Tropes and Rare Pairs

                Nick Fury and Phil Coulson had been friends for years, decades even. They were an unfaseable team. In the many years that they had served SHIELD, truly they had seen everything. Aliens? Regular Thursday. Stark fucked something up? Nothing a meeting with Ms. Potts couldn’t absolve. An 084? Interesting, but easily taken care of by a team dispatch and a mission report. Like clockwork.

                And so it was cause for alarm when Fury and Coulson were catching up for the latest STRIKE mission debrief and Fury’s PA buzzed the intercom:

                “Sirs? I’m getting a report from the café on five.”

                Coulson sighed deeply. “We’ve just had it stocked and fixed the delivery issue. What’s wrong now?”

                “It seems to be Agent Rollins, sir. He is- not himself.” She sounded nervous, and distracted.

                Fury and Coulson shared a Look. Jack Rollins was recruited specifically because of how stoic he was known to be. He had been a Naval SEAL when he was discovered in a prisoner camp in Iraq, taking a beating that would have most men begging to be allowed to spill their secrets. Not Rollins. Every time he was put down, he was back up. The man had one default facial expression, and it was ‘mildly agitated’. Fury had seen the man crack a smile one time in the last handful of years, and it was right before a brawl that had demoted the man and had him in a cell for a few weeks. The recruit he smiled at never fully recovered from his resultant injuries, and now manned a desk in a corner of the building where Rollins’ presence was never required. Barring that one instance, Jack Rollins had stoicism that could be used as the foundation for a skyscraper.

                “What do you mean, ‘not his damn self’?”

                “I’m getting a multitude of reports coming in that he’s laughing. Hysterically. Commander Rumlow is present, and the area is cleared, but the reports are coming in by the dozen. I have nearly a hundred in my inbox.”

                Coulson and Fury left the office and moved quickly to the elevator with a speed impressive for their ages. The elevator had closed with a soft *ding* when Nick Fury spoke up.

                “Has he ever been known to be anything like this?”

                “No, it is quite concerning. Maybe he was drugged? Maybe he’s snapped? We really ought to get them all into psych a little more frequently.”

                The elevator doors opened and both men rushed down the now empty hallway for the café in the main section of the floor. Rollins’ raucous laughter was still ongoing. As they came into view of the café, they could see him. Jack lay flat on his back, with one leg outstretched and one knee bent up. He had an arm out wide, and the other hand wiping tears from his eyes. His whole body shook with the force of his laughter, which was now bordering on manic. Jack’s face and neck were flushed with exertion.

                On seeing the approach of the Director and Agent Coulson, Jack quickly schooled his features and tried to sit up. Fury quickly motioned for him to stay put.

                Coulson looked up to the barista and was entirely unsurprised to see one of the perpetual banes of his existence peering at him from the other side of the counter.

                “’Sup Agent iPod Thief?”

                “Ms. Lewis, what have you done to Agent Rollins?”

                “What?”

                Phil had to give her credit. She seemed genuinely perplexed. “Did you drug him? What did you do to cause- this?”

                Before Darcy could reply, Rumlow heaved a sigh and said, “She didn’t do anything, sir. It’s just- Jack.”

                “Just Jack? Just Jack?! Agent Rollins has never been so out of sorts! What happened here?” The vein in Phil’s forehead was popping out, a sure sign of danger.

                Jack had begun to collect himself, but was still unable to speak through his soft, yet incessant giggling.

                “It was just a joke, sir. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Darcy seemed more concerned now, and she kept shooting looks at Jack.

                “What the actual fuck happened, Lewis?” Fury had neither the time nor the patience for this bullshit.

                Wringing her hands, Darcy and then Brock started to fill in the events.

                ---------------------------------------

                Jack and Brock were just getting back from the ass- end of nowhere. Jack had sand in places that vexed him. He wanted coffee, a shower, and sleep. The way Brock kept grabbing his ass made it clear what he wanted. But that was Brock for you. Post mission always had him ramped up with extra adrenaline to burn. And sure, Jack was always up for a fuck, but goddamn. Fifteen years of friendship, which included ten years together, had given Jack and Brock more than enough time to know everything that they could about each other. Which meant that Brock knew his partner was likely to be too tired for anything, and he was just being an asshole.

                Rounding the corner to the café, Jack was pleased to see that no one was in line. People were at the small seating area, talking amongst themselves, but all of them hushed as the STRIKE agents neared.

                While Brock and Jack were something of an open secret, they kept carefully distant when others were around. There was a betting pool that had nearly reached five thousand dollars on whether or not they were a couple. They had agreed that if it hit ten they would make a scene and collect the money themselves. They were too indispensable to be reprimanded for their decade- long fraternization. They had proven time and again that it didn’t affect their field performance. Or at least not in a negative way. Some of the others on missions in close quarters were known to request decibel blocking ear plugs from supply.

                Seeing Darcy, Jack smirked a bit. She was cute, and funny as hell. She seemed to take it personally that she had never made Jack crack a smile. He reigned in his expression, knowing that he had a reputation to live down to, and stepped up to the counter. He was bone tired, and he needed something strong if he was going to live through the debrief. 

               “What’ll it be, Agent Spock?”

               Jack smirked a bit at the nickname, and Brock outright laughed. Anyone else would have broken bones for that kind of familiarity, but the two men were quite fond of Darcy.

               Scanning his eyes over the menu board, Jack said, “I’ll take a large Italian.”

               Darcy smiled beautifully, making her entire face light up, and then leaned over the counter to give Brock a very lecherous once- over.

               Darcy turned back to Jack’s now confused expression. “I mean he’s really more of a medium.”

               Brock spluttered indignantly, but he was overtaken entirely by Jack, who split into a wide smile and let out a deep belly laugh that put him on his knees. Too many days of not enough sleep, and being overworked had him sounding completely unhinged. He quickly ended up on his back, his body shaking with laughter. Everyone around had cleared out, each one on their phones, no doubt spreading the word about Agent Rollins.

               Darcy smiled to herself. Mission accomplished.

               ---------------------

               Fury stalked away. He had better things to do than deal with this mess.

               Coulson recovered himself, and once Rollins could actually speak to his own well-being, Phil left with a calm, “Be on time for the debrief.”

               Once the two senior STRIKE agents were alone with Darcy, Brock leaned against the counter, which did very nice things to his already wonderful biceps.

               “Tell ya’ what, girlie. For a chick ya’ got balls.” Brock looked both pleased and affectionate.

               Jack was standing now. He stepped over to Brock, and slid an arm around the shorter man’s waist, causing Darcy to raise an eyebrow. Smiling, Jack leaned down and whispered something into Brock’s ear that made him blush down to his collar.

               Darcy was intrigued. Everyone knew these two were together, but no one saw them intimate, or even physically close like this. And Darcy would know, she ran the betting pools around the place. The entire base knew if you had money to lay down, you went to girl who made the coffee.

               Looking to Darcy, Jack spoke quietly, but confidently.

               “What do you say, Lewis? Why don’t you come back to ours tonight, and you can see how everything sizes up?”

               Looking back and forth between the two men, she smiled slowly.

               “Well hot damn. I haven’t had a threesome since college, and it was terrible.” She hummed thoughtfully. “Of course, I’ll bet you two boys could leave that experience in the dust.”

               Brock turned a smoldering look to her. “Girlie’ I promise we’ll have you screaming for more.”

               “Done deal.” Darcy couldn’t keep the joy off her face as she handed over two large coffees. “I’ll be waiting for you,” she called as both Jack and Brock disappeared in the direction of the debrief conference room.