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marysuevirusTitle: The Mary Sue Virus: Lights, Camera, Avengers!
Chapter Twenty Nine: Just a Normal Day
Fandom: something like the Marvel Universe, leaning mostly toward the Movie!Avengers branch
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: lots of sex and violence, language, anything else i can toss in. probably some drinking.
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of Marvel and whoever the hell else owns them.. 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]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dazzledfirestar, mistress_o_muse, ginevrasm, rylan_m, and ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.
The Mary Sue Virus: Lights, Camera, Avengers! - The Index
~*~
Elsa sighed and pushed back from the microscope, one hand reaching up to tug her glasses off the bridge of her nose. They made a clattering noise when they hit the surface of her work table, but she didn't pay that any attention. Instead, she spent a good amount of time rubbing at her temples and eyes. There was a deep well of frustration inside that was reaching critical mass. Which meant she needed to take a step back and think or she'd completely fuck up her experiment.
"Fuck," she muttered, face in her hands until she realized just what she'd said. With a start, she glanced around the room to make sure she was still alone. It didn't matter that she was hiding out in her private laboratory and there would be no one there. She checked anyway. Then chastised herself for the language. She'd never been quite so quick to curse before. But ever since the helicarrier had crashed and she'd been on those really amazing pain killers, she'd found that swearing came that much easier to her. Maybe she'd talk herself out of it. Maybe she wouldn't. Only time would tell. For now...
She turned back to the slide waiting for her in the microscope. It contained a small sample of Steve's blood, well preserved and taken from the numerous tubes of blood Fury had had her collect from the good captain. Samples that she'd taken from her labs at S.H.I.E.L.D. and brought home in order to allow her to work around the clock. They were the only samples left of Steve's blood because the rest of it had been destroyed in the helicarrier crash. As had her original set of notes. Fortunately she still had a second set. She always had a second set. Because one never knew when something would happen to their notes and they would need another copy.
A tiny finger of guilt worked its way through her, leaving her staring at her notes with a frown. She'd promised Steve that she'd let the research go. He'd been so worried that something would happen to her because of it that she hadn't had the heart to say no to him. And, for a while, she'd left it alone. Until she'd had a thought, just a stray bit of memory rising to the surface in a moment of clarity. That thought had seen her slipping away to her lab to work quietly on the puzzle that was the Super Soldier serum.
She was reaching out to pick up her glasses once again when the cell phone in her pocket chirped. Said hand detoured and dropped down to dig it out of the pocket on her lab coat. A glance at the screen gave the guilt a stronger hold. She pushed the button to connect the call and shot for cheerful. "Steve! Hi."
"Hi, Elsa." Steve's voice flooded the line, his tone rich and filled with warmth. It was enough to leave Elsa filled with warmth and it took conscious effort not to squirm.
A minute or two ticked by before she found it possible to answer him. "Hello, Steve."
He was silent for several seconds. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?"
"No. Of course not," she assured him. "I was just in the middle of some notes and I didn't want to lose my place."
"You're working on a new experiment?" There was genuine interest in his voice, prompting her to bite her lip on the urge to tell him that she was still working on the serum.
"Yes. Something for a geneticist friend of mine. Its all to do with cells and molecules. Very boring stuff. I'm grateful for the distraction." She made sure to put a smile into her words at the end. She didn't want him thinking that his calls were unwelcome. As a matter of fact, they were more than welcome because she rarely saw him for more than an hour or two at a time these days. He was always busy with either Avengers business or S.H.I.E.L.D. business, which left them little time to spend together.
"I have some free time tonight. I was hoping we could go out. Maybe catch a movie or go dancing? Get some dinner and just relax." There was a touch of hope in his words, letting her know that he was looking for an opportunity to get away from the responsibilities that came with being Captain America.
"Of course, Steve. Whatever you like. I just want to be able to spend time with you," she replied instantly. She didn't say it out loud, but she missed him. It had been some four months since the attack on the helicarrier and S.H.I.E.L.D. was still in the midst of their rebuild. When Steve wasn't saving the world with the rest of the Avengers, he was busy helping the agency get back on its feet. When she'd first met him, Steve hadn't seemed to get tired much. Now, most nights saw him falling asleep fairly quickly. There was a bone deep exhaustion in him, brought on by so much happening all at once, and it would take time before that feeling went away.
"There's a theater showing a bunch of classics. I really do like sitting in the dark with you," he told her, just a hint of heat coloring his words. She felt herself blush at the implications.
"But we have to sit in two different seats. So there isn't much touching of bodies at the movies," she replied, proud that her voice came out steady and even. She certainly didn't feel either one of those things.
"Well, then. There's a club doing a Forties night," he suggested. She thought she heard the desire to go in his voice.
"Is it one of those USO party things?" she asked, pretending she hadn't already made the decision to go.
"It is."
"Does this mean you're going to put on your uniform and go as a soldier serving in the war?"
"It does," he replied, his tone suggesting he knew that she'd already decided to go.
Just picturing him in his Army browns did things to her. "Mmmm. I do so love a man in uniform. And I might have something in my closet that will be perfect for the evening."
