@helovedheroes from here
Despite the casualness of his words, despite the way his body language remained loose and his tone remained calm, Clint was furious. Absolutely seething.
Coulson was dead.
He knew it to be true the same way he knew grass was green. The way he knew the sky was blue and his father was a piece of shit.
Coulson was dead—it was an unfortunate, irrefutable fact of life. One that Clint had known himself to be partially, if not fully, responsible for, since it’d been his plan to raid the helicarrier, his subservience to Loki, his weak mind that’d lead to the god killing him, in the first place.
So why was he here, standing in front of him, alive and in one piece?
Why was Coulson alive, how long had he been alive, and why had no one told him?!
Why hadn’t Coulson told him?
He couldn’t help but wonder as he stalked closer, smooth as a jungle cat following its prey. Coulson, like Natasha, was supposed to be someone Clint could count on no matter what. He’d been family.
Looked like Clint still had shit luck with those, even when they weren’t related to him.
He stopped in front of the other man, looking him over, considering his words: I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s been… A lot.
A lot.
What a truly fantastic explanation.
With no warning, Clint hauled back and decked his friend the man. Bared his teeth and all but snarled at him. “Right. Sure. You know what else has been a lot? Thinking I got you killed, you asshole! But here you are. How much longer were you going to let me think you were dead, Coulson? Or were you ever even going to tell me you’re alive?”
