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Title: The Mary Sue Virus: Avengers Assemble
Chapter Three: Fuel to the Fire
Fandom: something like the Marvel Universe, leaning mostly toward the Avengers branch
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: lots of sex and violence, language, anything else i can toss in. a grown woman behaving like a five year old. probably some drinking.
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of Marvel. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. the Sues are the sole property of their originators, [livejournal.com profile] dazzledfirestar, [livejournal.com profile] nanaea, [livejournal.com profile] mistress_o_muse, [livejournal.com profile] samuraiter, [livejournal.com profile] strawberispring and [livejournal.com profile] ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.

The Mary Sue Virus: Avengers Assemble - The Index

Odin's Great Hall was filled with many loud, boisterous Vikings. The tables were heavily laden with all manner of food, with pitchers of drink, with drinking goblets and plates and utensils. The smells of seared meats, yeasty alcohols, and melting wax drifted through the air. Those smells, along with the sounds of laughter and talking and, in a few cases, drunken singing, leant a festive atmosphere to the gathering. Art shook his head and wondered at the oddness of Vikings. Here they were on the eve of battle with one of their own and they were caught up in the happenings of a feast. Should they not be plotting and planning? Should they not be preparing for the coming fight?

To be honest, it appeared as if some there were making plans. Masters Rogers and Stark were busy speaking with Thor and Odin, the four of them all but isolated from the rest of the group at a table placed at the head of the hall. Though Art was far from certain if it their talk involved as much strategy as he felt was necessary because Thor was in the process of swallowing his... Art blinked. How many tankards of mead had the man consumed already?

He let his gaze sweep over the entire hall so that he could fully take in its inhabitants. The members of his party were spread amongst the Vikings, chatting and eating with one another like this was something that occurred with great frequency. Something else for him to get used to. The sight of men and women gathered together in one area. In his day, when a meal was completed, men would retire to a manly area such as a study, where they would engage in after dinner drinks, cigar smoking, and talk of the latest political and economical events. The women would be left to amuse themselves with talk of fashion, children, the latest gossip, and other silly nonsense that held a woman's attention. If there was any drinking to be had, it would be something watered down and gentle. Something that wouldn't induce drunkenness.

This... He allowed his gaze to sweep the hall again, amazed to see men and women keeping each other company in a very laid back, very easy manner, was amazing. This was something he'd never dreamed of seeing in his day. Not that he'd ever imagined dining and drinking in the hall of gods, either.

His teammates looked relaxed and at home here in this place of great magic. The hall was long and narrow, with a pair of tables running parallel to one another. The Avengers and the Vikings were spread out along the two massive wooden tables. Benches ran on either side of the flat surface, allowing people to seat themselves where ever they liked. And it gave Art the opportunity to study the people he called friends and team without being caught staring.

Francis and Pietro were situated off to one side by themselves, almost completely apart from the rest of the people who filled the hall to bursting. The looks on their faces were serious and they stared at one another as they talked. No doubt they were discussing the events from earlier that had left Francis feeling rather put out with her young beau. Pietro had a certain knack for upsetting the girl at every turn. Then again, Pietro had a knack for upsetting everyone at every turn. The last time he and Sorcha had argued, Francis had been forced to intervene out of the fear that someone would get hurt.

There were a few seats left empty between the young couple and the next group of revelers. Vikings sat feasting and drinking, while a pair amidst the group were engaged in a spirited bout of arm wrestling. Next to them was Clinton, Scott, and Jennifer, who were deep into conversation with a trio of Vikings known among the Asgardians as the Warriors Three. Volstagg, Hogun and Fandral. Who had told Art on no more than five separate occasions over the course of a five minute discussion that he was known as Fandral the Dashing and that no woman could resist his manly charms. Given the look on Jennifer's face, the chances that Fandral was merely boasting seemed slim.

More Vikings filled the spaces between his friends. The next grouping was Sorcha and Caelin. The two of them had their heads bent together as they no doubt whispered back and forth to one another. Art noticed that Sorcha had made sure that a pitcher of mead was left at her shoulders and, while it might have one time left him concerned for her state of mind, she had only refilled her glass a pair of times so far. And she'd eaten more than she'd dared drink. Apparently, her association with Clinton was doing her some good. In contrast, Caelin barely touched either food or drink. Art shook his head at that. He didn't understand the modern era's obsession with thin, willowy, waifish looking women.