"I'll be happy as long as you're wearing real silk hose," he replied. Elsa had to bite her lip to hold back a groan. Because he was obviously referring to the last time she'd worn silk hose around him. She was pretty sure she'd fallen asleep wearing nothing but those silk hose on that night. "What time do you think you'll be done with the experiments?"
Elsa glanced at the equipment spread out before her and stared. A pang of guilt at ignoring Steve's request shot through her and made her flinch. She was glad that Steve couldn't see her face. She hated lying to him, but she was sure she could solve the puzzle of his blood. All she had to do was look harder. "Oh, I can leave the lab whenever I like. There's no rush on this task. Just helping out a friend."
"Great," he replied. She could hear in his voice just how pleased he was and that made her feel worse. It would be absolutely horrible if he asked her about her work during dinner or when they were dancing later. There was no way she could lie to his face. He'd know it for a lie the second she spoke. Because he'd be able to read it on her face. She'd always been a terrible liar. The phone rustled for a second as he did something, likely looked at his watch to check the time. "How does six sound to you?"
Elsa took a look at the clock on the wall. It was just going on one now. That gave her another three hours to putter in the lab before she had to be home to get cleaned up. Her gaze slipped to the mess on her work station. She had a little time... "Sounds good, Steve. Six it is. I'll be ready and waiting."
"I look forward to seeing you all dolled up, Elsa," he told her, his voice filled with anticipation. She smiled at that, blushed a little even though she knew he couldn't see it. His speech had changed over the months, become a touch more modern, but he still slipped and let something go that said he was much older than he looked.
"And I look forward to seeing you in that uniform, handsome. Now hang up and let me get back to work so I can at least tell my friend I accomplished something today." She did her level best to keep anything telling from her voice. He chuckled.
"Good bye, Elsa. See you tonight." The connection clicked off before she could answer. For a moment or two, she did her best impersonation of an awe struck lover and simply sat holding the phone in her hand. Steve had the ability to do that to her, make her feel like a giddy teen going to the prom with the captain of the football team. Then she shook the foolish sentiment away and deposited the phone in her pocket once again.
Moment gone, she turned back to her tables and let her gaze slide around the papers and vials and slides spread across it. There was something there, something she'd missed. She knew it was there, had woken from a dream a few nights ago with the idea that she'd missed something important. But it had been lost in the warmth of Steve's hands on her skin as he'd soothed her back to sleep. And the next morning, she'd been left with a vague, niggling sense that there was something she needed to look for. If only she could remember just what it was.
She'd never before had problems with focus. Then again, she'd never before been in love with someone, much less someone like Steve Rogers. He tended to be a huge distraction for her, which was both scary and annoying. Science had been her life for as long as she could remember and she was good at it because she had drive, determination, and focus. Well, she still had the first two. The third one was not as easy to come by these days. That worried her because she needed that focus to do her job. Steve was testing her. She needed to put thoughts of the big blonde lug aside and get back to the task she'd set for herself.
Right. There was something in Steve's blood that held the key to the serum. She just had to find out what that something was. Elsa settled her glasses on her nose and considered where to start. She'd looked at the blood a thousand times and hadn't found anything. Likely because there were no viable samples left from the Forties. Which was a pity. That would make things so much simpler because she could simply compare samples and look for differences or anomalies.
Why Fury hadn't been able to provide her with samples, she didn't know. If it was possible for them to make a serum that had effectively enhanced everything about Steve, why hadn't they been able to preserve a quality sample of his blood taken before they'd done the enhancing? And surely there were more notes than she was given. These men had been the top minds of their time. They'd obviously kept standard notes for their tests and experiments. But they should have kept more private notes. Private notes that...
Private notes. The thought stopped her short. Oh, she was so stupid! Why hadn't she thought of that before? Her grandfather had kept private notes about the tests and experiments. She scrambled for one of the journals he'd kept his notes in, vaguely recalling that there'd been a page in it she'd dismissed as scribbles. She'd thought it had been written when he'd gotten older. But what if it hadn't? What if whatever was in that journal wasn't just random scribbles?
Her hands were shaking when she pulled the right journal out from under a pile of papers that had been carelessly tossed over the books. Elsa could remember reading this one time and time again, trying to determine what her grandfather had been going on about because there were the scribbles in the back and a few pages of notes written in his version of short hand. She'd never deciphered either, but maybe she'd get lucky today. As carefully as she could, she turned pages until she found the scribbles, then used a couple of random items to keep the book open. Then she dragged a clean sheet of paper her way, picked up a pencil, and began taking her own notes.
It was almost as if she'd needed to want to know what was contained within those pages because the short hand came to her in an instant. The scribbles seemed to rearrange themselves until they made full words. No. Not words. Symbols. Her excitement grew exponentially with each newly decoded scribble until she nearly shook with giddy joy.
The scribbles became symbols became a formula.
By the time Elsa was done, she had line upon line of the formula. But, more importantly, she had a piece of the puzzle that had previously eluded her. This was very possibly the breakthrough she needed. She only needed to test it. Gathering up her notes, old and new, she rolled her stool over to the other side of the room and took up a position before her desk. A click of her mouse button opened up the program she needed. Her fingers began typing, began creating a computer model.
