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"Father's day is this month,” Steve states as he fold the paper to lay on the table beside him.
Tony rolls his eyes and gestures with the butter knife in his hand. “And? Unless you're gonna tell me about the love child you left behind it doesn't really matter. My father's dead and it's better that way. I'm certainly not planning anything.”
“Well yeah. But-”
“No buts. Father's day is a pointless holiday. Most of the people sitting in this room had shitty fathers or no fathers at all. The only father figure I'm even vaguely tempted to do anything for is Fury and he's as likely to make Coulson taze me as he is to appreciate it. Besides, he's like one of those uber stern parents who keep their kids under lock and key until they move away, and even then maintains a weird fixation on their activities.”
The room remains silent when Tony stops speaking and they each stare at their plates in front of them. Finally Clint speaks.
“But can you imagine the look on his face?”
Bruce asks “If we’re assigning someone the daddy role then why not Coulson? He’s more responsible for us on a day to day basis.”
“Well, yeah, but he’s way more mom-like, really.”
~~~Tony (Monday)
Its a Monday. Fucking Mondays. He's been here for an hour and he's already dealt with sixteen requests for things that could have been handled by supervisors and now someone has moved his coffee maker and his favorite mug. If anything happens to it, somebody's body may never be found.
About the time he reaches a dangerous level of homicidal rage worsened by caffeine deprivation, a whirring hum reaches his ears and a mechanized arm on treaded feet rounds the corner cradling his full coffee mug. As it gets closer, it extends the cup toward him, whirring to a halt just a foot from him.
He takes the mug with a frown before checking to make sure it isn't cracked or chipped or otherwise damaged before raising it to his lips and taking a sip. Of what must be the best coffee he's ever had. He grunts to acknowledge the machine.
“where's my coffee maker then?”
There's another whirring sound and he lets out a gusty sigh. Even as he turns to stomp back to his office he can hear the two robots following him.
Fucking Stark. Fucking Mondays.
Fucking amazing coffee.
~~~Clint (Tuesday)
“Sir, dropping off those requisition forms you asked for.”
“You've been running through arrows pretty quickly lately. Any reason why?”
“No sir. Just had a run on arrows.”
Clint sets the stack of papers down gently and steps back waiting for fury to dismiss him.
As he flips through the stack,a heavier piece slips free, sliding between his elbows and falling into his lap. Setting the forms down, he lifts the rectangular item back up to his desk top. It looks like a piece of modern art, black and purple wrapped in silver wire framing a picture of what is obviously a candid shot. In the photograph, the Avengers are gathered around Fury, who stands with his back to the photographer.
He's surprised by how crisp the shot is considering it looks as though it wasn't planned at all, and even more surprised when he realizes that every one of the avengers visible is looking at him with an attentive respectful look on their faces.
He blinks once before examining the frame more closely. As he looks he realizes that the body of the frame is made up of arrow shafts cut to the correct length and held in place with artfully twisted wire. The craftsmanship is exquisite and Fury acknowledges the time it likely took to create. Catching Clint’s eye, he speaks,
"Quit running through SHIELD property so quickly or I’ll deny your next requisition. Clear?
Clint just nods.
~~~Natasha (Wednesday)
The next morning, Fury arrives at his office and automatically checks the thread stretched across the crack of the door. It’s intact and he opens the door only to see a row of figurines across his desk.
He tenses momentarily until what he’s actually seeing creeps past the paranoia of finding his office breached. A tiny matryoshka sits beside a smiling lucky cat. There’s also a statue of the Golden Gate Bridge and a delicate egg painted with a floral motif of white on blue, and though there is no note he knows exactly who put them there. He takes a moment, leaning back in his chair as he accepts the offered coffee, and contemplates the figurines.
The matryoshka is one of the more intricately painted dolls and he carefully runs his fingers over the face before setting it back. The lucky cat gets a smirk and a nod and the statuette of the bridge just a nod. It is the egg that holds his attention and he cradles it carefully in his large hands. Budapest. When it all fell apart before they managed to put it back together better then ever before. Carefully, he sets the egg down and picks up the phone, calling for agent romanova.
“Sir?”
“Want to explain what you were thinking when you broke into my office?”
“Practicing infiltration.”
“Right.”
Neither mention the new additions to his desktop, though Natasha does take note of the fact that he makes no move to clear the things away.
~~~Steve (Thursday)
“Sir?”
“Yeah.” Fury waves him in without lifting his head.
“I wanted to give you this. I was going through some things that Howard put aside after I disappeared, and when I found it I thought you might appreciate it.” Steve hands it over, the leather stiff and still shiny in places where fingers had rubbed. Fury takes the journal and carefully flips through the pages, finding snippets of graceful clear writing that describes some event or place as well as doodles and sketches.
He recognizes a few of the scenes but it is the faces he returns to again and again. They’re all there. DumDum and Gabe and Izzy and even a sketch of Pamela that Fury traces with reverent fingertips.
the sound of a throat clearing has fury whipping his head up to lock eye with a flustered looking Steve.
don't you have more important things to do than scrounge through dusty files all day? If not I'm pretty sure I can find something.
Steve is bright red at this point as he stutters out a “No, sir. On my way to the gym, sir,” and turns to flee.
As he reaches the doorway Fury’s voice calls out, stopping him.
“Thank you for this.”
“You’re welcome sir.
~~~Hulk (Friday)
“Um sir, you should probably get down here.”
“What’s happening?”
“Sir, you need to see it for yourself.” Fury sighs, pushing the papers away and leaning back in his chair.
“At least tell me it isn't Stark.”
“No, sir.”
