This entire fanfic is just going to be a bunch of OC stories that I've written but never published.
Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel or any brands that you see in this story.
The doorbell rang for the fourth time, followed by impatient knocking and a barely audible "Open the motherf...door, boy!" Ray groaned into his pillow and finally rolled out of bed. He overestimated the length, however, and landed on the floor in a heap. It was still dark in his room. He reached for his phone to see what time it was. It was nearing 3 am.
The doorbell rang again. Ray mumbled, "Coming" into the rug and picked himself off of it. He went into the living room and the ding dong sounded, for what, the fiftieth time?
"Jeez! I know, I know." Ray said to the air. He reached the door and it creaked as he yanked it open.
He winced as he was blinded by the light. The light from the hallway shone on Ray's face, illuminating his features. He was only about fourteen, wearing plaid pajama pants and no shirt, showing off a washboard stomach. He had wavy dark hair that brushed above his eyebrows and golden brown skin, with eyes dark as coal. He blinked blearily, gazing at the man in his doorway with sleep glazed eyes.
The man was wearing a trench coat, an eyepatch, and looked intimidating. Ray could only stand there and blink sleepily at the man. A name registered in Ray's mind. He zeroed in on the man's face, scanning for clarification. Recognition dawned on him, and he felt himself growing irritated and cooler.
Nick Fury snapped, "For god sakes, boy, don't just stand there. Put on a shirt and invite me in."
"Sorry, can't talk to strangers," he said tonelessly and moved to shut the door.
Fury's arm lashed out and held the door open. "Fine," the man said through gritted teeth, "I'll invite myself in, then."
Ray didn't make a move to stop him as the man strolled in the apartment without taking off his shoes. He just followed him wearily. Ray called after him, "You're just going to barge into my apartment at 3 am in the morning, showing up without invitation, and not even take your shoes off? You're tracking mud on my floors."
"I don't need an invitation. I pay the rent." He surveyed the apartment with distaste. "You live like a slob. Not that I'm surprised." Fury grabbed a wrinkly baseball tee off the couch and shoved it in Ray's chest. "Put it on."
"Like you're the one to talk about my fashion statements," Ray snarked, although he pulled the shirt on. "Where did you get that outfit? The Halloween store?"
Fury suddenly turned on him, hand moving to his belt with years of experience. A gun was pressed to Ray's head. Ray's heart skipped a beat, but he made sure it didn't show in his features. Fury whispered, very quietly and threateningly, "Making fun of me would be a very, very bad idea. Boy."
The boy was an insult. A reminder that Fury was in charge of him. Ray didn't like that. "Really, Fury?" he snorted. "I stopped falling for the gun trick since I was seven. You should think of more persuasive methods to shut me up other than holding a gun to my head every time I insult you."
"Oh, I have other methods," the man said darkly. "I don't think you would like them very much. They're illegal, after all, and most of them involve torture."
"You wouldn't shoot me," Ray said with absolute certainty, schooling his gaze into a bored expression to even out the wild racing in his heart. "You made a promise."
"You'd be surprised at how many ways I can maim you without actually killing you."
"Then do it," Ray said challengingly. "Go on. Prove to me what a man you are."
Fury's one eye gleamed in anger, and there was a tension that stretched out between them for five seconds, which was very long for there to be silence. For a moment Ray thought Fury was going to screw the promise and just shoot, but he holstered his gun. "No reason to," Fury said just as calmly, "You're about as intimidating as that fly on your wall." Ray didn't bother to look and check if there actually was a fly on his wall. "You're not fooling anyone with that bad boy act. I've seen agents killed for less."
"Good thing I'm not an agent, then." Ray said breezily. "But I know you didn't barge in at 3 am in the morning, to my apartment—which you usually do your best to avoid. No, you've got better things to do than pay a visit to your only living relative."
Fury bristled. "Stop being so childish. When your mother got herself killed, she proceeded to dump you on me. While I was running SHIELD and frankly, had better things to do than look over a useless six year old. I made a promise not to kill you, yes. I'm holding onto it, boy! Without my help, you'd be homeless on the streets, or even better, dead in a ditch."
Ray bristled at the scathing words. He hated that he let this man get to him like this. Every time Fury visited it meant horrible things. They had had this exact same argument literally every occasion he came over. The thing was that the man had an annoying habit of making everything sound like it was Ray's own fault and still make it sound logical. "Yeah, your help was amazing. Dumping me in a random apartment miles away from my only relative was a real stellar idea, wasn't it? In fact, I'd say it was your best."
"Are you angry that I let you get what you wanted? You said it yourself. That night, you said you don't need my help, you said you could take care of yourself. And that's what I gave you! Now look how well you've been coping!"
Typical of Fury. Ray had been six years old, for god's fudging sake! He was alone for years, by himself in that stupid dark apartment, just trying to figure everything out! He ate ramen for dinner, he cried myself to sleep some days! I had nightmares, and I just DEALT WITH IT! But that would've been showing weakness, and there was no way in hell he was going to do that in front of Fury. Plus, he was too tired to yell. It was too early, too quiet, and he felt like he'd be disturbing the blissful silence.
"You're right," he said coldly, "I took care of myself for eight years, Fury. I didn't need your help then, I don't need it now. You haven't visited me since the year before the last Christmas, and we both remember what a train wreck that was. So why are you here?"
"To get you to join SHIELD," he said flatly.
