SHE WHO HAS THE BIGGEST COJONES
SUMMARY: Phil Coulson thought he could threaten Darcy Lewis into giving up Foster's research. Instead he pissed her off and accidently drug Maria Hill and Nick Fury into her revenge. Spoiler alert: Glitter. and BOOM. Set directly after Thor 1 and at the end of Fury's Big Week.
AUTHOR'S NOTE #1: So I have no excuse as to why I haven't been writing. I work 90 hours every week and I just have had time or drive. I'm trying to get back into the stories that I'm already committed to. I've missed you guys and I'm sorry. ENJOY!
AUTHOR'S NOTE #2: This was specifically to be funny because AOU and Civil War broke my heart. I have 300 plot bunnies running about so I hope to be back soon.
The past seven days have been absolute shit show to the men and women of S.H.I.E.L.D. – the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. Not even the cluster fuck that was the infamous Budapest mission could compete. In the past seven days, Nick Fury has had to deal with a dying billionaire and his fucked up menagerie, Maria Hill road shot gun on the smack down in the middle of Harlem, and Phil Coulson got the alien(s). Spoiler: they did not come in peace.
Mistakes were made. People died. The director of S.H.I.E.L.D., the deputy director of S.H.I.E.L.D., and the man that actually ran the show did not however and finally the three of them had a chance to sit down and take a breather. What do you do when the world as you know it nearly ends not once – not twice – but three times in a single week? You sit with your buddies (or the people you trust most not to shoot you in the back) for a beer and bad Chinese food and bitch about your troubles.
First up, Director Fury and his "please god, don't let this idiot croak on me". Tony Stark had been a thorn shoved so far up Fury's ass he could choke on it ever since the billionaire could walk. And that was before the idiot got himself nabbed in Afghanistan and came home with a pretty nightlight in his chest. If the Battle Royale with his own godfather wasn't enough when he'd first came back – the little shit had apparently needed to give his best friend a heavily fortified fuckin' tank to fly around in and gate crash the Stark Expo to the tune of 3 billion dollars worth of property damage. Stark was the money bags – he could foot the bill for that shit. Oh, and to top it all off – after the Hammer drones and Vanko; after pushing the love of his life away – Stark had just barely managed to cure himself from dying of heavy metal poisoning. Fury seriously needed a goddamned drink.
Since Fury was dealing with the possible (probable, Tony Stark was nothing if not a menace) implosion of all things Iron Man, Deputy Director Hill was tapped to deal with Abomination/Hulk celebrity death match. She gets that Banner was just trying to find a cure for himself - what she doesn't get is how dickface Ross managed to score a heavily disfigured WTF in the form of Blonsky. Don't get her started on Sterns either – just no. She's second in line to the throne of all things S.H.I.E.L.D. – she seriously has some balls of steel – and this week alone has her reconsidering the NSA's very generous job offer. Because seriously? Fuck this shit.
And the man who ran it all behind the scenes had had the worst of it. Phil Coulson started off in California dealing with a Stark-shaped national crisis only to be called away to New Mexico. On the Quinjet hop over, he'd been called into council with Hill on Harlem. In other words: he was fucking exhausted. On top of two national "oh my god, we're all going to die" and a third inter-galactic "hi, we're here to fuck shit up", Coulson had nearly lost his two best assets, had to deal with General Douchewagon, and threatened an innocent civilian.
Darcy Lewis had been in just the right place at just the wrong time. Agent Coulson had told her – after the sky had opened up and the world was well and truly forever changed – just how easy it was to 'disappear' someone like her. A random science internship with an expiration date in the middle of the desert fraught with dangers. Sporadic and spotty job history – doing whatever she could to make ends meet once the System had dumped her out. She hadn't even been able to make up her mind on which college major she'd wanted. The biggest thing damning her, he said, was that she had no friends or family to miss her outside of the internship. He'd meant it as a threat. She'd looked him dead in the eyes, without blinking, and showing no fear when she flatly stated that she wanted her iPod back.
Honestly, he was thinking about offering her a job. Coulson had a habit of bring strays into the agency (*cough, Barton, cough*) who brought in strays of their own (the freaking Black Widow), so really it was only a matter of time before she was snapped up into the agency. She had impressed him when only his two beloved assets had done before.
He'd pulled out all the stops to threaten Miss Lewis into giving him Foster's little black notebook. In the end, it wasn't his threatening that put Foster's life work on the table between the big 3 in S.H.I.E.L.D. while they were sharing a beer (or a fuckin' keg – don't judge) and eating craptastic Chinese. And that was the only thing that had him reconsidering the job offer, really. He'd bribed her. All he had to do to get that innocent little notebook, was to offer her, her iPod back – and she'd folded faster than a deck of cards.
Granted, he'd yet to look through and see if she gave him everything. S.H.I.E.L.D. already had every single piece of data from the notebook from when they grabbed it from Foster the first time. It was the principal of the thing. Just as he reached forward to grab the journal, Hill managed to knock one of her chopsticks to the floor. After giving the offending utensil an epic death glare, a good sound cursing, and flipping it off, she ducked under the table to grab it. Coulson and Fury couldn't help but laugh at her misfortune and reaction.
