#furycoulson

[salmonypink]

Agents Of SHIELD Ficlet - Tending Wounds (Fury/Coulson. PG-13)

Title: Tending Wounds Fandom: Agents Of SHIELD Pairing: Fury/Coulson Rating: PG-13 Words: 358 Notes: Set during Beginning Of The End. Spoilers for Season One of Agents Of SHIELD and Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Written for Fan Flashworks, prompt “health and fitness”.

LJ | DW | AO3

[kisleth]

I'm going to start a new ship name

Because, c'mon, Marcusroni and Cheese. I think it's funny, shut up.

[thepetticoatedastonishment]

There comes a point when you have to sit down with your OTP and ask yourself which one is Westley and which one is Buttercup.

[dazzledfirestar]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Avengers (2012), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Battle Scars (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Phil Coulson/Nick Fury, Cheese/Marcus Johnson Characters: Phil Coulson, Nick Fury, Marcus Johnson, Cheese (Marvel) Additional Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, AIM doing bad sciency stuff, Age Regression/De-Aging Summary:

AIM got it right for once. Nick's bound and determined to make the best of it.

[azurish]

that perches in the soul: Nick/Phil fic

Summary:

He put down the glass and rummaged around in his jacket pockets for a moment before producing a handful of cards. Phil recognized them immediately, of course; one had even been a gift from Nick, years and years ago. Then Nick fanned them out before him and he saw the streaks of crimson brown, flaking away in places, splashed across the faded colors.

“Oh,” Phil said, or perhaps the word just escaped on a too-loud exhale. “Oh.”

There was a difference between being a good man and doing the right thing, sometimes. Nick just wasn’t sure if his relationship with Phil was an acceptable sacrifice, and he wasn’t sure whether he dared to hope any more. A conversation in a hospital after the Battle of Manhattan.

Ship: Nick Fury/Phil Coulson

Notes: Title, of course, from Emily Dickinson’s ""Hope" is the thing with feathers". (I think Nick might object to her assertion that hope never demands a crumb from us, but then, Phil might disagree.) Posting this before Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. josses (quite literally ;)) my Phil survival headcanons. Comments make me a really happy author? :) Cross-posted to AO3.

Nick Fury was not a good man. He knew that, the same way he knew dozens of far more important state secrets and an entire arsenal’s worth of blackmail material about everyone who mattered. He knew exactly how many men he’d killed, how many he’d lost, how many he’d sacrificed, how many he’d broken. He entertained no illusions about the quality of his soul.

So he was, quite honestly, struck speechless by the comm. call he received right after the Battle of Manhattan, because what had he ever done to deserve something like this?

“Director Fury?”

He raised a hand to his ear. Even though he knew how it worked, he still couldn’t quite get used to it. He’d learn to hide the tic if it ever mattered, but until then …

“What have you got for me?”

“It’s Agent Coulson, sir. The medics all seem kind of stunned – I mean, they didn’t think that he even –”

“Yes, what?” Nick cut off the babbling young voice far more harshly than he probably should have. They were all pretty rattled right now – between narrowly averting the destruction of Manhattan via alien army and narrowly averting the destruction of Manhattan via nuclear strike, everyone’s nerves were completely worn through. But that first sentence – well. Hope hurt. Nick hated the helplessness of hope and the pain of disappointment ferociously, and still it bit into him, held onto him, wouldn’t let him go even when he’d seen Phil’s corpse himself. There was no conceivable god that would ever swoop in at the last moment and defy the odds for Nick Fury, of all people, and yet still, he hoped.

“They succeeded in – uh, they called it, um, jumpstarting his heart. Sir. His vitals have stabilized. He still hasn’t regained consciousness, but his heart’s been beating for, for nearly half an hour now, sir.”

Nick took a full step in the direction of the medbay before he reined himself in. No. He didn’t have time now. He needed to – he needed to talk to some of his allies on the Council individually, he needed to supervise the debriefing of Barton and Romanoff, he needed to remain on deck to boost morale, he needed to be the rock his soldiers needed right now. (And Phil wasn’t even awake. What – did he think he’d go sit by his bedside, like some worried spouse? That wasn’t what they did.)

Instead, he raised a hand to his headset again and said, “Keep me informed of any future developments.”

“Yes, sir.”

Then he turned back to his bridge and had to focus, to look, to see with his one good eye what needed to be done. And he tried to force down that – thing, fluttering in his heart, terrible and delicate and impossibly still alive within him.

