Thor Fic: "The Only Thing Harder Than Triplicate" (Agent Coulson, PG)
Title: The Only Thing Harder Than Triplicate
Characters: Agent Coulson, Clint Barton/Hawkeye, Jane, Erik, Loki, Darcy, Thor, mention of Sif and the W3, Bruce Banner/The Hulk, and Nick Fury
Rating: PG for adult themes and innuendo
Length: 1,650 words
Notes: One brief, blink and you'll miss it reference to Purity Is Totally Overrated and Always A Bridesmaid Never
Summary: Coulson sometimes feels like his job is less about being a secret agent and more about babysitting unruly super-powered children.
“You know, if I had to isolate the most trying part of my job?” Coulson finds himself remarking as they make their way down the hall. “It’s that a good eighty-seven percent of it is having to wrangle super-powered or otherwise enhanced beings that I technically outrank but refuse to listen to me. When they’re not actively belittling me or treating me like some combined errand boy and messenger service. It’s a bit more like being a babysitter than it is a federal agent.”
“Really? Huh. That’s funny, because I don’t ever really get that sense.”
“That’s because you’re one of the unruly children in this scenario, Agent Barton. Try to keep up.”
He keeps his eyes straight ahead, never bothering to turn and look at his companion, but he can tell Barton shoots a dirty look at him all the same.
After a beat though, the other man asks, offhandedly curious, “Eighty-seven percent?”
“I’ve done the math.”
“It feels like it should be higher.”
“You’d be surprised. I go through a lot of paperwork.”
The door to Dr. Foster’s research station slides open with the same pristine efficient hiss characteristic of all the SHIELD facilities. Without hesitation Coulson enters, Barton close on his heels.
The interior of the lab could be described as somewhat less than pristine. Astrophysics means no exploded experimental leftovers, and there aren’t any dirty dishes lying about, but Dr. Foster has a somewhat unorthodox approach to paperwork filing.
It makes something in Coulson twitch to see all those documents stacked at haphazard diagonals, probably not even alphabetized. There are things that can be said about Dr. Banner and his anger management issues, but at least the man’s a compulsive neat freak.
“Dr. Foster. Dr. Selvig,” he greets the two individuals near the center of the lab. The former barely looks up from where she’s tinkering with some device he can’t identify but can only assume SHIELD paid for. The latter is standing back, watching, and he at least deigns to give Coulson a nod and a smile before going back to drinking his coffee. “Hard at work I see.”
“Yes, we are.” She circles around the device, checking a reading, eyes still firmly on it rather than aimed at anything or anyone else. There’s a not at all restrained note of annoyance in her tone. “So whatever it is you’ve come to bug me about this time, I hope you’ll get to it quickly.”
“Jane,” Dr. Selvig admonishes her. He gives the two men an awkward grin. “You know how she gets, with her work. I’m sure she doesn’t mean it personally.”
He punctuates this last part with something not unlike a glare in Dr. Foster’s direction.
“I’m sure.” Dr. Selvig always remembers to fill his forms out on time, in triplicate, so Coulson feels obliged to give him a little bit more leniency. “Actually I was merely wondering if either of the two of you had any idea as to Thor’s whereabouts.” He clasps his hands in front of him. “I thought we might find him here but looking around it’s obvious you haven’t stashed him in a corner.”
“We’re up in twenty for a team briefing on a new assignment,” Barton adds helpfully. “And you know how Fury feels about having to repeat himself.”
Dr. Selvig blinks, bemused. “He doesn’t.”
Barton gives an odd-looking smirk. “Exactly.”
“He’s at the Bifrost site.” Dr. Foster finally looks at Coulson, though it’s mostly because she’s stepped back from her tinkering for a moment, wiping her brow. “Greeting his friends. They’re dropping by to visit for a few days.”
Coulson frowns. “Dr. Foster. May I remind you - again - that every planned activation of the Bifrost device is to be reported beforehand and handled accordingly.”
She only rolls her eyes. “Try telling that to Thor. Sometimes it’s all I can do to keep him from wanting to use it like a New York subway. But of course, until the real thing on his home-world is repaired, it’s not nearly stable enough for that.”
“More’s the pity,” Coulson says, deadpan.
He supposes he’s being unsympathetic - after all, it would probably be a lot nicer for Thor if he could still live on Asgard without compromising his availability as an Avenger. But it isn’t Thor he’s worried about; it’s the three-ring circus he brings to town every time he has guests.
“Now, when you say ‘his friends’,” Barton begins, with the grimace of a man who’s belatedly thought of something, “does that just mean friends? Because I think Sif and the guys are cool. But if Loki’s going to be showing up, I’m gonna-”
“You’ll what, Hawkeye?”
