After missions Clint is usually really wound up (what with all the adrenaline and all) and has found the only way he can calm down is if he uses that energy on Coulson and Coulson is happy to oblige. If it's been really stressful or if Clint's really proud of something one of them did they wind up fucking. If it's been hard because someone died or they made a mistake they slowly kiss and comfort each other (I love the image of Coulson petting Clint's hair). Clint usually wants all of this done ASAP so this usually happens in the first place they can get to alone (an alley, a bathroom stall, the back seat of a car, etc.)

So what happens when the mission is in a cold place where it's snowing or raining and one or both of them are soaked and cold?




Up Against a Wall with an Emergency Handkerchief


‘Coulson. I have to find Coulson.’ The mission was over—finally over. All missions are difficult in their own way, not that Clint would admit such complications, but this one had been long as well. It was with relief and a fine sense of accomplishment that Clint hit the streets afterward. Seduce a rich countess—check. Save military plans onto a flash drive—check. Avoid being killed by gangsters with semi-automatic weapons and an unnaturally endless amount of ammunition—check.


Every time he made it through a particularly difficult mission, he had one thought and one though only. Lately, execution of that thought required Agent Phil Coulson.


Excitement rushed through his body now, warming him as much as the quick pace as he made his way through the cold streets at night in the freezing rain. There were certain benefits to rain. It covered your tracks, masked your scent, and it hid the sound of sniffles. So it was useless for Clint to use his ears to navigate tonight.


Relying on his other senses, he found his way through the streets to the intersection Coulson had previously indicated. But he didn’t see the agent anywhere. SHIELD ops could have been set up in any one of the row houses or shops that lined the streets in this part of town. Clint tried the earbud, tapping it to find it was no longer live. He was cut off. Clearly Coulson felt that if Hawkeye could best a mob boss, he could find his way to wherever Coulson was hiding himself away.  Because keeping com channels open would have been a terrible mistake neither of them were going to make ever again.


Clint turned a few times on the spot then chose a direction seemingly at random to investigate. He walked down the street, trying to look confident, muttering, “C’mon, Coulson. I need you. Where the hell are you?”


“Right here, agent Barton.”


Clint wheeled around. Down a dimly lit, narrow alley stood a man in a suit, a wry smile on his face. Clint closed the gap between them in seconds, slamming his body up against the man’s, pressing him up against the brick wall. Clint’s palms lay flat upon the wall on either side of Coulson. Clint’s fingers curled, fingertips repeatedly stroking the rough surface. “Coulson,” he whispered, his breath warm in the agent’s ear. “Thought I’d never find you.”


“I’ve been right here, waiting for… for… I’m gehh… ehhh-N’gschhhhhh!” He sneezed into Clint’s shoulder then pulled his head back again. “Nngh… excuse me.” Directly under the fire escape, some of the rain missed them. But most of it hit them, rain running down their faces, down their fronts. Coulson shivered violently with chill against Clint.


“There has to be somewhere else we can go for this,” Clint said.


“What did you have in mind? Our men are disassembling the special ops station. The safe house has been locked out.”


“Hotel room?”


“There’s no time to get one. We have to be on a plane in less than an hour.“ He grimaced. “Flying with this congestion is not going to be pleasant. We could wait until we’re on the plane.”


Clint shook his head. “Can’t wait that long.” The after-mission high still coursed through his veins. “I have to have you now. Right now.” He pressed a fierce kiss on Coulson’s mouth, hungrily parting his lips. His whole body rubbed against Coulson’s front. “Shit… can’t wait. I’m already this close to losing it in my pants like a teenager.”


Coulson cracked a smile. “I’m hardly—ehhh!” He stopped to bend his arm over his face, his nose pressed into the crook. “ehhh-ehhh-INGSchfffff! Uh, excuse me. Snff. As I was saying, I—”


“Yes you are,” Clint insisted, planting hungry, biting kisses on Coulson’s neck. “You’re just what I need.” His tired eyes still looked kind and commanding. His face glistened, the rain accentuating his features. His rumpled shirt somehow made him even more attractive. He was so used to Coulson looking perfect that his imperfections now were hot.  “I love the way you look right now.”


“If I’d known, I would have caught cold earlier. And… I… I’m going to sneeze… eh… ehhhHNgshhhhhh! Sniff! Excuse me. Sniff! Oh dabb.”


Coulson’s cold had come on pretty quick, from where Clint stood. He hadn’t seen the man in a few days, but he’d sounded fine over the coms up until yesterday. Clint hadn’t called him out on it, but by the evening, Coulson had been smothering sneezes every five-to-ten minutes. “Don’t you have a handkerchief?”


Coulson shook his head. “Used them all.”


Clint’s gaze dropped, falling on the pocket square in the breast pocket of the man’s suit. “What about that one.”


“Just for decoration.”


“And emergencies.” Clint took hold of it and pulled. The ripping sound made Coulson wince. But when Clint pressed it to Coulson’s nose, the senior agent gave a happy sigh. His hand took over for Clint’s and held the handkerchief in place. “Coulson, if—”


“I’ll be fine. I know you need—”


“I do,” Clint agreed. He spread his legs, the wide stance allowing him to trap Coulson in-between.  His voice was breathy again, desperation rising even more now. “I need you.”


Coulson kept the soft hanky pressed to his nose as he reached down and pulled Clint closer. Clint couldn’t resist those eyes or that touch. As excitement surged in him, he undid his pants. He slid his arms behind Coulson, holding tight so there was no space between them. Clinging to Coulson, he began to thrust, hips gyrating, erection rubbing hard against Coulson’s front.


“Are you… close?” Coulson asked.


“Mm,” Clint nodded vigorously. “Just a sex—sec!”


From what could be seen around the handkerchief, Coulson smiled.


Clint’s breathing was ragged, quickened. So was Coulson’s. It wasn’t long before their eyes closed and their bodies stiffened.


“I think I’m about to sneeze!”


“I think I’m about to—mmph!


Clint came against him as Coulson shook with another sneeze. “h’NGshmmmmm!” It was muffled into the handkerchief as Clint’s cry was muffled into Coulson’s suit jacket. The strong rain nearly drowned out the sound of both.


When Clint was done, he stayed there a moment, not sure what to do next. In less than an hour they’d be on a plane back to the US, with Coulson wrapped in a few blankets, snoring his way through this cold while Clint caught up on the latest action flick. And when they got home, he’d let Coulson stretch out on the couch with his head in Clint’s lap while Clint caught up on his DVRed shows. If they felt in the mood again, things would be much different from this.


In a perfect world, Clint would have done this properly. He would have had time to stroke them both, work them both up. He would have laid Coulson down and slid into him leisurely. He would have thought of reserving a hotel room earlier to keep them out of the elements. But his thoughts had been solely on the mission right up until they’d succeeded in it. Then his only thought had been to get to Coulson as soon as possible, to have him as soon as he could. And if the only way that was going to happen was this—up against a wall with an emergency handkerchief—he’d have to be okay with that.


Maybe more than okay.