AoS Fic: Crisis, Midlife or Otherwise
Oct. 3rd, 2013 09:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
out_thereTitle: Crisis, Midlife or Otherwise
Fandoms: Agent of Shield, Avengers
Pairing: Clint/Coulson
Spoilers: AoS S1Ep2
Word Count: 760
Summary: "Would you call this a midlife crisis?"
Notes: Unbeta'd. Just a quick little phone call that was hovering in my head. Let me know if you spot any major mistakes, okay?
"Would you call this a midlife crisis?"
Yawning, Clint stretches beneath the covers and makes a muffled, inquisitive noise into the phone. Knowing Phil, it's a reasonable hour of the morning -- Phil wouldn't consider making a personal call before 8am -- but Clint's crossed about twenty time zones in as many hours. He needs a few moments to wake up.
"The Bus. Lola. The new team," Phil says. "Does that sound like a midlife crisis?"
"A second life crisis, maybe." Clint rolls over to his side, stifles the second yawn. "Afterlife crisis?"
"That's what I said." Phil doesn't do anything so obvious as laugh at the joke, but the amusement is clear in his tone. His voice is fond and warm; there are worse ways to wake up than lying in a cosy bed with Phil's voice in his ear.
"I'd call it an inconveniently long-term assignment," Clint says, too sleepy and content right now to really bitch about it. "Who called it a midlife crisis? Did Melinda--"
"No," Phil says firmly and Clint's weirdly relieved by that. Phil already has one smartass specialist in his life.
Clint is an adult and he works for SHIELD. He understands risks and responsibilities, and how the best opportunities are rarely comfortable for all involved. He gets it. He's not insecure and he's not jealous, not really. But there's a short list of people allowed to tease Phil, and an even shorter list of people who can do it and make him think about it later. Clint's a little possessive about his rank on that list. "So who was it?"
"Ran into an old friend," Phil says calmly. His tone gives nothing away. It's so devoid of personal tells, it's got to be someone Phil worked with closely. Possibly someone he slept with.
Clint thinks about the latest intel. (Courtesy of Nat, who may not have Level 7 clearance but has never let that stop her from finding the important stuff and telling Clint what he needs to know.) Given the region, given forces they might have run into, there's only one name that jumps to mind. "Camilla?"
"Tell Natasha not to hack into her own organisation's classified records," Phil says in reply. Clearly, Clint's right.
"If they don't want her to do it, they should tell her everything."
"If she keeps doing it, it's only a matter of time before Stark tries to do it better."
"You assume he doesn't already?" The silence he gets back is telling. Clint grins. "We just like keeping tabs on you. You and your midlife crisis."
"It's really not." Clint knows that annoyed tone. He knows the facial expression that goes with it: lips pressed together, eyes narrowed but not enough for wrinkles to show. He can imagine Phil sitting just a little straighter in the chair, showing how much it bothers him by trying not to show it.
He can imagine it so clearly. It makes Clint suddenly realise how very alone he is in this bed.
He doesn't tell Phil he misses him, because they've never been that kind of sappy. He doesn't say some variation of 'wish you were here'. He doesn't make the rookie mistake of asking how far away Phil is right now or how long he'll be gone. Instead he says, "Of course it's not. You've been collecting old things as long as I've known you."
"Longer," Phil acknowledges, like a verbal shrug.
"Your team is young because newbies usually are. If they were an experienced team, they wouldn't need you holding their hands and making sure they play nice."
"Unlike the Avengers, clearly."
Clint's snort of amusement comes out before he has a chance to hide it. "We get the job done. The infighting and bickering is a strategic decision to keep bad guys off-balance. It's a conscious decision by every team member."
"Uh-huh."
"Anyway," Clint says, before Phil can infer anything more about team dynamics or suggest that the real reason Tony's lab exploded last week was an ongoing prank war with Bruce that, in hindsight... was a really dumb idea. "We were talking about you and your fake midlife crisis. I was in the middle of reassuring you that no, honey, of course the Bus doesn't make you look old."
"Come talk to me when the Quinjet has a fish tank." Clint can hear the smile in Phil's voice.
"The Bus doesn't have a fish tank."
"Not yet."
