agent_coulson | After-action report

After-action report

Phil laid out on his bed, looking--he hated to think it, but it was true--a little pathetic. One of his toes was in a splint from when he'd flown backwards and hit a fire hydrant with his foot, there was an ice pack on his knee, where he'd been slammed by the guy's metal armor, there was a bandage wound around one forearm that concealed a long, deep gash (he wasn't even entirely sure when he'd gotten that, he hadn't noticed it until the fighting was over), and the rest of his body was covered in bumps and bruises. A scrape on his left cheek gave him a rough-and-tumble kind of look, but it conflicted with the rest of him, which looked more tough meat than tough guy.

The only upside was that he'd officially been given the rest of the day off, and SHIELD Medical had given him a few Vicodins, one of which he'd popped when he got home. Now at least he wasn't in much pain, and he felt a bit floaty, which was pleasant. He closed his eyes and tried to just be glad they'd gotten the guy. Stark had gotten to the scene a little late--Phil shouldn't really have been taking this one on alone, and he knew it, but he'd had to keep him occupied somehow--but he'd gotten there eventually, and that was the important thing.

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"There was..." Phil looked around, then spotted a wrapper for a protein bar he'd eaten a few hours ago. "One of those." He settled back down onto the mattress, sighing. "I wasn't really hungry, but you have to take these pills with some kind of food."

When he was resting back against the headboard again, he looked up at her, suddenly smiling. "You came to see me because I got hurt?" It was sweet, in a way he hadn't anticipated.

Tongue clucking, she pulled the blankets gently up over him, tucking him in and generally fussing over him, because she could. She'd been imagining all these worse-case-scenarios in her mind most of the day, and while she wasn't pleased he was injured at all, she was happy it wasn't as bad as some of the things she'd come up with.

She looked up at the smile, trying not to let her own lips quirk into one in response. "Of course I did, Phil. We are friends, are we not? Friends are allowed to display concern when one friend is a moron and gets themselves injured."

Phil raised his eyebrows at her, trying to match the stern looks she'd been giving him, but it was hard to look stern on drugs. "I'm not a moron. Someone had to keep the guy busy while Stark was taking his time getting to the scene. It was that or end up with a hostage situation on my hands."

When she had him all tucked in, he reached for her arm and tugged her down, trying to get her to settle down beside him.

"Keeping him busy didn't require turning yourself into a human projectile." She was trying to smooth the blankets over him when he tugged her down. The intention behind that deflated a lot of her anger, though there was still a small grumble of annoyance as she sat down beside him.

"You need to keep yourself whole, Phil. I'll be very put out if you go and get yourself seriously hurt."

"I'm fine, Carol. Still in one piece. And I plan to stay this way." He slipped an arm around her waist, leaning against her gently.

"It was nice of you to come and see me. I'm sorry I'm not... well. I'm sorry I'm in a bathrobe and on painkillers." He laughed. "Not the most dignified way for you to see me."

Her own arm draped gently over his shoulder, tucking him in against her. She snorted at that. "Screw dignity. I'd rather see you whole and in a mumu than beat to hell and pristine in a suit."

Turning her head to look at him, she ran a careful finger under the scrape on his face, sighing. "You should eat something. I can't cook for hell, but I could order something. Is there anything you need?"

"...you will never see me in a mumu." He gave her a very serious, determined look. It felt like it would be the punchline to one of Stark's horrible practical jokes, and he'd had just about his limit of those.

"I'm not really that..." He trailed off, suddenly thinking of something. "Actually. You know what does sound good right now." Then he stopped again, because he was not so high that he couldn't recognize that he was high, and he knew this was going to sound ridiculous.

"My heart weeps," she drawled, grinning slightly at the look he gave her.

She watched him almost ask for something, then stop. Well, that was a good way to pique her curiosity, Coulson. "A lot of things sound good right about now, Phil. You'll have to clarify a little more on what exactly you want."

He hesitated, then grinned. "Those... those little doughnuts. You know, the miniature ones they have at gas stations? Chocolate or powdered sugar?" He held up a hand quickly. "I'm not saying you should go get me those, I... I think that's just the pills talking. They just sound good, is all."

She blinked once at him, then started giggling, amused as all hell that Agent Phil Coulson not only had the munchies, but he had a sweet tooth. "Oh, sweetie. I think the sight of you mowing down on mini-powdered donuts is worth the trip. Stay in bed, though. I'll just come and go through a window, if that's okay."

She got up, bending over to press a kiss to his forehead, still giggling.

"Wait, Carol." He grabbed her hand. "If you're going to the store... could you get chocolate milk, too?" He said the last part in a half-whisper, hearing the ridiculousness of the words as they left his mouth. But he couldn't stop himself. Chocolate milk sounded too good.

