Clint’s holding it there, stoking the back of the man’s gloved hand as he led them on toward an object he knew the name of but was still not much closer to figuring out. But that’s where Fitz-Simmons came in.
“Hello, Sir!” Simmons said cheerfully as soon as he entered the laboratory. She had her lab coat on and a tablet in hand. From the look of it, she and Fitz had made friends with Dr. Daniels, who was still somewhat enchanted with the Shandari bullet’s impressive and beautiful energy display. “Dr. Daniels was showing us some of his research. This object is simply fascinating. The energy just started up like this from seemingly out of nowhere this morning.”
Coulson smiled to himself and succeeded in not glancing over his shoulder at Clint. But he couldn’t help thinking about what they were now. They were more than friends. More than partners. More than agents. But they weren’t anything else yet… even if he wanted them to be. Suddenly, he felt Clint squeeze his shoulder. Coulson’s smile widened and he tilted his head toward the touch.
Like a hummingbird, Fitz was darting around the table, analyzing the Shandari bullet from all directions as he watched the energy dance. He held a scanning instrument of some sort, recording the readings but barely looking down at the instrument’s screen. “Hello, Sir,” he said, still staring unblinkingly at the 0-8-4.
Simmons explained, “We’re trying to gauge if it’s possible to actually move this object. The object gives off a very specific energy signature.”
“It’s safe for me to move it,” Coulson told her. “Do you two have the readings you need?”
“Yes,” Simmons answered. “But, Sir…”
Not listening to her protests, Coulson strode over without Clint right behind him. Coulson picked up the object, inciting gasps from everyone, including members of his team. But not from Clint. When he set the case on the laboratory table and set the object inside, he noticed Clint smiling with something like pride in his expression. Though that didn’t last too long.
“Huhhh… hahhhh-INGhtttt!” Despite the attempt at stifling his sneeze, almost all eyes turned toward Clint, especially now that there was no pretty teal and purple energy to entertain them.
Coulson decided it was time for introductions. “Agents Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons, meet Agent Clint Barton. He’s a little under the weather, but I needed an Avenger to watch out for me today.” Clint gave a wave and a step back, avoiding anything that might look like a handshake. “I’ll see you two back on the bus shortly?”
“Just need to finish up here,” Fitz said, glancing over at one of the computer monitors on the far wall.
“Good. Clint?” Coulson said, gesturing for them to leave. And, with the case with the object safely in hand, they headed out. But they didn’t go back through the entrance hall, the way they’d come. Coulson navigated through hallways as if he had done this a hundred times—or even one time—before. Finally, the glowing red EXIT signs he had been following ended in an actual door. At the back of the museum, there were large loading docks and some staff parking. But right outside the entrance sat a familiar car. “Clint, I think you remember Lola?”
Clint nodded and slipped into the passenger seat. Coulson started to hand over the case, but Clint pulled back, instinctively. “You said I shouldn’t touch it.”
“It’s fine as long as it’s in its case. I promise.” Clint set the case on his lap and held onto it tightly. Coulson turned the key in the ignition and then fired up the systems. By the time they were halfway around the parking lot, the car was in the air. The jet was parked on the roof of the museum, giving his team easy access. Coulson drove Lola into the hanger only minutes after Ward, May, and Skye had returned.
“Are the aliens dealt with?”
“Delivered to S.H.I.E.L.D. Though Agent Hill seemed surprised to see them, Sir.”
Coulson grinned. “I thought it would make a nice surprise. Agent May, as soon as the others are on board, get us in the air and over open water.”
She nodded, acknowledging the order. “Anywhere in particular?”
“Somewhere we won’t cause too much damage if we explode.”
Skye’s eyes widened. “Is that likely?”
With a shrug, Coulson answered, “Let’s just say it has happened before.”
Coulson led Clint through the ship to his room. Clint set the Shandari bullet down, seemingly glad to put some distance between it and himself. But Coulson’s room was small, especially with the door closed behind. It wasn’t much more than a bunk and some storage compartments where Coulson kept his personal items and clothes. He took off his suit jacket and laid it on top of his bed. Then he started to undo his belt.