Nowhere at SHIELD has a fish tank. Fury doesn't like fish. It's a thing. "Yeah, good luck with that."
Fandoms: Agent of Shield, Avengers
Pairing: Clint/Coulson
Spoilers: AoS S1Ep2
Word Count: 760
Summary: "Would you call this a midlife crisis?"
Notes: Unbeta'd. Just a quick little phone call that was hovering in my head. Let me know if you spot any major mistakes, okay?
"Would you call this a midlife crisis?"
Yawning, Clint stretches beneath the covers and makes a muffled, inquisitive noise into the phone. Knowing Phil, it's a reasonable hour of the morning -- Phil wouldn't consider making a personal call before 8am -- but Clint's crossed about twenty time zones in as many hours. He needs a few moments to wake up.
"The Bus. Lola. The new team," Phil says. "Does that sound like a midlife crisis?"
"A second life crisis, maybe." Clint rolls over to his side, stifles the second yawn. "Afterlife crisis?"
"That's what I said." Phil doesn't do anything so obvious as laugh at the joke, but the amusement is clear in his tone. His voice is fond and warm; there are worse ways to wake up than lying in a cosy bed with Phil's voice in his ear.
"I'd call it an inconveniently long-term assignment," Clint says, too sleepy and content right now to really bitch about it. "Who called it a midlife crisis? Did Melinda--"
"No," Phil says firmly and Clint's weirdly relieved by that. Phil already has one smartass specialist in his life.
Clint is an adult and he works for SHIELD. He understands risks and responsibilities, and how the best opportunities are rarely comfortable for all involved. He gets it. He's not insecure and he's not jealous, not really. But there's a short list of people allowed to tease Phil, and an even shorter list of people who can do it and make him think about it later. Clint's a little possessive about his rank on that list. "So who was it?"
"Ran into an old friend," Phil says calmly. His tone gives nothing away. It's so devoid of personal tells, it's got to be someone Phil worked with closely. Possibly someone he slept with.
Clint thinks about the latest intel. (Courtesy of Nat, who may not have Level 7 clearance but has never let that stop her from finding the important stuff and telling Clint what he needs to know.) Given the region, given forces they might have run into, there's only one name that jumps to mind. "Camilla?"
"Tell Natasha not to hack into her own organisation's classified records," Phil says in reply. Clearly, Clint's right.
"If they don't want her to do it, they should tell her everything."
"If she keeps doing it, it's only a matter of time before Stark tries to do it better."
"You assume he doesn't already?" The silence he gets back is telling. Clint grins. "We just like keeping tabs on you. You and your midlife crisis."
"It's really not." Clint knows that annoyed tone. He knows the facial expression that goes with it: lips pressed together, eyes narrowed but not enough for wrinkles to show. He can imagine Phil sitting just a little straighter in the chair, showing how much it bothers him by trying not to show it.
He can imagine it so clearly. It makes Clint suddenly realise how very alone he is in this bed.
He doesn't tell Phil he misses him, because they've never been that kind of sappy. He doesn't say some variation of 'wish you were here'. He doesn't make the rookie mistake of asking how far away Phil is right now or how long he'll be gone. Instead he says, "Of course it's not. You've been collecting old things as long as I've known you."
"Longer," Phil acknowledges, like a verbal shrug.
"Your team is young because newbies usually are. If they were an experienced team, they wouldn't need you holding their hands and making sure they play nice."
"Unlike the Avengers, clearly."
Clint's snort of amusement comes out before he has a chance to hide it. "We get the job done. The infighting and bickering is a strategic decision to keep bad guys off-balance. It's a conscious decision by every team member."
"Uh-huh."
"Anyway," Clint says, before Phil can infer anything more about team dynamics or suggest that the real reason Tony's lab exploded last week was an ongoing prank war with Bruce that, in hindsight... was a really dumb idea. "We were talking about you and your fake midlife crisis. I was in the middle of reassuring you that no, honey, of course the Bus doesn't make you look old."
"Come talk to me when the Quinjet has a fish tank." Clint can hear the smile in Phil's voice.
"The Bus doesn't have a fish tank."
"Not yet."
Nowhere at SHIELD has a fish tank. Fury doesn't like fish. It's a thing. "Yeah, good luck with that."
