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As a rule, Nick Fury had never been very into Christmas. Maybe when he was a small child he'd gotten excited over the prospect of gifts under the tree, but the feeling hadn't lasted into puberty. Sure, he didn't turn down the gifts, but he'd never really gotten into the 'Spirit of Christmas' that so many others seemed to believe in. He hadn't even been home for Christmas for the past two years. Granted, he'd been out of the country on missions at the time, but he hadn't really missed the holiday.
This year, though, he had no excuse and his mother had called him just three days before to put her foot down. If he didn't want to get in a heap of trouble, he was going to show up for the family Christmas celebration this year. His mother was not someone he dared to disobey, even if he was one of the world's top spies at the tender age of 23. Mrs. Fury brooked argument from no one.
Unfortunately that meant, between the short notice on the flight and getting all of his paperwork done by Christmas Eve so he actually could fly out, he was now cruising up and down the streets of his hometown in a rental car at 8 o'clock on Christmas Eve trying to find a store that was open to buy Christmas presents. He wouldn't get disowned if he didn't show up with any, but it certainly wouldn't be good.
He finally spotted a 24 Hour Walmart that hadn't been there the last time he had been to town. It made him realize suddenly just how long it'd been since he'd seen his family. It was so easy to get wrapped up in the work of international conflicts and covert operations, he supposed. It was hard to tune back in to the domestic side of life.
Deciding he might spend a little more money that he'd originally planned on gifts this year, just to make up for lost time, Nick slammed the door of his car and headed inside. It was a cold night out, but not as cold as it'd been on that one mission in Russia just last month. He shivered just as the memory of it.
Grabbing a cart, he mentally went over the list of who he needed to buy things for. There were his two little sisters, Sara-Nicole and Jessica, his mother, his Uncle Jorge and Nephew Bobby, not to mention Aunt Betty. Then there was his father's sister, her husband, and their daughter. Alright. Nine presents, seven if he grouped the married couples together. Nothing too big, he'd pick up gift bags and tissue paper while he was here and just toss it all together in the back of his rental.
Going into full Mission Mode, Nick blew through the store with militant efficiency. He was at least in touch with his family enough to have a decent knowledge of their interests. It would have been bad to show up with something that completely contradicted their personalities. With gifts and simple wrapping supplies in his cart, he wheeled around and headed for the checkout line. Given the holiday and the late hour there was only one line open and there were three people before him as Nick took his place.
Directly in front of him stood a young boy with brunette hair that looked even more of a mess than his disheveled clothes. His jacket didn't look nearly heavy enough to be worn in this weather, but it was at least in good condition. His cheeks were flushed red either from the cold outside or from exertion. His eyes kept darting all over the place and he fidgeted anxiously as the clearly-tired cashier finished with the old woman at the front of the line.
A shoe box was clutched in his hands, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping. Curious despite himself, Nick slipped into his spy training and looked the boy over for clues as to his situation. It was quickly obvious that he wasn't with the gentleman in line in front of him, the one now checking out and the kid couldn't have been more than 12 at a stretch. What was he doing out this late on Christmas Eve? Alone?
Finally, the man in front of them moved forward and the boy all but bounced up to the register. He thrust the shoe box at the man, having to rise up on his tippy-toes just to get it onto the belt. The cashier raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything as he reached for the box. The boy bounced nervously on the balls of his feet and had a pleading look in his eyes.
"Sir, I wanna buy these shoes, for my momma please. It's Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size!"
The cashier gave him a little smile and scanned the box, clearly taken in by the boy's charm. Nick wished he could bottle the appeal that all children seemed to have so he could use it on missions. It would be priceless to be able to inspire that kind of trust in another person so immediately.
"You're total is $32.56."
Jumping at the total, the boy immediately thrust his hands into his pockets to get the money, almost as if he'd forgotten he actually had to hand something over in order to pay. A few crumpled bills hit the conveyer belt and then a mountain of change. There were quarters and dimes mixed in, but it was mostly nickels and pennies. It looked like there were a few pieces of computer chips and wires mixed in there, too. Nick bit back a groan. That was going to take forever to count. If he wasn't so irritated at the hold up, he might actually feel bad for the cashier.