When every last bit of data was entered into the system, Elsa sat back and looked at her work. Looked at the three dimensional model of Steve's blood at its most basic, molecular level. From before he was treated like a guinea pig and tested upon. And after. It was almost completely identical, almost a mirror image of itself. Almost. Because there, in the model, she could finally see the difference. She could see it. The Super Soldier formula.
She could see it. Which meant she could map it. Which meant...
Her hand fumbled excitedly for her phone yet a second time and it took a full minute for her to calm enough to dial the number. The other end rang once. Twice. Three times. A fourth. She was almost ready to hang up when it was answered. "This better be good."
"Director Fury, its Elsa Jones. I have something here that I think you'll be interested in seeing."
~*~*~*~*~
Tony was just setting down his glass of water when he saw the hostess heading toward his table. Once upon a time, Tony might have tried to charm her into his bed because she was exactly the kind of woman he used to have one night stands with. But that was once upon a time. Before Phoebe. Now, he could look at her and appreciate how attractive she was. And that was all. It was less weird being attached to one woman than he'd thought it would be, even after his failed attempt with Pepper. There was just something about Phoebe...
Agent Coulson was following behind her, moving at a steady pace. It didn't look like it was entirely smooth, though. Tony thought he caught a faint hint of a limp. No doubt the man was trying to look as if he wasn't favoring that leg. The hostess stopped beside the table and motioned to the chair across from Tony. Then she turned a million watt smile on him. "Your party, Mr. Stark."
"Thank you," he returned without looking away from Coulson. The other man settled himself into the chair with a barely noticeable hitch. A menu already rested on the table before him, so there was no need for the woman to stay.
"Enjoy your meals, gentlemen," she said politely, then hurried away to reclaim her post. The waiter joined them almost immediately and asked for Phil's drink preference. Coulson ordered a glass of ice water with his usual bland expression. The waiter nodded and left them alone.
"Agent Coulson. Good to see you. Thanks for coming," Tony began, only to fall silent when Coulson hit him with a stare that said he was clearly not impressed by their surroundings and he really didn't have time for Tony's shit. "There's no need to give me that kind of look, Coulson."
"You invited me to lunch at one of the most expensive restaurants in the city. Forgive me if I find myself questioning your motives, Mr. Stark."
"What? I can't buy you lunch without there being some underlying reason?" Tony asked. Coulson's look clearly said he thought that was exactly what was going on here. "Phil. I'm hurt. I just wanted to buy lunch for a friend. See how he's doing. There is absolutely nothing underhanded about my asking you here." Tony made sure he put on his best hang dog face. Phil shot him a look. "I'm being totally honest, Phil. There is nothing underhanded going on here. Besides, I know that you're not the kind of guy to go for a bribe." That comment earned him a little twitch of the lips.
Further conversation was put on hold because the waiter chose that moment to return with Coulson's drink. The cut crystal glass filled with water delivered, the young man produced an order pad and asked for their orders. Tony glanced at Coulson to see him staring at the menu without any sense of purpose. Right. Time to take charge. He glanced at the waiter and flashed a smile. "Bring us a platter with a little bit of everything on it. Just make sure nothing has suction cups on it." He couldn't stop the shudder that rippled up and down his spine. There was just something vile about suction cups. He could do without them, thanks.
"Very good, Mr. Stark," the man said, then took the menus from them. He was gone without another word.
"No suction cups?" Coulson asked lightly.
"No suction cups. I went on an internet bender one time and... I saw things." Tony stopped and shuddered again. "No. No suction cups. No tentacles. Ever."
Phil looked bemused for all of half a second before he gave a bland and polite smile. "Forget I asked."
Tony watched him for a moment or two, taking note of the healthy flush of color to his skin. There was a touch of shadow under his eyes, suggesting a parade of sleepless nights. It was a look Tony was familiar with. It usually suggested too much time spent working and too little time actually spent resting. For just a second, that part of his brain that was all male and all sex, all the time, wondered if the lack of sleep could be blamed on having a girlfriend like Miriam Grant. And then he had Pepper and Phoebe's voices in his head, telling him just how sexist that thought was. He shoved it aside and pretended he'd never thought it. Apparently even the infamous Tony Stark could be taught.
"How are you feeling, Phil?" he asked. The question seemed to surprise the other man. Maybe it was because Tony was being genuine, that he was openly displaying that he worried about people other than just himself. "You're looking much better than you did after the crash."
For a heartbeat or two, Agent Coulson stared at him with a calculating gleam in his eyes. Then the agent persona seemed to melt away in an instant and Tony was left staring at Phil. "My understanding is that it isn't hard for me to look better than I did that day. But thank you for noticing. And, to answer your question, I'm feeling good."
Tony nodded and leaned back in his chair. Where he was almost lounging in his chair, Coulson sat straight. It looked like he was going to be all business. Tony hated all business. It was boring. So that meant it was time to rock Coulson's world. "How's the girlfriend doing?"
The question didn't even merit a single blink. "I'm pushing fifty, Mr. Stark. Girlfriend is a ridiculous word to use at my age."
"Fair enough. What do you prefer to call her, then? Significant other? The old ball and chain? Sex toy?"
"I think its only fair to warn you that I've brought my taser, Mr. Stark, and I'm not afraid to use it." Coulson remained stone-faced. Tony grinned at that. He'd hit a soft spot. Time to pick at it.