Further up the table sat Wanda and Vision. She smiled gently at her husband as she picked at the food laid before her. The two of them seemed lost in their own world, despite being surrounded by Thor's kith and kin. There were times when Art envied their closeness, that ability to shove everything aside but themselves. This world was still a strange one to him, much of what he'd known in his day simply gone or so deeply changed that it hardly resembled those things he'd been familiar with in his own time.

Some of his companions had been seated at the same table as he'd taken and, like the others, had given themselves over to the feast being served them. If any of them harbored concerns for the coming fight, they weren't showing them in the face of their allies. In fact, many of them seemed to be going to great lengths to fit in with the obvious culture practiced by the Asgardians. He found it fascinating that two very obviously distinctly different peoples could be so very similar when stood side by side.

Near the far end of the table he sat at, Hank and Janet were engaged in a lively discussion with several other large, burly Vikings. Art suspected that Hank was going on and on about some scientific discovery he'd made because the looks the Asgardians were giving him bordered on empty and confused. It was Jan who was doing her best to explain it to their hosts in a manner which they would be able to understand. If Hank took offense to this, he didn't let it show on his face. No doubt the two of them had been together for such a long time that it was a habit that had become second nature some time ago. Still, it made Art wonder if their guests would be glad to see them leave.

His eyes lingered with the duo far longer than they had with the others. Hank was animated as he spoke. And it was always Hank. Never Henry. It had taken Art a long time to remember to call him Hank. It was easy to see the passion the man carried in his quest for knowledge. His blue eyes fairly glowed with animation whenever he spoke on some newly discovered thing. And hands, topped with long, elegant fingers used to manipulating strange machinery, that moved excitedly as he spoke.

Janet was a compliment to the man, her looks so opposite his. Where Hank was tall and muscled, as men should be, Janet was petite and delicate in appearance. So much like the women of his era. Unlike those women, however, Janet kept her auburn hair cut short and Art had caught himself more than once trying to picture her with long, flowing locks sliding down over her shoulders and across her back. Her blue eyes twinkled with merriment or, when dealing with Hank's meticulous scientific explanations, good natured exasperation. They were as night and day when sitting side by side and Art found the contrast terribly appealing despite himself.

Another group of Vikings sat between the remaining members of his team. Willa and Riley were on their own a sea of muscled Vikings. Well, almost on their own. Lady Sif sat with them, the three chatting quietly as if they were old school chums getting caught up on the long past days of their youth. Smiles and laughter were the order of the day and made Art wonder, for just a moment, what kind of things they could be discussing. Perhaps Sif was sharing highly amusing and embarrassing stories of Thor's youth. Art rather thought he'd like to hear such stories, as he was sure that they were filled with mischief and mayhem.

They were a striking trio and drew more than one eye toward them. In fact, they were so striking that Fandral broke from the small knot of people he'd been in the middle of to make his way toward the opposite table, exactly where Willa, Riley and Sif were seated. The man put an obvious hint of a swagger in his hips as he walked, one designed to catch a lady's eye and hold it. What was odd was that the man's actions had caught the attention of someone else and it wasn't a lady. Clinton was watching Fandral's advance with a faintly displeased look on his face.

"Ladies," Fandral drawled as he bowed before the trio of women. They were seated close enough to Art that he could hear the man's voice with ease. The Asgardian offered a plain smile to Sif, then turned a dazzling smile to Riley and Willa that could have blinded them had the sun been shining off his terribly white teeth. "I find your beauty stunning, my lady Willa, and I was wondering if you would allow me the honor of pleasuring you before we go into battle."

Art blinked. Straight forward, that chap. And then the Asgardian scooped up Willa's hand so that he could press a lingering kiss to the back of it. Damned straight forward of him.

Willa laughed and shook her head. "Tempting as that offer is, maybe we should wait until after we've kicked the crap out of all the bad guys. I'm sure I'll be all for a celebratory shagging then."

The man eyed her a moment or two, then leaned in and whispered in her ear. Whatever he said took a long time to fully get out. More than once, Fandral ended up lightly pounding a hand against her back when she choked on her mead. And by the end of it, Willa's cheeks were flaming with a deep blush.

