“WHICH ONE OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS STOLE MY EYEPATCH.”
The group looks around at each other inquisitively as Fury enters the room, makeshift patch covering his left eye.
“You don’t have more than one?” Clint chirps, warranting a smack on the back of his head (and not a light one, at that). He moans, clutching his skull, and bends forward to lay his forehead on the meeting room table. Natasha pats his back.
“Are you wearing a scarf?” Stark raises an eyebrow. “You look pretty today, Fury.”
“Shut yo fuckin’ mouth, Stark. I ain’t got time for your shit today. Which one of you assholes took it?” He leans against the table, suspiciously eyeing the six of them.
“You called a meeting…about a missing eyepatch?” Natasha asks. She tries to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, as difficult as that is.
Fury’s face contorts with frustration. Cap pipes up.
“Sir, you must’ve misplaced it. I’m sure no one took it.”
“I didn’t misplace it, rogers. I’m not an idiot,” he spits. “And we’re going to sit in here until the thief fesses up.”
The door clicks. The group sees Maria locking the door on the opposite side of the windowed wall. She looks at the group and shrugs before walking off.
A collective groan resounds throughout the room.
—
Two hours have passed.
Natasha is sitting in her swivel chair, legs crossed. Expressionless.
Clint has scooted his as close to hers as possible, lays across her lap and moans from boredom. She slowly rubs his back.
Thor is telling steve (very loudly) about how he doesn’t understand midgardian technology ("SUCH COMPLICATED OBJECTS SHOULD BE BUILT IN A LESS FRAGILE MANNER" etc). Steve silently listens, and nods in agreement.
Tony is on his phone. Probably texting Pepper (poor Pepper will never get any work done if her phone is on).
Bruce is leaning back in his chair carefully, eyes closed.
“THAT’S IT,” Fury stands up and slams his palms against the table. Steve, Thor, and Bruce startle to attention. Tony, Clint, and Natasha lazily affix their gazes on their boss (well, not Tony’s boss; Tony “is his own boss”; Pepper would actively disagree. Details.)
“WHERE’S THE EYEPATCH, MOTHERFUCKERS.”
Silence.
“…maybe your mom has it.”
Fury launches himself towards Tony, veins popping from his forehead. Thor and Steve grab him, restrain him approximately arms-length from the smirking man.
A tiny, polite knock comes from the door.
Coulson puts a hand up as “hello” from the window.
“NOT NOW, COULSON, I’M FUCKIN’ BUSY” Fury yells.
Coulson reaches into his pocket, pulls out a small black object, and holds it up.
An eyepatch.
Thor and Steve let go of Fury, who quickly reaches the door and fumbles to find the right key.
“I found this in the washing machine-” Coulson begins, Fury interrupting by slapping a hand over his mouth and rushing him away from the meeting room as the group erupts with laughter.
After the hysterics die down, Tony reaches into his pocket and drops three eyepatches on the table.
“I snuck these from his room right before the meeting.”
Different expressions fall on each face. Disappointment from Steve and Bruce, loud cackling from Thor, an eyebrow raise of interest from Clint, and something like “I want no part of this” from Natasha.
“So. Who wants to help me bedazzle these bad boys?”