"We're in public, Coulson. You won't tase me in front of witnesses. Not to mention I doubt you can afford to cover the check when it comes," Tony replied, waving a hand at him to let him know that it didn't matter to him. Coulson's face said he was less than impressed with Tony's testicular fortitude. "How about we call her a hot piece of ass? Because she really is. And I do know a hot piece of ass when I see one."
Coulson crossed his arms over his chest, a sure sign that he was very unhappy with the direction of their conversation. It only served to egg Tony on in search of Coulson's line in the sand. No doubt someone who didn't know Tony would think he was on a wild goose chase. But he had a theory. And he was going to either prove it true or false. He just had to find the right phrase. "Okay. Not hot piece of ass, even though she is. How about arm candy? Put that woman in a designer dress and a pair of heels and she turns heads."
Coulson gave the appearance of having something to say, but his mouth thinned and his eyes darkened. Not quite there yet. Which was good. Because Tony was having lots of fun with this. He considered his next move for a few seconds, sifted through a variety of choices and rejecting them all. And then it hit him, bringing a slimy smile to his face. Well. Almost all.
"Obviously not. Well, then. I guess there's nothing for it. We'll call her your trophy wife. She seems to be a good candidate for a trophy wife. Young. Hot. All curves. Every sugar daddy needs a trophy wife."
There was a hint, for just a moment, on Phil's face that the very idea he was little more than Miriam Grant's sugar daddy was something he'd thought of before. Tony saw it in the frown that tightened the corners of Coulson's mouth briefly. He saw it in the man's eyes when they darkened with unpleasant memories. He saw it in the tense set of the man's shoulders. He'd thought of it before, had considered that maybe he was nothing more than the woman's sugar daddy.
"I imagine she's young enough to still have that new car smell. Does the ten thousand mile warranty still apply? Do you make her call you sir at home?" Tony paused for a moment, then decided to push his luck. What was the worst Coulson could do to him? "Do you give her a spanking when she fails to file her paperwork? When she makes a mistake on it? Or do you just make her get down on her knees under your desk and she can make it up to you that way?"
"Agent Grant is a highly respected S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, Mr. Stark," Coulson told him, voice crisp and cold. Oh, yes. He'd hit a nerve for sure.
"And you're in love with her," Tony said quietly. His words, delivered without any flair and so softly, brought Coulson up short and it actually took the man, the man who was always on his game, a full minute to actually process what he'd just heard.
"I don't think that's any of your business, Mr. Stark," Coulson - no, Phil - said politely. But only just. There was an edge to his voice and Tony realized that the other man was surprised and perhaps a little embarrassed at being called out like that. He was given time to deal with his secret being discovered by the arrival of the waiter. The man put a large platter down between them on the table. It was laden with all manner of sushi. A second, smaller platter had small dishes of sauce for dipping. The waiter dropped off their meal, left two sets of chop sticks, asked if they needed anything else, then left after they'd assured him they were good.
"On the contrary, Phil," Tony replied, not bothering to make a move toward the freshly delivered sushi. "I think its entirely my business. Because its obvious that you haven't done a thing about it. And I'm pretty sure that Miriam is pining away in silence."
Coulson blinked at him. It looked as if that was news to him. "I'm happy that you're in a relationship that you enjoy, Mr. Stark, but I think you're projecting your emotions."
Tony stared. Seriously? Coulson honestly thought that? How was it that he couldn't see that Agent Miriam "Hot Piece of Ass" Grant was head over heels for him? Was he blind or had he simply told himself there was no way a woman like that would ever be interested in a man like him. Tony straightened in his chair and reached for his glass of water. Oh, this was going to be so good and so sweet. Because he'd been sitting on this for so long. "I don't think you know Miriam as well as you think you do, Phil."
"You barely know her at all, Mr. Stark."
"True. I've never had the pleasure of sitting down and having a conversation with her. I don't know what her favorite foods are. I don't know what she likes to do at home after a long day at work," Tony said and shot Phil a smug grin. "But that doesn't mean I don't know anything about her. Or you."
"Mr. Stark, if you brought me here to--" Phil began, but Tony lifted a hand and brought his speech to a halt.
"Phil, I brought you here to genuinely ask after your health. You nearly died in the helicarrier crash. And, despite your best attempts to keep me at arm's length, you've grown on me. Kind of like a fungus. I'm still not sure if I like that." Tony paused and took a drink of his water. "But now that we're on the subject, let me tell you the things I do know about."
Tony paused, gave Coulson the opportunity to head him off at the pass. Neither of them had touched the fresh platter of sushi and, if the conversation kept going the way it was, it would remain untouched. But the other man drew a deep breath and glared at Tony, daring him to go on.
"I know that you and Miri left after a Christmas party some years ago. That was also apparently the first time Legolas hooked up with Miri's little friend, but that isn't important and I suspect you know that anyway." Tony waved that away with one hand and pinned his gaze on Phil's face. "I know that there is a string of credit card receipts pointing to hook ups at cheesy motels and hotels all over the place. I know that you were eager to get on a plane and head to Scotland to see with your own eyes that she was okay after an encounter with an explosive device. I know that you and she disappeared for some time at the fund raiser."
