Agent Phil Coulson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
agent_coulson) wrote2012-04-18 08:54 pm
agent_coulson) wrote2012-04-18 08:54 pm
Working relationships
Phil Coulson was used to being woken up from a dead sleep. In fact, he'd basically stopped having "dead sleeps" anymore, after so many years of being on call and needing to be instantly alert at a moment's notice. He dozed more than he actually slept now.
So it wasn't a shock to hear his mobile ringing at 3am, but that didn't mean it was pleasant. His hand shot out automatically, pushing the button to answer the call even before he was fully awake. By the time it reached his ear, he'd opened his eyes and the beginning of a silent hope was already forming in his head: that maybe this would be something needing his authorization, or a question from a junior agent, or--hell, even a question from Fury himself, anything to let him go back to sleep after the call ended.
Of course that was a pipe dream. He listened carefully as the threat was described to him: two speedsters, shooting some kind of unidentified beam, in Newark. Destruction to property. Civilian lives at risk. General chaos.
It made sense, really. Of all the places he least desired to be, New Jersey at 3 in the morning on a Saturday was pretty close to the top of the list.
He sighed, and sat up, swinging off the bed to head for the closet. "I'll be there in twenty minutes. Call whoever's up on the roster, at least a Level 2. I don't want to be there all morning." With that, he snapped the phone shut, grabbed a suit off the rack, and made a beeline for the kitchen--if he was going to deal with this, he wasn't going to do it without coffee.
So it wasn't a shock to hear his mobile ringing at 3am, but that didn't mean it was pleasant. His hand shot out automatically, pushing the button to answer the call even before he was fully awake. By the time it reached his ear, he'd opened his eyes and the beginning of a silent hope was already forming in his head: that maybe this would be something needing his authorization, or a question from a junior agent, or--hell, even a question from Fury himself, anything to let him go back to sleep after the call ended.
Of course that was a pipe dream. He listened carefully as the threat was described to him: two speedsters, shooting some kind of unidentified beam, in Newark. Destruction to property. Civilian lives at risk. General chaos.
It made sense, really. Of all the places he least desired to be, New Jersey at 3 in the morning on a Saturday was pretty close to the top of the list.
He sighed, and sat up, swinging off the bed to head for the closet. "I'll be there in twenty minutes. Call whoever's up on the roster, at least a Level 2. I don't want to be there all morning." With that, he snapped the phone shut, grabbed a suit off the rack, and made a beeline for the kitchen--if he was going to deal with this, he wasn't going to do it without coffee.
no subject
He grabbed the last few items he would need--the tie he'd been looking for, his keys, his security card--and walked over to the front door. "Ready to get back in the world?"
no subject
"No rest for the wicked, or something along those lines." Walking past him, she prepared herself for a the day, giving him a quick wink as she did. The day was going to have its ups and downs, but there'd be a few moments she'd be able to look back on this and smile.