I've only got one shot.

Coffee is key to survive! (Phil Coulson x Reader)

  Hearing footsteps heading towards you, you glance up from where you were sitting and reading, "You look like crap," you inform your boyfriend and boss, he had been asleep when you had last seen him, a few hours earlier, "The fact that I'm upright can be credited to our French press," Phil informs you blandly as he walks into the living room, where you were sitting, his dry response makes you laugh. "That bad?" you question amused as you set your book down, moving over to let him drop down on the couch. "It is a minor miracle that I am functioning at all," Phil admits to you as he leans into you, eyes closing as he settled against you. You reach up and run your fingers through his hair, feeling him relax against your side. "Just how much coffee did you have?" you ask him softly, not minding that he was essentially using you as a pillow. "A whole carafe," he mutters, shifting to get more comfortable and then reaching up to rub his temples with his index and middle fingers, "That explains everything," you tell him with a shake of your head, "Between last night and all the coffee, I'm surprised you're not in the hospital," you tease lightly, whilst simultaneously checking that he was okay. "Let's never talk about it," he utters.