#capsicoul

It didn’t seem possible that Phyl could have not told anyone about going back to 1943, but if there was even a small chance that that was true, then Stella couldn’t mention it to anyone until someone else acknowledged it to her first. Which also meant that she couldn’t ask anyone about Phyl, unless she could think of some reasonable excuse why she would know the name and want to make contact.

She had to believe that Phyl would contact her; needed to believe it. Even with how angry she felt at the thought of everything Phyl had kept from her, the thought of Phyl—of someone she knew, and who cared for her--was still the one bright star visible through a break in dark cloud. The brush of a piece of floating debris against her fingertips as she was drowning in a turbulent sea of loss and grief.

She had spent two years where Phyl only existed in her memories, she could wait a little longer. At this point, she had nothing but time.

____

Warning for loss, grief, aftermath of character death and depression for this one, though it's getting better?

Prompt me!

(Hell fuckin' yeah you can.)

“It’s not complicated, you’re just scared.”

Phil shoots Jasper the flattest, most judgmental stare he can muster. The two of them have already gone through their first round of coffee—and pastries, obviously they had to have pastries—and have just dipped into their second.

“It’s complicated,” Phil argues.

“I don’t see how,” Jasper says, stirring cream into his coffee. “You like Steve. He likes you. Seems like a fairly open and shut case.”

Phil sighs, staring down at his donut (powdered today, not chocolate). “Jasper, we’re coworkers. It would be like if you and I started dating, or me and Felix, or—”

“I get the idea,” Jasper says, cutting him off. “But you’re letting the idea of a little paperwork and a chat with Fury keep you from pursuing him.”

“It’s not a little paperwork and it’s more than a chat,” Phil argues.

“Since when are you afraid of Fury?” Jasper asks, nearly managing to hide his smirk as he sips his coffee.

“I’m not afraid of Nick,” Phil says, stirring his own coffee with a little more force than necessary. “I’m just thinking about this rationally. More rationally than you, apparently.”

Phil and Jasper have been friends for a long time. Long enough that Phil doesn’t feel guilty when he takes a piece of powdered donut and pelts it at Jasper’s pristine black suit. The bespectacled agent stares back at him in mild horror, as though Phil had committed the most unforgivable of crimes.

“Fuck you,” Jasper says, already trying to brush the powder off in vain. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“You love me,” Phil retorts.

“Which is exactly why I’m trying to get you to pull your head out of your ass, you—”

“Hey, I’m… not interrupting, am I?”

Both of them look up to see Steve Rogers standing on the other side of the fenced in seating area, watching the two of them with an amused expression, a paper bag of groceries held in the crook of his arm. He’s dressed casually, wearing a simple blue hoodie, grey sweats and running shoes. But damn him for somehow managing to look good even in that, Phil thinks.

“Not at all,” Jasper says a little too smoothly.

Phil kicks him under the table.

“Good. Good, I, uh… Well I saw you both sitting here and I just thought…” Steve says carefully. He clears his throat and looks towards Phil. “Agent Coulson, I just wanted to apologize if I made you uncomfortable the other day when I asked you out for drinks.”

Jasper looks at him pointedly from across the table. Phil knows there’s no getting out of it now. And really, had he wanted to? Maybe Jasper was right. Maybe he is scared. And being scared isn’t something he likes to be.

“It’s Phil,” Phil corrects him. “And no, you didn’t. I, uh… Do you mind if we walk, actually?”

Steve looks to Jasper questioningly. “Not unless Agent Sitwell minds?”

“You’re doing me a favor,” Jasper says, sipping his coffee. “I was getting sick of him anyway.”

Phil rolls his eyes, but from Steve’s snort of laughter, it seems he’s on the same page with Jasper’s sense of humor.

“We’ll just say you owe me a coffee, Phil,” Jasper says with a knowing smile.

As Phil steps away from his seat and walks around to meet Steve, he supposes a cup of coffee is a small price to pay.

I oopsed another cuppa commission fic for @lizabethl. Enjoy some terribly flapped unflappable Phil Coulson.

I...have a problem.

A Capsicoul shaped problem.

Because oh fuck, I have fallen super duper fast and incredibly goddamn hard for this pairing.

My first fill for @marvelbingo square N2, Steve Rogers/Phil Coulson (thank you for giving me that ship)

Title: Discoveries Steve discovers five things about Phil in rapid succession.