“Whoa,” Clint held both hands up. “Sir, I don’t know what exactly you and I did in previous time loops, but I’m not ready for…”
Coulson paused, his belt undone and his fingers poised over the button on his slacks. He had been so used to Clint following his lead and watching his back, he’d forgotten to explain. “This isn’t sexual. Several times now, those particular aliens have injected both of us with something. It’s usually something that knocks us right out immediately and we wake up an hour or two later. But once it was poison. It took some time to kick in, but my team didn’t have time to find a cure.” He neglected to explain that he had specifically told Fitz-Simmons to not look for a cure and to, instead, focus on the Shandari bullet. “We had direct contact with the aliens before they were detained; we need to make sure we weren’t injected with anything. I could have one of my team members look you over, if you prefer, but I thought you’d be more comfortable with me. I’m… more comfortable with you.”
Clint hesitated, then let out a slow, resigned sigh. “All right. What are we looking for?”
Undoing the button and zipper on his slacks and dropping them to his ankles, Coulson explained. “It’ll be small, the size of a pin prick. A little red dot; it persists even after a few hours, so if that little girl got us, we should be able to tell.” He unbuttoned his shirt and laid that on the bed on top of his jacket. With just the white tank on, he surveyed his arms closely and realized that Clint had stepped closer and was doing the same. He couldn’t help but be slightly self-conscious as he pulled off his shirt. The stab wound from Loki’s Asgardian staff had healed but had left a mark that would probably always be there. “I’ll need your help on my back, and the backs of my legs,” he said, turning on the balls of his feet. Though he had thought not seeing Clint at this time would be easier, it was actually harder. His mind raced, imaging Clint’s facial expressions or even just imagining what part of him Clint was presently looking at.
“I…” Clint trailed off, but not to sneeze. He sniffled a little but cleared his throat with his elbow over the lower half of his face. “I need you to slide your boxer shorts down for a minute so I can check your… ah…” Thankfully, another sneeze saved him from finishing his sentence. “Huh… huhhh-KETChhhhh! Huhhhh huh-Ihschhh! H’Chihhhh!”
“Bless you.” Coulson slid his underwear down, giving Clint an unhindered view of his ass. He surveyed his front while Clint checked his back. He leaned over a little, hands on his thighs, to get a proper look. With his shorts and undershirt back on, he took off his pants completely and pushed down his black socks to check his ankles. “Nothing?” Coulson asked.
Clint rubbed his hand over his forehead then back and forth across the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t say nothing exactly… but no injection marks. Sir…”
“I should check you over now.” Coulson pulled his pants up, buttoned up and tucked in his shirt, and topped it off with his jacket again.
“Yes, Sir.” He closed his eyes, pulled off his vest, and dropped his pants. “Do your worst!”
Coulson laughed and put a hand on his bare shoulder. “Briefs, huh? I’d had you pegged as a boxers sort of man.”
“All right for a suit but not such a good match for this uniform,” Clint told him. He sniffled as Coulson looked him over. Coulson checked him carefully, resisting the urge to run his hand over Clint’s skin to keep track of where he had looked and where he hadn’t. “Huhh… Coulson? Hahhh… I… I… huhhhhh… huhhhh!”
Resting a hand on Clint’s hip, Coulson stepped close behind the man. “Go ahead and sneeze, Clint.”
Not a second later, Clint snapped forward. “Heyhh-UHSchuhhhhh!” He shivered, possibly because he was standing there almost naked. But Coulson moved in closer, wrapping an arm around Clint’s front, pressing a kiss onto Clint’s shoulder. “Hah… I thought you said this wasn’t anything sexual? Sniff!”
“It wasn’t until now.” He stroked Clint’s chest. “I have a warm pair of sweats you can get into after I finish checking you.”
Clint nodded, sniffling, and rubbed the side of his hand at his nose. “Do you have a tissue too?”
“Oh, better.” Coulson pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dangled it over Clint’s shoulder for him. “Give your nose a blow into this.”
Clint spent a second fumbling with it, not sure how to go about using it. Then he finally picked a corner and gave a small blow into the cloth. Even from behind, Coulson could read the man’s body language, which said he was thrilled. His shoulders loosened and body relaxed. “Oh man…”
Coulson chuckled. “I know. Soft against your sore nose, isn’t it?”
Clint blew his nose again and again, rubbing and wiping in-between each blow.
Meanwhile, Coulson looked over every inch of Clint. This time, his fingers trailed over the skin and Clint shivered but didn’t tell him not to touch. Clint slid his underwear down briefly for the final bit of the inspection, but Coulson kept his hands off there… mostly. There were worse ways to spend time than being inches from Clint Barton’s ass… but there weren’t too many better ways. When he was satisfied Clint had not been poisoned, he helped Clint tug the pair of underwear back up again. Then he went through his drawers for the sweats.
