[mini-fic] worth two tomorrows [1/1]
The title comes from a Benjamin Franklin quote. I was aiming to fill one of the avengerkink prompts, but somehow, it didn't work out. Oh well, what to do. Short mini-fic is short.
Title: worth two tomorrows
Fandom: Avengers (2012)
Pairing: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Summary: The little things that make everything worth it.
One today is worth two tomorrows.
- Benjamin Franklin
"Come with me to Pride Parade."
It catches Phil by surprise when Clint suddenly brings it up one day in the office over homemade sandwiches and coffee and mountains of paperwork. He blinks twice, expression giving nothing away as he reaches for the calendar sitting on his desk.
There's a heart-shaped rainbow sticker sitting squarely in the middle of the box - Phil knows the date, he has friends who spend their afternoon there after all - effectively preventing anyone from writing anything on the inch-wide space that screams of Clint's handiwork.
The archer in question is sitting across the desk, a halfway hopeful expression on his features that tends to succeed in making Coulson's steel-clad resolve shudder in its wake, as much as the agent tries to stamp it out.
He takes another look at the calendar, then sets it back on the same spot.
"Okay."
Phil doesn’t miss the surprised expression that briefly flickers across Clint’s face before it’s replaced by a wide smile.
It’s worth it.
Title: worth two tomorrows
Fandom: Avengers (2012)
Pairing: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Summary: The little things that make everything worth it.
One today is worth two tomorrows.
- Benjamin Franklin
"Come with me to Pride Parade."
It catches Phil by surprise when Clint suddenly brings it up one day in the office over homemade sandwiches and coffee and mountains of paperwork. He blinks twice, expression giving nothing away as he reaches for the calendar sitting on his desk.
There's a heart-shaped rainbow sticker sitting squarely in the middle of the box - Phil knows the date, he has friends who spend their afternoon there after all - effectively preventing anyone from writing anything on the inch-wide space that screams of Clint's handiwork.
The archer in question is sitting across the desk, a halfway hopeful expression on his features that tends to succeed in making Coulson's steel-clad resolve shudder in its wake, as much as the agent tries to stamp it out.
He takes another look at the calendar, then sets it back on the same spot.
"Okay."
Phil doesn’t miss the surprised expression that briefly flickers across Clint’s face before it’s replaced by a wide smile.
It’s worth it.