The Cyclone Files

"So this is really awkward," he says conversationally, trying to ignore that he is way too much into Coulson's personal space.

"It would be a lot less awkward if you wouldn't talk," Coulson replies drily.

"It would be even less awkward if you wouldn't insist that I go through these bizarre training situations. Like you're ever actually going to be kidnapped and suspended over a vat of acid or a bed of spikes or whatever, thus forcing me to have to climb down this heavyweight chain to save your ass," Clint snorts.

"Don't underestimate the number of stupid plans our detractors will come up with, Barton. Now will you get that knot untied? I'm beginning to lose feeling in my fingers."

"I'm working on it!" Clint pulls at the knot, trying to figure it out without looking. It's awfully weird, pretending to rescue his handler. Even weirder that in order to actually get the knots undone, he has to basically drape himself all over Coulson and do all of this without getting to see what they look like.

Part of him thinks that doing this with Natasha would be pretty fun (but then, sex with her is always fun), but he pushes that thought aside. He reminds himself that he can't get distracted if they're really in the field, or someone might die. If he gets distracted here, one of them might end up concussed, but he's also fairly sure that Coulson will kill him for it.

He manages to get the knots undone, but it doesn't exactly go as planned. They end up tangled in the chain, and Clint almost drops them both, and somehow by the time it's all over with he has a handful of Coulson's ass. "Sorry, sir," he mumbles, trying to figure out how to move his hands without actually dropping either of them.

"Just drop us," Coulson grits out. He'll never admit it, but he doesn't mind the inappropriate hand placement as much as he should. He does wish they belonged to someone else. Clint lets loose from the rope, lets them fall the few feet to the mat, and rolls to catch them as they hit.

"Wouldn't want you getting a concussion, sir," he says and groans, trying to stretch his legs while he waits for Coulson to get up. He seems to suddenly realise that he's still hanging onto Coulson unprofessionally and pulls his hands away. "Apologies if this is going too far, but... nice ass. And I mean that in the most professional way possible this time."

Coulson laughs, the oddity of this exercise fully hitting him. "A concussion would be the least of our worries right now. I know you too well for that." He gets up, tucking his shirt back in and adjusting his tie, and hopes that the wrinkles won't be too noticeable. He glances over to the clock above the doorway and frowns when he sees Captain Rogers on the other side, watching them with a peculiar expression.

He goes to the door and opens it, "Can we help you, Captain?"

Behind him, Clint calls, "No, no Avengers business! Say it ain't so!"

"It's not," Steve says. He's still giving Coulson a strained look. "I need to speak with Agent Coulson." His voice is a bit tight. Coulson isn't quite sure, but he thinks that Rogers is about to get into a mood.

"My office, Rogers," Coulson says, and walks past him. The trek back to his office is silent, and it's not until they step inside and Steve shuts the door that Coulson turns and looks at him. "What is it?"

"Is that really an acceptable use of work time?"

"I don't follow."

"It's not my business if you're going to fraternise, but—"

"Excuse me?"

"You and Barton."

"That was only one time."

"What?"

"Nothing. The point, Captain Rogers, is that Barton and I are not currently fraternising. You happened upon the end of a very awkward hostage-rescue training scenario. I will be happy to show you the paperwork, if it will make you stop sulking."

"No, you don't have to."

Coulson tilts his head and fixes Steve with a look. "Then what will get you to stop sulking?"