Work Text:
A letter sits upon Phil Coulson's desk. It's folded, but otherwise unprotected from curious passersby. The aura of Coulson's office does that well enough. The top portion is full of false starts that weren't completely crossed through; they contain fragments such as "sorry about the confusing art metaphor", "I don't know what I say half the time", "I know you're not art, you're not like it at all", "not that you aren't beautiful", "you're sooo hot", "I don't objectify you", and "REFER BACK TO MY BAD WITH WORDS".
If the writer were a little less rushed, he might've torn off the rejected words or rendered them more completely illegible, but as it was a keen eye could decipher it easily.
The intact portion reads thusly:
Phil-
Getting pulled by SHIELD sucks huh? I don't know what you're up to, but Fury called the Cap and I in to take care of some BS down in Mexico. Check up with him, he'll have a better idea than I at this point on when we should be back. Can't be more than a few days.
I'll see you then. Wish I could have said goodbye or something in person, but I hope this does it well enough. If you're still offering that dinner, I ['wholeheartedly' is crossed out] I'd really like that.
Love,
-Clint
Above the signature the word "Love" is written in the same ink color, but a close observer could see it was a different pen. A leaky one that pressed a faint copy of the word onto the upper portion of the letter. As if the writer added the sentiment at the last moment and quickly folded the paper.