Work Text:
Phil Coulson is a man of order.
His bookshelves are organized alphabetically by author. His cereals are lined up in a row on top of his refrigerator. His pantry has a laminated chart taped to the door, depicting what goes where (it's color-coded to avoid confusing crisps and chips, and other common mistakes). His colognes ( all seven of them) sit in a neat little row on the top shelf of his medicine cabinet. Even his ties are arranged in order by color (following ROY G BIV, of course).
And then, Clint Barton walks into his life and promptly fucks everything up.
Clint is all disorganized shelves, messy rooms, and out-of-order breakfast foods, but Coulson can't help himself. Clint's fingertips are too rough, his lips too soft to deny them what they want; his personality too off-puttingly attractive to ignore.
So Coulson lets him into his life, leaves the door open so that Clint can amble right in. Coulson questions it endlessly, wonders if allowing this man to tread all over his territory and imprint on him is such a good idea.
He questions it when he sees Clint put a Jane Austen next to a John Steinbeck in his study (in what world should Pride and Prejudice go next to Travels with Charley?). He questions it over breakfast one morning when Clint has stacked Phil's cereal boxes into some sort of pyramid and proceeds to pelt them with the tea candles he keeps overtop the microwave ("C'mon, Phil! Join me, It's fun!" Clint cheers brightly from where he's perched on the kitchen counter across from the cereal pyramid he's using for target practice. Coulson just sighs and goes to find the Pop Tarts).
He questions it even more when he finds Pringles (crisps) with Lays (chips) in the pantry after Clint puts away the groceries. Then he finds his seven colognes on three different shelves (if he squints, they look as though they're arranged in the shape of a 'C'), entirely out of order. And, god, it's more frustrating than it should be, but Coulson can't help it.
Phil Coulson is a man of order, and he'll be damned if Clint Barton is going to change that.
He decides he needs to talk with Clint after the whole cologne incident, and it's only reaffirmed by Phil's discovery of a red tie next to a violet on the day following Clint's laundry turn. Phil waits until after Clint gets back from the market (and, dammit, he's going to have to reorganize the pantry again). Phil sucks in a deep breath before soundlessly gliding into the kitchen only to find... not what he was expecting.
Plastic bags are scattered throughout the kitchen; on the counter, on the breakfast bar, in the sink, all proclaiming Thank You! Thank You! Thank You! with smiley face Os. Clint's elbow deep in the pantry, muttering under his breath ( "Motherfucker! What the... Jesus.") Clint doesn't even notice Phil's presence, and he has to clear his throat to get Clint's attention.
He jumps before turning around, looking slightly embarrassed and entirely perplexed. One hand is gripping the chart Phil tapes to the pantry door (well, one of them. He had to make copies because Clint keeps accidentally losing/spilling stuff on them), and a bag of potato chips in the other. He half-smiles, half-grimaces when he sees Phil's frown.
"Hey, Phil? What the fuck's a crisp?"
Phil laughs amusedly, shaking his head and stepping in to take the bad from Clint's hand, shoving it into place beside the other bags of chips.
Maybe, Phil thinks, he'll keep Clint around for just a little while longer. He can deal with a few hiccups in his perfect system. After all, Phil Coulson may be a man of order, but he's also a man of patience.
(It takes another week or two, but he also becomes a man in love, and love makes men do stupid things, right?)
(One of those stupid things just happens to be hopping onto the kitchen counter to throw tea candles at oddly arranged boxes of cereal on the breakfast bar the next time Clint asks if Phil would like to join him.)