Phil woke up to the sound of monitors beeping steadily, which, depressingly enough, was pretty par for the course for the last decade or two. Nick wasn’t there, at first, and then suddenly, he was.

The room was anonymous. It was small, and nondescript, and white, and mostly quiet. No telltale quiet whirr of engines in the background or occasional announcement over the helicarrier intercomm.

So he’d been unconscious long enough for the ship to have landed, all right. And if Nick was here – if Nick was here, they must have won. They’d survived. Nick had survived. He had survived.

“Loki?” he asked, his voice a thin croak.

Before he answered, Nick poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the metal hospital table by his bedside. Phil struggled to lift his head and neck up, wincing as he felt the telltale pull of new stitches at both his back and his chest. A moment later, a sharp, lancing pain followed, the ache stabbing right through him like a knife, and with a shocked huff he fell back – but one of Nick’s hands was there, cradling his head, gentling his fall. His fingers – huge, rough, scarred – cupped the back of his head. His palm was warm and dry where it brushed against his skin through the short bristles of his hair. The gun calluses on Nick’s little finger caught against the skin of his neck. He tried to concentrate on that sensation, instead of the cold shock of pain in his chest and the memories flickering around the edges of his vision that threatened to rise to the surface. (He could feel the ghost of that blade cutting through him like butter, the freezing metal sliding easily into his body, and see the point of that curved blade jutting out from his chest like some impossible nightmare –)

Nick brought the cup to his mouth and the rim bumped against his lips. After a moment, Phil made eye contact, opened his mouth, and drank.

“Loki’s been neutralized. The details will have to wait until you’re well enough to be properly debriefed, but, long story short, he brought an alien army to Manhattan. The Avengers stopped him.”

“Then I was right, yeah?” Phil tried for a smile. “My – death was the push they needed.”

Nick closed his eyes for a moment. He looked old, the hard lines around his mouth too deep and the worried wrinkles on his forehead apparently permanent. “Yeah. Yeah, you were right.” Then he sighed.

He put down the glass and rummaged around in his jacket pockets for a moment before producing a handful of cards. Phil recognized them immediately, of course; one had even been a gift from Nick, years and years ago. Then Nick fanned them out before him and he saw the streaks of crimson brown, flaking away in places, splashed across the faded colors.

“Oh,” Phil said, or perhaps the word just escaped on a too-loud exhale. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They didn’t make eye contact for a while. Instead they just sat there – Phil staring blankly up at the white ceiling, Fury’s eye still trained on the cards. The hospital monitors beeped away steadily. Nick’s hand was still holding Phil’s head upright, and the tableau seemed even more precariously balanced in the near-silence.

Finally, something small shut down in Nick’s expression and he nodded infinitesimally. He drew the cards together with one hand, began to lower Phil’s head toward the pillow, and started to stand.

With a sudden, strenuous effort, Phil’s hand shot out and curled around Nick’s, around the cards. Nick froze. Froze as if he refused to believe this, as if he hadn’t dared hope that Phil would stop him. Phil caught his breath carefully, and then he spoke.

“Boss. Nick. Don’t – it’s just exactly what I did. You were motivating them to fight. You did it any way you could; you put everything you had behind it. Don’t beat yourself up over it, OK? They stopped Loki, and you saved Manhattan.”

Nick nodded and then deflated slightly, sliding back into his seat, adjusting his grip on Phil. Phil’s heartbeat pulsed through his jugular veins and fluttered against Nick’s palm.

“You know I was – upset.” From anyone else, it would have been a question – “You do know I was upset, right?” – but Nick made it a statement, his voice hard and unflinching, even when the words seemed torn out of him. “But I had to –”

“Yeah.” Phil paused before trying on another smile. And maybe it was just that the tension in the room had decreased exponentially, but this time, it felt nearly normal. “Saving the world comes first for both of us, eh?”

One of Nick’s rare, true smiles flashed into existence. “Seems like that.” And he forced himself to continue, “I’m glad you’re all right. Didn’t think you were going to pull through this time, Phil.”

It took effort, but Phil managed an emphatic disparaging snort. “Like I’d let that petulant bastard of a god win.”

A flickering, careful grin this time. Phil savored it while it lasted, smiled back, encouraged him.

Eventually, Nick reluctantly disentangled their hands and slid the cards back into his jacket. “Mind if I keep these for now?” Nick asked.