When he makes it down to the labs, the sirens have been silenced and he doesn't see anyone standing with their weapons drawn. Considering the week he'd had, Fury was more relieved than anything.
“Somebody tell me what's happening.”
“We don't really know sir. Everything was fine and then this happened.”
The agent gestured to the concrete wall in front of him where formerly blank concrete was now adorned with a drawing. Stick figure Avengers were scrawled in around a figure with a pretty prominent black circle set to one side of the lopsided oval that made up its face. Underneath, a caption proudly stated ‘Fury’s family’.
As he stood staring at the mural, his face was completely blank, making the agents around him scurry back, waiting for the imminent explosion. Sure enough, Fury began to bark out orders to get Banner down here and get someone to clean this up and someone pull the goddamn surveillance.
What no one noticed in the shuffle to get his orders carried out was the fact that the entire time he was yelling, he had his phone out to take pictures of the drawing before it was scrubbed away.
~~~Bruce (Friday)
“You want to tell me why the Hulk found it necessary to deface the walls of the lab level with tempera paint? And for that matter, where the hell did he get the paint from anyway. I assume that was your doing?”
Bruce slouched in his chair, smirking a little as he said, “Yeah. Some of the therapists wanted to try art therapy to see if it kept the Hulk calm. I just pulled it out of storage.”
Fury gripped the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “So Hulk decided to pop out just to paint?”
Bruce shrugged. “Hey, just be glad the painting was enough to distract from any smashing he could of done. A few gallons of water and a little soap is getting off pretty light if you ask me.”
“Well I didn’t. Now get out of my office and the next time you decide to misappropriate SHIELD resources- don’t.”
“Right. Can I go now.”
Fury reached over and clicked the button on his mouse, the whir of the printer blotting out his “Fine”
After Bruce was gone and the office door closed once more, Fury picked up the paper laying in his printer tray and slid it under the clear desk blotter, tracing the edges of the figures and smiling.
~~~Fury (Saturday)
The day had been a clusterfuck from the word go. Loki was back and in a more foul mood than before, and AIM chose the same day to unleash their newest ridiculous scheme on the city, snarling traffic and taking out a few of the smaller electrical grids.
Fury spent the entire day coordinating teams to free trapped people from dead elevators and locked buildings. Captain America and Iron man were on Loki wrangling duty while Widow and Hawkeye corralled up the mechanical lizards rampaging through midtown.
He was completely exhausted and it was only now, after sixteen hours of adrenaline and stress, that things were beginning to creep back toward normal. Finally, the last of the repair teams reported in and Fury began shuffling people out, relieving them as agents from offsite arrived.
Fury sat in his office, door open and cradled his head against his palm, waiting for Bari to bring him his seventh cup of coffee. A knock at the door had him lifting his head, tired eyes taking in Clint and Natasha leaning against his door frame.
“We’re going home t sleep,but we wanted to wish you a good day tomorrow, sir. Goodnight.”
Fury just waved a hand as the two assassins vanished from his door. Taking a sip from his mug, Fury immersed himself in the piles of paperwork generated by the day, knowing he’d have to give up before he finished but wanting to put at least a dent in it before it got any worse.
“Sir?” Steve’s voice interrupted his concentration and he answered without looking up.
“Yeah.”
“I just wanted you to know that I appreciate everything you do for the team sir. I know you don’t hear it very often, but we do appreciate it.”
Fury glances up and nods at Steve. “Good Night, Captain.”
“Good Night, Sir.”
Another hour passed and Fury was finally finished with the first pile of forms when Tony’s voice cut through the ambient quiet.
“Hey, they’re throwing us out. You should go get some sleep too.”
“I’m the boss, Stark. They don’t get to throw me out.”
“Well yeah, but you still gotta sleep sometime.”
“Later. Now go away, you’re wrecking my calm.”
“Fine. You know, you aren’t the worst person I’ve ever worked with.”
“Great. Glad to know I rank somewhere above dead last on your list.”
“Whatever. Night, Nicky.”
Finally, Fury gives in to his body’s demands and calls for a car. When he arrives home, he changes and falls into bed, asleep before his body settles.
~~~Father’s Day (Sunday)
When he wakes up, the sun is high and bright. He checks his phone and doesn’t see any missed calls. Shrugging but not willing to question his luck, Fury pulls on a t-shirt before shuffling to his kitchen. As he preps the coffee pot he flips on the TV, settling on a morning news show.
While he waits, only half aware of the reporter’s words, he thinks about the week and tries to figure out why all the Avengers spent the week acting so squirrelly. Shrugging at the incomprehensible mystery that was the Avenger Initiative, he vows to ask Coulson for some clarification next time he sees him.
Pulling his second favorite mug from the cabinet, he pours a mug and settles at the tiny dinette table, focusing on the stories headlining the news. Yesterday’s attacks are front and center and he smirks at the reporter's confusing mishmash of information. After that, they turn to entertainment, the foibles of the stars making him glad he only has to wrangle superheroes, and then the show is featuring a perky blonde with big teeth who looks a little too excited as she talks about all of the Father’s Day activities going on around the city.
Suddenly, it all clicks, the gifts, the words from last night, they all fit and Fury laughs a deep rolling belly laugh that would scare a few of the junior agents into fainting if they were ever to see or hear it in person. Shaking his head, he grins, pleased that the team thinks of him that way.
As he sits and finishes his first cup of coffee, he shakes his head again before standing up to refill his mug. He picks up the phone while he’s up, carrying it back to the table. Setting the mug down, he dials and props the phone on his shoulder while it rings. Finally the other line picks up.
“Dad? Hey, just wanted to call and wish you a happy Father’s Day.”