Nick Fury kicked his feet up on his desk and puffed heavily on his cigar as he counted off the large stack of money his assistant had just brought him. Life was good. Starting this club had been one of the smartest decisions he had ever made. Good money, all the scotch he could ask for, and five living money trees right down the hall from his office. Life was real good. That is, when said money trees weren’t about to rip each other apart for one reason or another. As he listened to the voices down the hall get louder, he knew it would only be so long before—.
“Nick, you need to get out here,” came a voice belonging to the small, yet toned bodied female stage manager he’d hired at the kick-start of this place. She was the spine of his organization and he’d brought her on just for that purpose; organization.
Maria Hill pursed her lips with a hand on her hip as he set down his drink and his cash.
“What is it this time?” He asked her, ready for the fierce explanation. Maria was probably one of the smallest things in this place, but she had the biggest bite. Well, between her and that feisty bartender of his, Natasha.
“They’ve gone fucking nuts! I think they’re seriously going to off each one of these days. You need to get in there and handle that, because they won’t even acknowledge my presence.”
Before he could get in a response, she had already turned on her heel and was out the door. Women. But in this case, it looked like his men were going to be giving him more trouble tonight.
He stashed his cash in his drawer and locked it up before storming out of his office and down the hall, the deep voices getting louder and louder; two in particular. He rubbed a hand down his face as he entered the room and looked up at the two men in the middle of the room tiredly. They all silenced and five set of eyes focused on him and his one.
The silence went on as he blinked at looked at them all one after the other. His gaze first settled, of course, on the two men in the middle of the dressing room; Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, codenames Iron Ass and American Steel. Having just finished a show not fifteen minutes previous, they were still in their stage clothes, Tony in a red speedo with yellow stitching and Steve in his standard American flag decorated short-cut, spandex briefs. Steve was inches away from Tony and looked as if he was about to deck the brunette man something proper had he not been interrupted. His unpatched eye wondered over to the mirrors where he met the gaze of Clint Barton, codename Stoopid Cupid. Like the rest of the men in the dressing room, he was covered in oil but his face was that of confusion as he had obviously been watching the two men argue. He wasn’t the smallest man in the room, but he certainly wasn’t the biggest either. Nick was surprised that the twenty four year old hadn’t been heard cracking jokes over this running gag of an argument between Steve and Tony. Speaking of jokes, Nick’s gaze wandered to the lockers where two men stood off, one with a look of great amusement and one who actually looked afraid. Thor, Goldilocks to his fans, stood tall with long blonde hair and toned, cut arms folded across his buff chest as he leaned casually against the lockers. He had clearly been enjoying the show, so much in fact Nick could have sworn he recalled a flicker of disappointment in the man’s face when he had entered the room. Beside him stood Bruce Banner, codename The Incredible Bulk. For such a small man, least in body mass compared to all of his costars, the man easily had the biggest junk of them all. He was a quiet man, and if not for men like Thor, Tony, Clint, and Steve to help him prepare before every show, he wouldn’t last a day in front of all the vicious cougars that paid the bills of this place. Normally nerdy in his everyday life, his colleagues transformed him from the loose jeans, dingy shirt type with four eyes, to a tan, more conservatively dressed icon of their town. He was one of the most demanded dancers Nick had.
Nick took a deep breath as he leaned his thick arm against the door frame of the dressing room.
“What’s the problem this time fellas? Tony stealing your clients again, Steve?”
Tony opened his mouth to talk, but shut it firmly when the bulkier blonde man lifted a hand to silence him.
“I wish it were just that, Nick. Tony here has a problem with respecting our patrons these days. He seems to think they all want his… junk… in their faces.” He said the word with such disdain that Nick had to hold back a snort. Before Nick could speak, Tony cut in his two cents.
“Steve, we work at a fucking strip joint with a bunch of cougars for guests, of course they want our junk in their faces,” he said, both of his hands moving with every word to emphasize his point.
“It doesn’t matter, Stark. If they don’t specifically ask for it, then you’re doing too much,” Steve replied judgmentally. “Not to mention, if that’s something that they’re asking for then you should be charging extra.”
“Oh, now you’re trying to tell me how to manage my rates?! I’m not a teenager, Rogers, and you’re not my damn father! So why don’t you just lay off and mind your own business? You don’t see me judging you or telling you to charge extra when you’re letting seventy year olds squeeze your ass, do you?”
Steve had the decency to blush. “That was one time! And I didn’t have to charge her extra, she paid it of her own volition.”
“Yeah? Are you sure it was for the ass pinch, Steve? Or was it because you took her in the Champaign room and gave her the ride of her life? I sure hope you wrapped up, I hear they can still have kids at that age.”
Steve lunged for Tony’s throat and just as Nick was about to intervene, Phil Coulson, bouncer of the club and close friend of Nick’s, stepped in between the men with an expression of pure calmness.
“Where the hell were you earlier?” Nick asked firmly. “From what Maria says, these two have been going at it for almost a half hour.”
“Sorry, sir,” Coulson said with complete composure as he blocked a punch from Tony flying toward Steve as if it was nothing. “One of the hoses in Natasha’s stock busted and I was helping her clean it up.”
From the other side of the room, Thor laughed heartily. “If that’s what you wish us to believe,” he said in his thick Norwegian accent, still leaning cooly against the lockers. Even Bruce snickered a little.
“Hey, it’s true,” Coulson retorted with a minor frown. Nick just rolled his eye. He didn’t make enough money for this shit.
“If you boys are done, get cleaned up and get out of here. I want to get out in time to pick up a nice honey before I go home.”
On the way back to his office, Nick took a detour pass the bar and stage area to see how long it would be before he closed up for the night. He caught Maria and Natasha leaned over the bar, not quite touching, but close enough before clearing his throat. They each jumped a mile backwards. Not saying a word, he just chuckled and continued walking to his office. Tonight had been a slow night, but tomorrow was College Night; free drinks with a student ID. Hopefully his boys will have gotten their shit together by then.
Because if not, there would be hell to pay.
((Just starting off with something simple first, I guess. Not sure how people will respond to this and that’s where I get a lot of my writing mojo for. I love feedback, feedback is great. Continue? Yes? No? Thanks for reading!!))
PS; you give me a better title, I swear I’ll use it, haha.