That was until, Coulson snapped Foster's little black notebook open and it fucking exploded.
Darcy Lewis was no stranger to confrontation and general assholes after growing up in foster care her entire life. She'd learned early on in life that you had to look out for yourself, no one was going to protect you. To fight hard – and to fight dirty. No one was going to come riding to the rescue – she'd have to save her own damn self. Being small for her age until puberty (and then there wasn't a single thing small about her anymore) she'd taught herself the wonders of Petty Revenge.
Not just revenge. The caps are totally necessary here. You see, when Agent Man in Black threatened her to get her boss's work journal, Darcy saw all the times when the bigger kids (or the meaner kids) would push her down or put gum in her hair or steal her meal rations or whatever the little shits did to make her miserable. She'd never been big enough to fight back – but the one thing she had been was smart. So, using her method previously reserved for the worst of the worst offenders, she sat about making her revenge.
Agent iPod Stealing Douchebag seemed pretty straight laced and hard to rattle. So on top of the Glitter Bomb, Darcy decided to add a special brand of confetti a long with her two favorite chemicals. The chemicals were completely harmless – one was henna and would leave imprints of the glitter and confetti for weeks wherever it touched, and the other was one of her own making. Somewhat like invisible ink, it too would leave the imprints of the glitter and confetti for weeks – but would be invisible to the naked eye and show up only under black light. The only problem was after the inclusion of the confetti, the package was really too big and bulky for her normal toss and run, so Darcy made a mock-up of Jane's little black journal. If nothing else, even just leaving it out would insure someone in S.H.I.E.L.D. took it, even if not Coulson.
She'd planned to warn Jane and leave the book out where the jack-booted thugs could grab it at will. Still, she took a deep, personal satisfaction being able to hand it off to the desired target after he threatened her. She'd been worried that he'd open it then and there – and cover her too with her lovely… surprise. The fact that he tucked it under one arm and carried it off (away) from her? Perfect.
Maria Hill had been under the table trying to reclaim her wayward chopstick with two lunatics laughing at her when she heard a loud, wet pop, and silence reigned. She drew her side arm and slowly crawled out from under the table, checking all of the corners of the room for the threat. She nearly dropped the damn gun when she glanced Phil Coulson and Nick Fury.
Both gentlemen were in the same seats as when she first ducked under the table. However, covering the table was a bright neon hot pink glitter with day-glo orange and green confetti strewn throughout. The men were absolutely covered in it, sitting stock still and wondering just what the fuck happened. The first thing that truly filtered in to Maria was the earthy sent emanating from the little black journal that had just unleashed hell on them and couldn't help but cringe. She'd worked as a henna artist at an amusement park when she was in her early teens. She knew that smell.
Just as she picked up her phone to order some underling to bring bleach to the room, two things happened at once. Phil snorted out a laugh and Nick Fury lunged at her. After convincing them that no, she wasn't going to snap incriminating photographs (that's what the security camera was for) she began to laugh along with Phill. Between the glitter and the confetti they looked absolutely horrendous. They used every napkin that came with their food to wipe at the mess on themselves to no avail. Fury still had confetti dripping off his eyepatch.
Suddenly the door slammed open and Jasper Sitwell slid into the room. He stopped dead when he caught the appearance of Fury and Coulson. It wasn't every day you see two men covered in glitter and confetti. Fury and Coulson had stopped laughing – because they were at the point either laugh or shoot someone – to glare daggers into Sitwell. They'd just had the week from hell – and his entrance assured that the week wasn't finished yet.
After several false starts and the arrival of the bleaching solution, Sitwell finally got out what he came to tell them. S.H.I.E.L.D. explorers had found a downed plane in the arctic circle about 5 days prior. A downed plane that happened to be the Red Skull's Valkyrie – that Captain America had crashed back in 1945. The Valkyrie that happened to house the body of said Captain America. Who was wasn't dead.
Fury looked at Coulson. Coulson looked at Hill. Hill looked at Sitwell. Sitwell looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there right at that moment. Fury summed it up well: "God damn it".
It took three hours of scrubbing to remove the confetti impressions that had been stained into the skin of Nick Fury and Phil Coulson. Three hours of bleaching, vigorous rubbing, and cortisone cream to combat the henna that the confetti had been soaked in. Once the men were finally free of the evidence they fell prey to Darcy Lewis's petty revenge, they were once again brought together to brief the World Safety Council on the bullshit week that had befallen them.
It took everything they had to walk into the meeting room with their heads held high and pride firmly in place. One look at the council member's faces told them that they were shit out of luck on that front. Maria chanced a glance at the two men trying to determine what had the council looking like they'd been smacked with a dead salmon. And promptly choked on air.
Nick Fury and Phil Coulson were covered in teeny, tiny - glowing under the room's black light – penis's. They'd given up on trying to clean off the glitter – but had scrubbed and scrubbed to get the confetti off. The penis shaped confetti. That had been stained into their skin with henna. Apparently even removed from the skin, they still showed up under black light.
God Damn it.
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