The man behind the counter didn't seem to mind though, and he pulled the bills out first to begin counting. He quickly separated the coins out by type and began with the quarters. Meanwhile, the boy kept digging through his pockets and pulling out more coins here and there, dumping them on the belt as he went and occasionally disturbing the cashier's count. After a couple minutes, once the boy was apparently out of coins, he wrapped his little hands around the edge of the counter and tried to pull himself up just a little bit more.
"I'm sorry, sir, but could you hurry? Daddy says there's not much time. You see, she's been sick for quite a while and I know these shoes will make her smile and I want her to look beautiful if Momma meets Jesus tonight."
It was like a jolt to the chest, to realize what the boy was actually saying, that his mother was dying and he just wanted to give her one last gift. The cashier's heartbroken smile as he nodded said that he understood just as well as Nick did.
"Of course."
He bent back over his task, typing the amount into a little calculator as he finished each new pile. It took another couple of minutes, but finally the man sighed and plugged in the final number. He frowned down at the calculator and Fury knew that no good news could be coming.
"You've come to $18.73. Son, there's just not enough here. I'm so sorry, but if the drawer is short over ten dollars it results in an automatic firing…"
The man really did look sorry, like he wanted nothing more than to wave the rest of price and let the boy go. But Nick knew that wasn't how the world worked. He couldn't afford to lose his job over a pair of shoes. The boy made a panicked sort of noise and went back to frantically searching his pockets. Nick knew even before the devastated look crossed his face that there was no way he would possibly come up with the money to cover the rest of the bill. Huge, honey colored eyes, filled to the brim with water but not letting the tears spill over, turned to look at Nick.
"Momma made Christmas at our house, even though that was a hard thing to do. Tell me, Sir, what am I gonna do? Somehow I gotta buy her these Christmas shoes."
It only took Nick to turn around and start loading his items onto the conveyer belt.
"Just add his order to mine. I'll cover it."
He refused to acknowledge how gruff his voice sounded, or that the boy was furiously wiping tears off of his face. Even the cashier was beaming as he started quickly scanning and bagging the order. The boy kept saying 'Thank you,' over and over again like he was a record stuck on repeat and he couldn't seem to stop the tears flowing down his face.
It made Nick uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of such an emotional response and he just slid his card when the time came, handing the shoe box off to the boy as soon as the transaction had gone through. The boy looked at the box for a moment before throwing his arms around Nick and squeezing him tightly, burying his face in Fury's stomach. After a long moment, Nick pat him on the head a couple of times and he let go.
The boy's grin nearly split his face in half as he beamed up at Fury, cheeks now red from tears. Nick didn't think he'd ever seen a more sincere look of joy on anyone's face in his entire life. With his open-mouthed grin, Nick noticed that one of the boy's bottom teeth was missing.
"Momma's gonna look so great!"
Fury realized he would never forget the look that boy wore in that moment and he dropped to one knee, putting himself at the same height as the child.
"Do you have a ride home?"
The boy hesitated, but then shook his head.
"But I'm not supposed to get in the car with strangers."
Fury smiled. Smart kid.
"And you really shouldn't, normally. But unless you live right across the street I'm afraid you might freeze to death. Let me just take you home and that'll be it. You can trust me, right?"
The boy still hesitated, clearly resistant, but Fury wasn't about to let this child die after all this. He stuck his hand out for a shake and the boy took it after a moment.
"My name's Nick, Nicolas if you ask my mother. What's your name?"
"Tony…but Momma calls me Anthony."
Nick smiled and shook their hands.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Tony. There, you see? Now we aren't strangers."
Tony giggled a little and clutched the shoe box to his chest again.
"So can I give you a ride home now? Or would you rather walk around in the cold? It'd be a lot faster than walking…"
The boy bit his lip while giving Fury the once over. The spy took the moment to gather his bags, trying to seem as casual as possible. Finally, Tony nodded.
"But only because I have to get home really quick!"
Fury smiled.
"Of course."
So Fury took Tony home, trying not to gawk at the huge mansion they pulled up in front of when he dropped him off at the gate. Tony insisted it was better if Nick didn't see him to the door. Then he was off to his own family's house, driving on auto-pilot as he was consumed by thoughts of the boy he'd just met. The moment his mother opened the front door, he threw his arms around her and pulled her close, buying his face in her neck. With that innate sense that all mothers have, she just held him back and stroked his neck.
"Oh, dear, I missed you, too…"