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Philip Coulson wasn’t allowed to work with Captain America.
It was decided the moment Fury realised that Rogers could be revived; responsibility for his integration into the 21st century would fall to an agent who wouldn’t be emotionally compromised simply by being in his presence. Phil, to his credit, understood completely, and after his semi-successful attempt to break into the infirmary while Rogers slept (‘I saw his feet! It counts!’) he accepted the restriction. Apparently his judgement was impaired where his idol was concerned.
That didn’t make it any easier, though. Knowing he was a few rooms away from the man who all but shaped his life made it almost unbearable, but Phil kept his composure. He was sustained only by the knowledge that he was technically working alongside Captain America, and the fact that Nick said he might introduce him one day – possibly under the influence of a mild sedative.
Phil would’ve settled just for seeing his face up-close, instead of a blurry trading card print or some grainy newsreel footage.
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To vent his frustrations – or to rub salt in his own wounds – Phil started spending a lot of his downtime at the comic book store a few blocks from the New York headquarters. It was one of the good ones, not a large chain store, but one of those tiny, hole-in-the-wall places that have darkened windows, the smell of lignin, and a solitary, surly nerd behind the counter.
Two months into his Captain America moratorium, Phil was thumbing through a few issues of The Howling Commandos, pausing every now and then to look at an old back issue or something-or-other Saul had just dug out of storage. Under his arm were four Captain America comic books he’d already picked out, along with a few other vintage books he just had to snap up. He was completely immersed in the pages of The Commandos in Dresden.
‘Those guys were somethin’ else, weren’t they?’ said a voice at his ear.
For all his S.H.I.E.L.D training, Phil never really put his guard up in places like comic book stores, so the issues under his arm were scattered across the floor as he started.
‘Oh, I’m sorry!’ said the stranger, crouching to gather up the comics as Phil composed himself. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’
‘It’s fine,’ replied Phil. ‘No harm done.’
The man straightened up, and Phil almost had to crane his neck to keep eye contact. He held out the stack of comics with a sheepish smile, which Phil returned as he accepted them.
‘So you’re a fan of the Commandos?’ said Phil.
‘Oh yeah,’ replied the stranger, adjusting his glasses. ‘They’re just the greatest, aren’t they?’
‘Definitely. Well, second-greatest at the very least.’
‘Oh?’
‘Captain America,’ said Phil. ‘He’s kind of my hero.’
‘I never would’ve guessed,’ said the man, nodding toward the comic books in Phil’s hands. ‘Can’t say I blame you though; he was kind of a big influence on me as well.’
‘In what way?’
‘Well let’s just say the good Captain showed me what I was capable of,’ he replied. ‘How to stand up to some pretty big bullies.’
Phil nodded. He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, there was a trilling beep, and the stranger pulled a small tablet out of his pocket.
‘Ah, darn,’ he said. ‘That’s my, uh, boss. I’ve gotta run.’
He put out his hand, and Phil shook it firmly.
‘It was nice to meet you, uh...’
‘Oh, Phil – Philip. I’m Philip.’
‘Steven,’ he replied. ‘It was nice to meet you Philip.’
Steven tipped the brim of his newsboy cap to Phil and stepped out of the shop, pausing only at the door to wave a quick thank you to Saul, who merely grunted in response. He gave a soft chuckle and looked back at Phil.
‘Hope to see you around some time,’ he said.
Phil just waved and gave him a warm smile as he left.