FIc: More comfortable
Title: More comfortable
Author: Cat_13145
Pairing: Nick Fury and His Howlin' Commandoes
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: 1940's racial and homophobic attitudes. Use of One word, which I know to be offense, but was in use at the time. Possibly mild references to anti semitic attitudes (Basically, it's a fic of 1940's)
Summary:
Nick assumes that the whole 'don't have sex with other guys' thing is just another silly army regulation that doesn't apply to him or anyone under his command.
The army had a lot of stupid regulations.
Like that black and white soldiers couldn’t serve together, or that you should not think that the bastards supposed leading you were bastards.
Fury knew this. He also knew that most of them didn’t apply to his guys. They were dammed good at what they did, and as a general rule that encouraged command to turn a blind eye to irregularities in Fury’s unit. The soldiers who didn’t were usually “Persuaded” that keeping their opinions to themselves was a good thing.
So he was confused by the pictures spend out on the desk.
“I don’t get it.” He said, shaking his hands out over the pictures.
“I think the photographs make it fairly clear, Sergeant.” Lieutenant Green is one of the Brits that Fury hates. Guys who got where they were on basis of their birth, and not their brains. Guys who look down on guys like him.
“Two of your men are involved in a...intimate relationship with each other.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Some of the photos there would have made Dum Dum blush. “What I don’t get is what the problem is?”
Sawyer looked uncomfortable, while Green drew himself up to his full height, as though Fury had just suggested tea should be served at 2 instead of 3.
“Nick, it’s illegal.”
“So what?” Fury shrugged. “Gabe ain’t supposed to be in the commandoes either, but I don’t see anyone making a fuss.”
Green was puffing up like a bullfrog, while Sawyer looked paler.
“Captain Sawyer, would you mind giving us a minute?”
Sam had never looked less like his nickname, as he left the room. Green leant over the desk.
“I don’t like Fury.” He snarled. “You’re a liability, your unit a disgrace to the British army, Your unit has no discipline and is out of control. You’ve being allowed to get away with murder. Well no more.” He paused, staring into Fury’s eyes. “If you have not dealt with the problem by 0900 tomorrow morning, I will. And the correct method, according to the law of this land, would be to spilt up your unit, before this,” his lip curled. “Perversion is allowed to spread.”
*****
“Sarge!” Gabe Jones came running out of the Howling Barracks, his face pale. “Sarge, There were some snowdrops from the British army around. They said we’re being spilt up. Sarge it’s not true is it?”
Nick swore under his breath, still feeling out of his depth from his argument with Green. He’d been hoping to keep this from the Commandoes until he’d come up with a plan, but evidently the MPs had beaten him to it.
“That’s what they’re threatening, Gabe, But I ain’t going to let it happen.” He strode past the frightened man, heading into the barracks.
Only problem is I ain’t got the foggiest how I’m going to stop it. He thought, sitting down.
Nick Fury hadn’t been idle since his interview with Lieutenant Green. He’d tracked down Major Towers, who had confirmed that the Lieutenant had the power to do what he threatened. Towers had been sympathetic, but firm. The army policy was clear. Dishonourable conduct between officers was a court marsh liable offence and, as he phrased it, “This is definite evidence of the offense.”
Frustrated, he flung himself down on his cot.
“Sergeant Fury.” Percy Pinkerton stood, looking uncomfortable. “The Military Police were kind enough to inform me of the nature of the accusations. If you wish my resignation, you can have it now.” He shrugged; trying desperately to keep up the idiot mask that Fury had realised was Percy’s defence against the world. “It’s not so bad. I was speaking to that nice chap from the Resistance, the Destroyer. He said they’re always looking for chaps like me in France and Intelligence tends to be more liberal in its outlook than military_”
“Ya wanna quit and run, you yella bellied dog?”
“Of course not, Sergeant Fury.” Percy remained calm. “But if it will stop the Howling Commandoes being spilt up, then I am prepared to sacrifice myself.”
“Ya Leave when I say you leave!” Fury snarled. “Ya think I didn’t know, ya daft pansy? What I wanna know is why you were stupid enough for some snowdrop to catch ya?”
“Believe me sergeant, that is something I’ve been asking myself all morning.” Percy sat down with a sigh. “We are careful. We’ve never done anything on base, and the only places we’ve got up to...well anything like that, everyone else is of the same persuasion, so it shouldn’t matter.”
Fury gave a grunt. “You really care about him don’t ya?”
