Thor fic: Begging the Question (Gen, G)
Title: Begging the Question
Summary: Coulson didn't bother to look up from his 17th draft of a report on the New Mexico incident. "What is it, Barton?"
Notes: I just saw Thor for the first time...
Coulson didn't bother to look up from his 17th draft of a report on the New Mexico incident. Thank goodness for computers. "What is it, Barton?"
The grin on the man's face was actually audible, although how that worked was anybody's guess. "So I hear our boy was actually the Norse god of thunder."
"He's not our anything."
"But he is the Norse god of thunder."
"That's classified."
"Uh-huh. Except for the zillion agents who were standing around with their thumbs up their asses when he created a tornado and took out a metal giant. So, classified, but not exactly secret in the gossip chamber that is SHIELD."
Coulson hummed something that might have been agreement or acquiescence. Even he wasn't sure which it was.
"By the way, you left base to take on a cool metal giant and didn't bring me along. I'm hurt. Why don't I ever get the fun jobs?"
That finally got Coulson to look up from explaining how he'd mistaken the enemy for one of Stark's latest creations. "What good would you have done? Legendary Norse warriors got their asses kicked."
Barton was leaning in the doorframe, arms crossed (to show off his biceps, of course). "I could have slowed him down a bit before he nearly blew you to smithereens."
Coulson snorted and went back to his report. "We're all fine. Except a few cars. And most of the buildings in one small town."
The room was silent for a few moments and he began to hope that draft 17 might finally be the one that wouldn't make Fury glare at him as much. (Hell, even Tony Stark on his own had never made him go past draft 12. The Avengers Initiative was undoubtedly going to be the death of him.)
"I also hear you called the Norse god of thunder a mercenary."
Coulson didn't flinch. He'd been interrogated by experts before.
"Asked him if he was working for Pakistan, huh?" Now it wasn't just an audible grin, it was an audible smirk about to turn into full-blown laughter. "Y'know, you're likely you didn't get smitten for that. Smote? However you say it."
"I think his father was responsible for most of the smiting."
"Awesome, another team member with daddy issues, that's just what we needed."
Coulson sighed. "We don't know if he's ever going to return to Earth, let alone join the team."
"Eh," Barton's hand was waving through the air, causing a small puff to dust past his cheek and rustle the papers. "He'll be back. Dr. Foster didn't look like she was going to let a little thing like a broken bridge keep her honey away."
Coulson almost grinned at the memory of the look on her face as his team brought back all her equipment: a cross between relief, excitement, and what his mother would have called general cussedness. Barton did have a point there.
"But we've gotten away from my point, which is that you got to interrogate a god."
"A creature from a different dimension with impressive powers."
"Whatever. Was he...godlike?"
Coulson looked up from his computer. "Yes, I interrogated him, just as I would any intruder who'd attacked SHIELD personnel and approached a dangerous artifact. Are we done now?"
Barton's smirk got impossibly wider as he pushed off the doorway with a shoulder. "Sure."
"Thank you so much. Perhaps you should go find someone else to bother. Someone less likely to assign you to babysit Tony Stark."
"Ooooh, tough words."
"Go."
"I'm gone," Barton said, turning. "I guess you didn't want to know about the video of the interrogation circulating on the intranet." And he was gone, pulling the office door closed behind him.
Coulson wondered how much Director Fury would really mind if he strangled Agent Barton. Just a little.
--end--
And on that note, I've got to get back to work ASAP.
This entry was originally posted at http://mara.dreamwidth.org/178837.html, where there are
comments. Please feel free to comment either here or there.
Summary: Coulson didn't bother to look up from his 17th draft of a report on the New Mexico incident. "What is it, Barton?"
Notes: I just saw Thor for the first time...
Coulson didn't bother to look up from his 17th draft of a report on the New Mexico incident. Thank goodness for computers. "What is it, Barton?"
The grin on the man's face was actually audible, although how that worked was anybody's guess. "So I hear our boy was actually the Norse god of thunder."
"He's not our anything."
"But he is the Norse god of thunder."
"That's classified."
"Uh-huh. Except for the zillion agents who were standing around with their thumbs up their asses when he created a tornado and took out a metal giant. So, classified, but not exactly secret in the gossip chamber that is SHIELD."
Coulson hummed something that might have been agreement or acquiescence. Even he wasn't sure which it was.
"By the way, you left base to take on a cool metal giant and didn't bring me along. I'm hurt. Why don't I ever get the fun jobs?"
That finally got Coulson to look up from explaining how he'd mistaken the enemy for one of Stark's latest creations. "What good would you have done? Legendary Norse warriors got their asses kicked."
Barton was leaning in the doorframe, arms crossed (to show off his biceps, of course). "I could have slowed him down a bit before he nearly blew you to smithereens."
Coulson snorted and went back to his report. "We're all fine. Except a few cars. And most of the buildings in one small town."
The room was silent for a few moments and he began to hope that draft 17 might finally be the one that wouldn't make Fury glare at him as much. (Hell, even Tony Stark on his own had never made him go past draft 12. The Avengers Initiative was undoubtedly going to be the death of him.)
"I also hear you called the Norse god of thunder a mercenary."
Coulson didn't flinch. He'd been interrogated by experts before.
"Asked him if he was working for Pakistan, huh?" Now it wasn't just an audible grin, it was an audible smirk about to turn into full-blown laughter. "Y'know, you're likely you didn't get smitten for that. Smote? However you say it."
"I think his father was responsible for most of the smiting."
"Awesome, another team member with daddy issues, that's just what we needed."
Coulson sighed. "We don't know if he's ever going to return to Earth, let alone join the team."
"Eh," Barton's hand was waving through the air, causing a small puff to dust past his cheek and rustle the papers. "He'll be back. Dr. Foster didn't look like she was going to let a little thing like a broken bridge keep her honey away."
Coulson almost grinned at the memory of the look on her face as his team brought back all her equipment: a cross between relief, excitement, and what his mother would have called general cussedness. Barton did have a point there.
"But we've gotten away from my point, which is that you got to interrogate a god."
"A creature from a different dimension with impressive powers."
"Whatever. Was he...godlike?"
Coulson looked up from his computer. "Yes, I interrogated him, just as I would any intruder who'd attacked SHIELD personnel and approached a dangerous artifact. Are we done now?"
Barton's smirk got impossibly wider as he pushed off the doorway with a shoulder. "Sure."
"Thank you so much. Perhaps you should go find someone else to bother. Someone less likely to assign you to babysit Tony Stark."
"Ooooh, tough words."
"Go."
"I'm gone," Barton said, turning. "I guess you didn't want to know about the video of the interrogation circulating on the intranet." And he was gone, pulling the office door closed behind him.
Coulson wondered how much Director Fury would really mind if he strangled Agent Barton. Just a little.
--end--
And on that note, I've got to get back to work ASAP.
This entry was originally posted at http://mara.dreamwidth.org/178837.html, where there are
comments. Please feel free to comment either here or there.