From the Avengers Case Files of Phil Coulson: Grocery shopping is necessary, Tony's a little too proud of his tech, Captain America's lost on the streets of New York, and sometimes social injustice just happens. Phil Coulson's the one who's got to write this nonsense up, and he is not their PR Manager.

He shoots Clint Barton in the thigh in an alleyway in Alphabet City, too close to District X for comfort. He uses his tie as a tourniquet and helps Barton to his feet and wonders if Barton always talks this much.

During the battle against Loki, Clint let the first taste of what his loss is going to feel like fuel his fighting. Now his abused brain calls game over. It places Clint's order at the shawarma restaurant and makes for greener pastures.

Fitting together isn't something that just happens. Sometimes, you have to work for it. (Moments in the life of Clint Barton and Phil Coulson. Each chapter is a stand-alone.) This fic is Part 2 of the Mindset 'verse, where Clint has OCD. I've recorded Part 1 of the series, 'Anchor and Hold', here.

Clint has OCD. They work with it. After all, this is the Avengers; everyone's got quirks. (This fic is Part 1 of the Mindset 'verse.)

Phil Coulson is miserable, distrusted by most of SHIELD, and still doesn't remember why. It's only going to get worse before it gets better.

When he was younger, Clint wished really hard for someone. This fic is the prequel to 'you're the one who sees the darkness on the edge of town', which I've previously podficced here.

In which Coulson is his frighteningly competent self, but this time, the Avengers notice.

The future may be different, with electric lights and telegrams, but the world still needs the Avatar. The Avengers set in the world of Avatar: The Last Airbender. I really can't be more direct than that.

There was always a chance the mission would go wrong.

Clint has a complex relationship with paperwork. This fic is Part 3 of the Mindset 'verse, where Clint has OCD

Sometimes, Clint goes beyond the point where he can help himself. Luckily, he's not the only one who knows poetry. This fic is Part 4 of the Mindset 'verse, where Clint has OCD

Somehow it's really depressing that Coulson is just too pragmatic for ice cream.

"That little shit," Jasper snarls, throwing himself in the seat across from Phil in the mess hall, glasses slightly askew and eyes sporting that look Phil has come to associate with a certain specialist recently collected into SHIELD's fold.

Clint has OCD. They work with it. After all, this is the Avengers; everyone's got quirks

Tony takes Steve (along with Phil, Clint and Thor) to look for America.

It's Fashion Week in New York and everyone who matters is here to judge and be judged. Clint's been steadfastly ignoring the gnawing anxiety in the pit of his stomach all day. He adjusts the silvery gray jacket Tony had thrust at him earlier and smooths out an imaginary crease in his linen pants. Tony is an amazing artist, not just when it comes to fashion, but in everything he does. Clint has no doubt he'll be fine. But try telling Tony that today and you'll get hit. Hard.

Steve stares at Thor. Then down at the children. It isn't that he doesn't understand what Thor is saying; it's just that he's sure that isn't possible. "Are you saying that those kids are Coulson and Stark?" Natasha demands. Steve is so glad that someone other than him asked that question. Thor nods encouragingly. "I am. Is that not a relief?" "Um," Clint says. He sounds as though he's going to freak out any second. "No?"

In 1977, Jennifer Barton (nee Clinton) gave birth to her second child. Francis Clinton Barton was born and her father threw away the It's A Boy cigars and walked out of the delivery room to head to the closest bar.

In which Clint is not the emotionally stunted one, plays pretty well with others, and Sitwell is a foul-mouthed matchmaker against his will.

The World Security Council prefers Emil Blonsky in the Avengers Initiative, not Bruce Banner. SHIELD doesn't think that's a good idea.

"Tony Stark sometimes doesn't make the best choices with his health. Tony is usually bad at communicating. Steve usually doesn't end up in medical, but there are always exceptions. "Phil Coulson is the one who has to write up this nonsense, and he can't keep the Avengers out of medical."

Every office has a 'cute guy from Marketing with a great ass' that everyone wants to sleep with. Among the junior agents at SHIELD, that person is Phil Coulson. Clint would find it hilarious, but he just wants people to stop throwing themselves at his boyfriend.

Clint feeds Coulson. Domestic as hell.

“He’s not telling us everything,” Fury reached out and shut the projection off, “I’m not comfortable with this.” Coulson didn’t respond, didn’t need to. “Let Rogers know I want Barton watched; he doesn’t go anywhere alone until we understand exactly what’s going on. I’m not losing him to some egotistical mind-f***ing blade-dancer who has mentor issues and wants to take it out on our asset.” Phil nodded efficiently. He couldn’t agree more.

Steve takes things like personal responsibility and respect seriously. Tony's got people he pays to take care of that kind of thing, and anyway, he's pretty sure that he's going to die of some exotic disease in his workshop, because Dummy's still a little spotty about what is 'clean' enough to put on an open wound. The rest of the Avengers are in this for personal gain, except for Clint, he just enjoys being a dick. And some things shouldn't be a chore.

Phil looked at Clint, lowering his weapon, devastation clear on his face for a fraction of a second. Devastation for what Clint had done, or devastation for what he’d suffered Clint wasn’t sure. He squared his shoulders regardless. “People like to say that blood smells like iron, but it doesn’t. Blood smells like blood, and sometimes there’s no way around it and no room to regret it.”