Ray shook his head. "I can't believe you." He went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to get a carton of milk. He fixed himself some Fruit Loops and poured them dry into the bowl. He settled himself at the pathetic little folding table he had as a dining table and dug into it. Man, waking up at three in the morning really made him realize he was starving.
"What's so unbelievable about it?" Fury sat at the folding table as well, watching Ray take a long drink from the milk, straight from the carton, and shovel some Fruit Loops into his mouth.
"When my mother died-" He could say the words without flinching anymore-"You've basically ignored me for eight years. After those eight years, you randomly show up at my apartment. You just stroll in like you own the place—"
"I do own the place."
Ray pretended like he hadn't spoken. "—insult me, my apartment, and then proceed to tell me that you need a favor." He shook his head and waved his spoon at the eyepatch-clad man as if to make a point. "All I can say is...what a douchebag."
"It's my job to be a douchebag, Ray. What are you—surprised? And I have my reasons for your employment."
"Doesn't your fan club have an age requirement? 21 and over or something like that? I don't have much to go off about top secret agencies, but I do know that you can't just go around hiring random teenagers." Ray thought about that for a moment. "Well, technically you can. If you're really desperate."
"You're fifteen years old-"
"Fourteen, actually. My birthday's in August, but it was nice of you to remember. No need to show up to the birthday party. Oh, wait."
Fury gave him a piercing look for interrupting. "Don't be a smartass. You will be fifteen years old. SHIELD doesn't require an age limit. It depends on your skill set."
"Is it physically possible for you to say one sentence to me without insulting me?"
"Is it physically possible for you to refrain from making a wisecrack comment about every single thing I say?"
He was pretty sure that was a rhetorical question, so Ray proved his point by staying silent, simply raising an eyebrow at Fury. He took the silence as an opportunity to satisfy his growling stomach. He tipped the bowl over to guzzle the remaining milk with a few Fruit Loop bits left in it. He grabbed a handful of cereal and swallowed it with the milk, drinking straight from the carton. Fury watched him like an eagle watching its fish. "You have a damn weird way of eating your cereal, boy."
"Oh, so now you're criticizing the way I eat my cereal?"
"You're supposed to eat it with the milk, not eat the cereal first and the milk second."
"It saves time washing the dishes." Ray said, then realized he was playing into Fury's trap. He was suddenly irritated. "Can you just get on with your effing point?"
"I told you already. You have the attention span of a goldfish. I want you to become a SHIELD agent. It's a simple yes or no answer. You asked me once, remember?"
"How do you even remember that? That was literally one time, and I was eight. As I recall, your exact words were, 'You'd make a shitty SHIELD agent.' Are you suddenly and unlikely changing your mind, or what's happening here?"
"What I said was true. But we aren't looking for someone who's adept in combat, not that it wouldn't be helpful. We're looking for someone who is youthful enough to pass as innocent and unlikely suspect in a mission, and you're close by and less of a headache to explain the whole SHIELD gig to. In addition to that, you don't have a reason to turn over. Yet."
"You picked me because I'm young and close by?" Ray summarized.
Fury rolled his eyes. "That's a crude explanation, but yes."
He went back to shoveling Fruit Loops in his mouth. "No."
"You're refusing me, boy?"
"Quit it with the 'boy'. I'm fourteen."
"Still far from a man," Fury snarked. "A mouthy, good-for-nothing boy."
"What touching moments we have together, dear uncle. Why are you still here again?"
"I should have made myself more clear. I won't take no for an answer."
"Okay, there are a lot of things wrong with that. First, you clearly said that it was a yes or no answer. I said no. And now you're saying that you won't take no for an answer? If that's the case, then why are you even bothering to ask me?"
"I've changed my mind." Fury eyed him icily. "I can do that; I'm the Director."
"Of course you can. If I remind you that it's illegal, would you change your mind?"
"I'm one smart aleck comment away from just sedating you and dragging you to SHIELD headquarters," he warned.
"Sir, yes, sir." Ray saluted him mockingly. "Well, you have your answer then. I am of this moment working for you against my will. Congratu-freaking-lations, Fury. Would you like me to go get a ribbon and some extra size scissors for you to make it official?" He didn't wait for an answer. He got up, put the bowl in the sink, and the milk back in the refrigerator.
Fury seethed at him quietly. Ray felt a small satisfaction at realizing that he could annoy him nearly as much as the man got to him. Fury stood up from the folding table and made his way to the door of Ray's apartment. Ray followed him to the door, unsure of whether or not this was the end of their meeting.
"Your work starts tomorrow at 5 am sharp for your first assignment." Fury said formally. "I expect to see you outside at that exact time."
"Already? What is it?"
Fury smirked, a sight that unnerved Ray the slightest. "Oh, you'll see."
"Ooh, ominous. I don't suppose being your nephew and one of your agents would get you to treat me a little better, would it?"
The man didn't seem to get that it was a joke. "Don't dream of it, boy. I don't show favoritism, especially not to any of my agents. You are now known and will be addressed as Agent Ambrose. That is, if you survive your first lesson."
"Lesson? You said it was an assignment."
"Like I said…" Fury got the most evil smile Ray had ever seen on his face, "you'll see."
He spun on his heel to open the door, and with a wave of his dark trench coat, he was gone. Leaving Ray staring after him, with rumpled hair and a dull face, ignoring the knot of dread and excitement that was starting to form at the pit of his stomach.
So. What do you think?