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“So is it true? That the Kree burned your eye out because you refused to give them the Tesseract?”
Coulson had heard it through the grapevine. He wasn’t sure if he could trust the other agents, though. Yeah, they were trained spies, but everyone indulges in gossip every now and then.
“I will neither confirm nor deny the facts of that story,” Fury said.
That wasn’t the only rumor he had heard about Fury. He heard that he once killed a man with a paperclip alone. He heard that he had once taken down a major drug ring… by posing (and performing!) as a member of an indie rock band. He heard that S.H.I.E.L.D had recruited him immediately out of high school because he had exposed an undercover agent at a Starbucks, not knowing that the agent was one of the good guys.
Fury was intimidating, but Coulson tried not to show it. He was very aware of the “new agent” stereotypes: naive, easily scared, tried to look tough, overeager. So Coulson tried not to be those things, to very mild success.
But what really made Coulson stand out next to a long line of wannabe spies and agents was his sheer nerve.
He had located the target, standing right in front of him with her light-up fist pointed at him. Fuck. He got the impression that his gun, which was aimed at her, would not be a very effective deterrent.
And she was standing next to Fury. He had been told that Fury and the target were working together, and that S.H.I.E.L.D was authorized to use force on them both. Fury gave Coulson a look — a look that said, “Kid, you don’t know what you’re dealing with here.”
And maybe it was a bad idea. It was directly against orders. Coulson lowered his gun anyway.
“Coulson, do you have eyes on ‘em?”
Yes, in fact, he did have eyes on ‘em. And he had eyes on ‘em leaving as he responded, “They’re not down here. Let’s try up there.”
So now, there was a certain amount of trust between him and Fury, which, obviously, neither of them mentioned or acknowledged. They were professionals, for God’s sake.
Coulson was on his way to Fury’s office to get his signature and fingerprint on some paperwork. He nodded to the agents he knew as he passed them in the hall. Reaching Fury’s office, he raised his fist to knock, and then…
It was muffled through the door, but Coulson was pretty sure that was Fury saying, “Aren’t you a good kitty? Aww, that’s a good girl. Yes, you. You’re a good kitty.” And thankfully, he also heard a cat meowing.
Okay, this was something his training had not prepared him for. They did prep them for getting past awkward situations when undercover or with a mark, but... with superior officers? And a cat?
Whatever, this wasn’t the weirdest thing. Coulson had been impersonated by an alien last week.
He knocked on the door and heard Fury go silent. Then footsteps. Then the door opening. He looked up to see Nicholas J. Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D agent, holding a fluffy orange cat under his right arm.
“What?” said Fury.
“I didn’t know we were allowed pets in the office, sir.”
“We are now. Do you need something?” Fury’s glare could level New York.
“Yes, sir. I need your signature and fingerprint on the OSHA complaint paperwork. Sir.” OSHA hated them, they said that S.H.I.E.L.D. showed “blatant disrespect for anything resembling safety.” Their words.
He flipped the folder open and handed it to Fury, who glanced at it, looked back up at Coulson, and then put his cat down. As he signed the papers, the cat walked up to Coulson and winded around his legs.
Coulson kneeled down to pet her, and asked, “What’s their name?”
A pause. “Goose.”
“Is that… a family name?”
Fury sighed, then rubbed his bad eye. “Don’t mock her. It’s in your best interest to stay on her good side.”
Coulson stood up and took the paperwork back. “I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”
Coulson only told one other agent about this interaction.
A couple days later, a different agent informed Coulson that, apparently, Fury kept a family of cats in his office and ran an animal shelter in his spare time.
Coulson made a mental note to keep his mouth shut next time.