A/N: I just binge-watched all episodes of AoS in less than two weeks….probably not a good idea but totally worth not sleeping.
I don't have a tumblr, so reply with any one shots you'd like to see and I'll do my best to write them.
Most of these will be Philinda centered, but I'm willing to do other stuff as well.
Anyways, Enjoy!
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Phil Coulson had a habit of daydreaming.
It started when he was a kid, in school, when he would sit at his desk and look out the windows, watching the rain pour on the sidewalk below or the wind knock around the trees.
It didn't end when he joined SHIELD. If anything, the large windows of the academy only made it easier to gaze out and lose himself.
It surprised him when his teachers didn't seem to mind, but he guessed it was only because of his grades. In fact, he supposed that if he hadn't done so well in school, his day dreaming problem may have gotten him in trouble.
Becoming Director of SHIELD only meant less time to daydream. He was always running errands, seemingly trying to repair what had been lost. But, in all honesty, it was like trying to repair a broken eggshell. There was no going back, no return to glory. Now, life was about building something a little different.
Daydreaming while he was supposed to be building said agency was a big no-no.
But the paperwork on his desk was so boring that he found himself nodding off without even realizing it. He was exhausted. Sleepless nights were making it hard to focus. He didn't even notice that May was standing in his office doorway.
"You look beat." Her soft comment startled him. His elbow slid off his desk, as though he didn't look enough like a fool in front of her.
"Melinda, hey." He looked up at her, fighting the blush rising up in his cheeks. He rubbed his elbow with a frown.
"I was sent to grab the acquisition forms from you, but something tells me they aren't done?" She smirked at his expression. Her smile fell, however, when she noticed the dark circles under his eyes. "Director-"
"Don't." He silenced her and began rifling through the papers on his desk, looking for the forms she had requested.
"Phil-" He looked up at her with a glare that made her stop in her tracks, and even take a step back. "You're exhausted."
He found the papers and grabbed a pen, ignoring her comment.
"You're a stubborn jackass, you know that?" She put her hands on her hips and glared at him as he quickly filled out the form.
"May, I'm working." He replied dismissively.
"No, you're falling asleep at your desk." She leaned on her right side and folded her arms across her chest. "Let me help you." She gestured with her head to the stack of paperwork.
"I don't need help." He finished the forms and handed them to her. She took them, but didn't leave. "May-"
"What's going on with you?" She replied softly, watching him intently with dark eyes. He sighed, knowing by the tightness of her jaw that she wasn't going to leave until he said something worthwhile.
"It's a lot," He said simply, "re-establishing SHIELD. I feel like I'm always drowning in paperwork." He massaged the bridge of his nose. "I can't remember the last time I slept."
She watched him a moment, thinking. "Maybe I could help you." He looked at her, mildly surprised. "I can't exactly help you run SHIELD, but the least I could do is help you with all of this."
She felt a little victorious when a small smile spread across his face.
"Phil," she stepped forward and lay a tender hand on his shoulder,"get some sleep. I'll take over for a few hours."
He stood from his chair and stretched, hours of not moving taking its toll on his muscles and joints. He moved over to the couch in the corner.
Almost as soon as his head hit the soft fabric, he was out like a light.
He was woken up by an annoying beeping noise nearby. He rubbed his eyes and sat up slowly with a frown. He knew that beeping. After glancing around a moment, he noticed his phone sitting on the ground next to the couch-alarm chiming. He picked it up and turned it off, noting that the timer had been set for five hours.
With a smile creeping at the corner of his mouth, he stood from the couch and moved over to his desk, where the paperwork had been completed and organized neatly. In the center of the desk, a small tray sat, containing a sandwich, a bowl of fruit and a glass of water.
Next to it was a small note that read:
Let me help you more often. -M
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A/N: I own nothing!