Again he paused. If Phil wanted a chance to explain himself or deny it, Tony was going to give him a chance. But the man looked to be somewhere between surprise and resignation. It was time to put him out of his misery.
"I was with her when she found you in the helicarrier." If there was a more subdued tone to his words, Tony didn't think Phil noticed. And if he did, he had the good grace not to mention it. That had been hell and he still had nightmares about that night. "She was determined to go in and head up the search party. No one could convince her to sit it out and let someone else do the dirty work. She had to be in the middle of it. She had to find you. And when she did... She damn near fell apart. In front of me. Phil, that woman is completely in love with you. Now is the time to tell her you feel the same."
Coulson opened his mouth, closed it and said nothing.
"Actually, the time to tell her that was months ago." He waited a few moments before he cleared the human tones from his voice and made sure that he sounded as snarky as usual when he next spoke. "So you might want to get on that right away.
Tony stopped to watch Coulson work through that bit of information. Yeah. The man had just been broadsided. Surely Fury would forgive him if he partook of something with a bit of a kick. He lifted his hand and waved their waiter over. "Bring my friend some Glenlivet. Neat."
The waiter hurried off to fill the order, back in less than five minutes with a heavy crystal tumbler containing the requested beverage. The glass was deposited before Phil, then the waiter was gone without another word. Tony watched him as he stared at the alcohol, as if he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with it. He motioned to the glass with an exaggerated hand move. "Oh, for God's sake, man. Have a drink. You look like you're having a feeling or something. You're freaking me out."
Phil gave him a look and picked up the tumbler, took a drink from it before setting it down. Then he smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Stark. Thank you very much."
~*~*~*~*~
Phoebe saw the swing long before Tony made it and easily ducked out of the path of his arm. She pressed forward and drove a shoulder into his stomach. Or tried to. He caught her at the last moment, his hands curling around one arm to pull her off balance. She ended up on the floor with Tony on top of her. They stared at one another for several long moments as she plotted her next move and Tony... Well, to be honest, she had no clue what Tony was thinking. Not until he smiled at her.
It was what she liked to call his 'slimy, planning something' smile. She had a split second to make an effort to toss him off of her, but she was too late. Even as his hands reached for her wrists to pin them to the mat, his weight was settling down onto her, effectively pinning her on her back. Then he went one step further and inched back until he was sitting on the tops of her thighs, making it impossible to lift her legs off the floor. It made his position awkward, stretching his torso out so that he could keep her pinned to the mat, but that didn't matter because she was literally in no position to do anything that would throw him off balance.
"You're in a good mood," she commented, mind still turning over possible ways to get herself out of this mess. "Normally, you hate sparring with me."
"I can think of much more enjoyable things I can do with you. Funner things," he replied, smile turning into a full on smirk.
"Of course you can," Phoebe replied on a sigh. "But you're the one who insisted that I stay sharp and capable of defending myself. So we spar." He said nothing to that. He didn't move, either. "So. Why the hell are you so smug?"
"You know me, Phoebe. I'm always smug. Smug is my middle name."
"Okay," she nodded. He was right about that. "You've got a point. But you seem especially smug today. So what happened? Take over Justin Hammer's business? Break into Fury's personal computer? Buy a small, third world country?"
"No. Nothing so mundane," Tony replied, giving a shake of his head. Then he frowned for a second. "And I'm insulted that you think I'd want to take over Hammer's business. He's been a pain in my ass for a long time, but I don't want him to become my headache." He paused, head tilting ever so slightly to the side. Then the smile came back. "No, I had lunch with Agent Coulson today."
Phoebe frowned at that. How could having lunch with Agent Coulson be considered out of the ordinary? Not that she knew him that well, but it seemed odd that Tony would think having lunch with him was unusual. "Okay. I don't think I'm seeing the connection between Agent Coulson and out of the ordinary here. Maybe you should explain."
"Well, Coulson is a pretty private person. Not very chatty. And he doesn't seem to like me much," Tony told her. His face went serious briefly as he considered that. "And that's something I can't really figure out. Why he doesn't like me. I'm a likeable guy."
Phoebe rolled her eyes at that. "How dare he not like you," she said with a grin.
"Exactly. How dare he," Tony echoed. Phoebe pinched his arm to bring him back to the present. It wouldn't take much for him to run off on a tangent if she didn't take control of the conversation. "Ow! That was uncalled for, Phoebe! Why did you pinch me?"
"Why was lunch with Agent Coulson so unusual?" she asked, holding on to the urge to sigh and shake him. Chances were good he was being obtuse on purpose just to annoy the crap out of her. Maybe it would help loosen his tongue if she put a little cheek into her words. The grin she gave him was broad and devilish. "Did he threaten to taser you?"
"He only threatened to do that once, thank you very much," Tony shot back and settled some of his weight on her. So he was going to play that game. Well, he was in for a surprise or two. Phoebe decided it would be best to simply let him think he would have his way, then hit him below the belt when he wasn't looking. He gave her a look to see if she was going to do or say anything more. She made a motion with her head that said he could get on with it. "He was human. And talking. It isn't a combination I expect from him so it threw me off my game."
