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Um, it was still too short so I played with it until it got longer, and, er, polished it up, and . . . yeah. Have some fic. ;D

Title: Spit and Polish
Pairings: Steve Rogers/Phil Coulson, aka Capsicoul
Prompt: For [livejournal.com profile] hogwartshoney <3
Word Count: 500
Rating: R
Content: Humor, goofy/weird kinks, nothing too graphic, oral sex reference.
Summary: Captain Rogers has a hard-on for rules and regulations and also Phil Coulson. Or: in which Coulson and Cap are totally doing it in the supply closet Tony thinks  for real.

AW YEAH, TIME FOR A LITTLE CAPSICOUL!
111aaa
Sure, they look all chill but you know they are secretly doing it in the supply closet.

Spit and Polish


Tony was walking down a corridor in the Helicarrier, polishing off a donut and licking the powdered sugar off his fingers, when suddenly he heard a familiar voice off to his right. “It’s so red and . . . shiny .” Tony paused, listening. That sounded like Coulson, only really excited, which was weird, because Agent Coulson never got excited. Why was he—

“That’s it. Right there.” Tony tilted his head, listening raptly. That was Steve’s voice. And it was coming from inside a supply closet. “That’s . . . that’s great, Phil. Yeah. That’s good.” Jesus, what the hell were they doing in there?

Clint Barton walked past and Tony grabbed his arm. “What—?” Tony shushed him and jerked his thumb at the closet. Clint frowned. Someone inside the supply closet moaned, and Tony gave Clint a significant look. Interest piqued, Clint leaned over, pressing his ear to the door.

“I’ve got some, uh, special oil here,” Coulson said. “Can I . . . do you want me to—”

“Please … yeah, that’s the spot. Yeah. Oil it up.” Cap sounded a little breathless.

Are they—? Clint mouthed. Tony shrugged. They exchanged an evil grin, and then Clint grabbed the door handle and pushed.

Cap and Coulson looked up in surprise. Coulson had Captain America’s shield across his lap, an oiled rag in one hand. Steve was watching, bent slightly at the waist to inspect Coulson’s work, hands clasped behind his back.

“What the hell is this?” Tony demanded.

Agent Coulson raised an eyebrow. “It’s called taking pride in one’s appearance,” he said. “Something you two should attempt.” He eyed the powdered sugar on Tony’s shirt.

“You’re polishing Cap’s shield. Figures. Good job, Stark. You caught Agent Coulson following regulations. What a shocking exposé.” Clint rolled his eyes. “I’m out of here.”

Tony glared at the Captain and agent. “Christ, you two are so boring. You really let me down.” He turned and stomped off after Clint, fun ruined.

Behind him, he heard Cap beg softly, “Speaking of regulations . . . will you read me the manual? Please?”

No. Tony was not falling for that again. He shut the door behind him. To hell with those jokers.

Coulson gave a chuckle. “I love how kinky you are,” he said in a husky voice. “You want me to read you Article ten of the S.H.I.E.L.D. dress code, baby?”

“Oh, yeah. Please. Read it to me,” Steve panted. There was a zipping noise or possibly an unzipping noise. Tony couldn’t be sure. He froze, listening in disbelief.

“Lapels and sleeves of service, dress and mess coats and jackets will be roll-pressed, without . . . . creasing ,” Coulson purred.

Steve groaned. “Oh, God. I love your voice when you’re being all . . . professional. It’s so hot.”

“Come over here and let me polish something else,” Coulson growled.

The noises Steve started to make indicated Coulson was giving something a very thorough polishing. “Oh . . . Phil!

Tony blinked. No way that just happened. No. Way. After a long moment, he sighed and started walking again.

No one would ever believe him, anyway.
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