Art's glance slid across the room to where Clinton sat with Scott and Jennifer. The two of them were oblivious to the fact that the other man wasn't paying attention to him. There was an odd look on the archer's face, as if he was suddenly, irrationally, inexplicably jealous. Which made no sense because he and Sorcha had been doing their best to destroy every inch of the mansion and... Thoughts screeched to a halt in mid-stride.

Well, that didn't bode well. Art turned his attention to Sorcha, who was utterly ignorant of the exchange happening. That was going to be a sticky mess when everything finally came to a head. And Art wasn't sure he wanted to be around to see what happened when it did. He'd seen what had happened the last time one of Sorcha's male friends had used her for little more than personal gratification and then thrown her aside like a used tissue. Not that Clinton would do it to her. Not on purpose. But Art doubted Sorcha would see things in such light. What a mess. When had all of this started?

Giggling brought Art's attention back to Willa. Fandral had slid onto the bench beside her and was talking rapid fire in her ear while his hands poured mead for himself and Willa. Sif was watching with a knowing look on her face and Riley was grinning at the situation. Another stolen look at Clinton said that he was only getting more and more upset as the moments ticked by.

Art wasn't surprised when, some long minutes later, Fandral rose from the bench seat and offered his hand to Willa. She took it and allowed him to bring her to her feet. His arm snaked around her shoulder in a casual display of temporary ownership, then he carefully pulled her around so that they faced one another. The intent look on his face was so easy to read. Willa's eyes fluttered down only moments before his lips touched hers. In an instant, the two of them were caught up in a kiss so heated and hungry that they were both left breathless when they finally broke from one another.

The two left without a word to anyone.

The rest of the evening continued on without much fuss. After a long while, Steven and Anthony broke from their in depth discussions with Thor and Odin to partake of the evening's bountiful foods and drinks. The Asgardian leader held up his goblet and made a toast, one that both welcomed and wished their allies good luck in the coming battle. No doubt they'd finalized their battle plans for the coming day and wished to spend the rest of the evening enjoying the festivities.

The night wore on, melting away like a slow burning candle in the darkness. The Vikings were a hardy lot. Even when the empty platters and the used plates and utensils had been cleared away from the table, the pitchers of mead and ale remained. They stayed full. And the Asgardians drank like there was no battle in the morning, like the liquid that filled their tankards was merely water and not something alcoholic.

One of the younger Viking men moved toward the spot where Caelin and Sorcha sat. The look upon his face was intent and set, much like a dog tracking its prey. When he stopped beside them, he gave a nod of acknowledgement to Sorcha and then bowed low to Caelin in an sign of respect. When he straightened, Art could see that the man had taken a liking to Caelin. He talked to the woman for a short time, his words lost to distance and the noise in the hall. But Art didn't need to overhear them to know that the man was propositioning Caelin much the way Fandral had propositioned Willa.

And the man obviously said the wrong thing because he found himself face to face with Volstagg, who had taken a seat with the two women earlier. No doubt he'd found a kindred spirit in Sorcha and was engaging her as his 'drinking buddy' for the rest of the evening. The two Asgardians said a few things, their words going back and forth, then a brawl broke out and the two men crashed down onto the table top, rolled off the other side and came up fighting in the middle of the hall. Art waited for someone to break up the fight.

It appeared that no one was going to when, a few seconds later, Thor roared with approval and began calling encouragement to Volstagg. One by one, the others joined in. Some called for Volstagg to defeat the young upstart while others laid their loyalties with the younger man. Laughter sounded around the tables, mingled with the jeers and cheers. The Vikings seemed to take the whole thing in stride, as if this was simply an every day occurrence for them. At one point, it looked like Sorcha was going to throw herself into the mess, but a hand on her arm stopped her. She wasn't pleased with Steven's interference, but she acquiesced to whatever he told her. Art suspected that the man had forbidden her to make any trouble here in Asgard. Then the man known as Captain America offered his arm Caelin and gave her a smile that must have won many girls' hearts when he was a lad.

Caelin rose gracefully to her feet and allowed him to escort her from the hall. Art smiled at that and wondered how long it would be before the two of them were officially a couple. It was obvious to anyone who chose to look that they were smitten with one another, but shy about their feelings. Perhaps the magic of Asgard would convince them to say something to one another. Then again, perhaps not.

When it became clear that Caelin's devotion obviously lay with someone else, the fight stopped as abruptly as it had started. Neither man looked as if they'd gotten hurt, though hair and clothing were rumpled and out of place. Volstagg and the other man smiled and laughed, then headed to the nearest pitcher of mead for an after brawl drink.

