Hey all!
I wrote this because every time I look on the Avengers page for fanfiction, all I see are fics with girl OCs in which they are paired up with some guy, usually Loki or Steve. So, I decided to write one, but with the OC as a guy. No pairings, nothingbut plot, but if I feel a need for a love interest, I'll add one in. Sorry in advance if my writing style suits a girl more, I am very much a girl but I'll do my best to write masculine.

So, enjoy!

This is the worst place to spend a summer's day, I thought as I leaned back on the cheap computer chair that was supplied to me at this job. I puffed my cheeks out and blew out some air, swinging side to side slightly. I wish I was at home.

I was in the small office that I required for my job as a museum curator in the small museum in New York. It was alright; I mostly dealt with American history, despite my major being in mythology. The job kind of sucked and the people that worked alongside me were assholes, but a job is a job, and I'm only here until I save up enough to travel to Norway or England or somewhere where my knowledge would be put to better use.

I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt, wishing I could be in shorts and a t shirt than the neat suit that I was required to wear. The office had a distinct lack of air conditioning, and with the current heat wave that was sweeping the nation, it was like I was being baked. I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the sweat in my hair. There was a knock on the door and Clarence, the scary fifty-something year old receptionist appeared through a crack in the door.
"You have a visitor," she rasped (she had a smoking problem).
"I'm not in," I said lazily, my head hanging limp as I revolved slowly on the chair. "I'm sick, I'm out, I'm at lunch, anything."
Clarence rolled her eyes at me. "He says it's high priority."
"He can leave a memo, or call my cell, I don't know, the point is that I'm busy."
"Too bad." Clarence sneered at me.
I sighed heavily. "Come on Clarence, cut me some slack, and make something up, please? I'm really not in the mood, and you're gone aren't you?" I lifted my head up to an empty office.
I sighed. "Shit." I rolled down my sleeves and attempted to straighten my desk, which was a wasted effort, considering the amount of open textbooks I have on it.

There was a knock on the door and before I could say come in, a tall man with an eyepatch strode in. He wore a thick leather cape despite the heat, and his glare was enough to send chills down my spine.
I plastered a smile on my face. "Hi, pleasure to meet you, I'm—"
"Are you or are you not Vincent Derek Wright?" the man demanded.
I felt the urge to give him a dose of smartarse, but something warned me to just answer simply and quickly. "I am."
"Do you or do you not possess an honours degree in History, specialising in ancient civilisations' mythology and beliefs?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
"Would you please come with me." He turned around and stalked out of the room. Even though he said please, there was authority in his voice, and I felt compelled to follow. I stood up. "Should I bring anything with me?" I asked.
"No." I frowned slightly, but followed. Clarence raised an eyebrow at me as I demurely followed the stranger out of the staff area and out onto the busy street. There was a dark car parked on the curb, in which the stranger opened the door to. "Have a seat," he said monotonously. My frown deepened, but I complied and slipped into the car. The car was blissfully air conditioned, and the leather seats were amazing. The stranger shut the door and the car lurched into motion.

"So, what do you want from me?" I asked, hoping I didn't seem scared or angry. Sure, I was slightly worried, but what's the worse that could happen?"
The stranger turned to me. "We require your expertise on a very delicate matter."
"What expertise can I bring? I'm a historian." I couldn't help but let disbelief creep into my voice.
The stranger fixed his one eye on me. "Something of global importance. I'm Director Nick Fury, and I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. We're a covert organisation dedicated to protecting the Earth, and we need someone who is very familiar with mythology on short notice. You were chosen."
I nodded, mystified. "I still don't understand."
"You'll be further briefed on the helicarrier." Fury faced the front, the conversation clearly over despite the questions bubbling in my mind.

The city slipped by and we drove onto an airport tarmac, where a strange aircraft sat, ready for take off. I had never seen an aircraft of that design ever before, and it raised more questions in my mind. Fury opened the door to the car, allowing a wave of heat to rush in the car. I followed suit and followed him towards the aircraft. The fans on the wings buffeted my hair, and I raised a hand to shield my eyes. "Just get on?" I shouted, Fury nodded. I shrugged and followed him up the ramp. I strapped myself in as the ramp closed and we took off.

I asked a few more questions to Fury, but he remained silent. I gave up and let my thoughts wander and did my nervous habit of rubbing my fingers through my hair repeatedly. The aircraft climbed through the air, and the only sounds were the engines roaring and the propellers spinning. I felt agitated; what did they want? Who was S.H.I.E.L.D? Were they good or were they bad?

We ascended higher and higher, and soon we levelled out and the pilot radioed in for a landing. That confused me. We can't land in air. Nevertheless, the aircraft settled, and Fury headed for the ramp; he didn't sit down for the entire trip, he just wore a look of melancholy. I quickly unclipped myself and stood next to him. The ramp opened up to what looked like a perfectly normal airstrip, save the jets and more of the same strange aircraft that I rode in on.
"Where are we?" I asked Fury. He smirked. "Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D." I shot him a puzzled look as I walked towards the edge, to get my bearings.