As he handed over a pair of black sweats with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo large on the front of the hooded sweatshirt, Clint shivered again; his timing couldn’t have been better. “We’re going to have to talk about this later, too,” Clint told him, not hesitating to climb into the warm, comfortable clothes.
“Tomorrow,” Coulson told him, hoping that this time there would be a tomorrow. “Let’s go see what my team has for us on the Shandari bullet. Are you all right with the one hanky, or do you want a second one?” Soon, several handkerchiefs were nestled in the front pocket of the hoodie, along with Clint’s phone and S.H.I.E.L.D. ID badge. He followed Coulson out of the small bedroom and through the plane. Coulson knew from experience that Clint was memorizing the layout of the bus as he went; he might have been raised as a circus performer and he might be an Avenger now, but he was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent at heart.
Coulson brought the case to Fitz-Simmons’ lab and set it on the table. Once he took it out of the case, Clint took a few steps back, until he was almost flat against the wall by the door; he wasn’t taking any chances.
“Much less impressive without all that…” Fitz gestured toward the object, wiggling his fingers. “All that energy stuff, isn’t it?”
“But it’s still giving off an energy reading,” Coulson told him. “Check it out.”
Fitz snatched his instrument and checked. He whistled, impressed. “You’re right about that, Sir. The frequency isn’t the same—it’s lower now—but it’s definitely still there. How did you know?”
“I’ll tell you later. Like I said on the phone, the frequency is the key to all of this.”
Fitz was moving around it again, circling the much larger table now, watching the readings on the screen in his hand with a slightly puzzled expression. It wasn’t until he was on the other side of the table that he uttered a surprised, “Ha!”
Simmons rushed to his side. She hung off him and peered at the screen as well. “Oh… oh that’s interesting, isn’t it?”
Coulson grew impatient. “Care to share with the rest of the class?”
“Oh, sorry, Sir.” Simmons moved aside to Fitz could walk over to him and explain.
“The object is giving off energy of a certain frequency, but at a very low strength. Coincidentally, you’re also giving off a bit of this same energy. Almost as much as the object, in fact, but not quite.”
“Hehh-N’ggxxphh!” Clint sneezed, squeezing his nose through the folds of one of the handkerchiefs, trying to not only stifle but smother his sneeze. Thanks to his cold and the cold temperature of the lab, he gave a violent shiver.
Without thinking about it, Coulson took off his jacket and draped it around Clint’s shoulders, hoping some of his own body heat would be transferred over as well.
Simmons practically shrieked as she looked over Fitz’ shoulder at his readings.
“What? What is it?” Coulson rushed back over.
“The readings changed,” Simmons said, one hand to her mouth, the other pointing at the reading device that was pointing not toward the Shandari bullet but toward Coulson.
“What do you mean?”
Fitz explained, his eyes fixated on the device in his hand. “Your reading is lower now.”
“It’s dropping?”
“No, it just dropped. It’s stable now, not fluctuating. But it’s less than it was a few seconds ago… before you took off your jacket.”
Understanding, Clint stripped off the jacket and held it out at arm’s length. Without looking up from the screen of his device, Fitz walked over and got a reading. “It’s the jacket,” he said. Pivoting in place, he took a reading of Clint while he was there as well. “And it’s you, too, though to a lesser degree as well. I don’t understand this. Humans give off mostly infrared radiation, which is elecromagnetic. What I’m reading on here is… something outside that spectrum.”
“Is it dangerous?” Coulson asked.
Simmons shook her head. “I don’t think so, Sir, but we can’t say for sure without extensive tests.”
“No gamma radiation!” Coulson said quickly.
“Okay, but what’s strange…” Fitz continued, looking at the readings, “is that this jacket is giving off some of the energy as well. It’s an inanimate device; it shouldn’t be doing that.”
Coulson glanced at the table. “An inanimate device like the Shandari bullet?” His jacket. Could this all come down to his time loop jacket? Was that the reason why he wore it every day, not his mild obsessive compulsion? He couldn’t have known, but maybe the Shandari bullet had targeted him that first day because of the jacket he was wearing?
“Sir, is there something special about this jacket?”