The end of the fight seemed to act as some kind of signal that the night was drawing to a close. Francis and Pietro rose from their place at the table and slipped away silently. Hank and Jan followed after them only moments later. Even some of the Asgardians began leaving the table in twos and threes. Art wondered if they were seeking their beds in preparation of the battle to come or if they were going to seek out other ways to pass the evening.

"Riley? May I have a word?" The voice was Anthony's, and he stood just off to the woman's left. She looked up at him briefly before turning back to Sif, who had remained to speak with her after Willa's departure earlier. Sif smiled and lifted her brows once in a silent statement, then rose to her feet and left without saying a word. Riley gave her attention back to Anthony.

"Sure, Tony. We can talk on the way to my room. I think I was ready to leave some time ago." Riley rose with grace from the bench and allowed Anthony to escort her, one of his hands resting at the small of her back as they walked.

Wanda and Vision followed the pair, and Scott left shortly after they did. That left Art with the remaining Vikings, Clinton and Sorcha. The archer rose to his feet and closed the distance between Sorcha and himself. She looked up at him expectantly. "Come on, babe. Let's blow this popsicle stand," Clinton suggested, holding one hand out to her.

Sorcha gave him a knowing grin even as she put her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "Sure, sugar. But do you really want to do that here? You might end up having to fight people off and..." She motioned to the remaining Vikings. "I think most of them are taller than you are."

"Taller?" he asked, sliding an arm around her waist.

"Taller. Because no one is bigger." Clinton's laughter followed the two of them from the hall while Sorcha's words ran circles in Art's head. When it finally made sense, he scooped up his tankard of mead and swallowed it down. Maybe the alcohol would kill off that image. He tipped his eyes heavenward and said a silent prayer.

Please let the alcohol kill off that image.

~*~*~*~*~

Willa was on her way to the morning meal when she felt someone behind her, felt a whisper of motion or action. She spun, bringing a fist up to meet whoever it was in the face. An arm caught her fist and pushed it to the side and away from her victim's face. Clint stared at her with narrowed eyes, his mouth nothing more than a flat line. "What do you want?" she asked, then turned away and started for the main hall once again.

"What the hell was last night all about?" he demanded. Willa stopped and turned to stare at him, now quite sure what the hell he was going on about.

"What was what?" Since it was obvious he wanted to talk, she crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to continue. The glare he was shooting her let her know that this was going to be a really crappy talk.

"That thing with Fandral? What was that?"

She lifted a brow at him. If she didn't know better, she'd say he sounded jealous. But that couldn't be. Last time she'd checked, he was sleeping with one of her best friends. "You mean the sex I had with him? The copious, amazing fucking sex I had with him?"

"Yeah. That. What was that?"

"I believe I said it was sex. You know, that thing that a man and woman do when the man sticks his--" she began, but the growl that rumbled up out of his throat brought her words to a halt.

"Why?"

"Why? Why what?"

"Why did you have sex with him?"

Willa blinked. "Um... because I wanted to?" Willa frowned at him. "Really, Clint. What's the matter? Does the thought of people having sex bother you? Because it does happen."

"Why him?"

"What the fuck is this shit, Clint? Twenty questions? Really? What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded, then shook her head and waved a hand at him. "Oh, right. I forgot. The only people allowed to have sex are you and the person you happen to be fucking at the moment. And that person happens to be my friend."

His jaw clenched but he didn't say anything.

Willa sent him a little moue of disappointment. "What's the matter, Clint? Sorcha too drunk to put out last night?" She knew she was being a bitch but it wasn't any of his fucking business what she did and with whom she chose to do it.

"I didn't have any problems with Sorcha." His tone was flat and she noted that his hands were clenched at his sides. "She was her usual enthusiastic self. We brought the ceiling down."

"Just the ceiling? How sad for you." Willa let an evil little smile cross her face. "Shall we compare notes? Want me to tell you just how amazing the sex was last night? To be honest, I might have lost track of the number of orgasms he gave me. Can Sorcha say the same thing?"

"I've never had a single complaint. Not from Sorcha. Not from anyone. And you damn well know it."

