Nick Fury Is Full Of Shit
“Welcome back, Agent Coulson.”
It was rarely a good day when a man woke up sore with Nick Fury above him, but Phil was grateful nonetheless. “I’m… alive?”
“Look pretty alive to me.”
“I thought…”
“That we could build a massive helicarrier without also having the resources to save a man from a stab wound?” Fury scoffed derisively.
“Sir.” In SHIELD, that was code for ‘you said it, not me’.
“Actually I think you were dead, for a minute there,” Fury conceded, “but it didn’t stick.”
“Does this mean that we won?” he asked hopefully, and Fury slapped him on the knee in as genial a gesture as he ever managed.
“Thanks to you, we did.”
Coulson’s face adopted a look of clear befuddlement. “Sir – do you mean – Loki?”
“Ha! No, you didn’t even scratch him, I’m afraid. Good try, though! Did better than I did.”
“Then I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”
“You said it yourself, Agent Coulson. They needed something to avenge – and it needed to be personal.”
Coulson did not bother hiding his disbelief as the pieces clicked into place. “You told them I was dead?”
“It worked, too.” Fury was clearly impressed with himself.
“Did… was there a funeral?”
“What? No, it hasn’t been that long.”
“Sir, why would–”
“I mean, they didn’t just have my word for it. Thor watched you get stabbed. I waved these under their noses.” Fury pulled a bloody stack of cards from inside his jacket. “You’ll be happy to know that Cap was heartbroken.”
“Are those my trading cards? They should have been in my locker!” Phil’s horror was palpable, even without holding them able to see that they’d been damaged irreparably.
“They were. Look, Coulson, you and I both know that–”
“They were vintage! Is that – did you dip them in my actual blood?” He was looking at Fury as though he’d just grown two heads, pulling himself further upright despite the pain in his abdomen.
“You know how Stark is, if it had been anything else one of his little scanners would have sounded the alarm.” Fury waved the cards in the air dismissively, Coulson’s eyes following their every move like a dog with a tennis ball.
“Director Fury, those were mint condition!”
“Goddammit, Phil, are you serious right now?” Fury threw his arms up in disgust, never letting the cards slip from his hands. “These little pieces of kitschy paper just helped us save the world, and you’re gonna get mad that I messed them up a little?”
“Mint condition!” he stressed, as though this explained everything.
“Coulson, if you’re that upset, SHIELD can buy you new cards. We can go on eBay and buy you some new Captain America trading cards.”
“They’re not–”
“I’m sorry, vintage Captain America trading cards.”
“Sir, with all due respect, it is not that easy.”
“Not that easy? This is the most advanced spy network on the planet and you think I can’t find you some damn trading cards? Who do you think I am?” Fury flung the cards at Coulson in disbelief, who scrambled to catch them as carefully as if they’d been made of glass. “You realize we have the real Captain America, right? The actual man? I can call him and we can make you new trading cards, if you want! The super rare Phil Coulson run. Shit, if you just lie back down like you were an hour ago, I could probably tell him you’re pulling a Snow White. I can call Steve Rogers right now and make him kiss you, will that make up for the damn cards?”
“He didn’t even sign them,” Phil mumbled, looking at the cards in his hands.
“He thought you were dead!” Fury shouted, though Coulson was as always impervious to his boss’ temper. “Why would he sign your cards when you were dead? How the hell would that even make sense?”
“I’m sorry,” Coulson sighed finally. “I just… I was really proud of them.”
“I’ll replace them for you, Phil,” Fury promised seriously, his outrage gone. “I mean that.”
“No,” Coulson decided with a shake of his head. “No, I’ll keep these. They… mean something, now.” He traced the edge of a bloodstain thoughtfully. “The rest of my things–”
“Looking for this?” Fury tossed a Blackberry in Coulson’s lap. “Want me to leave so you can call your internet girlfriend? I looked her up, by the way – cute. Not my type, but cute.”
“That’s an unethical use of SHIELD resources, sir,” Coulson deadpanned, and Fury guffawed as he headed out the door. “Director Fury?” Nick stopped in the doorway, looking back at the man in the hospital bed. “Did – was it really… for me?”
“I’d like the think they saved the world from an alien invasion on its own merits – but yeah. I don’t know if they’d have pulled it off, without you.”
“… even Stark?”
“I’m pretty sure Tony cried. He might be in love with you, Agent Coulson.” Phil grinned, and Fury left him to his phone calls.