The brown eyes met the blue ones. “I would die for him. That’s true enough for the rest of you, but him, I’d betray Britain.”
Fury leant back, nodding. “Alright, Now clear out ya sap. I’ve got some thinking to do.”
As Percy left, he growled. “Ya want somethin’ Dum Dum?”
“Just...sarge if Pinky’s prepared to take the rap, why not let him? I’ve heard of this Green and he ain’t kidding around. If you don’t lose Pinkie, he’ll spilt us up, and I do not want to go home to Mrs Dugan.”
Fury glared at Dugan. “I’ve already lost one guy under my command to stupid army regulations. I’m not losing another one.”
He thought of Private Wilson. Of the terror in the kid’s eyes as he faced the fire squad, even though he’d died bravely. He thought of Pinkie and privately made a vow that he would do whatever it took to save his men.
*****
Fury sat glaring at the beer in his glass, as though it was personally responsible for the situation. He wished Cap or one of his team were here, they were always better at handling top brass than he was.
But the situation looked hopeless. Everyone he spoke said the same thing, with varying degrees of pity or disgust.
Percy had admitted been with the guy. It was conduct unbecoming to an officer however you looked at it. The law said it was wrong.
One of the guys Fury had spoken to had suggested he tell his guy to plead insanity. It was still a court marshal able offense, but “the doc’s have to be better than prison.”
Fury wasn’t sure he agreed.
He heard a bar stool pull up beside him, but didn’t bother to change his view.
“Rumour is,” A voice growled at his elbow. “That one of your men’s in a spot of bother.”
“Rumour’s wrong.” Fury growled. It was. Technically it was two of them.
His companion didn’t comment, merely sipped at his drink.
Fury sighed, glancing at the clock on the wall. Nearly last orders and he still had no idea how to fix this mess.
“Fact is,” the voice at his elbow continued. “If Rumour was true, I might be able to help.”
He turned to look at him. He knows the Canadian. Everyone calls him Logan, but no one (including Top Brass) seems to know whether it’s
his first or surname.
“What sort’f help?” He asked, carefully.
A folder slid across towards him. He took it slowly and opened it.
Fury blinked. “Where you’d get this?”
Logan shrugged. “You care?”
He had to admit he didn’t.
“Thanks.” The small word seemed ineffective compared to the huge favour.
Logan shrugged. “Consider it pay back. And I’m sure I’ll owe you one at some point.”
He got to his feet, putting on a cowboy hat.
“Night Fury.”
“Night.” Fury muttered, distractedly.
He wasn’t sure he could believe it.
Couldn’t tell why anyone would want to with him.
********
“Well, Sergeant.” Green was smiling as he looked around. “Your unit appears to be all present.”
“Yeah.” Nick agreed. “And I think we’ll be staying that way.”
He reached out and threw the photos Logan had given him on to the table. “’less you want me to show these around.”
Green’s went pale.
“Where did you...?”
“Does it matter?” Fury leant over the desk. “Suffice to say I’ve checked the regs, and your unit’s got a real thing about honour, don’t they? Wonder how they’d react to seeing you doing the nasty with a general wife?”
Green’s face was going about thirty different shades of purple. A small part of Nick felt guilty, but he pushed it down. The safety of his unit was on the line.
“For that matter, what would the general say?”
Actually, if he was correct in his identification of the woman, then the General would have very little say, as she was a notorious tart, and he wasn’t much better.
Green stared.
“Of Course, I’d be willing to trade. Your negatives for mine.”
Green’s eyes told Fury exactly what he thought of that proposition, but he also knew that Fury had him by the short and curlies. He withdrew an envelope and thrust it at Fury.
“The results of my investigations, Sergeant Fury, mean it would appear that there is no charge to answer.” He said, slowly. “I apologise for any inconvenience caused.”
“Not at all Lieutenant.” Fury carefully checked the contents and slipped the envelope into his shirt. He’d burn them as soon as Green was out of sight. No way did he want a repeat of this.
Green slouched off.
“You did it. Nick. You beat the system.” Dum Dum was slapping on his back, while the others were jumping about, cheering as though he he’d just won. “You won.”
“No.” Nick said, shaking his head. “We didn’t win. Yeah, I kept the unit together, but I could only do it by playing by Green’s rules. And that wasn’t right.” He glanced over to where Pinkie was standing his arm very subtle draped around Dino’s waist. “One day we’ll have a world that accepts them. A war to be won when this one is over.”
"Why is it that, as a culture, we are more comfortable with two men holding guns than holding hands?" --Ernest Gaines