She ignored that last jab. She was not going to let him get to her that way. Instead, she gave him a considering look, chin in one hand and finger tapping her cheek. "Oh, wait. I know. You're just jealous because he's got a better track record than you do."

He snorted out his response and might have said more, but the sound of foot steps on the highly polished or stone floor alerted them to someone's approach. Willa shot a narrow eyed glare at him, then turned and started for the Great Hall once more. Seconds later, she heard Sorcha's voice, still slow with sleep. "Hey, sugar. You didn't wake me."

"You were tired. I wanted to let you sleep."

"Oh, sure. And get me into trouble with Stars and Stripes? Thanks a lot. I thought you liked me more than that," she teased. Willa heard a faint 'oof' and knew that Sorcha had jabbed him in the ribs. Too bad she hadn't hit him hard enough to break one of the damned things. "Hey, Willa! How was the Viking nookie?"

Sorcha's footsteps echoed as she hurried to Willa's side. There was an eager look on the other woman's face as she slung an arm across Willa's shoulders. "You wouldn't be fishing for details, would you, Sorcha?"

"Me? Fish?" Sorcha gave her wide eyes. Then she laughed and poked Willa in the side with one finger. "Hell no, baby. I'm totally not fishing. I'm demanding details. I wanna hear everything. Like... Just everything."

Willa smiled at her friend, unable to hold on to her anger in the face of the other woman's almost annoying curiosity. "It was the most amazing night of my life. That man's tongue is almost as smooth as--"

Clint made a gagging noise from behind them. Willa had to bite back the vindictive laugh that rolled up her throat. Sorcha turned to look at him over her shoulder. "Don't worry, sugar. No one is better than you are."

"Gag me, Sorcha. Can you shut it off for just a little while?" Willa asked, faking amusement for her friend's sake. Sorcha looked at her for a second, then turned to look at Clint. She must not have seen anything because she simply shrugged and sighed.

"Fine. Let's go see what Rogers has in store for us. The sooner we can get this crap job done, the sooner we can go home," she replied.

Willa looked at her. "You don't like it here?"

"This is like that one time you and I went to Mexico and I had that run in with the--"

Willa laughed and held up her hand. "Spare me. The first time was bad enough. I don't want to have to live through it again."

"Hey. You asked." Sorcha shrugged and pulled ahead of her. "We'd better get to the Hall fast. I'd like a chance to digest my breakfast before I have to go out and fight Loki and Frost Giants and whatever the hell else he has on his side."

"No mead with breakfast, Sorcha," Willa called after her. Sorcha waved a hand and disappeared around a corner. Willa sighed and did her best to ignore the fact that Clint was still behind her. If he started in on her again, she was going to put her foot through his nostrils by way of his crotch. Maybe having his balls dangle out of his nose would be a good look for him.

She was in luck. Clint said nothing more, even though she was hyper aware of him. He was only a few steps behind her. And he was good enough to keep his distance. When they stepped into the hall, it was to find that Sorcha was already at a table. While she wasn't shoveling food into her mouth, it was a close thing. Apparently she and the archer had been busy the night before. Great. The last thing she needed was to spoil her appetite by thinking about those two going at it like rabbits.

Willa took a seat across from Sorcha, surprised when Clint moved to sit beside Tony and Steve. It was kind of weird to think of the two of them together, but not blatantly open about it. Especially when everyone knew they were together. But more often than not, they didn't sit near one another during meetings and when they happened to train together, Sorcha went for blood. And so did Clint.

Frowning, she put those thoughts from her mind and began loading up her plate with food from the platters laid tantalizingly before them. Thick sausages, slabs of ham, thickly cut strips of bacon, eggs done every way under the son, toast, biscuits, bowls of gravy, fresh fruit, slices of various cheeses, pitchers of juice and milk. There were as many choices as the night before, but all of them were related to breakfast.

The atmosphere was the exact opposite as it had been the previous evening. There was little chatter and no laughter, a cloud of seriousness falling over the inhabitants as the battle approached. Willa knew the signs well enough from previous battles fought as an Avenger. The frivolity of the evening's feast was gone, replaced by a sense of anticipation and consideration. The warriors were moving into a fighter's mindset, their thoughts focused entirely on the coming trials.

Even Sorcha was moving into work mode, the usual show of mischief fading away to reveal the real woman that she kept hidden away. Serious, intent, capable. That was the real Sorcha and so few people understood that. They ate in silence, each person present slipping into the frame of mind needed to go out and face their foes.

