Three days.
Three days was a long time to be in an 'unstable' condition, and Phil was beginning to worry. It'd been five days since Fury ordered a six man team lead by the Captain himself into an old area of town approximately three hours away in the car. It'd been three days- three agonising days- since four of them stepped back into S.H.I.E.L.D. There had been one casualty report and the agent, in an internal monsoon of panic, assumed from the solemn expressions surrounding him that it had been Steve. It hadn't been, but his relief had been short lived as they wouldn't even let anybody see him.
Fury said he was 'unstable', but nobody was sure what that meant. That it was best nobody saw him right now, and as agonisingly as Phil had wanted to argue his point that this was Steve Rogers, his hero, and he had the right to see him, he simply bit his tongue and left with a nod so as to escape with a head still upon his shoulders.
Three days.
Coulson stood, wringing his fingers above the hustle. A trainee from below sent a smile in his direction, and for the fifth time that day it went unrecognised. Phil wasn't smiling quite so much, lately, and as much as he hoped to slip under the radar his newfound depression was not overlooked by his co-workers. He was plagued with 'don't worry' and 'he'll be fine, Phil', and with all the will in the world he wished he could believe them. Honest to God, he wished he could believe them, but a world without the Captain was one he didn't want to exist within, and right now the word 'unstable' was hissing in his ears at every available opportunity. He felt physically ill to think about it, and had to step back from the railing. He was about to turn to leave back to his office (where he presumed he'd fall asleep on the desk, as he had yesterday) when his back collided roughly with a heavier form.
All out of patience, the agent opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly to arms were holding him in place. The hands at his front were familiar, and Coulson almost didn't want to turn for he risked breaking his own heart.
But he did, and he was glad he did, for he was soon held close against Steve Rogers' chest. Phil didn't know where he was hurting, and so his own grip was softer than he'd like it to be.
"Captain, I- you're- they said it would be weeks before you woke up, I was-"
"Could be weeks. I'm fine now."
Phil didn't argue any more. Maybe it was the relief, or perhaps the threat of gladdened tears that stung his eyes like acid, but he didn't want to talk any more, anyway. For the moment, he was perfectly happy where he was.
"Nat told me you were worried. I just wanted to know you were okay."
Suddenly, Coulson didn't care. Steve was hugging him, so he didn't care, and maybe it was the medication talking but Steve had never felt quite so content in his life.
Three days.