Summary: related single scenes and character studies of friendships with and between the SHIELD agents

On the way to the wake

"I'm sorry, Nick."

"I'm not."

Phil was dressed and sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, ready to be released today. He was officially dead but these types of extremely close calls were always opportunities to slip someone out of the records.

It was useful.

"You got the short end of the stick on this one," Phil said.

"That was always in the cards." Nick shrugged.

While Phil would walk free today, Nick would head out to Phil's wake. "You just helped me make it work. I'm sorry you won't get to hang around your Captain America anymore."

"Me too." Phil looked at Fury dead on. "I am completely in awe of Steve Rogers: he is just, amazing. And I have to admit that I'm a bit jealous of the world he lives in, with good guys and bad guys so clearly defined. But it's not the world I live in, and it's not the world you live in either. And, Nick, in the real world, with all its complexities, you're Captain America."

Nick grimaced. "Stop, you're going to make me blush." He spoke dryly, but mostly to hide the fact that it was true. "It's not my wake today."

Phil smiled in understanding, but continued anyway. "You made your way against impossible odds to immense power and you did it to defend what is right."

"I've had to make some pretty serious compromises on the way."

Phil shrugged. "Everything is tainted. If you burn to the ground everything that's not perfectly pure, then we wouldn't have anything left to defend. Let he who is without sin and all that."

"And people think you're rule abiding." Nick shook his head.

Phil raised his eyebrows. "And people think you're not."

They looked like a mismatched pair. The big black guy in a long leather coat and the balding white guy in his government suits.

Most people never understood how their working relationship worked much less their personal friendship.

Fury, after all, had a reputation as a devious and vicious maverick. Coulson had a reputation for being kind but rule-abiding. It wasn't just rumor, either. Their acquaintances experienced them like that. What few people seemed to think through was the fact that they both had wildly successful careers in military intelligence.

They had more similarities than differences, and where they differed, it was often in opposition to how they were perceived.

"You're the idealist in this relationship, Nick. You took an idea I enjoyed as a fun fantasy and turned it into a reality."

"I enjoy doing the impossible."

"And you do with aplomb."

"Anything you want me to say to the Avengers?"

Phil paused to consider, but then shook his head. "Say whatever seems appropriate to keep them on track. They're so smart, and yet so very dumb."

Nick snorted a huff of laughter. "Yeah."

"They think you're a natural liar and I'm an honest man. For the head of an intelligence agency, you're amazingly bad at lying."

"Everyone expects me to lie, so there's really no point."

"Whereas everyone expects me to be honest, so I can get away with virtually anything."

"Yeah."

Nick had been seen as big and vicious and dangerous since he hit puberty. He had realized early on that there wasn't much point in trying to change anyone's mind on that, because they would see him, a big black guy and think he was dangerous no matter what. He went with it. He joined the military at eighteen.

Phil was always seen as the boy next door: polite and kind and honest. He didn't mind the perception, it certain let him get away with a lot more than anyone else could, but he alternated between wishing that he truly was what everyone thought and wishing that everyone would just see him for who he really was. He joined the military because surely there they judged based on actions rather than appearances.

The thing, though, was that while they were both dangerous, it was Nick who was the kinder and more straight-forward person. When Nick had a secret, he often flat out told you that he knew something and wasn't going to tell you. Of course he lied sometimes; he lied often, in fact; but only when necessary. Whenever he could, he was honest. Even in his dress, he wore all black and a long black leather trench coat that practically screamed "secret badass" and mostly made all the other spies in their bland business-wear nervous by being so obvious and eye-catching.

It was Phil who was the more devious and ruthless, the more casually manipulative, who lied with casual ease because no one believed the truth anyway. No one except Nick, who had looked at him and seen a valuable weapon in his arsenal and recruited him into SHEILD.

"Well, go forth and don't speak ill of the dead."

"Hmm, I'll have to think of some extra embarrassing stories to tell."

"If you do, take pictures of their faces."

"Of course. Keep me updated on life from the dead side of things."

"Of course."

And it was time to go. They clasped hands for a moment, but then left the room together, before turning each in their own direction.

Neither of them would let a simple death keep them from doing what needed to be done.