That earned him a quizzical stare. "He talked to you. Like a person. And that put you off your game. So now you're in a good mood. I'm not making the connection there, Tony."
"Right. My mood. Well." He paused and took the opportunity to lift her hand so that he could press a kiss against her knuckles. She worked the hand free of his and reached up to curl her fingers into his hair. The sharp pull she gave it drew a soft sound of approval from him, prompting him to settle down onto her even more. "Agent Coulson and I had a discussion about his love life."
Phoebe could feel the surprise blossom on her face before she could even contain it. Tony, as she expected, frowned at her. But he waited expectantly for her next comment. She didn't bother to disappoint. "A discussion? Its never just a discussion with you, Tony. What did you do to the poor man?"
Tony spent about two seconds trying to give her an affronted look, then he sighed and it slid away into something far more serious and... tender. And it struck Phoebe then that Tony's actions had been done out of his care for the other man. Not that snarky Tony Stark would ever admit to caring for people. She knew a little bit about his childhood and exactly how his father had treated him, just a couple of minor blurbs from the media and one or two things that Pepper had mentioned. It was enough to tell her that Tony used sarcasm to keep people away. It was a very effective method of protecting himself. It had taken him a long time to put his feelings for her into words. Tony didn't let people in often, or very deep. She was surprised that he'd seemingly allowed Agent Coulson in. "I gave him advice on his love life."
"You..." she began, only to trail off on soft bubbles of laughter. This time, Tony was able to manage that affronted look with ease. And that look sent her into near hysterics.
"Well, I don't think my lunch was as funny as you do."
His comment only made her laugh harder. Tony let go of her wrists so that he could cross his arms over his chest and glare down at her. "Oh, come on! Let's be real about this, Tony! You are not the person who comes to mind when I'm trying to find someone to give me advice about my love life."
"Well," he began, pausing to let that smug grin of his come to life. So much for his affront. "Seeing as your love life involves me, I'd be the wrong person to ask for advice about it."
"You're not the person I think of for asking any advice on love at all, Tony. I don't think anyone else does, either." She said it softly, with a hint of apology in her voice. Tony, for all of his prickliness, just nodded. The grin faded a little and a thoughtful look filled his eyes. It wasn't one she saw very often and she found herself thinking about why he wore that look. "You really like Agent Coulson, don't you?"
"He's a good man, Phoebe. And he almost lost his life in that cluster fuck of an attack. And Agent Grant loves him more than anything," Tony told her quietly.
Okay. That was a surprise. Not that Miri loved Agent Coulson. That Tony knew that Miri loved Agent Coulson. There was a story linked to his words and the expression on his face. She reached up a hand and cupped Tony's cheek with it. "What kind of advice did you give him, Tony?"
"I just told him that she loved him and it was long past time that he told her the same thing," Tony returned. Phoebe stared for a moment.
"How do you know she loves him?"
He smiled. "I was there when she found him in the helicarrier's wreckage, remember? I saw it on her face. She's been in love with him for some time, I suspect. But they never said anything to each other out of some misguided belief that it was inappropriate or some other shit like that. Work place ethics. Who knows?"
"Yes. We know you know nothing about work place ethics and what is and isn't appropriate," Phoebe retorted. Tony rolled his eyes at her. At the same time, his body shifted and gave Phoebe the opening she was looking for. It didn't take much effort on her part. Just some shifting of her weight and then a few twists and it was done.
Tony was looking up at her from the mats, his expression one of laughable surprise. Phoebe had him pinned, her hands on his wrists to hold them down. She settled her weight perfectly on his groin and felt the immediate reaction of his body to her weight. Smiling, she leaned down until she was close enough to plant a kiss on his lips. "Now. This is just how I like you. Flat on your back and not a word coming from your mouth."
"Well, I could be persuaded to do something constructive with my mouth. You just say the word and its a done deal." Tony tossed a smile at her, eyes dark and burning with hunger. She pretended to give it consideration, tilting her head slightly to one side while she stared down at his face.
There was no tension in his body, his muscles loose and relaxed against the mats beneath him. It was times like this, when he was still and calm, that she saw the man he tried to hide from the world. She liked this Tony, liked his quiet certainty. She liked that she saw just how much he loved her in his eyes when he stared at her. It always made her feel important and as if she was his entire world. Even if it was for just that moment in time.
Because she was smart enough to know that she wasn't his entire world. Tony had Pepper and Happy. And Tony had Rhodey. And the rest of the Avengers. There was an ever growing sense of purpose to him these days that hadn't been there when she'd first met him. She liked to think that maybe she'd had a hand in making that happen.
"God, you're beautiful. How the hell did I ever get so lucky?" he asked softly. Something inside of her melted at the honest sincerity in his voice. She shifted positions, lowered herself until she was closer to him. Until her mouth hovered just over his.
"I don't know. But you are so very lucky to have me," she whispered. The sass in her tone brought chuckles up his throat. He easily pulled his hands from her hold and reached up to curl them around the back of her head. When he tugged her down the last breath of space so that he could kiss her, she didn't fight him at all. Their kiss was all heat and fire. His hands quickly moved away from her head and slid down her back until they cupped her ass. When he pressed her down to him, his hips ground up into hers and she had to fight off a shudder of need.
