Pipe Down
By Jelsemium
For Qweb
There are many phrases that describe having two nasty choices… between a rock and a hard place, between Scylla and Charybdis, between the devil and the deep blue sea. However, none of the clichés quite covered the magnitude of Nick Fury's problem, so he created a new one: Concurrent meetings with the World Council and the Avengers.
Nick didn't know why the Council decided to call for a report just as Iron Man, Captain America, Thor and Banner arrived for a debriefing. He did not for one minute believe that the timing was a coincidence.
In any event, he couldn't put them off, again. Nor could he be in two places at once (yet). If the second meeting had been with anybody other than the Avengers, Nick would have asked them to wait or reschedule. However, Potts had pulled off a near miracle by getting Stark to the meeting on time AND sober. He didn't want to ruin her Herculean efforts by giving Stark an excuse to skip the next meeting.
So he did what any good leader would do. He passed the buck… ah… He delegated responsibility. Fortunately, Hawkeye and the Black Widow were still in route from their last assignment, so he could radio their new orders before the meeting.
"You want us to do what?" Barton asked.
"Delay your arrival to the meeting by twenty minutes," Fury responded with what he considered commendable patience.
"Why?" Barton demanded.
The Widow sighed. "Because he's going to be fifteen minutes late and he wants it to be our fault rather than his," she explained.
"Oh, goody, so Stark will take the mickey out of us instead of him?"
"Exactly," Fury admitted.
"What do we tell them?" Widow asked flatly.
"Oo, I know," Hawkeye volunteered. "We'll tell them that this last mission was so scary that you cried like a baby and you needed to fix your makeup."
Fury was just as glad that he wasn't standing between Hawkeye and Widow's Glare.
"We can tell them that you were so scared that you needed to change your diaper," Widow replied in clipped tones.
"Or that my marksmanship was so beautiful that it made you weep to behold it," Hawkeye replied.
"We'll tell them that you spent three days lying in a pile of pigeon poop and…"
Hawkeye threw in "It made your eyes water so much that you needed to fix your makeup…"
"You need a change of clothing…"
"Or that you both wanted to keep Stark cooling his heels while you changed into civilian outfits," Fury barked. "I don't care what you say. Just be sure to wear something that will back up your story."
"Whatever you say, Boss," Hawkeye replied huffily. Fury supposed the archer was annoyed at being told how to add verisimilitude to a cover story.
"Fury out." He hurried to the so-called important meeting with the Council. He calculated that he had just enough time to make his report and get back before the Avengers Time Bomb went off.
He was wrong.
Fury could hear the commotion all the way down the corridor. He picked up his pace, swearing that if Stark had started a brawl, he would pull the arc generator out of the billionaire's chest and shove it…
He stopped in the doorway, using all of his considerable will-power to prevent himself from gaping. Stark was in the middle of the brawl, but it looked very much like he was trying to keep Rogers and Barton from killing each other.
The sight of Stark being the calm, rational peace-maker was almost enough to scare Fury.
"STOP SHOUTING IN MY EARS OR I WILL BLAST YOU BOTH THROUGH THE WALLS!" Stark bellowed.
Okay, that was more the type of thing Fury expected.
Barton snorted. "How?" he asked. "You don't have your gauntlets on."
"Well, do something!" Stark snapped at Fury. "I'm not used to being the sane one of the party!"
"If you don't want to get caught in no man's land, don't step between fighters," Cap said angrily.
"How about you don't start a fight, Spangles?" Stark snarled.
"ENOUGH!" Fury bellowed.
That, thank Heavens, was enough to get the combatants to step back and snap to attention.
Romanov glared over Barton's shoulder, looking torn between preventing Barton from attacking Cap and putting Cap down for the count. A bewildered looking Thor was behind Rogers, with one hand on the super soldier's shoulder.
Banner stood across the table from the combatants. Fortunately, he didn't look to be turning green, except in the "I'm about to throw up" way.
"What the HELL is going on?" Fury barked at Barton, 99% sure that the archer had started the fight.
Wrong, again.
"Ask him, he started it!" Barton huffed, glaring at Rogers.
"I am sick and tired of people being disrespectful towards the United States of America!" Rogers growled, confirming the accusation. "I know that this country isn't perfect, but it's still the greatest democracy on the planet! You may think I'm just some... some dinosaur with quaint ideas about patriotism, but a lot of my friends died to protect this country, and you have no right to be disrespectful of the flag!"
He didn't take his eyes off Barton, but it wasn't until the last sentence that everybody's gaze shifted from Rogers to Barton's navy blue t-shirt that displayed an American flag waving proudly beneath the Old Navy logo.
