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Steve Rogers stared in awe at the black and white movie, watching each figure run across the battlefield. There were gunshots and explosions occurring in the background and the protagonist barked orders at his men. Diving behind one of the trenches, he shot multiple bursts of shots. There were cries of pain and the camera swerved to face three enemies fall to the ground.
The kids in the audience cheered and Steve’s face lit up. He had seen this movie over a dozen times, but still got butterflies in his stomach when he saw this part.
Now the main character was standing in the rain with the other men, soaking wet and muddy to their core. He stood there, unmoved or affected by the elements, and gave his speech. He spoke of how hard it was going to be and how it wasn’t going to get easier any time soon. The only time they would get a break is when the war was over. But that wasn’t any reason to get their hopes down, there were women and children back at home rooting and waiting for them to come home.
Steve lipped every word in the speech. He had memorized it long ago, probably after the third time seeing it. Each spoken word had real meaning that hit home with everyone in the audience, even the usually cold-hearted ones. That was because it was real footage of the battlefield, people said.
The subject of the blockbuster film had been debated for long hours and days. Was it really real? Or was it just Hollywood magic? After a period of time, the papers published a letter from the man- the main character- himself. It was a detailed report of how the film crew had followed them around for several months, and how in some scenes it wasn't even a cameraman holding it. It had been one of the men in the platoon, and if you looked carefully you could see that someone was missing or maybe the camera was a tad more shaky than normal.
That was the day Steve knew that he needed to join the armed forces, to fight alongside this amazing man. His hero- his role model.
Soon, the events that made Steve Rogers into Captain America would unfold. Everyday he would wake up and fight, attempting to do justice to his biggest hero. The man on all of the movie screens across America, the man praised a god-send by people all around the country.
A certain Major Coulson.
=>
During the time in the fight with the Howling Commandos, everyone took the time at exactly 11PM to listen to the radio. Some days they were stuck too deep within enemy lines to do anything loud like that, but at any chance the men got they tuned in at that particular time to a particular station.
It was at that time when the broadcaster read aloud one of Major Coulson’s reports of the field. Everyone crowded around to listen to the stories and adventures. It was almost a similar situation to the men and women at home listening to what was happening with Captain America. At one point, there was a debate about which one of the national heroes had the most viewers.
In time, Major Coulson was off the air and Captain America was the star. People eventually forgot about the man, but Steve Rogers didn’t. He would never forget the man who changed his life, who put him on the path to saving countless lives.
He even helped Steve work up the nerve to talk to Peggy Carter.
But that was all the past.
=>
Steve Rogers sat on the couch in his makeshift apartment when the doorbell rang. Perking up, he placed the sketchbook down on the cushions and answered it. A shorter man (everyone seemed shorter after the serum) stood there with a clear tablet in his hands. He wore a black suit and shoes to match, like he was about to get promoted or go out to dinner with a dame.
“Captain Rogers?” he asked to be polite. They both knew he knew who Steve was.
“That’s me.”
“It seems that the world once again needs you,” he held out the tablet to the larger man. “My name is Agent Coulson, please come with me.”
Steve Rogers almost dropped the fragile device on the ground when the agent introduced himself. It... couldn’t be, could it? He examined him thoroughly, taking in every detail, and he couldn’t believe he didn’t see it before. This man looked almost exactly like Major-
“C-Coulson?” he echoed.
“Yes?”
“THE Coulson?”
“Is there another?”
“I--” Steve didn’t know how to answer that, or even touch the subject. So he just zipped his mouth shut and followed the agent towards the high-tech plane awaiting them.
=>
“So- uh...”
“I’m just a man, Captain Rogers. You can speak your mind.”
“I noticed your last name and... er. Gosh, how do I say this...?”
“...”
“Are you by chance related to Major Coulson?”
“... Yes. Actually, I am. He was my father.”
“Oh my god-! I mean, er. Wow... I am a big fan.”
“I meet few people who are these days, you’re more of an icon than him.”
“Y-yeah. I guess-”
“He never cared for the publicity, he said. He just wanted to help people. The fact that reporters and cameramen followed him around everywhere was just a chance to educate the country, and he took it. He always said that even though he wasn’t the most famous soldier, and he would probably be buried in an unmarked grave, the only thing that mattered was the impact he made and the lives he saved.”
“.......”
“Captain-”
“Is he still alive?”
“No, I’m sorry. He went MIA a couple of days before the war ended.”
“... Thank you.”
“No problem, Captain.”
“So... you dealt with Iron Man?”
“When he first appeared on our ‘person of interest’ list, yes.”
“And Thor?”
“Affirmative.”
“Oh wow, you really are like your father.”
“...”
“Horsefeathers- I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I trust that was meant as a compliment, so I’ll take it as one.”
“Can you tell me some stories? Of what you did I mean. I would really like to hear them.”
“Of course.”
=>
Steve jogged up to Agent Coulson. He was standing in the main observation room of the Helicarrier, overseeing the other staff members hard at work. He called to him and the agent turned around, flashing a faint, polite smile when he saw who it was.
