I'm Iron Man, And I'm Agent Coulson

Chapter 28 Thor and Death

"(Y/n), I'm on my way," Clint sputtered quickly.
"I'm fine, I just got my ass kicked, though," I murmured, watching as four agents roughly dragged the prisoner to one of the glass interrogation rooms, which layed near the entrance of the facility.
How and why SHIELD had a built-in interrogation room here, almost made me curse out loud, but I watched as the prisoner let our agents manhandle him, and cuff him to the chair. The broken look on his face didn't leave, in fact, it seemed to get worse as the minutes passed by.

"Agent (l/n), a word.. now," Coulson demanded, finally coming up next to me. I groaned, and tried to keep up while he led me to one of the small rooms next to the prisoner's. The door hadn't even closed behind us before he started yelling.

"I gave you a direct order to stay put," he snapped, and handing me a towel, "I know it's hard to listen when you're so stubborn, but if you can't follow a simple order, you'll be grounded, behind a desk, till further notice, is that understood?" His eyes and voice gave away just how angry he really was, and his jaw was clenched, just like his fists.

"But I did okay though, right?" I snorted, only to gasp and grab my side, doing my best to conceal the sharp searing pain that had only gotten worse. Before I knew it Coulson's hand was underneath my shirt, assessing my ribcage and back. "It..it doesn't hurt that bad," I whispered, meeting his concerned gaze. Goosebumps rose over my skin and my stomach fluttered. I tried to step away, but my feet refused to move. His touch was comforting, and I leaned into it, regardless how broken I still felt.

Nat told me a few weeks ago that while on the job, Coulson mostly meant business unless he was with those he had worked with for a long time, like Nat or Barton. She told me, with the hopes that I would be on my best behavior if and when I finally made it onto an op. Pff, lot of good that did, we've been growling at each other since I got here, but the way his grey eyes stared into mine held more than just anger. There was something else behind those piercing greys, and it scared me, beyond reproach.

He cleared his throat and backed away, "(y/n), what makes a great agent isn't just their ability to follow orders, their strength, or knowing how to fight, I mean that helps, but it's their instincts about the situations that haven't played themselves out yet," he stated dilligently, and buttoned his wet suit jacket.
"Phil, I did react on instinct. I was thinking about the men and women in front of those computers, they were scared to death," I moaned, gritting my teeth at the pain, "I couldn't sit by and do nothing, while that guy mowed through your defenses, and, well, there's something different about him..I can't explain it," I admitted, as Coulson shook his head.

His eyes lingered on mine, "I want you to go to medical and get that checked, just in case, he may have broken a rib."

"I would like to stay while you question the prisoner," I replied, tossing my towel on a chair, "with all due respect, sir, but he just beat my ass, along with ever other agent in the vicinity, and I wanna know who he is, even though I'm pretty sure I already know."
I was just having a hard time believing it, but it was there, and my mind was already beginning to accept it as truth.
Could Thor be a real person?
Was I looking at him through the glass?
The idea was absolutely preposterous, but we had a hammer resembling the stuff of legend, and a handsome bearded man who wanted it. I read his surprise and anguish once he realized he couldn't lift it, I could feel it brush against my skin. The fight had left his body so suddenly, as if his sole reason for existing no longer mattered, and that particular pain was stifling.
Coulson shook his head and opened the door, letting me walk out in front of him. He adjusted his soaked suit and stepped into the small glass room, closing the door firmly behind him, while I moved to the security monitor. I watched as Coulson stepped in front of the man who tore through our agents, and now looked more like a lost boy than a fighter.