“Not that I know of,” Coulson said, though he certainly had been through a lot of adventures with this jacket on over the past two weeks.
Clint spoke up, “Maybe you should take your pants off and see if they’re special too?” Coulson looked over at him, eyes narrowed slightly, but Clint replied playfully, “Just returning the favor, Sir.”
“That’s a thought,” said Simmons thoughtfully. She walked over to the jacket and took it from Clint. “Oh,it’s heavy. What’s…” She pulled out Coulson’s phone, just as it buzzed with an incoming call.
With a yell and a jump, Fitz gestured toward the device in his hand. “That’s it!” He pointed it at the jacket, then back at the phone. “Aye, it’s the phone, not the coat. And these numbers… wait a second.” He darted over to a computer and started typing.
Coulson took his phone and checked the caller ID. Director Nick Fury. Damn. He would have to answer. “This is Agent Coulson.”
“Coulson, nice work on bagging those aliens this morning. How did you know they’d be there?”
“It’s a long story, Sir. I’ll file a report at my earliest convenience.”
“Good. Now Hill tells me that Barton is with you?”
“He is…” Coulson looked at Clint, who seemed to be trying to follow the thread of the conversation hearing only Coulson’s side of it. He also seemed to be holding back a sneeze, pinching his nose hard through the folds of the handkerchief.
“Excellent. There’s a job I need a good marksman for down by the docks.”
Coulson walked over to Clint and wrapped his hand around the handkerchief with Clint’s hand beneath it. Clint looked confused, but he didn’t put up much resistance when Coulson lowered their hands. Clint’s nostrils flared and his head tilted back. Eyes fluttered shut and, apparently trusting Coulson this time, he sneezed freely, despite the others in the room. “Huhhh-KIHShhhhh! Heh heh HUTChhhhh! Hehschhhh! Sniff! Sniff! Hehhh-IHTChuhhhhh! Hehshuhhhhh!” As the sneezes backed off, Coulson raised Clint’s hand again, nodding appreciatively at him.
Coulson put the phone back to his ear. “I’m sorry, Sir. I couldn’t hear you over all of Agent Barton’s uncontrollably loud sneezing. You were saying?”
“I’ll find myself another marksman.”
“Excellent idea.” He hung up quickly before Fury could hear either him or Clint laughing. Coulson rubbed his hand down the back of Clint’s head, against his short hair. Then he tugged the hood up and over the man’s head to keep him warmer.
“I have something!” Fitz called out. He waved his hand, motioning for everyone to come over. Coulson and Simmons joined him at the computer while Clint turned to the side, hunched over, and blew his nose lightly into the hanky some more. Fitz pointed at the screen. “The numbers were nagging at me, running through my head, and I was trying to make sense of them. Turns out, I can. Or, I almost can. Look at this.” He pulled up a graph of the energy the Shandari bullet was putting out. “And now here’s the energy that’s in Agent Coulson, Agent Barton, and the phone… and here they are together.” He touched the screen to drag one graph over the other. They matched up almost exactly. Almost.
“That’s too close to be a coincidence. So what’s the missing piece?” Simmons asked.
Coulson sat down in one of the chairs by the desk. “This doesn’t make sense. I can see how the energy would be in me and even in my phone. The first time I approached the object, the energy went right into me.”
Simmons and Fitz both looked confused. “The first time, Sir?”
“Long story,” he repeated. “But Clint wasn’t even in the room when it happened. How did the energy get attached to him?”
“Has he ever touched it?” Fitz asked.
“Once. When I touch it, the energy goes away. When he gets near it, the energy flares up.”
Everyone was silent for a while, lost in thought. Then Clint pulled his phone out and turned it on. “Check this,” he said, walking over to them and laying it down on the desk by the computer. Fitz scanned it at once and the data appeared on the screen.
“So close!” Fitz exclaimed, pointing.
Coulson stood up immediately. “Call me.” Everyone looked at him, but he looked at Clint. “When it touched me the first time, Clint was calling me. I think he needs to call me.” Clint was already dialing. And Fitz was already holding up the reading device.
As soon as Coulson’s phone buzzed. Fitz had the reading up on the screen. “That’s it. Don’t pick up. Just let it go, Sir.”
Coulson reached out and took Clint’s hand. He knew what had to happen now. Knew in a way he couldn’t explain. “We have to touch it together,” he said. Clint shrunk back, shaking his head. He wouldn’t budge, even as Coulson tugged on his arm. “If it works, the time loops stop—”
“Wait, did you say time loops?” That was Fitz.