“I found this,” The captain took out a medium and worn black and white photo from where it was sitting in his hand and showed it to him. It was an old picture of Major Coulson. He was smiling at the camera while sitting around a campfire, taking a rifle apart. Agent Coulson’s eyes widened at the sight.
“Where did you...?”
“I had it on me when I was frozen and I guess it survived with me.”
The agent’s expression melted into a smile of nostalgia at the old thing. It made Steve’s heart do a perfect backflip and he could have sworn that his face warmed up. He took the photo from the captain and held it in the light, grinning like...
...like a son seeing his dad after the war.
The image went through Steve’s mind like it was an actual scene, and suddenly the man standing before him was a boy. Just a boy who missed his dad. His face flushed a deep red and he covered his mouth, turning away in a desperate attempt to hide it. That... was new.
“Here,” The agent handed the picture back, his face looking like it was glowing. Steve blinked, processing what Coulson was doing, then he muttered an ‘oh’ and took it. “Thank you for showing me.”
“Can you sign it?” The captain blurted out.
“What?”
“Sign the picture.”
“Wouldn’t you want ‘the original’ to do that?”
Steve gave him a nervous smile. “To be honest, you’re just as heroic as the original. I mean, you deal with millionaires with attitude problems, odd agents, and mythical gods. I would be honoured.”
“That’s very flattering,” he smiled politely and nodded. “do you have a pen?”
The captain felt around his person, searching his pockets for a pen or marker. His heart sank when he didn’t find any, and the look on his face must have shown it because Agent Coulson uttered a light chuckle and waved it off. “I’ll do it when we have time later,” he promised. “for now, we should get prepared.”
“Right,” Steve said lamely. “I’ll keep you to that, Agent Coulson.”
“Phil.”
“Huh?”
“Just call me Phil.”
“Okay, Phil. You can call me Steve.”
=>
In wasn’t fair. The universe wasn’t fair-- wasn’t just. This was wrong, everything was so wrong.
Steve Rogers had never been so angry in his life.
Phil Coulson didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve to die a death like that. He was a goddamn hero, even if no one knew it. The captain had heard of what he did, the things he went through for the world and S.H.I.E.L.D. and it was amazing. He was his father’s son all right, and it was an honour to even talk to him. He did so much, sacrificed so much and now he was dead.
And Steve realized he knew nothing of the man. He wanted to know so much more, he wanted to know everything about him. They had met and known each other for only a couple of hours, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. He had lost his chance to spend any time with the last of the great Coulson line.
Steve didn’t even care if his first hero was Major Coulson and not Phil, Phil was just as much of a hero if not more than his father. Sure, he would have loved to meet the man, but the agent was special. He was so selfless and brave, just like the man Steve had joined the forces for.
It pissed him off when Iron Man didn’t even know much about him. Just his first name and ‘A Cellist’.
Did anyone notice this man? Did anyone bother to get to know him or take time to befriend him? Was he doomed to be as behind the scenes and unknown as his father...?
Not if Captain America had anything to do with it.
He was going to Avenge him.
He was going to make Phil Coulson proud.
=>
“Good morning,” Phil hummed.
Steve jolted awake from the seat beside the hospital bed. He quickly turned his head to look at the agent, who was apparently awake. His mouth opened and closed, words dying in his throat before he got to say them. A deep red washed over his face and Coulson just smiled wearily, amused by the display of flustered speechlessness. “Looks like you had a good sleep there, Captain.”
“I-- I’ve had enough sleep for a long time.”
“Don’t give me that,” Phil groaned half-heartedly, punching him in the shoulder. It was more like a mosquito swat though. “save it for the press.”
“It’s been two months, the press is off my back by now.”
The expression melted from the agent’s face and he turned a pale white, like he had seen a ghost. Steve immediately regretting telling him that and tried to lift up his hands in innocence when he found the left was was being held.
Then he remembered holding Phil’s hand the night before, wishing that the man would squeeze back. He blushed hard and tried to stay on track of the subject. This was no time to freak out like a schoolgirl because he was holding his hero’s hand.
“I guess my ‘good sleep’ remark is void now.” he joked weakly. He made no move to retract his hand from Steve’s.
“Sorry I woke you up, I had to see you.” the captain said slowly.
“Oh? You did, did you?”
“You never signed the picture.”
“Do you have it with you?”
“Of course.”
“Did you remember a pen this time.”
“Is that going to haunt me forever?”
“Maybe.”
“Yes, I brought one.”
“Well,” Phil began, sounding a bit more awake. “I guess you’re going to have to keep coming back and visiting me. I don’t think I have the energy to sign it at the moment.”
“I can wait,” Steve responded softly, squeezing the hand in his. “I’ve waited this long. I’ll wait forever for you.”
Phil smiled wearily as he began to nod off. He rather didn’t register or didn’t mind the tone of voice the other man just used. For a moment, Steve thought that he wasn’t going to get a reply and that he was going to have to deal with the awkwardness of his own statement running over and over through his mind. God, that sounded bad. He shouldn’t have moved that fast, maybe he could have said something sappy the next time he woke up. He could have--
“I was just going to say the same thing.” Phil breathed, cutting through his doubts.
The hand weakly squeezed back.