(no subject)
Hey, wow, it's been a long time. I brought a ficlet.
“I heard what you did to Coulson’s Captain America trading cards,” May says.
Fury sighs. “I did what was necessary in the moment. The world was about to end, you know - for a minute there, I thought maybe that little problem would take precedence over Coulson’s cards. And believe me, Agent May - Agent Hill has made certain that I have seen the error of my ways.”
May nods slightly, arms crossed over her chest. “You know, I bought him one of those cards for his birthday.”
Fury closes his eyes, breathes two slow breaths - in through the nose, out through the mouth - and takes out his wallet. May holds one hand out, palm up, and Fury starts laying twenty dollar bills into it, grumbling all the while. “Does anyone ever say, ‘Thank you, Director Fury, for your quick thinking in motivating your team to quit squabbling like playground bullies for ten goddamned minutes so they could save the world like they were supposed to be doing’? No, they do not. Instead, I gotta hear about Coulson’s damn trading cards, all the damn time…” He looks down pointedly at the stack of money he’s laid into May’s open hand.
She looks at it too, and then looks back at him expectantly.
“You did not spend more than two hundred dollars on that little scrap of paper!”
May’s jaw clenches. “It was mint.”
Fury’s jaw clenches too, until he lets out a sharp huff. “Fine.” He lays five more twenties onto the stack in her hand.
May smiles. “Thank you very much, Sir.”
As she walks away, Fury says under his breath, “If I’d known I was going to catch hell about those cards for the rest of my days, I’d have left him dead.”
“I heard what you did to Coulson’s Captain America trading cards,” May says.
Fury sighs. “I did what was necessary in the moment. The world was about to end, you know - for a minute there, I thought maybe that little problem would take precedence over Coulson’s cards. And believe me, Agent May - Agent Hill has made certain that I have seen the error of my ways.”
May nods slightly, arms crossed over her chest. “You know, I bought him one of those cards for his birthday.”
Fury closes his eyes, breathes two slow breaths - in through the nose, out through the mouth - and takes out his wallet. May holds one hand out, palm up, and Fury starts laying twenty dollar bills into it, grumbling all the while. “Does anyone ever say, ‘Thank you, Director Fury, for your quick thinking in motivating your team to quit squabbling like playground bullies for ten goddamned minutes so they could save the world like they were supposed to be doing’? No, they do not. Instead, I gotta hear about Coulson’s damn trading cards, all the damn time…” He looks down pointedly at the stack of money he’s laid into May’s open hand.
She looks at it too, and then looks back at him expectantly.
“You did not spend more than two hundred dollars on that little scrap of paper!”
May’s jaw clenches. “It was mint.”
Fury’s jaw clenches too, until he lets out a sharp huff. “Fine.” He lays five more twenties onto the stack in her hand.
May smiles. “Thank you very much, Sir.”
As she walks away, Fury says under his breath, “If I’d known I was going to catch hell about those cards for the rest of my days, I’d have left him dead.”