"Holy shit," I whispered. We were flying. We were on a freaking flying ship. It's a giant flying ship! I felt my knees go weak. Is this thing even stable?
"Mr Wright, if you would please," Fury called over the sound of the engines. I nodded fervently and half ran back to him. We walked into the main part of the ship, which looked like a city had sprouted out of an aircraft carrier.
"So, what do you want of me?" I asked. I probably sounded annoying with all the questions, but I deserved to know.
"Basically, we need a consultant," Fury told me. The hallways winded around, and I soon lost track of where we were.
"A consultant? Regarding history, I assume," I said.
Fury nodded. "Correct. S.H.I.E.L.D has been dealing with a few problems since the destruction of New York a few months ago, but I'm sure you've heard about that."
I nodded. Who didn't know about the alien invasion that had destroyed New York, and the Avengers who defended us from it?
"We've had visitors from another world, and we've noticed that they bear a strong resemblance to figures from ancient civilisation's beliefs, more specifically, the Norse." Fury looked at me. "We have no one in service that has the appropriate knowledge to… inform us about this civilisation, so we created a new position; Historical Consultant."
"And that's me," I guessed.
"Correct. You were chosen. Feel privileged."
"Alright." I couldn't say I did.

We walked out of a corridor to what was without a doubt the bridge of the flying ship. People intensely working on computer screens, all wearing uniforms. They didn't notice my presence, but they certainly acknowledged Fury's.
"So, basically you brought me here for a job offer," I summarised.
"Not really. It's a consulting job. You will be greatly rewarded for your co operation," Fury added.
I thought for a moment. Hell, I didn't like my job. That museum was boring. "Alright, I'm in."
Fury smiled without humour. "Welcome aboard."

"Nope," I said simply.
Fury's assistant, Agent Coulson, sighed wearily. "Please, Mr Wright—"
"Vincent," I amended. "Or Vince or Vin." I laced my fingers together behind my head.
"Vincent, if you are working for S.H.I.E.L.D, you must wear the uniform. It's a requirement."
"Well, I'm under the impression that I'm not really hired by S.H.I.E.L.D, so I don't have to wear the uniform."
Agent Coulson was sent to settle my employment issues. Basically h e was trying to bribe me into a uniform, and I don't do uniforms. He already tried to get me to sign some documents without my reading of it, and an amendment was currently being printed and approved. What can I say? I'm stubborn.
"Please, Vincent, it makes things so much easier."
"You're not wearing a uniform," I noted.
"That's because I'm an agent, I don't require one."
"But that Agent Hill or something is," I pointed out.
Coulson paused; I had him. I smiled triumphantly as he sighed. "Fine, no uniform. Just please, look presentable."
I smirked. "I always do. Now, what shall be my compensation for working here?"
"We will give you a reference guaranteed to get you into any museum in the world, and will pay for any immigration you choose to do," Coulson said.
I froze. Wow. That's my dream completely achievable, and all I have to do is just know about my favourite things. This is a dream come true.
"Deal," I said.

Agent Coulson smiled. "I had a feeling that you would agree to that. Now, let me show you to where you shall work. We're putting you in a laboratory, as we have no facilities to place you in at this time."
That's a lie, I thought as I stood up and followed Coulson. I bet they just want me somewhere they can easily keep an eye on me.
"Fury didn't tell you who you will be working with, did he?" Coulson asked over his shoulder.
I shook my head, which caused him to look sympathetically at me. "You poor thing."
"Hey, I'm pretty sure I can handle anything you guys can throw at me," I said, smiling. This caused Coulson to bite his lip to hold back some laughter. He turned back in front of him. I couldn't help but frown. What am I getting myself into?

We walked into a brightly lit room that contained a desk covered in books, tables littered with science looking things and a scrawny man that stared intensely at a hologram screen thing. He had salt and pepper hair and wore thin glasses and a baggy shirt and pants.
"Mr Banner," Coulson said, causing the man to look up. His eyes flickered over to me, an analytical glint in his eyes. "This is Vincent Wright. He is the Historical Consultant for the Avengers, and he shall be working in here with you."
I turned to stare incredulously at Coulson. "What, I'm consulting the Avengers? I thought I was working for S.H.I.E.L.D!"
"The Avengers are part of S.H.I.E.L.D," Dr Banner said. He walked up and shook my hand. "Bruce Banner."
"Vincent Wright," I said, smiling. I had no idea who this guy is, but he seemed like a good guy.
"So, uh, you're the Historical Consultant, I didn't know they had those," Banner said, wringing his hands.
I shrugged. "Neither did I, just got the job."
"Well, you'll have a good time here, everyone is pretty easy to stand, except—"
"Ah, well if it isn't Zombie Agent," a voice announced at none other than Tony Stark as he entered the room. He patted Coulson on the shoulder. "Please don't eat my brains, I need them to think."
"If you keep on calling me Zombie Agent, I will," Coulson threatened.
Stark noticed me. "Well, if it isn't the new Historical Consultant for the Avengers. I used to be a consultant, then they realised that I was too awesome to just consult."
"I'm not gonna ask why you knew about this," Coulson sighed.
"It's pretty obvious; Tony's been snooping again through the S.H.I.E.L.D hard drive," Banner said.
Stark snapped his fingers and pointed his fingers at Banner. "Boom, headshot." He turned back to me. "I'm sure you know who I am," he smiled.
I shrugged. "Who doesn't?" I held my hand out. "Vincent Wright, nice to meet you."
Stark held his hands up. "Sorry, I don't do handshakes. Or touching. Unless you've earned it. Or you're a girl."
I let my hand drop. "Alright then."

"Oh, random thought," Stark announced. "Fury wanted me to tell you that it's time to show the kid the secret package, so if you can drag your moaning corpse and present company to Security Room Seventeen."
I bristled. "Kid?" I'm twenty five, for god's sake.
Coulson nodded. "Understood." He turned to me. "Do you like Norse mythology?" he asked me.
"It's one of my favourites," I admitted.
"Well, get ready to have your mind blown," Coulson said.
Stark laughed. "Ah, this is going to be funny."

Thanks for reading! If you have any questions/queries/statements/death sentences/marriage proposals, feel free to drop me a line. I really appreciate it.