Work Text:
Coulson stood on the top step outside of the hockey arena with his sunglasses firmly in place scanning the busy crowd as it swept past the arena. The fairgrounds were littered with food booths offering everything from burgers and fries to taco-in-a-bag and anything that could, and somethings that perhaps shouldn’t, be served on a stick. Somewhere to the south the rodeo was in full-swing, he knew, and the nearby convention centre housed any number of just-seen-on-TV nonsense that one wanted to buy. There were a few outdoor bars dotted through the grounds, as well as a ride section on the southwest side.
Intel had stated that someone bearing an 0-8-4 was travelling with the group that ran the rides and utilizing the 0-8-4 to make an extra buck or two on the side. They’d identified the individual within the first two days of the fair, however the target was very careful about when and with who they showed the 0-8-4, so the team had yet to figure out what it was, and whether or not they needed to take action to protect the public from it. They had 3 days to figure it out before the fair moved on, and Coulson did not want to have to case a second set of fairgrounds, and spend another 10 days trying to avoid the enticing scent of greasy corn dogs and pulled pork.
He noted a familiar blond head making its way casually up the stairs to his side and tried to avoid looking both exasperated and fond as he noticed Clint’s hands were full of his latest fairground food find. He’d invited the archer due to his past with the circus, hoping he’d be able to work his way into the good graces of the travelling families. Clint had been able to do just that, and was close to arranging a meeting with their target, but in the meantime, the other man was determined to bring him every fairground treat he believed Coulson might like. It was a new dynamic for them, and Coulson wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. Clint had always been friendly, where possible spending his rare free time in Coulson’s office, or wherever the senior agent happened to be. The food offerings, however, were new.
“I think I found it this time, sir.” Clint smiled in that dazzling way that signaled he was particularly proud of himself. Coulson felt his insides melt, damn did he love that smile.
“You found where he’s keeping the 0-8-4?” Coulson replied blandly, deliberately misinterpreting in a useless attempt to stave off whatever it was Clint was now hiding behind his back.
Clint ignored him. “Taadaa!” With a great flourish he revealed his secret, a pair of light brown popsicles dipped in a shade darker brown substance with…something…frozen in the center.
“I’m afraid to ask.” Coulson admitted, not reaching for the treat, though it was a near thing. It was very hot, and though he’d been careful to pack his best suits for just such weather, he was still sweltering a bit.
“Mini-donut gelato popsicle.” Clint explained, offering the one in his right hand to Coulson. “Your favourite.”
“My favourite what?” Coulson finally broke and accepted the treat.
“Favourite carnival treat.” Clint explained, watching while Coulson took a tentative bite. “I thought you’d go in for the fall-off-the-bones ribs, or something high class like that.” Coulson’s eyes closed at the sweetness of the hard cinnamon coating on the top of the popsicle, the gelato tasting obviously of donuts. “But then it occurred to me that after an op, if you hit a convenience store or whatever for a snack for the road, it’s always donuts.”
Coulson paused in primly devouring the delicious treat to glance up at Clint over the top of his glasses. “Is that what you’ve been doing, bringing me every food you can find off the grounds? Trying to find my favourite?” He took another bite of his popsicle.
To his surprise, Clint actually blushed, looking away. “Well…” after a long moment he looked up at Coulson, his smile bashful, if a bit worried. “They say the fastest way to a man’s heart is his stomach?”
Coulson paused, figuring out two things at the same time. The first thing was that the weird brown something in the middle of his popsicle was, in fact, a frozen mini donut. And the second thing had him leaning over and placing the briefest, sticky-sweet kiss on Clint’s blushing cheek. “I would very much like to go on a date with you Clint, once the op is over and we’re back home.”
Clint’s dazzling smile reappeared, twice as bright. “Yeah?”
Coulson nodded. “Yes.”
Clint didn’t manage to hide the tiny little fist-pump he made. “I’ll see if I can push up the meeting to tonight, get us home early.” Turning swiftly on his heel Clint made his way back down the stairs and disappeared rapidly into the crowd.
Coulson finished his gelato treat, with a tiny, satisfied smile on his lips.