Still laughing, she cupped his face in her hands gently before giving him a small kiss. "Yes, you big baby, I'll get you some chocolate milk. Just... stay in bed. Or else." She ended that with a tap on his nose before going and finding a window large enough for her to fly through.

Coulson lay back on the bed, feeling a little too excited about chocolate milk and doughnuts. He was pleased that Carol was going to be here, too. All in all, it was actually turning out to be a better day than he'd expected. He was sure he'd probably feel differently in the morning, but for now, he was kind of enjoying himself.

He slid down on his side and rested his head on the pillow, feeling a wave of sleepiness. His eyes closed--he could doze while Carol was out, maybe, so he'd be refreshed for the junk food she brought back.

Flying to the nearest convenience store, she puttered around the aisles, looking for anything else a munchie-afflicted agent might enjoy. She got both chocolate and powdered mini-donuts, as well as a carton of chocolate milk. She tossed in a package of red licorice whips, just because she could. Hey, he could munch on donuts, she wanted some licorice whips. The clerk gave her a knowing look as he rung her up, and she just rolled her eyes and took the bag and her change, then left to flit back to Phil's.

Slipping in the window, she closed it behind her and went into the bedroom, mouth twisting into a small smile as she saw him dozing away. Quietly, she went over to kneel by the bed, head resting on the mattress as she looked him over. Poor thing...

He became aware of her presence slowly, his eyes opening with a few heavy blinks. "Hi," he croaked, then cleared his throat. "Sorry, I passed out a little."

"You don't have to wake up. Go back to sleep. I'll put the milk in the fridge." Reaching out, she stroked a hand gently over his head, still smiling.

"Will you come back?" He yawned a little, still feeling impossibly sleepy for how excited he'd been about doughnuts just a little while ago, but he didn't want to just pass back out. He wanted to have Carol beside him for a while, to feel her soft warmth against him.

"As wonderful as your kitchen is, Phil, I don't see it capturing my attention for hours on end," she teased, getting up with the bag and going to put everything away.

Coming back in the room, she slipped off her boots and shrugged out of her jacket, crawling over him and stretching out beside him. "You know, you might hate me for saying this, but you're sort of adorable when you're tired."

He groaned. "SHIELD agents are not supposed to be adorable." He turned and put an arm around her, nestling close. "You do understand you're sworn to secrecy about this night, don't you? Serious, level five classification." He yawned again, a bit smaller, and kissed her neck. "If it gets out, I'll say you drugged me and fed me sugar."

"Mmm, but you're off-duty, so technically, you can be whatever you want. Because the last time I checked, SHIELD agents also weren't supposed to be naked and doing dirty, dirty things together. But, that might just be me. I haven't completely memorized the rule book yet."

Her hand came up to cup the back of his head, stroking through his hair as she snuggled closer. "I haven't fed you anything yet, but I did grab some Red Vines for myself, along with your necessary munchie food."

He grinned, despite himself. "Red Vines, huh. Interesting. Is that what I should get for you if you're ever on painkillers?" Then he frowned, because the idea of her being hurt enough to legitimately need them was not pleasant. "Never mind, let's just hope that never has to happen. I'll buy you some anyway."

Then he laughs, the first thing she said registering, along with a shiver down his spine from her hand in his hair. "There's no explicit code of conduct that covers sexual interactions. I checked. I think unofficially it's frowned upon, but if we're off-duty, no one can get too upset at us."

"Hey, Red Vines are delicious. And I wouldn't say no to any you might happen to procure and then offer to share with me." Her being seriously injured wasn't something that happened often - if at all since she'd woken up. She was seriously hoping it would stay that way. She had a feeling she wouldn't make a good patient.

"See, now that just tempts me to see about doing it on-duty. There's a utility closet on the fourth floor that everyone seems to have forgotten is there. Might come in handy." She grinned, fingers playing lightly in the short brown strands.

"Mmm." Phil pushed back against her fingers a little. "We can't... not at work." He smiled, though--it was an arousing idea, even if he could never follow through with it. "Anyway, I need more room than that to do everything I want to do to you. A closet isn't enough space."

"Don't think I won't be fantasizing about it some days." She smoothed her other hand over his shoulder, wondering just how bad his injuries were. The office hadn't told her the particulars, of course, so she'd only had a glimpse before she'd ushered him off to bed.

His insinuations, however, had her grinning. "Not for a marathon event, no, in which case we'd be using every available flat surface we could find, vertical or horizontal -- but maybe just to take the edge off when you're being particularly arousing? Mmm... it could come in handy."

"Stop, you're convincing me..." he murmured, shaking his head. He lifted his leg instinctively, to slide it between hers, then hissed in surprised pain when his knee and toe twinged angrily. "Damn. Forgot about that."

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