Just very excited to see Clark Gregg again. then I got curious, how much screen time does he have in the MCU, before agents of sheild? could only find Iron Man and the avengers but it looks like less than 13 minutes for those two movies, Thor would bring that up a bit but definitely less than half an hour?
We took a man with less than an hour of screen time across a bunch of different movies and made him OURS. Damn I’m proud of fandom sometimes
Nick Fury: This year I lost one of my best agents, Phil Coulson.
Phil Coulson: (from the other side of the Helicarrier) QUIT TELLING THE AVENGERS I’M DEAD!
Nick Fury: Sometimes I can still hear the motherfucker’s voice.
OMG. So I was walking back to my apartment and I heard some footsteps and I turned around and there was this guy running straight for me. I started panicking thinking he wanted to wear my skin as a dress. He gets closer and sees me, looking startled. And then he goes, “OMG I DIDN’T SEE YOU I’M SO SORRY. I WAS RUNNING BECAUSE I’M SCARED OF THE DARK.”
Imagine your OTP
Phil Coulson has not survived for this long by having poor field instincts.
As soon as he hears pounding footsteps, he is immediately reaching for the small knife in his jacket pocket, curling his other hand into a fist. He turns his head to the side, sees a blocky figure getting closer in the shadowed light of the street lamps. Not HYDRA, not if he’s alone – a merc, maybe?
The guy keeps running closer and Phil gives up the pretense of walking. He plants his feet on the sidewalk and turns around.
He only sees a blur of purple and hears mumbled curses before suddenly the man squeals and whole-body flinches.
“Holy shit, dude, you nearly gave me a heart attack!”
Phil keeps one hand on his knife. “Says the man running full speed at me in the middle of a deserted street at 2am.”
The guy stops clutching his chest and starts palming the back of his neck instead. “Uh, yeah. Funny story. I wasn’t running at you.”
“Who were you running at?”
“What? No, I wasn’t running at anyone.”
Phil squints. “Who were you running from, then?”
The street lamps really are shitty around here, but Phil swears he sees a blush creeping up the man’s cheeks. “I was running from the dark.”
Phil blinks. “Sorry?”
The guy huffs. “I’m scared of the dark, okay? I was trying to get home really fast.”
“You were trying to run away from the dark?”
“Shit can’t get me if I’m running, dude.”
“Come on then,” Phil says, resigned to the fact this isn’t even in the top 10 weirdest things to happen to him in Brooklyn. “I’ll walk you home. Protect you from the dark.”
The man steps forward, directly under the light, and Phil swallows. He’s kind of gorgeous, and Phil is in yesterday’s suit looking tired as hell, and there’s no way this guy is going to–
“My hero,” he hears, a second before a large, warm hand wraps around his forearm.
They don’t get more than six feet down the sidewalk before the guy tilts his body toward Phil. “You know, it’d be good to have your phone number. Just in case I ever get caught out in the dark again.”
Phil rolls his lips together to stop his smile. “Just in case.”
