~Five days later~
Luke POV
The buzz of busy streets filled my ears as I sat across from Fury, soaking in the rare quiet. For now, the world was safe, and I felt a deep sense of relief. I took a slow sip of my coffee—strong, bitter, just how I liked it. After all the bullshit we'd been through, I was gonna enjoy this moment of peace.
Fury's face was as stoic as ever, but I caught a hint of pride in his eye. Hell, I'd just helped save the world, and now people were tossing around the word "superhero." Weird, but not entirely unwelcome.
I wondered what was going through his head, what plans he was already cooking up. Knowing him, there was always another threat lurking. And yeah, I had my own stuff on my mind—like the investigation Frank and I had worked on before he retired and the old team went their separate ways. It'd been years, and unlike me, they'd all grown old. Sometimes I caught myself wondering what it must be like to have a life that's measured in decades, not centuries.
My thoughts were cut short when Fury spoke up. "You know," he said, interrupting my drift, "I've been waiting for this day to come."
I let out a short laugh. "Sounds like a line straight out of a comic book."
He smirked, and for a second, we could've been any two guys catching up over coffee. Then his expression turned serious again.
"So what happens now?" I asked. "Do we just sit around waiting for the next big bad to show up so we can 'assemble'?"
Fury took a slow sip of his coffee before setting the cup down. "We stay ready. And for the record, the president has you on his emergency contact list, so don't go changing your number." He kept a straight face, but I knew he was joking. Mostly.
I nodded with a shrug. "As long as the president doesn't bug me about my side projects, we're good. He called me the other day to say thanks for the help in New York—mentioned I'd been out of the game for a while. I just told him I did what anyone would've done."
Fury leaned back, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "The president's been jumpy ever since his daughter, Ashley, was snatched by that cult back in '04. You remember—he sent you personally to handle it. A clean job in rural Spain."
"Yeah, I remember," I said, taking a sip of coffee. "I went in undercover, dressed like some backpacker. The second I stepped into that remote village, all hell broke loose. These weren't zombies or anything—just die-hard cultists, brainwashed and armed. I had to fight my way through houses, across fields, even through the town plaza, all while trying to figure out where they'd stashed Ashley."
Fury chuckled. "You made it sound like a walk in the park."
"Hardly," I replied. "Every corner I turned, another group of them came at me with knives and makeshift weapons. I eventually pieced together that they'd moved her deeper into their compound—some old monastery up in the hills. Took me half the night to get there."
"And when you did," Fury cut in, his tone teasing, "Ashley wasn't just grateful. She was laying it on thick, giving you those obvious signals. You stayed quiet as a stone."
I shifted in my seat, feeling a bit exposed. "Yeah, well, she was safe. That was the mission."
Fury didn't let up. "That girl was all over you after Spain. Always finding some excuse to reach out—official debriefs, thank-you notes, even asking if you wanted a personal tour of the White House."
I shrugged, stirring my coffee. "She was nice. Smart, resilient… had a good sense of humor, considering what she'd been through."
"But?" Fury pressed, leaning forward.
"But nothing. I didn't really know what to say to her after that."
Fury gave me that one-eyed stare that sees right through you. "Let me break it down for you, since you're gonna make me spell it out. This isn't about you not knowing what to say. This is about you not wanting to pull someone else into our world. You think getting close to her would put a target on her back."
I stayed quiet for a second, then finally nodded. "Maybe. Yeah."
"Maybe," Fury repeated, almost laughing. "Luke, you save someone's life in the middle of a cult warzone, disappear without a trace, then act surprised when they want to know the guy behind the mask. She wasn't just thanking you—she was trying to understand you."
"Understanding me isn't exactly a safe hobby," I said.
"No," Fury agreed, his tone shifting. "But isolating yourself because you're afraid of what might happen? That's no way to live either."
"When was the last time you saw her?" Fury asked, not letting it go.
I hesitated. "Five years ago. Right after I settled in New York. I was on temporary retirement—lying low until the next mess showed up."
"So you just… faded out?"
"There was no big rejection," I explained. "I figured it was better if she moved on naturally. Less messy that way."
Fury sipped his coffee, his expression flat. "You thought it was logical."
"Yeah. I did."
He set his cup down a little too hard. "You're a genetically enhanced super soldier who fights alien armies, but you're scared to let someone care about you."
I didn't have an answer for that.
Fury shook his head, and for the first time, he looked genuinely disappointed. "Luke, sometimes the biggest risk isn't taking a shot—it's watching life pass you by while you're too afraid to live it."
