InsaneJournal

Who: Clint Barton and Phil Coulson.
What: Talking, because the alternative is being tased.
Where: Phil's place.
When: Before Phil gets to go drink with Tony.
Rating: TBD.
Status: In progress.

If he could have avoided talking to Phil - Coulson, because now that the man was here, Clint couldn't even think of his first name without feeling a fresh pang of grief - Clint would have. He wasn't sure what to say, and he had no desire to burden his handler with his problems. All he wanted to do was hide in his apartment and drink Tasha's stash of vodka until he stopped caring. But Parker was threatening to tase him if he didn't and, unlike some people, he had no doubt that she would actually follow through if he didn't do what she wanted. Since he didn't have any particular desire to be tased, he found himself standing outside Coulson's apartment. He didn't even know if the other man was there, or if he'd already gone over to Tony's, and he was sorely tempted to leave and come back later. Of course, if he did, Parker would know and would just show up at his apartment to tase him. So he was right back where he started, staring at Coulson's door and thinking of all the reasons this was a terrible idea.

Foremost was the fact that he wasn't sure he could even bring himself to look at Coulson, much less speak to him. The guilt he felt over his part in the other man's death was overwhelming. For all that people said it wasn't his fault, for all that they thought he hated Loki for the utter violation he had gone through, the person he hated was himself. No matter what anyone said, he couldn't shake the feeling that if he had fought harder against Loki's control or somehow been stronger or better, things would have been different. That if he had done something to break free of Loki's power, then Phil - Coulson, he reminded himself firmly - wouldn't have died. So many people wouldn't have died. Whatever they said, it was all on him. Seeing Coulson would just confirm all of that. How could Coulson possibly forgive him for what he'd done? There was no way. And Clint wasn't sure he could take that. If Tasha was here, she would probably have smacked him upside the head and dragged him to Phil by his ear. But Tasha wasn't here. It was just him, alone, staring at the door in front of him like it would open up to reveal some awful hell.

He brought up his hand to knock after a long moment of indecision and froze at the sight of the cold metal. No matter how many times he looked at it. He could never get used to it. It was a constant reminder of his continued failings, of how he kept making mistakes and how he would never be good enough. Why did he even keep trying? He'd seen it time and again. How many times could he ruin good things before he just gave up. Turning, he walked away from the door and made it halfway down the hall before he stopped. If nothing else, he owed it to Coulson to look him in the eye and apologize, to take whatever blame the other man wanted to lay on his shoulders. Walking back to the door, he raised his hand again and knocked, the sound of metal against wood still oddly disconcerting. Like so many other things in his life.