Loki leans his upper body against a large piece of computer equipment just behind them, as casual as if he’s been there the whole time.
Barton whirls around, arm moving as if to draw an arrow from the quiver he isn’t wearing at present.
Coulson doesn’t even blink. Really, he was expecting as much to happen.
Loki meets Barton’s eyes unhesitatingly as he continues, cool, “Really, I’m actually more than a little interested to hear this.”
Barton grits his teeth. “Never mind. It’s nothing I can describe in mixed company.”
Loki’s only response is a derisive scoff.
“Welcome back to Earth, Mr. Odinson,” Coulson offers in a tone of neutral politeness.
“How are you even here?” Barton demands, hostile. “The wormhole thing hasn’t gone off yet.”
“Bifrost generator,” Dr. Selvig and Dr. Foster say at once.
“Whatever! That.”
Loki examines his nails briefly. “You forget that I don’t actually need your little toy to get here from Asgard. Or any other realm, for that matter.” He looks up at Barton again from half-lidded eyes. “One of the many benefits of being able to think for myself.”
“Okay. If you’re going to call me ‘stupid’, just say it, all right?” Barton snaps at him, storming closer. “Don’t try to hide it behind your pretty-boy words, you two-faced snake-”
“Barton, don’t make me tase one or both of you,” Coulson says.
Thankfully they’re interrupted at that moment by a faint tremor that lasts about ten seconds, not strong enough to knock anything from the counters in the lab but definitely enough to be felt, and the lights going out for a moment before just as quickly coming back on.
“Ah. There you are,” Loki notes. “That would be the rest of them.”
Coulson’s walkie-talkie crackles to life. “Sir, we have reason to believe there’s been a recent arrival from Asgard.”
He picks it up, staring straight at Loki as he answers as if daring him to say anything. “Thank you, agent,” he responds with no inflection. “But I’m aware of that already.”
Barton is muttering something that sounds like “once a super villain, always a super villain”, while giving the Asgardian a dirty look.
From a distance, they can already hear Thor’s booming, cheery voice as he talks it up with his buddies.
The door on the other side of the lab slides open and Dr. Foster’s assistant sticks her head in.
“Hey, Jane? I can borrow the keys to the van, right?” she asks brightly. “The Asgardians are here and we’re going for ice cream!”
“You don’t say,” Dr. Foster says wryly.
Loki waves at the young woman, causing her to launch herself at him with a squeal - something that, judging from the look on his face, he wasn’t entirely expecting.
“Loki! You big sneak! I didn’t know you were coming to visit too.” She gives him a hug, while Barton stands off to the side looking very put out. “What an awesome surprise!”
“I’m happy to see you too, Darcy,” Loki manages, looking mildly uncomfortable.
Coulson wonders if ‘bear hugs’ are an acceptable addition to the files under ‘known weaknesses’.
“C’mon,” Darcy tugs at Loki’s wrist, trying to force him to his feet, “ice cream! We’re all going.”
“Thor isn’t going,” Coulson interrupts. “He’s needed in the assembly room in,” he glances at his watch, “sixteen and a half minutes.”
“Fine, but the Warriors Three and Sif are going.” Darcy rolls her eyes. “So, come on!”
“But I don’t even-” Loki begins.
She cuts him off with, “I’ll let you drive.”
“Oh…very well. I’ll go get my brother for you, shall I?”
Loki shuffles out looking, in Coulson’s estimation, more like a man on his way to a dentist appointment or a board meeting than a miniature road trip to get frozen treats.
“What’s his problem?” he asks. “Is he lactose intolerant?”
“Oh, he just gets all weird about being around his old friends from Asgard, sometimes.” Darcy waves a hand. “All of Thor’s stuff about bygones being bygones aside, guess they can still be a little hard on him.”
“Gee I wonder why,” Barton says, snippily. “Seriously, kid - I thought you were pretty cool, but you have got the worst possible taste in friends.”
“Loki’s nice,” Darcy retorts. “Sure he’s got, like, more than a couple problems he should probably be in therapy for, but I’m not going to hear any judging going on from the guy who’s probably slinging arrows to work out his daddy issues or something.” She shrugs. “Besides, he’s the only one I trust to take care of my unicorn.”
Barton raises his eyebrows.
Darcy gives him a withering look. “So not a euphemism.”
“Hey, whatever.” Barton holds up his hands, chuckling bemusedly. “If you say so.”
Dr. Selvig coughs. “Er, Darcy? Do you think you all could bring me back a milkshake or something?”
Seven minutes and forty-five seconds later, five Asgardians plus Miss Lewis have successfully left the compound, and Coulson is escorting Agent Barton and what can only be described as very sulky God of Thunder back to the assembly room.
Oh well, Coulson thinks to himself.
