ajkhjfsdkhfjlkdghfdjg PHIIIILLLLLL YOU WANT THAT, YOU KNOW YOU DOOOOO.
Coulson opens his mouth, but nothing comes out; it's rare to see him so taken aback, and Clint won't lie that it sends a jolt of warmth through his stomach. Coulson's eyes run down his body, the horrible suit that Clint hates but Coulson seems to find rather interesting, if the look in his eyes is anything to go by.
"How--how'd it go?" The fact that Coulson has to stop to clear his throat is one hell of a notch on Clint's wall.
"Awful," he says, though he finds that the irritation simmering under his skin a moment ago has curiously drained out of him, leaving behind nothing more but a mischievous urge to sit on the edge of Coulson's desk and unbutton his jacket, just to see what Coulson would do.
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Coulson opens his mouth, but nothing comes out; it's rare to see him so taken aback, and Clint won't lie that it sends a jolt of warmth through his stomach. Coulson's eyes run down his body, the horrible suit that Clint hates but Coulson seems to find rather interesting, if the look in his eyes is anything to go by.
"How--how'd it go?" The fact that Coulson has to stop to clear his throat is one hell of a notch on Clint's wall.
"Awful," he says, though he finds that the irritation simmering under his skin a moment ago has curiously drained out of him, leaving behind nothing more but a mischievous urge to sit on the edge of Coulson's desk and unbutton his jacket, just to see what Coulson would do.