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They’ve been running drills for years. Just in case.
They’ve never had to use it.
The contingency plan.
Like all things, when it happens, it’s not textbook, it’s not pretty, and it’s terrifying. They all do their parts, and it all works, mostly. But.
A Code Coulson is called.
Any single factor wouldn’t of course make him snap, but this perfect storm culminated with…well…
Let’s review the list:
Burned coffee
Burned breakfast
Clint on a mission
Aching scar
Research & Development prototype escape
Somebody touched Lola
Gossip
Reasonably…well, he is a reasonable man. And really, that junior agent’s kneecap will probably survive. Lola probably is a midlife crisis car. But he’s come back from the dead; can he get some decent source of caffeine?
“He’s not that legendary. He’s just lucky.”
“…The car is so very clearly compensating.”
“Just a cushy babysitting job…”
Oops, that elbow probably won’t survive. Agents can always use more training, so hanging that one junior upside-down from the ceiling, naked, is actually a service. How else to learn advanced escape tactics? The security cameras can warn about anything really serious.
Serious like a C2: Code Coulson.
Everyone who is able does their part. Fury seals off the bridge. Hill calls lockdown. Natasha calls Clint.
“Are you fucking serious? I’m gone three extra days, and you all break my husband.”
Fortunately, Clint is en route to the helicarrier. Natasha is least likely to end up as Coulson collateral damage, so she meets Clint on the landing strip.
“Tell me Stark is a factor, so I can string him by his toes from the top of his stupid, phallic tower.”
Surprisingly, Tony Stark is not a factor. He has been incorporated into drills for a while, but it’s the mundane that’s finally snapped Coulson. Clint grumbles about idiots in medical requiring extended light duty when it’s clearly bound to destroy senior agents’ sanity. Natasha can’t find the same casual aggravation within herself. She has seen things.
“You know where he is now?” Clint asks shortly.
“No.”
Clint is not happy. He changes route from the way to his quarters, to the bridge. At the heavy blast doors, he jabs the keypad with his personal C2 emergency code. “Fury, your mission was crap,” Clint snarls when granted entrance, “and you’re all running scared from Phil. What the hell.”
In normal circumstances, Nick Fury would destroy anyone talking to him like this. This is a Code Coulson circumstance. Fury looks up from his post at a security monitor. “Don’t give me shit, Barton. Go contain your man.”
Clint rolls his eyes. “Nick motherfucking Fury, afraid of Phil. Years of drills, and when he finally snaps, you have to beg his husband to save all your asses. Like it’s a domestic dispute.”
“Hawkeye, if you two ever have a domestic, no emergency code could save us.”
That much is true. Clint sighs. “Seventy-five hours over schedule for this mission, I finally, finally sight the target, and my emergency comm goes nuts. The mission was three steps past FUBAR before I got there, and I have to rush back to a berserk spouse!”
Fury scowls. “I’ll skewer the fucker who supplied our intel. However, I don’t think you grasp the fact that we have an actual Code Coulson on our hands right now.”
A long moment of the Hawkeye glare is broken with a shake of the head. It’s been a long time since Clint actually feared a pissed-off Coulson. Even before their first kiss. It’s why Clint is a major part of the contingency plan. The wrath of Coulson doesn’t hold the same threat for him anymore.
The security footage is oddly sketchy. The first alarm is tripped just outside the break room by a limping Level 3 agent. A few brave (foolhardy) recruits have obviously not experienced a C2 drill, and one learns how it feels to have an elbow bent backwards while attempting to block Agent Coulson’s path. There is glaring after that. Wise personnel scurry away. The Coulson glare is more legendary than the legends. Any doubt over Coulson’s capabilities is wiped away with nothing but that glare. The cold eyes clear Coulson’s route faster than any violent act. The cameras can’t however explain exactly how an agent ends up dangling from the ceiling, nor how audio feed is cut.
“Okay, damn,” Clint grumbles, impressed and maybe a bit turned on. “Where is he now?”