At least he’ll have a tin roof sundae to look forward to while he’s finishing his paperwork later.
Characters: Agent Coulson, Clint Barton/Hawkeye, Jane, Erik, Loki, Darcy, Thor, mention of Sif and the W3, Bruce Banner/The Hulk, and Nick Fury
Rating: PG for adult themes and innuendo
Length: 1,650 words
Notes: One brief, blink and you'll miss it reference to Purity Is Totally Overrated and Always A Bridesmaid Never
Summary: Coulson sometimes feels like his job is less about being a secret agent and more about babysitting unruly super-powered children.
“You know, if I had to isolate the most trying part of my job?” Coulson finds himself remarking as they make their way down the hall. “It’s that a good eighty-seven percent of it is having to wrangle super-powered or otherwise enhanced beings that I technically outrank but refuse to listen to me. When they’re not actively belittling me or treating me like some combined errand boy and messenger service. It’s a bit more like being a babysitter than it is a federal agent.”
“Really? Huh. That’s funny, because I don’t ever really get that sense.”
“That’s because you’re one of the unruly children in this scenario, Agent Barton. Try to keep up.”
He keeps his eyes straight ahead, never bothering to turn and look at his companion, but he can tell Barton shoots a dirty look at him all the same.
After a beat though, the other man asks, offhandedly curious, “Eighty-seven percent?”
“I’ve done the math.”
“It feels like it should be higher.”
“You’d be surprised. I go through a lot of paperwork.”
The door to Dr. Foster’s research station slides open with the same pristine efficient hiss characteristic of all the SHIELD facilities. Without hesitation Coulson enters, Barton close on his heels.
The interior of the lab could be described as somewhat less than pristine. Astrophysics means no exploded experimental leftovers, and there aren’t any dirty dishes lying about, but Dr. Foster has a somewhat unorthodox approach to paperwork filing.
It makes something in Coulson twitch to see all those documents stacked at haphazard diagonals, probably not even alphabetized. There are things that can be said about Dr. Banner and his anger management issues, but at least the man’s a compulsive neat freak.
“Dr. Foster. Dr. Selvig,” he greets the two individuals near the center of the lab. The former barely looks up from where she’s tinkering with some device he can’t identify but can only assume SHIELD paid for. The latter is standing back, watching, and he at least deigns to give Coulson a nod and a smile before going back to drinking his coffee. “Hard at work I see.”
“Yes, we are.” She circles around the device, checking a reading, eyes still firmly on it rather than aimed at anything or anyone else. There’s a not at all restrained note of annoyance in her tone. “So whatever it is you’ve come to bug me about this time, I hope you’ll get to it quickly.”
“Jane,” Dr. Selvig admonishes her. He gives the two men an awkward grin. “You know how she gets, with her work. I’m sure she doesn’t mean it personally.”
He punctuates this last part with something not unlike a glare in Dr. Foster’s direction.
“I’m sure.” Dr. Selvig always remembers to fill his forms out on time, in triplicate, so Coulson feels obliged to give him a little bit more leniency. “Actually I was merely wondering if either of the two of you had any idea as to Thor’s whereabouts.” He clasps his hands in front of him. “I thought we might find him here but looking around it’s obvious you haven’t stashed him in a corner.”
“We’re up in twenty for a team briefing on a new assignment,” Barton adds helpfully. “And you know how Fury feels about having to repeat himself.”
Dr. Selvig blinks, bemused. “He doesn’t.”
Barton gives an odd-looking smirk. “Exactly.”
“He’s at the Bifrost site.” Dr. Foster finally looks at Coulson, though it’s mostly because she’s stepped back from her tinkering for a moment, wiping her brow. “Greeting his friends. They’re dropping by to visit for a few days.”
Coulson frowns. “Dr. Foster. May I remind you - again - that every planned activation of the Bifrost device is to be reported beforehand and handled accordingly.”
She only rolls her eyes. “Try telling that to Thor. Sometimes it’s all I can do to keep him from wanting to use it like a New York subway. But of course, until the real thing on his home-world is repaired, it’s not nearly stable enough for that.”
“More’s the pity,” Coulson says, deadpan.
He supposes he’s being unsympathetic - after all, it would probably be a lot nicer for Thor if he could still live on Asgard without compromising his availability as an Avenger. But it isn’t Thor he’s worried about; it’s the three-ring circus he brings to town every time he has guests.
“Now, when you say ‘his friends’,” Barton begins, with the grimace of a man who’s belatedly thought of something, “does that just mean friends? Because I think Sif and the guys are cool. But if Loki’s going to be showing up, I’m gonna-”
“You’ll what, Hawkeye?”
Loki leans his upper body against a large piece of computer equipment just behind them, as casual as if he’s been there the whole time.
