Chapter Text
Merlin was visited by agent Coulson three more times before S.H.I.E.L.D. got fed up and decided to employ drastic measures.
He noticed something was up when the last patron in the diner he kept frequenting stood up to leave and the woman behind the counter disappeared into the back. Despite what Arthur used to say, Merlin wasn’t stupid, so when the doors swung open to admit agent Coulson and a stranger in a black leather jacket and eye patch, he quickly put together that this must be the man in charge. He had an aura of ‘don’t fuck with me’ so intense, it seemed sewn into the very stitching of his finely tailored suit. The man didn’t bother slipping into the booth, choosing instead to place his hands on the table, fingers splayed so wide that Merlin could almost hear the tendons creaking. Merlin picked up a chip- or ‘French fry’- and nibbled on it, ignoring the newcomers completely. This seemed to irritate the man.
“What do you want?” The man demanded gruffly, staring hard at Merlin.
Merlin blinked and looked up at the man, pretending he was surprised and asking, “Pardon?”
“What. The fuck. Do. You. Want?” The man repeated, enunciating every word slowly and purposefully. “What is your game?”
“I believe I made myself quite clear mister…” Merlin trailed off, waiting for the man to introduce himself.
The man remained silent, waiting.
Merlin continued, unperturbed. “I’m not the sort of man you’re looking for.”
“I don’t think you know what the sort of man we’re looking for is, mister Wren,” the man rebutted.
Merlin spread his hands and shrugged. “You’re looking for soldiers, mister S.H.I.E.L.D., and I’m no soldier.”
The man’s eye glinted and he pushed further, “What if I could offer you a different sort of job? One that could put your talents to use without endangering civilians?”
Merlin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “What do you mean?”
The man stood up straight, removing his hands from the table and clasping them behind his back and continued talking down his nose at Merlin. “There are records suggesting you prefer to stand to the side of the spotlight, acting as an advisor or assistant to others in power rather than drawing attention to yourself. You could do that for S.H.I.E.L.D.”
Merlin rested his elbows on the table and cocked his head. “What do you mean by that, exactly?”
“You would work for me, as my personal assistant,” the man said, the only thing betraying his irritation at the lengths he was having to go to, being the tightness at the corners of his eye. “You wouldn’t have to answer to anybody else, and you’d have nigh-unlimited access to the files of one of the greatest intelligence agencies in the world.”
That actually gave Merlin pause. It was true, he knew, that if anything remotely odd happened within S.H.I.E.L.D.’s jurisdiction they’d know immediately. A little voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Kilgharrah whispered that if anybody other than him were to be the first to know of Arthur’s return, it would be S.H.I.E.l.D.
He shook his head, trying to clear it. “There’s only one man who I would follow without question, mister S.H.I.E.L.D., and he died a long time ago. Well-“ He corrected himself. “-I questioned him a lot, actually. But I followed him anyways.”
The man clenched his jaw. “You’d be able to leave whenever you want. The pay’s good. And you could do a lot of good, working for us.”
Merlin frowned at him. “You’re worried,” he observed, surprised. “You want to get to me before anybody else does. To keep an eye on me.”
The man glared at him.
Merlin hummed, finger tapping at the table absently. “And how do I know this isn’t some trick to get me to join your little group of heroes, hmm? I don’t even know your name, let alone what accepting this job of yours might entail.”
The man blinked, then smiled, and it went all the way to his eye, betraying that he knew he’d just gotten what he came for. “My name is Nick Fury, directer of S.H.I.E.L.D., and I am a man of my word. I will not force you to do anything you don’t choose to do while you are under my employ.”
Merlin nodded absently, staring off into the distance. This might end up biting him in the ass, but, worst things worst he’d just have to go to ground back at the lake for a few decades. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet, closing his eyes to hide the flash of gold as he conjured a small white card with a string of numbers printed on one side. He held it out to Fury as he finally relaxed his grip on the aging spell he’d perfected back in the twelfth century, returning to his natural youthful appearance. To Fury’s credit, he barely twitched at the display of power, and accepted the card graciously. Coulson, who had remained impassive throughout the whole interaction, inhaled sharply, eyes wide in a mix of shock and delight.
Merlin straightened his jacket and stepped toward the door, calling back, “Give me two weeks to sort out my affairs. Can’t just up and disappear on my neighbors without an explanation- that’ll only draw attention. I’m sure you’ll be in touch with a meeting place or something.”
“Wait,” Coulson called out.
Merlin paused with his hand on the door handle, and turned to raise his eyebrow high enough to make Gaius proud.
“You never told us your real name.”
Merlin smirked and said, “No. I didn’t.” Then he pulled open the door and left the building.