“—if it doesn’t work, we all blow up and I start this over again with more information than I had this time around.”
“Wait, did you say blow up?” That was Simmons.
“Please, Clint. You have to trust me on this.”
It still took Clint almost a full minute to decide. A minute during which his phone gave up trying to reach Coulson’s. When he looked down at his phone, he took a deep breath and redialed. “Okay. Let’s do this.” He let Coulson lead him over to the table where the Shandari bullet sat. Clint scrubbed at his nose with the back of his hand, took another deep breath, and reached out for the item. Coulson reached out as well. Together, their fingertips made contact with the object.
Energy leapt from from it, and they both pulled their hands back instinctively. Glowing teal and purple strands of energy surrounded the silver cylinder in an impressive display. Then the energy faded all on its own.
Fitz rushed over with his device. “There’s nothing,” he said, hand running through his hair. “This is amazing, but there’s nothing. The energy is completely gone.” He checked them and their phones as well. Once again, Clint’s phone stopped calling and Coulson’s stopped buzzing. “Sir… would you mind if we did some more tests on this object?”
Realizing he was still holding onto Clint’s hand, Coulson gave it a tight squeeze. “Do all the tests you want,” Coulson said. “But no gamma radiation, just to be safe.”
Fitz-Simmons promised. Coulson started to lead Clint out of the lab, but then he stooped. “Simmons, you’ve got cold medicine here, right?” She nodded. “I’ll need it. Anything but NyQuil.” They got some food and tea from the kitchen. Then they retired to Coulson’s room where Coulson wrapped Clint in the blankets from the bed and sat down on the sheets beside Clint to drink their tea side-by-side.
“Do you think what we did actually hehhh…”
Coulson grabbed his tea from him.
“Thah… hahhhh-Hah… Hah-Kishooo!”
“Bless you.”
Coulson had liberated a sizable box of tissues as well, but Clint didn’t want to use it just then. He wiped his nose with a handkerchief, dropped it onto his thigh, and took the tea back from Coulson. Clint sniffed and cleared his throat again. “Thanks. Sniff! Do you think what we did actually changed things? Do you think the time loops will stop?”
Nodding, “I think so. But there’s only one way to find out.”
“Kill you and see if you wake up in your bed again in the morning to the sound of me at your front door?”
Coulson gave him a sly smile. “Okay, maybe there are two ways to find out. I’ll opt for the one where we just wait it out.” He sipped his tea and realized he couldn’t relax. He didn’t know for sure that what they had done had stopped or fixed anything. Moreover, he didn’t know how to be with Clint any more. For two weeks, he’d been working nonstop to solve this mystery. It had come with too many complications, too many changes. Now that it appeared to be all over, he didn’t know what to do.
Clint, however, apparently knew exactly what to do. He leaned forward and kissed Coulson. It wasn’t their first kiss—it wasn’t even their first kiss of the day. But it was the kiss Coulson knew he would measure every other kiss against for the rest of his life. The way Clint’s lips pressed against his perfectly. The way their heads tilted at exactly the right angles. The way Clint’s tongue explored tentatively at first then, in response to Coulson’s, more energetically. Clint didn’t even sniffle once, and it lasted for what felt like hours.
Finally, they pulled away from each other, lips wet and warm and wanting more. “The tea’s getting cold,” Clint said.
Coulson picked up his cup; it was lukewarm at best. He chugged it. “All gone.”
Clint laughed and followed suit. Then he lay down on Coulson’s bed and lifted the blanket in invitation.
Coulson smiled. He reached down and slid Clint’s shoes off for him. Then he took off his shoes and his time loop suit and shirt. He squeezed onto the bed and under the blankets with Clint. “We’ll talk about what all this means tomorrow, right?” Coulson asked.
Clint snuggled into him and, instinctively, Coulson wrapped an arm around him to pull him closer. Clint was soft and hard all at once, and Coulson never wanted to let him go. Clint sneezed into Coulson’s chest a few times, rubbing his nose into the soft, warm, white undershirt. But Coulson just rubbed his back or kissed his temple until the man fell asleep in his arms. Coulson stayed awake as long as he could, savoring the moment, but two weeks of time loops caught up with him. After one last look at Clint, snoring beside him, Coulson fell asleep.