She was just to the point of needing air when she heard the high pitched chime of her computer echoing from the other room. Phoebe forced herself away from Tony and rose to her feet before his hands could hold her in place. "Let it go. Come back here and let me set off some of your alarms."
"Sorry, big boy." Phoebe tossed a grin at him and started for the door. "I've got some important data that I need to look at. Maybe later."
She was through the door when she heard him huff in resignation. "You're a cruel, cruel woman, Phoebe! In fact, I'm going to tell Pepper just how cruel you are to me!"
Her only answer was honest, throaty laughter.
~*~*~*~*~
Clint threw himself into a sloppy back flip only seconds before Steve's fist whistled through the air in the spot where Clint's head had just been. Frowning, he used a few more tumbling routines to put some space between them. Something had climbed up the good captain's ass and Clint was tired to taking the abuse that came with the other man's frustration. He feinted left before rolling to the right. He was on his feet only seconds before Cap came at him again. This time, he took a more surprising route and threw himself at his opponent. It was enough to startled Cap and give Clint the edge he needed to knock the man on his ass. "Where's your head, Rogers? Because it certainly isn't in our sparring match? What's eating you?"
Rogers blew out a breath and shook his head. Then he stepped back, a non-verbal sign that he was disengaging. Clint took a moment and headed to the bench to grab the two bottles of water that sat on it. He carried them both back to where Steve stood and handed one over. "Sorry, Clint."
"Hey. I don't mind sparring, but I do like keeping my head right where it is. Comes in handy when I need to do things like shoot and keep an eye out. And Lexi likes my head right where its at because she has her own uses for it."
Steve gave him a look that should have been in the face of someone three times his physical appearance. But he said nothing and took a drink off the bottle. "Sorry. I guess my head is a little preoccupied."
"You want to talk about it? While we work out? I think my leg can take some more abuse before it tells me to fuck off for the day." At the reminder, Rogers glanced at Clint's thigh as if he expected it to be bloody and swollen or something.
"I'm sorry. I forgot."
Clint laughed. "Its all good. This is good for it." He took a couple swallowed off his water, then took the bottle from Steve and carried them back over to the bench. When he returned to where Rogers stood, the other man was eyeing him questioningly.
"Can I ask you a question?" Steve asked. Clint nodded and took up a loose, ready position. He watched as Rogers rolled his shoulders and then his head in an effort to relax stiff muscles. Steve stepped into place and bounced on the balls of his feet for about half a minute, then he launched a swing that Clint neatly dodged. Rogers gave him an impressed smile.
"Ask away, old man. I'll answer if I'm able," Clint replied.
He watched as Steve considered the question and the best way to ask it. At the same time, their bodies fell into an easy rhythm of circle and swing and dodge and block. There was an occasional leg to contend with. It was simple and it wasn't, because none of Steve's blows were soft. For his part, Clint gave as good as he got. And if the muscles in his thigh were already screaming at him, he wasn't listening. "I need help with Miri."
The comment nearly saw Steve taking Clint's head off but, again, he ducked it just in the nick of time. When he came back up, it was with a leg that caught Steve in the ribs with enough force to send him stumbling off to the side just a bit. Clint followed it with a shoulder that would have sent Steve to the mats if he hadn't twisted away and to the side at the last moment. Clint backed off and drew a breath. "What kind of help with Miri?" he asked warily. He wasn't entirely sure this wasn't a ploy to put him off his guard.
"I don't know if you've heard, but she doesn't like me very much right now. I need to know how to approach her so we can get past it. On the off chance we have to work together again," Steve admitted. Okay. So this was legit.
"Oh, I've heard. There isn't much that happens regarding Alex or Miri that I don't know," Clint assured him.
Steve gave a rueful smile and threw himself forward, fists swinging. Clint was ready for him, his body bending and flipping away in a graceful series of hand flips that put a good six feet between them. "I need to talk to her about things. But I don't think she'll listen to me if I just walk up to her and suggest we talk."
"You're right. She won't. She's still pretty pissed at what happened," Clint informed him. The knowledge saw a frown tug the corners of Steve's mouth down. Clint didn't have to wait for him to speak to know what was going to come out of his mouth. "It was her operation, Rogers. She had every right to tell you to stand down."
"She shot a kid after he surrendered."
"That kid worked for HYDRA and he pulled a knife. Miri was well within her rights." The frown Rogers gave him let Clint know that Steve had heard this all before and it hadn't made a bit of difference. Sighing, he stepped back and dropped his guard. "Let's take a break. And I'll try to explain to you why Miri is pissed."
Steve gave him a wary look for a second or two, then nodded and shifted out of fight mode. The two of them went to have a seat on the bench, for which Clint was eternally grateful. He scooped up his towel and rubbed at the sweat beaded up on his face. Rogers did the same, his gaze focused and far away. Clint had a suspicion he was recalling that night. Clint did his level best not to think of it.
They sat in companionable silence for a while before Steve turned to face him, a curious look on his face. "If you really want to talk to Miri, you're going to have to be willing to eat crow. Because I don't know if there's anything that will make her forgive you for ignoring her orders that night." Even before Steve could open his mouth to protest, Clint held up a hand. He wasn't sure how much of the story he should give. It wasn't his to tell. But Rogers deserved to know if he was even going to understand.