Little by little, Willa pushed the light buzz of sound that surrounded her away as she found her own private space inside her head. Each fight was the same, even though each one was completely different. She knew she had to place faith in her own strength and that of her teammates to see to it that she, and every single one of them, came through the fight without a scratch on them.

Her mind went through each and every scenario she could think of, each blow she could land and each defensive action she could take. Not that there weren't those that she could even begin to anticipate. Every fight bought something new and bizarre. Something that she had to learn to defend on the fly. Something she had to find new ways to protect herself from. This would be no different. Loki was the God of Lies and Tricks, the ultimate mischief maker. And Willa didn't know if any of her friends were ready to take him on.

For just a moment, the Daz part of her brain knew that this was asking for trouble. She and her fellow Sues were facing something they hadn't really come up against before. The magic in this world was different from the kind used in other universes they'd been to. And that magic had been defined. It had followed set rules and patterns. Even when it seemed it hadn't. Loki's magic was a variable she didn't know how to factor and it left her uneasy.

How would the others react in the face of new adversaries and foes? She was fairly certain that Lady and Nan would do alright. Taking a spin through Anita Blake's world had proved that to her. And they'd done this enough to know how to let their Sues do what needed to be done. But Sam was still new to the Virus. She didn't think he would have as many problems because he had his own magic here. But Cat and Jams. What would they do when they were faced with their first Frost Giant?

Rational thinking said she couldn't let herself worry about such things. Doing so would get her injured in the field. Possibly even killed. She had to trust that their Sues, all of them, would make it through the coming day without problems. Letting herself think other wise would mean disaster for her. She couldn't be distracted. And neither could anyone else.

Looking up, she found Sorcha staring at her. But it was Lady she saw in her eyes. Apparently her friend was doing the same kind of thinking. Willa offered her a smile. "Watch your back out there. If you get hurt, I'll beat you seven ways until Sunday."

"Ditto." Then Sorcha had her head back in her food and there was nothing else to say.

A hand at her back brought her head up. Fandral stood behind her, smiling pleasantly. His look encompassed Sorcha, too, even though she wasn't looking. "Ladies."

"Good morning, Fandral," Willa returned his smile with one of her own. It was a sincere one, too, and it pushed the unpleasantness with Clint completely from her mind. She saw Sorcha's head come up and the woman flashed him a smile before turning back to her meal. It was a gesture of privacy, such as they could get surrounded by the other Asgardians and the rest of her team.

"I come to bid you good luck in the coming fight and to ask that you return without any wounds." There was sincerity in his eyes and honesty in his voice.

"That's the plan," she replied, fully meaning it. He leaned in even closer, until she could feel his nose brushing her hair and the heat of his breath against her ear. She was expecting some sweet words or a term of endearment. So she was surprised by what came out.

"If it is your goal to make his head pop off, I would hazard to say that you are nearly there. But perhaps we should give him something to think on." Before she could ask him what he meant, he drew back just far enough so that he could tip her head back. His hands slid into her hair, holding her face just where he wanted it. Then his mouth was covering hers and they were lost in a kiss.

It was all heat and inflamed passion, his lips moving expertly while his tongue dipped inside and stroked along the walls, slid against her own tongue. Desire speared through her, pooled low in her belly. Willa couldn't stop herself from trying to press herself close to him, to shape her body to his while he kissed her. Her hands slid up to curl around the material at his shoulders so she could cling to him.

All sound seemed to fade away around them as his mouth explored hers. Had their position allowed for it, she would have run her hands down the length of his body. But she couldn't. She just held on to him and kissed him for all she was worth. And finally, when she couldn't breathe, when she thought her lungs would explode without oxygen, he pulled back and gave her a knowing smile. Some hint of mischief twinkled in his eyes. "Expect that and more upon your return, sweet lady."

Fandral winked at her, then turned and sauntered off without another word. Willa stared after him, brain thoroughly scrambled from the passion in his kiss. The room was too silent, prompting her to look around. Every eye had turned toward her. Sorcha grinned from across the table. "Wow. I think he just melted the fat out of my breakfast, honey. That was totally smokin' hot!"

Willa threw the other woman a glare. "Shut up, Sorcha." Then she buried her face in her meal and worked hard at finishing it.