The cards had been far more worn than they’d been before, even underneath the blood, Phil realized. It was as if someone had been holding them, occasionally looking at them, fiddling with them, worrying at them – “Sure, of course,” was all Phil said.

“Thank you.”

Then Nick stood and slowly, carefully lowered Phil’s head back to the pillow. He grimaced. “Manhattan’s been – well, not totaled, but it’s pretty damn ugly right now. I have to go deal with some of the clean-up operations. They can’t really spare me for long,” he added, a comment Phil translated as “They can’t really spare me at all.”

But he’d come, because as long as the world wasn’t ending, Nick Fury would come for him. The world came first, but that was about it. Even if Nick was afraid of how his actions would be received – not that he’d ever admit it – he would come.

“No problem,” Phil said. “Go – go get back to directoring. I don’t need to be mother-henned.” Nick raised an eyebrow, but Phil just smiled softly. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah, I’ll be back.” Nick ran a set of rough fingertips along the side of Phil’s face and then withdrew his hand entirely. “Soon. Try to rest until then.”

“The sooner I can get out of here, the better,” said Phil.

“Sooner you can come home, the better,” Nick echoed. He paused in the doorway.

“It really is all right. I know – of course, I’ve known from the beginning, it’s the kind of man you are. You do the right thing, Nick. You know I love you. Love you for that, even.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m glad you’re all right, and I love you, yeah.” Phil had heard him say that before, of course, but that didn’t mean it didn’t warm him right through every time.

And then Nick disappeared out into the hallway. Phil smiled after him.

[dazzledfirestar]

How about 7: Romantic kiss, with Phil/Nick? :)

"You left me alone at home all day. What did you think was going to happen?" Phil smirked at him as he walked in the door, taking his coat as he stared. 

"I figured you’d rest… recuperate… do all that shit the doctor’s told you too."

"I ordered dinner in if that makes you feel better about it." Phil moved into the dining room with a slightly wider smirk as Nick took in the scene. Candlelight filled the room, dinner was laid out on the good china, there was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket next to the table. “Well?"

Nick smiled and wrapped his arms around him. “What are we celebrating?"

"That medical cleared me this morning?"

"I like that."

"That it’s been twenty years since you kissed me the first time?"

"You’re getting sentimental." Nick smiled and leaned into Phil, pressing a slow, deep kiss to his lips. “Best idea I’ve ever had."

"I could not agree more." Phil kissed him back. “We should eat…"

Nick smirked. “We can heat it up later… right now, I’m enjoying another one of my good ideas." He fully planned to kiss Phil for the rest of the night.

[dazzledfirestar]

hmmm. how about Nick and Phil. with #15.

Warmth. He had to admit, he missed it. A lot.

Mid-winter rainstorms were miserable and the second he could come up with a reason that they threatened the safety of the free world, he’d have them outlawed. 

He was so caught up in his planned war on cold rain, that he jumped when a hand pulled at the collar of his coat. “Shouldn’t you move this inside?"

"Not yet. Any second now…"

"Alright. But I’m not leaving you alone out here. You need some kind of back up if the guy turns out to be more violent than the analysts think." Phil slipped his hands in his pockets. “Besides, watching you from the van was making me cold."

"Now you’ve got an excuse."

"Exactly." They stood there, shivering and occasionally bitching as they watched the building from what was supposed to be a very irregular, and often missed completely bus stop. Nick had scoffed at the idea but it wasn’t his mission to run this time. “Door."

For half a second the mark’s eyes landed on them. If he got too good a look, he’d recognize them and bolt. Nick did the only logical thing there was to do. He pulled Phil close and kissed him. If he was particularly enthusiastic about it, well… who could blame him?

The bud in his ear hummed before he’d even started to think to pull back. “Sitwell’s team is pursuing."

Phil blinked up at him, wiping rain from his eyes. “Should we go back?"

Nick smiled, humming softly against his lips. “Any second now." Couldn’t blow their cover by leaving too soon, after all. Or so he reasoned as his hand slid about Phil’s waist and he kissed him again.

[dazzledfirestar]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Avengers (2012), Iron Man (Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Phil Coulson/Nick Fury Characters: Phil Coulson, Nick Fury, Tony Stark, Senator Stern Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff, Phil sings to himself and whoever he's dancing with Summary:

Phil talks Nick into going to one of the many parties they usually ignore invitations for. Nick takes it as a challenge.

Happy birthday, Kiwi! I hope you have a wonderful one and you like this! <3