From a prompt on avengerkink: Five times Nick Fury was caught naked. May be funny, serious, cracky, combination of all there of.
Or: The four times that were never mentioned and the one time he could never live down.
First two are more serious. Last three are pure crack. Enjoy!
The first time it happened was in Russia during World War II. Sergeant Fury and his squad were on a winter campaign and were crossing a frozen river only five hundred yards from what would be their camp site that night. Fury was the last to cross, having hung back to make sure his entire squadron made it over in one piece, when the ice cracked ominously beneath his feet. Before anyone could react, the icy river caved in and Fury was dropped into the freezing water below.
His squadron had rushed to help him, quickly moving to the other bank with the gear to avoid more catastrophes. Private Markee was the lightest and most sure-footed of the squadron and slowly crossed the remaining ice to hand him the end of a rope. Fury latched on quickly and with the combined efforts of all the strongest men in the squadron, he was pulled safely out of the water and over the ice to the shore.
No sooner had they gotten him out and Fury was ordering them to make themselves useful and start a fire before he kicked their lazy asses into the river himself. His men rushed to carry out his order, grabbing wood from the dogsled and one of the flint and steel strikers.
Perhaps it was the cold numbing his senses or the surrealness of seeing the Sergeant of all people in a tight spot but Private Markee hadn't even realized what exactly he was seeing until it registered a minute later. By that point he wasn't the only one staring.
Fury noticed the silence and glared at him in all his wet and shivering glory. At that moment a pin drop would have sounded like the explosion of heavy German artillery shells.
"Well, what are you standing around for, dammit? I swear, it's like none've you've ever seen a naked black man in you lives. The fire, Corporal Sanchez. And someone get me a damn blanket!"
As they rushed to obey, the squadron silently vowed to never mention the event as long as they lived.
The second time was on one of his first field missions for SHIELD. He and his partner were to infiltrate a known terrorist base, grab the formula and batch of a successfully synthesized bio weapon, and get out
Three hours in and they were doing well. The formula was located and pocketed and the chemical mixture was stashed in a heavy metal case when the alarm went off.
Fury and Danver rushed out of the complex, Danvers carrying both the formula and the mixture and Fury behind him, gun out in case cover fire was needed. The made it out of the complex and were tearing out of the security gate when Fury heard the familiar sound of long range artillery being shot his direction.
He managed to push Danvers out of the way just as the shell struck. Danvers was thrown five yards sustaining several broken bones and lacerations from shrapnel and skidding ten yards on sharp rock.
Fury wasn't so lucky. He had been able to twist in such a way that he was slightly above the ground and to the right of the shell when it exploded, back to the explosion. The maneuver saved his life and by pushing Danvers out of the way, his as well. However the damage was still severe.
Despite his own injuries, Danvers managed to get him out, into the van, and to the strip where a helicopter and medical personnel were awaiting them.
He and Danvers were immediately laid on stretchers and loaded into the helicopter where the doctors quickly and systematically stripped him of his clothing and began to wash and treat his wounds.
They were out and alive. Though the chemical mixture had been destroyed in the explosion, the formula had somehow been salvaged, making their mission successful.
Fury would eventually make a full recover though he would never be able to use his left eye again.
The third time was many years later when he had only recently become director of SHIELD. It had been a long week with report-ins from no less than eight very large and very important ops three of which had only bad news for the record. His second in command, an old Agent slotted to retire in a few years, decided to take the new Director of SHIELD aside and get him to unwind a bit.
Agent Bandle suggested a swim in the base's training pool might do him some good and promised to take care of anything urgent and call him if he was absolutely needed. After almost a half hour of reassurances, Fury was finally convinced Bandle could handle anything important for the time being and would notify him of any threats to world security or its continued existence, and made his way to the barracks where he changed into red swim trunks and a navy blue SHIELD t-shirt.
The base had two Olympic sized pools for both training and exercise purposes and was rather packed that day. The second pool had been cordoned off and it seemed some of the newer agents were going through the customary water rescue training every field agent must complete.
Several older agents were taking their free time to swim laps and let off some steam while getting back in shape. Over in the other pool, he could hear the sound of vicious splashing and shouts of encouragement as one of the newbies tried to throw off his trainer who was playing the part of a panicking swimmer.
Fury walked over to one of the pool chairs and lay out his towel, shirt, pager, and sandals before making his way over to the ladder.
The water was glorious and as the Director slipped in and out of strokes he made a note to thank Bandle for his suggestion.
A half hour later, he swam towards the ladder and lifted himself out of the pool.
He froze as his brain registered the utter silence that had befallen the pool room. Quickly turning around to scan the room for what could possibly have caused it, he noticed every last person staring straight at him.