"Friends!" Thor's voice carried across the low din that had risen up around her. Willa dragged herself from her thoughts one last time to turn and look at the main table. Thor had risen to his feet, the look on his face grave. Steve and Tony both stood beside him, each on either side of the God of Thunder. Silence fell in the single beat of her heart. Thor raised his tankard high in the air. "To victory!"

"Victory!" the Asgardians replied loudly. Tankards rose up into the air in an obvious salute. As one, they all dropped and each tankard was brought up to the owners mouth for a long drink.

"We are fortunate that we have such generous and brave friends," Thor announced, his gaze sliding around the room to take in each face gathered at the tables. His empty, beefy hand motioned to where Steve and Tony flanked him. "You do us proud by fighting side by side with us. You are friends. Warriors. Brothers. From this day hence, you are all Vikings!"

Another thunderous roar filled the hall and left Willa's ears ringing. Tankards were clanged together after they were drained and the Asgardians turned to any Avenger beside them to clap hands to their shoulders and welcome them into the fold. When the noise died down, Thor motioned toward Steve and shifted all of the attention to him.

"Scouts have reported that Loki and his allies are moving in on two sides, but there's still no sight of them yet. Frankie and Pietro. I want you two to take the left. Willa and Clint, take the right. Any sign of the enemy is to be reported immediately."

Willa rolled her eyes at that. Great. Just what she wanted to do. Spend a day with that ass.

"Art, you will remain here to protect the city. Hank and Jan will stay, too. The rest of us will spread out along the city's borders and wait for trouble to come to us. I want all of you to be on high alert. Word has it that not only is Loki bringing the Frost Giants, but he's got the Dark Elves on his side, too." Steve paused and let his eyes move around the room so that they landed on each of the Avengers. "Avengers, do not under any circumstances let the Frost Giants touch you. They can freeze with a touch."

There was a slight muttering that wound its way around the room. But no one spoke any louder. Willa and Sorcha were already climbing to their feet.

"You have ten minutes to grab your gear." With those words, Steve dismissed the entire room.

Asgardian and Avenger alike began streaming for the doors to the hall. Willa found herself swept along with the mad rush, Sorcha at her side. They said nothing. There was no need. Each knew exactly what the other would say.

They'd just made the hallway when a hand curled around Sorcha's arm and stopped her in her tracks. Willa worked to keep the frown off her face because she didn't think that her friend needed to know just before they were set to go into a fight that her boyfriend was an overbearing dick. In a move that surprised Willa, Clint drew Sorcha into his arms and kissed her. It wasn't a kiss like the one Fandral had given her, but there was a fair amount of heat to it. When he pulled away, he gave her a serious look. "Be careful out there, babe. I don't want anything happening to you."

"You be careful yourself, sugar. I want you coming back to me in one piece."

"Promise," he told her. She nodded at that, then turned and was lost in the crowd. Clint turned to look at Willa, his face a mask. "You ready to go scouting with me?"

"I was born ready."

Clint gave her a mocking grin. "Meet you outside the main doors in ten. Be prepared to run because I won't wait up." He turned before she could reply and made his way up the hall.

Willa scowled at his retreating figure and cursed her luck. This was going to be the worst day of her life if she had to scout and fight at his side. If he opened his mouth just one time about Fandral, she was going to lodge his nuts in his nose. Scouting with Hawkeye! What an awesomely crappy assignment.

This day was just all shades of fucking fantastic.

(no subject)

Date: 2011-09-16 07:51 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dazzledfirestar.livejournal.com
Excellent work! I love Art's observations of everyone. That really fleshed things out for me. And oh dear... LOL Willa's got a type... ;) LMAO Can't wait to see if there's more fun with Fandral! *eyebrow waggle*

Oh Clint. *facepalm* You stupid bastard. LMAO I think you've nailed him here. He's perfectly Clinty and I love how Willa doesn't take his shit with a smile! If the frost giants and dark elves don't kill them, they might just kill each other!

Great work, hun. Can't wait to see how the fight goes!

(no subject)

Date: 2011-09-17 07:54 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ginevrasm.livejournal.com
Whew! Yeah! I'm finally caught up. On this one at least. Nice work. Really nice. Personally, I really needed Art's observations to put things in perspective and give me a solid image in my head.

Looking forward to reading more, whether it's brawling with Frost Giants or more tongue wrestling with Fandral. *giggle*
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