Fury gestures to the security display. “He’s sealed off Gym 2.”
Sure enough, Coulson and a handful of unlucky agents are in the gym. Audio feed is still out, but Coulson is clearly taunting them. Clint tries not to smile. Watching a Coulson beat down is a treat. Despite possibility of injury to the idiot juniors, Clint feels proud. That badass is his husband.
Thank God and SHIELD for his emergency codes. Clint enters the gym looking suitably pissed and assesses the scene. Obviously the baby agents are getting what they deserve; prior audio feed proved they still come no smarter when they gossip.
A glare from Clint scatters some, while others look from him to Coulson as if evaluating a second threat. Rightfully so. If they can’t handle Coulson, they can’t handle Clint.
“Hey, babe,” Clint says, “I hear some shit went down. How about I make it all better?”
Coulson looks up, blinking. Clint finds that beyond adorable. “You’re back?” Phil asks softly.
“Yeah, babe, I’m back. You know they called a Code Coulson?” He approaches the other man while the junior agents part for him. “You wanna tell me what happened?”
Phil frowns. “Everything happened.”
“That’s what I hear,” Clint snorts. “I’m not blaming individuals,” he adds to the collected group while still watching Phil, “but you all did break my husband, and that does not please me. Shearing, go cut Simmons down,” he gestures to the nude agent hanging from the ceiling, “and everyone go away. Go rest, because I’ll be heading the debrief on why you don’t fucking mess with Agent Coulson.”
When the flurry of movement clears, Phil smiles a bit. “That will be a painful debriefing.”
“Not as painful as what you could’ve done.” Clint reaches out a hand. “Didn’t feel like storming the bridge?”
Phil takes his husband’s hand. “Fury changed the security codes too quickly.”
“Since when have codes slowed you down?”
Phil grins with a small shrug. “Maybe I didn’t feel like storming the bridge.”
“Luckily for all of us.” Clint runs his thumb along Phil’s knuckles. “Wanna tell me what was the final straw?”
“R&D minibots got loose,” Phil grumbles. “They crawled all over Lola.”
“Damn. Will R&D not calm its boner for getting a hold of that car?” Clint slips easily into Phil’s space. “Is any of the department still intact?”
“None of the bots are,” Phil says mildly. “And that wasn’t the final, final straw, I suppose. I ran out of my coffee and had to use the break room…”
“Shit, Phil, I’ll feed you all the coffee you want. This whole thing could’ve been worse if you were properly caffeinated, though. Just looking on the bright side. And, it looks like nearly everyone did their professional part.”
Phil grunts disdainfully. “Like they think I don’t know about the drills when I’m off-base.”
“Aw, babe, don’t let that hurt. The fact that they all believe they need the drills is a testament to your badassery. The fact that some still got trapped in here with you, when you weren’t even your fully bad self, means they need better drills.” Clint nudges Phil’s arm. “Though, I’m kinda upset you didn’t wait for me before you tried out a bit of the dark side.”
“If I went all-out evil,” Phil says, “you would be right there with me.”
“Damn right. I am the evil overlord’s beautiful but deadly bride.”
Phil is able to chuckle at that. “As it is, I’ll have to explain what made this the day that snapped me.”
“Phil’s Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day,” Clint laughs. “You had everyone scared, babe. Fury let me sass him. I had a notion to join you for a moment, because that op…” Clint shakes his head. “Major fail on the intel for that damn op.”
“You were supposed to be back three days ago,” Phil says. “That was definitely a factor of my bad day.”
“Aw, missed you too.” Clint glances at the gym doors. “How about I send the ‘all safe’ code, and we get out of here for our private reunion?”
Someone will either wipe the security cameras, or Phil Coulson’s lecherous smile will merely be added to the reasons he is not to be messed with. Nobody wants to believe he can smile like that. And virtually nobody wants to preserve the image of two top agents kissing. Except maybe the Coulson fan club down in Level 4.