Fury leaned back, folding his arms. "And now Romanoff's on the same boat. Great. Of course my top spy gets interested in the one guy who's romantically stunted."
"Hey, I'm sorry, alright?" I shrugged, feeling oddly exposed. "I wasn't trained for this. I've seen movies, read books—I get the idea. But when it's real? What does that even mean?"
Fury just shook his head, a dry laugh escaping. "It means you're human, Luke. Even with all that enhancement, you're still figuring it out like the rest of us."
"Figure what out?"
"What it means to care about someone—and let them care back without self-sabotaging."
I stayed quiet. He wasn't wrong.
"Just don't break her," he added, half-serious. "She's one of my best."
"No pressure," I muttered.
"Exactly."
What bothered me more was that Fury seemed… okay with it. "You're her commanding officer. Aren't you supposed to have… opinions?"
Fury shrugged. "I don't care if you build a harem, Luke. Just do your job."
I stared at him. "What the hell is a harem?"
He sighed like I'd just asked what oxygen was. "A group of people—romantically involved with one person. Usually."
"Why would I want that?" I shot back. "That sounds exhausting."
"My point exactly." He took a slow sip of coffee. "But you're missing the bigger question."
"Which is?"
"How I found out about Romanoff kissing you barely five days after it happened."
I froze. Then it clicked. "Clint. That bow-and-arrow snitch."
Fury almost smiled. "He files reports on everything. Even you."
"I'm gonna shove that quiver somewhere dark," I muttered.
But my brain circled back. "Seriously, though. What is a harem, really?"
Fury gently slammed his hand on the table and fixed me with his one-eyed stare. "Figure it out, Luke."
I shook my head. "How did this meetup turn into cornering the defenseless superhuman?"
Fury took a calm sip of his coffee. "You could always kill me right now if it bothers you that much. But you won't. You've got morals—you're the most sane person I know, ironically." He set his cup down. "What you need is to explore certain… human experiences. You might not age, but that doesn't mean you should miss out on things you may never get to live again."
I raised an eyebrow. "Are you telling me to get laid?"
Fury almost smiled. "That's the shortcut, if you don't want to put in the effort."
"And the long way?"
"Dating."
I let out a long sigh. "That sounds so much worse than fighting the Chitauri army two weeks ago."
Fury nodded, his eye gleaming. "See what I mean?"
Fury took a sip of his coffee, and I decided to shift gears. "So, how's the cleanup going? I'm guessing the council's on your ass again."
He nodded, not even bothering to hide it. "They want the Avengers held accountable."
I couldn't help but laugh. "There's gonna be some irregularities with that approach. Let's be real—SHIELD started this whole mess. Poking around where you shouldn't have been."
Fury sighed, actually admitting fault for once. "I'll take the blame on that one. Maybe it could've gone differently."
"Maybe," I said, "but Loki would've tried to conquer Earth with or without the Tesseract. And honestly? Without all this excitement, I'd probably be stuck in another mind-numbing week pretending to be a regular barista."
"So what's your play now?" Fury asked, leaning back. "You're not planning on vanishing again, are you?"
"Not exactly," I said. "But my gear's seen better days. Things are only going to get weirder from here, so I need to be ready. That experimental bo staff Coulson hooked me up with? It's a lost cause now."
"Stark could probably whip you up something better."
"Yeah, I was thinking the same. Maybe even one of those fancy suits. I'll hit him up." I paused, thinking about the man who brought us all together. "How is Coulson, anyway?"
Fury's expression tightened. "Critical. But stable."
"I knew he wasn't really gone," I said quietly. "When they said he died, it didn't add up. The medical response was too controlled, the transport too discreet. And you wouldn't have written off a key agent that easily."
Fury didn't look surprised. "Figured you'd piece it together. It's just you and me who know he's breathing. No guarantee he wakes up, though—so we keep it quiet."
"Understood," I said. Another secret to carry. "Let me know if that changes."
Fury's communicator lit up, and he pulled out the phone-like device. Around us, undercover agents began slipping out of the cafe one by one. Not that it fooled me—I'd spotted every last one the moment I walked in.
We stood up. Fury drained the last of his coffee, and as he turned to leave, I pulled a folded stack of cash from my wallet and handed it over.
He raised an eyebrow. "What's this for?"
"A thousand," I said. "You won the bet."