Barton whirls around, arm moving as if to draw an arrow from the quiver he isn’t wearing at present.
Coulson doesn’t even blink. Really, he was expecting as much to happen.
Loki meets Barton’s eyes unhesitatingly as he continues, cool, “Really, I’m actually more than a little interested to hear this.”
Barton grits his teeth. “Never mind. It’s nothing I can describe in mixed company.”
Loki’s only response is a derisive scoff.
“Welcome back to Earth, Mr. Odinson,” Coulson offers in a tone of neutral politeness.
“How are you even here?” Barton demands, hostile. “The wormhole thing hasn’t gone off yet.”
“Bifrost generator,” Dr. Selvig and Dr. Foster say at once.
“Whatever! That.”
Loki examines his nails briefly. “You forget that I don’t actually need your little toy to get here from Asgard. Or any other realm, for that matter.” He looks up at Barton again from half-lidded eyes. “One of the many benefits of being able to think for myself.”
“Okay. If you’re going to call me ‘stupid’, just say it, all right?” Barton snaps at him, storming closer. “Don’t try to hide it behind your pretty-boy words, you two-faced snake-”
“Barton, don’t make me tase one or both of you,” Coulson says.
Thankfully they’re interrupted at that moment by a faint tremor that lasts about ten seconds, not strong enough to knock anything from the counters in the lab but definitely enough to be felt, and the lights going out for a moment before just as quickly coming back on.
“Ah. There you are,” Loki notes. “That would be the rest of them.”
Coulson’s walkie-talkie crackles to life. “Sir, we have reason to believe there’s been a recent arrival from Asgard.”
He picks it up, staring straight at Loki as he answers as if daring him to say anything. “Thank you, agent,” he responds with no inflection. “But I’m aware of that already.”
Barton is muttering something that sounds like “once a super villain, always a super villain”, while giving the Asgardian a dirty look.
From a distance, they can already hear Thor’s booming, cheery voice as he talks it up with his buddies.
The door on the other side of the lab slides open and Dr. Foster’s assistant sticks her head in.
“Hey, Jane? I can borrow the keys to the van, right?” she asks brightly. “The Asgardians are here and we’re going for ice cream!”
“You don’t say,” Dr. Foster says wryly.
Loki waves at the young woman, causing her to launch herself at him with a squeal - something that, judging from the look on his face, he wasn’t entirely expecting.
“Loki! You big sneak! I didn’t know you were coming to visit too.” She gives him a hug, while Barton stands off to the side looking very put out. “What an awesome surprise!”
“I’m happy to see you too, Darcy,” Loki manages, looking mildly uncomfortable.
Coulson wonders if ‘bear hugs’ are an acceptable addition to the files under ‘known weaknesses’.
“C’mon,” Darcy tugs at Loki’s wrist, trying to force him to his feet, “ice cream! We’re all going.”
“Thor isn’t going,” Coulson interrupts. “He’s needed in the assembly room in,” he glances at his watch, “sixteen and a half minutes.”
“Fine, but the Warriors Three and Sif are going.” Darcy rolls her eyes. “So, come on!”
“But I don’t even-” Loki begins.
She cuts him off with, “I’ll let you drive.”
“Oh…very well. I’ll go get my brother for you, shall I?”
Loki shuffles out looking, in Coulson’s estimation, more like a man on his way to a dentist appointment or a board meeting than a miniature road trip to get frozen treats.
“What’s his problem?” he asks. “Is he lactose intolerant?”
“Oh, he just gets all weird about being around his old friends from Asgard, sometimes.” Darcy waves a hand. “All of Thor’s stuff about bygones being bygones aside, guess they can still be a little hard on him.”
“Gee I wonder why,” Barton says, snippily. “Seriously, kid - I thought you were pretty cool, but you have got the worst possible taste in friends.”
“Loki’s nice,” Darcy retorts. “Sure he’s got, like, more than a couple problems he should probably be in therapy for, but I’m not going to hear any judging going on from the guy who’s probably slinging arrows to work out his daddy issues or something.” She shrugs. “Besides, he’s the only one I trust to take care of my unicorn.”
Barton raises his eyebrows.
Darcy gives him a withering look. “So not a euphemism.”
“Hey, whatever.” Barton holds up his hands, chuckling bemusedly. “If you say so.”
Dr. Selvig coughs. “Er, Darcy? Do you think you all could bring me back a milkshake or something?”
Seven minutes and forty-five seconds later, five Asgardians plus Miss Lewis have successfully left the compound, and Coulson is escorting Agent Barton and what can only be described as very sulky God of Thunder back to the assembly room.
Oh well, Coulson thinks to himself.
At least he’ll have a tin roof sundae to look forward to while he’s finishing his paperwork later.