Fury blinked twice in confusion.
"What're you all staring at," he barked.
It was one of the new recruits who moved - Barton, if he remembered correctly - pointing at him and watching with barely concealed mirth.
That was when Fury noticed the red bundle floating in the water not three feet from the ladder.
Barton was given dish duty for an extra two weeks for "sassing his superior officer."
No one was to ever speak of the incident under pain of death.
The helicarrier was really a work of engineering genius and as Phil Coulson walked through the halls he couldn't help but marvel. It seemed surreal and in fact he had been one of the first people to laugh at the idea of an aircraft carrier in the sky. But when Fury looked to his chief engineers and said, "I want you to make me a goddamn flying boat that can fit one eighth of SHIELD's personnel on it at any time," they got to work to make the best goddamn flying boat they could. And they did. Coulson still wasn't sure how they managed to do it and he was sure that he would never really know for certain.
Coulson walked briskly down the corridors towards the barracks, nodding every so often when he passed an agent he had worked with in the field. He had just gotten the call from the bridge: an urgent matter that needed Director Fury's attention stat unless he wanted the Council on his ass.
Coulson was still a bit unfamiliar with the barracks this being only his second day on the airborne wonder and when he took a turn and opened one of the doors, he wasn't exactly sure where he was.
The image before him, however, banished all confusion from his mind faster than a bucket of ice water after a five day bender.
He knew, cognitively, exactly what he was seeing but his brain refused to connect with his eyes and he was left staring like a fish, completely rooted to the spot. Not even his self preservation instincts were enough to kick him out of his trance.
The grating sound of what Coulson figured was probably supposed to be Frank Sinatra was cut off as a single brown eye swiveled to meet his.
The sound of running water was the only thing to break the silence.
Fury recovered first.
"I think you should leave."
Coulson decided that that was the single most brilliant thing he heard all day and quickly, with as much dignity as he could manage, made his way out the door.
When Coulson relayed his message five minutes later, it was as if nothing had ever happened.
From then on, the two reached a silent but mutual understanding that spanned the rest of their careers.
Fury walked briskly through the helicarrier's passageways, not even sparing a glance for the people moving around him. He made his way up through the belly of the ship and strode out onto the bridge, straight up to the command post where he scanned himself into the monitors.
DIRECTOR FURY RECOGNIZED flashed on the screen before the display flickered to life. Fury turned around to face a rather flustered looking Maria Hill.
"Is something the matter, Agent?"
Agent Hill stuttered for a moment before schooling her expression into a mask of professional neutrality.
"Sir, everything's fine. All systems are online and awaiting your orders."
Fury nodded. "Very good. What's on the schedule for today?"
As Agent Hill read from her clipboard, updating him on the Plan of the Day, one of the junior agents came forward, carrying a cup of coffee. She froze when she was several meters away and flushed a bright crimson before hurriedly shuffling over and handing him his steaming cup with a, "As you ordered, sir," and all but sprinting out of the bridge. Fury shook his head wondering at all the strange behavior but decided to put it out of his mind for now. He had more important things to worry about than a flustered Agent Hill and a nervous junior agent.
The rest of the day went on as normal but with a strange array of startled and flustered expressions from everyone he came in contact with. By the time lunch came around, he was beginning to wonder if some asshat had spread another rumor concerning his missing eye or if he had done something in the past couple of days that would make everyone in the damn helicarrier uncomfortable to be around him.
And not just in the helicarrier, he found out, when he sat in for an important meeting with the CEO of one of their major weapons providers. The woman had been completely incapable of meeting his eyes and had had to cut the meeting short due to an unfortunate yet severe stomach upset.
A meeting with his Department Heads and a routine weekly check of the progress in the R&D labs later and he was almost at the end of his patience.
Fury turned around to meet the sight of one of the bridge messengers. The man was standing stiffly and seemed to be trying to stare anywhere but at Fury himself.
"Well, what is it, Agent? This ain't fucking tea time with grannie."
The Agent swallowed and snapped to the singularly stiffest, most uncomfortable position of attention he had ever had the misfortune to witness.
"Sir, the bridge just received a call from the Quinjet. The Avengers are three minutes from overtaking our position, sir."
And there was the reminder of the other meeting Fury had to scrape through that day. Just his luck. He really needed a rather strong distraction tonight, preferably dry and deep and highly alcoholic.
"Very well. Send the order out: prepare for landing. And send someone to fetch Coulson to take the fuckers to the meeting room."
The messenger turned around to relay the message before Fury stopped him.
"Sir?" the man asked, frozen in place.