A slow grin spread across his face. He didn't ask which one. He just tucked the bills into his pocket and nodded. "Try not to do anything stupid, Luke."
"You too," I said, and meant it.
Then he was gone, and I was alone again—just me, my thoughts, and the faint hum of a city learning how to breathe again.
About fifteen minutes after Fury left, I finished my coffee and headed out. As I pushed open the cafe door and stepped onto the sidewalk, someone rushed straight into me. Normally, I'd have sensed the movement and sidestepped easily, but I guess my mind was elsewhere. She nearly tripped, her books and bag tumbling out of her arms. I reacted without thinking, catching everything before it hit the ground—making it look like a clumsy save rather than anything calculated.
"Shit, I'm so sorry!" she said, breathless and flustered. "I wasn't looking where I was going."
"No worries," I said, helping her straighten up. "You alright? Not hurt or anything?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," she assured me, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
[Future KD: I can't find a good photo, but here have some Gwen Stacy PTSD from TASM]
I handed back her things, taking her in quickly. She had bright blonde hair, smooth and parted down the middle, and a fresh, smart look—like she'd stepped out of a campus catalog. She wore a simple trench coat over a chunky knit sweater, with that classic, preppy vibe. Her student ID was among the items I'd caught: Columbia University, biophysics major. Name: Gwen Stacy.
"Here's your stuff, Gwen," I said, passing over the bag and books.
She froze for a second, eyes wide. "How did you know my name?"
I held up the ID card between two fingers. "It's right here."
"Thanks for not letting my stuff hit the pavement," she said, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I'm usually not this clumsy, I swear."
"Hey, it happens," I replied with a shrug. "I'm Luke, by the way."
"Gwen," she said, though I already knew. "So, are you from around here?"
"Kind of. I grew up in Queens," I offered, keeping it vague.
"No way—me too!" Her face lit up. "What part?"
"Astoria. You?"
"Same! Small world." She smiled, and it felt easy. "Do you go to school around here? NYU, maybe?"
"Not yet," I said, sticking to the half-truth. "Still thinking about it. You're at Columbia, right? Biophysics—saw that on your ID."
"Yeah, it's a grind," she laughed. "I'm actually headed to a study group now. You?"
"Just heading home," I said. "Looks like we're walking the same way for a bit."
"Guess so," she said, falling into step beside me. "Mind if I join you? It's better than rushing alone."
"Sure," I said, and we started down the sidewalk, the city noise fading into a comfortable backdrop.
As we walked, I started to notice a pattern with her name. "Gwen Stacy, that name sounds familiar. Any relation to Captain Stacy with the NYPD?"
She glanced over, surprised. "Yeah, that's my dad. How did you—"
"Read about him in the papers a while back," I said smoothly. "He worked on that high-profile tech theft case. Seems like a good cop."
"He is," she said, smiling softly. "But most people don't recognize the name."
We walked a little further before she asked what I was interested in studying. I meant to say something normal like engineering, but my brain apparently decided to take a detour.
"Lately I've been reading about Bronze Age trade routes," I found myself saying. "There's this theory that the Uluburun shipwreck cargo logs don't actually match the dendrochronology records from Anatolia. Which means either the tree-ring data is off, or someone was faking trade manifests four thousand years ago."
I caught myself, realizing I'd probably gone overboard. "Sorry. I geek out sometimes."
But Gwen didn't look weirded out—she was grinning. "So you're saying ancient sailors might have been the original con artists?"
"Exactly!" I laughed, relieved. "Turns out fraud might be one of humanity's oldest professions."
"Guess some things never change," she said, still smiling. "For what it's worth, I think it's cool you know that stuff. Most guys just talk about sports."
We reached her building too soon. She hesitated before heading inside. "Hey, if you ever want to geek out about questionable history again… maybe we could get coffee sometime?"
"I'd like that," I said, and we exchanged numbers before she disappeared inside. I stood there for a second, surprised at how easy it had been.
Maybe Fury had a point after all.
My phone buzzed—the secure line. Frank.
I answered. "Yeah?"
"One of my old contacts came through. Might have a lead." His voice was all business. "Sending you the location now on the private network."
"I'm on my way," I said, ending the call.
I glanced at Gwen's number still glowing on my screen, then back toward the café where Fury had been. The normal world faded back into the background as the mission clicked into place.
Stepping off the curb, I melted into the rush of the crowd. One moment I was there, and the next I was just another shadow in the city's pulse, gone before anyone could blink.
Back to work...
Next Arc
Iron Man 3
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