Clint would probably regret it later. The way he quietly put the tea Coulson had made him down on the counter top, condensation gathering on the side of the glass, and trickling down. The way he took a breath, turned... and reeled his arm back and let loose. It wasn't a particularly forgiving punch, and it connected with the side of Coulson's jaw with a dull sound. He hadn't missed the slower movements, the strain. He should've felt guilty for hitting a man that for all intents and purposes should have been dead. But that was the most ridiculous and infuriating sentence that Clint had ever heard.
"You asshole," he hissed, shaking out his hand, which was throbbing painfully. "Do you not realise how fucking devastated we all were? Fuck, Steve was- he was so- Tony too. He tried to find your stupid cellist in Portland. And fine, say that I buy that line. Say I do, just for one damn second. The hell have you been holed up here for all this time? They couldn't have put us out of our misery. You were fucking dead. Fuck you."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-05-10 09:51 pm (UTC)"You asshole," he hissed, shaking out his hand, which was throbbing painfully. "Do you not realise how fucking devastated we all were? Fuck, Steve was- he was so- Tony too. He tried to find your stupid cellist in Portland. And fine, say that I buy that line. Say I do, just for one damn second. The hell have you been holed up here for all this time? They couldn't have put us out of our misery. You were fucking dead. Fuck you."