Time Changer

Chapter 4: Shopping

Day 1

Rogers and Romanoff undertook the arduous task of informing Fury-  whoever that was- of Hamilton, Laurens, Jefferson, Washington, Madison, Francis, Burr, Lafayette, Seabury, and Mulligan's existence and future stay at Stark Tower – informally nicknamed Avengers Tower, but Stark insisted on keeping his name on the building because he was a drama queen who thrived on attention – while Stark, Duox, and Barton all but dragged everyone else off to shopping.

"We have to replace your entire wardrobe." Barton explained with an enthusiasm Hamilton had hitherto only seen in Eliza and Angelica.

Hamilton borrowed a shirt and breeches –  "Jeans, Alex. May I call you Alex? I think I’ll call you Alex." – from Stark, being of roughly the same height and stature, while Laurens borrowed Rogers’ clothes which, while matching his height, hung loosely around his body. Laurens kept eyeing them with distaste, in much the same way he also inspected the modern version of New York City.

"It’s much too noisy," he commented. "Everything keeps moving, never staying still. It’s unsettling."

Jefferson grinned lazily at him, much to Hamilton's displeasure. "I know. Isn’t it lovely?"

Laurens simply shook his head.

Stark seemed to have found what he was looking for, paving the way to a shop with an incomplete horizontal eight as a symbol. So began an adventure through high-end New Yorkian boutiques.

By the time Stark declared, to Hamilton and Laurens’ immense joy, that they were finished, Hamilton had gained far more clothes than he ever knew what to do with – and some articles whose existence he had hitherto been blissfully unaware of, and whose function still escaped him.

Among the jackets was a emerald-green one he could already tell he would be very fond of. Laurens was likewise laden with bags upon bags of clothes, accessories, and shoes, including a pair of sunglasses that Hamilton, having thought suited him, slipped into his merchandise when he wasn’t looking.

Stark had also decided that everybody needed StarkPhones.

He handed them a pair of shiny, flat boxes, and guided them through the basic functions as Barton was sent to get food. He returned with eighteen cartons of pizza; Hamilton vaguely recalled Jefferson once mentioning a similar dish, having heard about it from an Italian friend of his, but he didn’t pay that much attention to Jefferson’s words, being of the opinion that whatever Jefferson approved of was inherently bad. He changed his opinion after tasting it, and marveled at the mouth-watering taste of the flatbread.

He heard something along the lines of, "I told you you would enjoy it," from the same man, but ignored it.

Stark chattered away about some technology or other while Clinton and Max rolled their eyes every few seconds at Stark’s antics. It was surprisingly relaxing.

Upon their return to Stark Tower – which was one of the tallest buildings in the city, and certainly matched its owner’s ego – they found a bald man wearing a black coat and an eyepatch waiting for them. Stark groaned.

"Fury."

So this was the legendary Fury, Hamilton thought. He gave the man a thorough examination, assessing him as he would a threat. He didn’t like what he found. Fury gave off the impression of being a man not to be trifled with.

Fury rose from where he had been seated on the sofa. Stark gestured back at the furniture. "No, by all means, do make yourself at home, Director Fury. Don’t let me stop you," there was enough venom in his words to fell a honey badger.

"Stark," Fury said neutrally, "I heard that you’re having guests."

Stark glowered, going over to the bar and pouring himself an alcoholic beverage of some sort, then another after he drank the first one.

"I wasn’t aware that my guest list had to be vetted by SHIELD."

"It does when said guests appear from a magic portal."

"Really, now?" Stark challenged. "Then you should put Strange on that list, since portals are his preferred mode of transport. He likes to open them in my workshop," he grimaced with distaste.

"Who are you?" Fury asked Laurens, who was still holding his shopping bags.

Hamilton put his down and stepped in front of Laurens. It must have looked ridiculous – him at 5’7 protecting his friend at 5’11 – because Stark snorted and Romanoff smirked, while Rogers bit his cheek to refrain from smiling. He didn't even want to think about what everyone else was doing behind him.

Fury’s expression remained impenetrably detached.

"My name is Alexa– Alex Andre," he said, sending a mental thanks to Stark for picking a name that made room for any slip-ups, "and my friend goes by John Lewis." he turned around to see that everyone else was smirking at him, his cheeks flaming up, but he "introduced" them, nonetheless.

"I see," Fury said.

Stark sighed dramatically. "Lovely to have you here and all, but now that you’ve ascertained that Alex, John, and the rest aren’t aliens, can you leave? I’ll even say please," he cajoled, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm.

“I would like it if Andre, Lewis, Mannings, Hemmings, Mbret, Griffin, Bellamy, Mer, Buker, and Sorcier returned with me to SHIELD. I’d like for my people to run a few tests," he said in a tone implying this wasn’t a suggestion.

"Yeah, right," Stark said sardonically. He glared at Fury. "Not happening."

"Luckily, that’s not up to you," Fury said smoothly. He ignored Stark’s sulk, turning to address Hamilton. "Mr Andre, you heard me."

Hamilton wrinkled his nose. He had never been one to take orders lying down, and, to be truthful, no matter how intimidating Fury attempted to be, he had nothing on George Washington during one of his fits. He had a feeling that Washington could tell from behind him as well.

"With all due respect, sir," he said laconically, tone saying that he meant anything but, "we have no interest whatsoever in following you to this SHIELD, whatever that is."

There was a brief silence, with most of the room’s occupants looking stunned at Hamilton’s outburst, while Laurens gazed at Hamilton with fond- which Hamilton prayed would never leave his expression. Despite not knowing Stark for an extended period of time, Hamilton would, if he had any money, bet that the man was smirking like the cat that got the cream.

Fury, in a rare moment of emotion, gave Hamilton a dirty look.

"You’ve spent too much time around Stark already, Andre," he took a step forward. Hamilton didn’t budge, determined to win this battle of wills. Fury then withdrew a card of sorts from one of his pockets. "If you change your mind, you’ll be able to contact me on this number."

With that, he swirled around, breaking eye contact with Hamilton, and stalked off to the elevator.

As soon as the door closed behind him. Stark whirled on Rogers and Romanoff. "Why did you let him in?" he demanded.

Romanoff snorted. "Fury isn’t exactly a person one has the power to decline entrance to, especially not if one works for him," she said. "Besides, even if we had managed to keep Fury out of here, he’d find a different way to contact our guests."

Stark seemed to mull it over. “True enough. Thank God that’s over. Now," he said to Hamilton, "I know of a few people who’d simply love to meet you," he smirked, bad mood dissipating as quickly as smoke.