The man gulped as Fury's eyes ran him up and down. For fuck's sake, the kid was practically sweating. Fury rolled his eyes.
"Fix your belt buckle. Your gig line's off."
"Yes, sir!" the Agent exclaimed, doing just that before rushing down the hall at a pace that was only just under an outright sprint.
Fury rolled his eyes. Junior agents. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.
When Fury strode into the meeting room, all conversation ceased as every eye in the room swiveled toward him. Not a word passed the lips of a single person present as they simply stood frozen and stared.
Fury resisted the urge to roll his eyes and suspected that whatever they had been discussing before he entered had not been meant for his ears. Though Stark foregoing his customary boisterous greeting was more than a bit strange. However, judging by the shades, he was likely hung over which was just his luck since he really needed these guys in top shape in the next twenty minutes.
Fury ignored the stares and walked into the meeting room with his customary briskness and moving to stand in front of the table and surrounding team at parade rest.
That would be the moment Stark lost it.
No sooner had he fallen into his stance then Stark let out a loud bark of laughter before doubling over in hysterics. Rogers's face turned a bright shade of crimson and looked away and there was a smile tugging at the corner of Barton's mouth. Romanoff's expression was the same emotionless mask as always though she did seem to be far more interested in the wall beside Fury's head than was usual and Thor was looking at him with an expression that could only be describe as completely and utterly puzzled. Banner looked strangely calm but that was definitely amusement dancing within the depths of those born eyes.
Deciding to ignore the others for now, Fury turned to his biggest headache and gave him a look that clearly said 'I ain't fucking around, Sherlock, so get your goddamn shit together.'
"What the hell is so funny, Stark?"
This only caused Stark to double over even more, laughter twice as raucous and irritating as a moment ago. Barton also seemed to have lost the handle on his own amusement and was snorting into the palm of his hand and Banner was full out grinning.
The laughter increased and Rogers seemed to be trying to crawl his way under the conference table.
"Would one of you flying circus showcases care to share with me what the hell is so goddamn funny?"
It was Stark who answered, or rather gasped, between peals of uncontrollable laughter.
"Hey, Emperor - didn't know you - Bruce Willis -"
Fury raised an eyebrow than turned to Barton. Barton was still snorting into his hand and it was obvious he wasn't stopping any time soon.
Instead of answering his unspoken question, he lifted a finger and pointed straight at Fury.
Fury was suddenly transported back in time to when a much younger, much greener Agent Barton had done exactly that across a pool room and had never pointed at him since.
On reflex, Fury looked down to be met with the black leather of his usual uniform. The laughter was cut short for a moment. When he looked up, Stark, Barton, and even Banner broke into another round of laughter that made Fury want to wring every single one of their necks.
"Alright, assholes, I've had it. What the fuck is so funny?"
Rogers's face was red as a cherry and it would have been cute in a you-have-got-to-be-fucking-kidding-me way if it weren't so goddamn frustrating.
Natasha didn't speak as she took out her phone and held it up to, Fury was quite certain, snap a picture. The phone was then placed on the meeting table, turned to face him and slid towards him.
The laughter ceased and all eyes - save Rogers's - focused on him as he moved forward and leaned down towards the screen. The minute his eyes locked on the image, only Rogers and Thor were not rather vocally expressing their amusement.
Everything clicked and Fury suddenly became extremely aware of the one person he hadn't seen all day who he was sure he had told to report directly to him and had been due an hour ago. And he was never late.
Fury stood back up, looking each Avenger squarely in the eye. When he spoke, his voice was a low, menacing growl that he was told on good authority sent shivers up the spines of its victims.
"When I find out which of you fish faced, shit brained fuckers decided it would be a good idea to introduce the goddamn God of Douchebaggery to Grimm's fucking Fairy Tales, I will hunt you down and pull out your innards one by one and hang your gutted corpse from the rafters of the bridge with your goddamn intestines. Do I make myself clear."
"Yes, sir," the fuckers chorused. Not a damn one of them looked even a wink remorseful. Rogers still wouldn't meet his eye. Thor still just looked confused.
"Coulson'll be by in five to debrief you. I need a goddamn drink."
Fury spun and strode out if the meeting room with a cry of "Later, Emperor!" following in his wake.
He barely made out the sound of Thor's confused, "Is such behavior...normal on Midgard?" and the corresponding round of hysterics it caused as he angrily tore down the halls. He had a trickster to catch and he knew exactly where to find him.
Said trickster was banned from the helicarrier for the next two months except for on business specifically enunciated and sanctioned by the Director himself. He just grinned at Fury the whole time, the bastard.
Tony took to calling him Emperor from that day on.
This one, he would never live down.