"What?" Barton asked. He looked down. "It's my favorite shirt. I thought you'd like it." There was a very faint undertone of hurt in the archer's voice.
"I don't understand how Barton's shirt shows disrespect," Romanov said.
"Back in Rogers' day, Americans didn't wear the flag on their clothing," Fury explained. "It's a recent fashion development."
Rogers turned slightly, dislodging Thor's hand. "And a disgusting one," he said grimly.
"Why?" Thor asked, frowning.
"There is a specific protocol for respectfully disposing of an American flag. Barton's going to ignore it," Rogers informed the out-of-towner.
"Wait, what?" Barton asked.
Rogers turned towards Barton. "Even in my day, clothing didn't last forever. What are you planning to do with your shirt when it wears out? Throw it away? Turn it into a cleaning rag? I'm sick of seeing the flag plastered on shirts, napkins, paper plates and other things that are going to be tossed in the trash!"
Rogers clenched his fist and Barton tensed. Before Fury could intervene, Banner suddenly scooted across the table, planted himself between them and blurted: "Ceci n'est pas une pipe!"
Fury was relieved that everybody looked as bewildered as he felt.
"Come again?" Rogers asked after a few seconds.
Banner punched a few buttons on his Stark Phone and a picture leaped onto the briefing room's wall screen. It was a picture of a painting of a pipe with the caption: Ceci n'est pas une pipe.
"René Magritte of Belgium painted this in 1928 or '29," Banner said. "You may have heard of it?"
"This is not a pipe," Rogers read slowly. Fury was surprised for a few seconds before he realized that the Super Soldier must have picked up a working knowledge of French during the war.
A look of enlightenment flashed across Stark's face. The inventor opened his mouth, but then shut it. Apparently Stark had decided to let Banner have the spotlight. Once Fury got over his shock at the third Stark miracle of the day, he caught on to what Banner was leading up to.
"Looks like a pipe to me," Stark said mildly, giving Banner a cue, if it was still needed.
Judging by the way the tension in Rogers' shoulders began to fade; the full explanation might not be needed.
"Can you put tobacco in it?" Rogers asked Stark, rhetorically.
Thor studied the picture curiously, but didn't ask about pipes or tobacco.
Rogers studied Barton's shirt again. "So you're saying is that this is not a flag, but merely the image of a flag," he said. He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. "Okay, I guess you can't exactly run it up a flagpole."
"Surely you've seen pictures of flags in the newspaper," Banner said. A few more flicks of his fingers and images of newspapers with photographs of the American flag appeared.
"Point taken, Doctor," Rogers said. He was beginning to look sheepish.
It was time to change the subject.
"If it makes you feel better, I promise I'll burn this shirt when I'm finished with it," Barton said.
"Tonight would be good," Romanov interjected. "You still smell like pigeon poop."
Fury rolled his eye, but before he could take control of the meeting, Rogers pointed to one of the photos on the wall screen. "Wait, where was that taken?" he asked.
Everybody looked at the famous picture of marines raising the flag on Mount Suribachi.
"That was taken on Iwo Jima at the end of the war," Fury said. "It's one of the most famous pictures in American history."
"Speaking of the war," Stark said. "You guys do realize that today is Memorial Day, right?"
"That's right!" Barton said, as if in surprise.
"What is this day in memory of?" Thor asked.
"It's in memory of all American soldiers who have died defending our country," Banner said.
"There are all sorts of parades and parties thrown in their honor and to honor the still living veterans and the currently serving service men and women," Stark added. "Speaking of which, we'll miss everything if we continue to hang around here." He clapped his hands together and smiled at Fury. "So, let's get going!"
Stark's suit appeared on cue and he encased himself in it as the other Avengers started moving. They were out the door, talking about Iwo Jima, John Wayne movies and American celebrations, before Fury could collect himself enough to bellow, "We're not done here! We still have a debriefing!"
By the time Fury finished his sentence, the Avengers were out of earshot. They had left stacks of papers on the meeting room table. The written reports were laid out with suspicious neatness. Fury pinched the bridge of his nose as he realized that his meeting with the Council had given the super pests enough time to concoct an escape plan.
Well, there was no point in crying over spilt milk. So, Fury tapped the intercom. "Hill, I'm going ashore."
"Yes, sir," Hill said. She paused. "That was a quick debriefing."
"Yes, yes it was," Fury said. "If anybody wants me…" He considered the fact that it was a holiday. "Then they're out of luck. Fury out."