jahjghlakjghjkfhg WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MEEEEEE O_______O
But but what I'd REALLY like to think about is this: Clint walks inside Coulson's office, tugging crankily at the noose around his throat that polite society insists is necessary to look professional and Clint hates with a passion. Coulson doesn't look up; he keeps scribbling away at his report, long-hand because it's one of the too-Top-Secret ones to entrust to a server. It's all Coulson's damned fault, anyway; Steve, Tony and Natasha would have been more than capable of handling that meet-and-greet by themselves, he thinks resentfully. The least he can do is look up when Clint has come to complain peevishly about it--in a manly manner, naturally. He does not whine. (Much.)
no subject
But but what I'd REALLY like to think about is this: Clint walks inside Coulson's office, tugging crankily at the noose around his throat that polite society insists is necessary to look professional and Clint hates with a passion. Coulson doesn't look up; he keeps scribbling away at his report, long-hand because it's one of the too-Top-Secret ones to entrust to a server. It's all Coulson's damned fault, anyway; Steve, Tony and Natasha would have been more than capable of handling that meet-and-greet by themselves, he thinks resentfully. The least he can do is look up when Clint has come to complain peevishly about it--in a manly manner, naturally. He does not whine. (Much.)
TBC.......