Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended, entertainment purposes only, etc etc. You know the drill.

A/n: I had this plot bunny so long ago, and finally have it complete and hammered out. Major thanks to inkspire for idea-rolling with me and editing the first several drafts of a few of these chapters. Also major thanks to all the lovelies over at The Beta Branch for checking over every chapter and smoothing out the rough bits. You guys are the best! :D Any remaining mistakes are all me.

This fic is pretty much a love letter to Phil being awesome. I figure we can never have enough of that! (Cross-posted on AO3.)

Warning: Rated PG-13/T for moderate language, mentions of torture and injury.

Five Times Phil Coulson Saved Them (And One Time They Saved Him)

I. Fury & Hill

Phil is tired. He has been on four back-to-back missions, out of the country, been shot at, nearly stabbed, and has had to jump from a burning building into a freezing river below. He hasn't slept in nearly 26 hours – he's gone longer before without sleep, but he doesn't prefer to – and he is just settling down in the break room at SHIELD for a small bowl of vanilla ice cream.

It's inevitable, he supposes, that he would be disturbed with some new crisis, especially since Fury and Hill are off coordinating an offensive mission at a smaller SHIELD base in Peru.

"Agent Coulson, sir," an officer comes running into the break room, out of breath, eyes wide with worry. "It's Peru."

Phil looks down at the bowl before him with a pang of disappointment. It will have to wait.

The base where Fury, Hill, and a small number of other agents are located has been attacked. Apparently the drug cartel which SHIELD had been working to take down managed to get their hands on information relating to the base's whereabouts. Following what apparently was a fairly impressive and convincing decoy situation, which drew more than half of the agents and Fury out of the base, they were taken by surprise and assailed from all directions.

According to the briefing packet Phil has been given by one of the senior officers on his way to the jet, they are fairly certain that both Hill and Fury are still alive. They estimate at least a dozen agents are alive as well, though they are all pinned down in different areas in the compound. Communications are down, and satellites are being repositioned to get an aerial view of the battle ground. Coulson instructs that reinforcements be scrambled together immediately – there is no time to wait for them, however; he is going right now.

At the airport, Coulson transfers to a heavily weaponized military helicopter and the pilot promptly takes him to ground zero. As the vehicle lands and Coulson disembarks, the pilot warns of an impending storm. The sooner they can get out, the better.

When he locates Hill, she and two other agents are holding their own in one of the shelled out rooms of the base. He lobs a grenade at the ring of enemies surrounding the doorway, effectively eliminating them and clearing his path, then makes his way through the smoke to Hill and others. She is all scraped up, a few bullet grazes sloppily bandaged on her shoulder. Her uniform is spattered with blood, though it isn't clear if it's hers or not.

"Thought you were in Moscow," she says breathlessly when she realizes the man in the suit casually walking towards her barricade is Agent Coulson.

"Got back early." He joins her, crouching out of sight from their enemies.

"Couldn't resist getting shot at some more, could you?"

"You know me so well."

Coulson stands and aims his two guns to the left and right, letting loose several rounds of fire that spray through smoldering window-sized holes. He glances down at Hill, who is taking a moment to reload.

"Ready to go?" he asks pleasantly.

"Absolutely."

"Then come with me, please."

Coulson leads the way, followed by the two other agents. One is limping and weaponless. Hill brings up the rear, covering their backs. They shoot their way out of the debris strewn room, through the hole a bomb had made hours earlier. He swiftly leads them to the helicopter he arrived in and begins helping them board it.

"Go," says Hill. "I got this. Get Fury."

Coulson gives her a nod, and takes off at a run, reloading his guns as he goes. Thunder rumbles threateningly overhead and it starts pouring rain. He increases his speed, feet pounding across the ground, weaving between the buildings on the compound towards the sound of gunfire. Once he finds where Fury is pinned down, he first lays down some cover fire, and after some creative dodging, sliding, and darting, he reaches his superior.

"Agent Coulson," Fury greets as if nothing is wrong. They both duck instinctively as something explodes far to the left.

"Boss," Phil nods in response. He notes that the director has been shot in the arm. Trails of blood cover his leather jacket, mixing with the rain.

"Nice weather we're having," Fury says and winces, his face drawn tight with pain.

The pair are completely drenched as the rain comes down like a waterfall. Phil peeks over the low wall where they are hiding to discern where the enemy is, and makes speedy calculations in his head.

"Sir," he starts mildly, facing Fury. He pulls off his tie and with deft fingers, composes it into a temporary bandage on the director's wound. "I left a bowl of ice cream for this."

"I'll get you as much as you want," says Fury through gritted teeth as pain shoots through his arm. "If you get us the hell out of here."

Bullets rip across the wall above them, showering them with wet chunks of plaster. Phil rises from his crouched position and fires off a number of shots, hitting several enemies and injuring a few more. For the remaining hostiles still standing, Coulson tosses a small grenade their way, then ducks behind the wall briefly as it goes off.

While the smoke, fire and rain fight and tangle in the air, Coulson and Fury jump to their feet and sprint across the uneven ground, leaping over debris. In the distance, the SHIELD reinforcements are arriving and landing, teams of agents fanning out across the ground. When they spot the pair approaching rapidly, they hurry forward to help and cover them as the remaining enemies come out of hiding to converge.

Fury throws himself into the nearest helicopter and Coulson hops in after him.

"Take us out of here!" the agent commands at once – the team can handle the rest while he makes sure the director receives medical attention.

"Hill?" pants Fury.

"Safe," replies Coulson.

The director nods and leans his head back in his seat. He stays like that, his eye closed, his breath returning to normal, until they reach the airport. Coulson transfers them to the jet, where Hill and a handful of surviving agents are already waiting and getting cleaned up. Fury settles down beside them and moments later, the jet is airborne.

Phil had seated himself towards the back of the plane to give ample room for the SHIELD medics to take care of the others. With fresh bandages on his cleaned and stitched arm, Fury heads over and takes a seat beside the agent.

"The teams you sent in are now in control of the situation, and rescued several more agents that hadn't been killed," he says. "Good job, Agent."

"Thank you, sir."

"And Agent?"

"Yes sir?"

"We've got a few hours until we get back to base. Get some sleep." Fury tilts his head down and adds, "That's an order."

Phil suppresses a smile. "Yes sir."

A/n: Thanks for reading! Feedback appreciated, part 2 coming soon. ;)