Work Text:
Phil loved his work. He really did, even though his love for paperwork puzzled most people. But he found peace in the steadiness, rules and regulations that were connected with the many forms. And really, if you knew how to use them, filling out S.H.I.E.L.D. forms could be a lot of fun. Not that Phil would ever admit to it, but he’s used a specific form a few times to fuck with whoever had called him a robot that month. He was a vindictive bitch, so what? It wasn’t like anyone would suspect him.
But today wasn’t a good day. The paperwork annoyed him, the junior agents assigned to fill out simple requisition forms annoyed him, and he didn’t even want to get started on the senior agents’ field reports. It was just one of those days and he was developing a killer headache. He just wanted this day to be over and done with. In his experience, that usually meant hell would break lose five minutes before he could call it a day.
He was sighing his way through yet another poorly worded report when a cup of coffee appeared at his elbow. He looked first at it, then up at the man who had put it there.
“Did someone die?” he asked, biting down on the smile that wanted to appear the minute he set eyes on Clint. It didn’t matter if it was during the day at the office or in the morning over their breakfast counter; he always wanted to smile at Clint.
Clint rolled his eyes and put two pills next to the coffee cup. “You’re getting a migraine,” he said, not deeming Phil’s quip worth an answer. “I’ve seen the signs this morning but I was hoping it would be a slow day.”
Phil looked down at the two Advil and the coffee, then back up at Clint. This time he didn’t police his smile. “Thank you, Clint.”
“My pleasure. Just… do me the favor and actually take them, okay?”
Phil huffed out a laugh, but took the pills and washed them down with a sip of coffee. “Happy?” he asked, looking pointedly at Clint.
“Thrilled,” he deadpanned, then went over to the door. But instead of leaving, he closed it and came back to the desk.
“What are you doing?” Phil asked, not quite alarmed. For all that Clint interpreted orders loosely in the field, he was just as professional about their relationship when they were at work as Phil was. He didn’t really think Clint was out for office sex, but then again… Clint was unpredictable, and he always wanted to make sure that Phil was alright, no matter what the consequences were.
“Don’t worry,” Clint smirked, positioning himself behind Phil. “That will have to wait until later.” Then he raised his hands and pressed his fingers lightly against Phil’s temple.
He couldn’t help the surprised groan of relief escaping him at the slow, circular movements of Clint’s fingers. Phil closed his eyes, his head falling back against Clint’s belly. He felt him laugh more than he heard it, the vibration of it transferring from Clint’s body into Phil’s head. Oddly enough, that was just as soothing as the massage itself.
It went on for several minutes and he felt himself starting to drift off when Clint suddenly stopped, his fingers trailing down from Phil’s temples over his neck until they came to rest on Phil’s shoulders. Then he felt Clint lean down. His head turned just enough so he could look up at him, smiling when he saw Clint’s pleased little grin.
“Better now?” he asked Phil, voice a little rough.
Phil nodded. “Much.”
He raised his hand to put it on Clint’s neck and pulled him down to give him a slow, unhurried kiss. This violated just about every one of their rules, but Phil didn’t care. His day had been horrible so far and Clint was pretty much the only thing that had brightened it up. So screw the rules, just this once. He would need any and all motivation available to get through the rest of this day.
They stopped kissing after a while, and he could feel Clint’s smile against his lips. “Why, sir,” he joked, his hand stroking over Phil’s jaw. “Breaking the rules.” He wiped away an imaginary tear. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Save it,” Phil said, laughing under his breath.
“You love me,” Clint replied, then leaned down to give him another close mouthed kiss.
When they parted, Phil looked at Clint, all traces of joking gone. His hand tightened at the back of Clint’s neck and he made sure that Clint could see the truth in his eyes when he said quietly, “Yes, I do.”
Clint’s whole face transformed at that, and it always took Phil by surprise that Clint allowed him to see his vulnerable side, how much he trusted him with it. It was humbling and exciting and yes, scary as hell. But it worked out for the best, because Clint was the only one who saw Phil’s vulnerable side.
“You’re a mushy idiot,” Clint said, smiling so wide that it had to hurt. “But…” he added, leaning down until their lips were almost touching, “ditto, and all that.” Then he closed the last half an inch between their mouths.
It was actually the phone that made them part this time, startling them both. It was a sure sign that they’d been right to make ‘no kissing at the office’ a rule. It screwed not only with their objectivity, but their focus and awareness for their surroundings as well. That kind of thing got you killed, and Phil wasn’t ready to let that happen anytime soon.
Or ever.
“Duty calls,” Clint joked, straightening up from where he’d been leaning over Phil the whole time. Phil mock-glared at him and pushed him lightly away.
“Get out of my office,” he said, but with much less bite behind it than he usually used. Clint threw him a sloppy salute and walked over to the door. The phone stopped ringing.
“Clint?”
Clint stopped and turned immediately, a question in his eyes. Phil’s whole face softened. “Thank you.” For giving me painkillers, for bringing me coffee, for being here when I needed a few minutes of quiet and good company. For loving me and enduring my anal retentiveness and my rules.
Clint seemed to get most of that, for he smiled that cocky grin of his. “See you later, sir,” he replied, winked, and let the door shut quietly behind him.
Phil shook his head before he looked down at his paperwork. He sighed at the report still open on his desk that hadn’t improved since his impromptu break. But the Advil was working, and Clint’s massage – not to mention the kissing – had done wonders for his headache, too. He pondered his options for a moment, then thought ‘What the hell, why not?’
He opened his desk drawer to grab a red pen. Then he started to mark up each and every mistake and bad phrasing he could find, and there were a lot. He felt a little like a school teacher, but damn it, he could already feel his spirits lifting, especially when he thought about the face the agent would make when Phil gave him the marked up report back with the order to write the thing again. Maybe he should start giving out grades. That would definitely teach them to stop treating paperwork like an unimportant afterthought.
Phil may be a stickler for rules, but boy were they fun when they worked in his favor. Right now, the rule stating that every field report had to be worded and written comprehensible and understandable would get him through the rest of the morning, considering the pile of crap still sitting on his desk. And later, if things went downhill again, he always had Clint to look forward to.
Because, as his partner always loved to remind him: some rules were meant to be broken.