"Agent Coulson almost died in the crash, Steve," he began.
"I know. I heard about his injuries."
"Did you also know that he and Agent Grant were..." Clint trailed off, not quite certain he could say they were dating. He kind of thought that boyfriend and girlfriend were a little too juvenile for the two of them.
"They were having a sexual relationship at the time. I know."
Clint nodded. He wasn't sure who had told Steve, but he was glad they had. Too bad they hadn't told him everything. "It was more than just sexual. It is more than just sexual. Miri and Phil love one another. They have for some time. Imagine finding out that the person you're in love with was nearly killed."
He gave Steve a moment to consider that. The set of the man's jaw told Clint that Rogers was busy turning it over in his mind.
"Top that with Miri being the one to find Coulson amongst the wreckage. And the fight that happened between herself and Alex immediately following. Add to it all of the people who work for S.H.I.E.L.D. that died at the hands of HYDRA. How did you expect her to react?"
Steve glanced at him. Clint could see a dawning understanding in the man's eyes.
"Miri almost lost Agent Coulson that night. She almost lost her best friend. She was walking a thin line. Maybe she snapped. Maybe she didn't. But she did not kill him for sport or fun," Clint told him quietly. "She didn't kill anyone that night for sport or fun. And you had the balls to question her actions. In front of her. In front of both of them."
"Alex wasn't in charge."
"No. But she was doing her job the same as Miri. And she would have shot the kid, too, if she'd been the one in charge. And I'd be one hundred percent okay with that." His quiet words had Steve staring at him questioningly.
"You would condone Alex taking someone's life?" Rogers asked him.
"Alex has taken lives. Its the nature of the job. And you either accept it and go on or you let it eat you alive and go crazy with the guilt." Clint could see that Steve hadn't quite grasped it yet. Or, rather, he didn't want to grasp it yet. "Put yourself in Miri's shoes. Imagine it was Elsa who had nearly been killed. Imagine that Fury gave you the chance to payback the fuckers who nearly killed her. Imagine what you'd do or think or feel. If you can honestly tell me that you'd turn the other cheek, you're a bigger boy scout than I thought you were."
"If someone hurt Elsa," Steve whispered. His tone of voice suggested he'd already had those thoughts. Clint just needed to drive the point home.
"If someone hurt Alex, hurt her bad enough to nearly kill her, I wouldn't stop until every last one of the fuckers responsible was dead." His voice was soft and sincere and full of deadly promise. Clint couldn't even think of what it would have been like if Alex had been the one on the helicarrier. Steve looked up at him and frowned.
"Death is never the answer. But God help anyone who tried to take Elsa away from me," Steve told him, not an ounce of emotion in his voice. Clint nodded at him. He finally understood.
"Good. Now that we've got that all cleared up, I can tell you how to approach Miri." Clint rose to his feet and started gathering his things. His leg was killing him and if Alex found out he'd pushed himself, again, she'd take it out of his hide. "No bullshit, man. Don't go to her with an attitude. Don't say you didn't do anything wrong. Because the minute those words come out of your mouth, she'll be on the defensive and you'll be bleeding. She will shoot you. You're lucky she didn't shoot you before."
"No bullshit. Got it."
"Apologize to her but don't be a dick about it. Tell her you understand and you'll never question her authority again. Because that's just what you did. And it was a dick move, Cap." Clint told him. He could see that the man wanted to protest. "It was. Miri was justified in putting a round in that kid. He had a knife. And trust me. If you'd talked Miri down only for that boy to stab her, Alex would have shot you for her."
Steve gave him a look that could have been a grin or a grimace. "I have no doubt about that at all."
"Thanks for the sparring session, Cap. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to shower and head home," Clint told him. "I need to rub my thigh in and I need to get to Lexi's apartment before she does. She successfully boiled water last night and I don't want it to go to her head or anything."
Steve blinked in confusion at that. "O...kay?"
"Lexi is a horrible cook. I've been trying to teach her. Its a slow, arduous, painful journey. I'm beginning to think that she'll never be able to do more than make sandwiches or use the microwave. And I'd like to get home before she attempts to boil water and burns it. Have a good night!"
Clint headed for the exit without another word. Not that Rogers needed to say anything at all. Clint could feel the man's question heavy against his back. But that was a story for another time.
~*~*~*~*~
Astrid looked around at the interior of the restaurant with a touch of apprehension. This was supposed to be the new, happening place in town and the only reason why they were there was because her boss had gotten them a reservation. The hostess leading them toward their table was clad in a soft, sky blue toga styled dress that was cinched at the waist with a braided gold rope belt. A crown of leaves circled her intricately styled hair and flat sandals made no sound as she walked. The floor was cushioned with a thick layer of throw rugs.
They wound their way between low tables that were surrounded by clusters of thick pillows. Many of those tables were in use, with parties of two and three and four crowded around them. Thick pillar candles cast a glow of golden light across the flat surface, bathing the diners in mellow light. The servers were clad in white togas and carried large round trays laden with platters of food and hammered pitchers filled with wine and water.
There were columns rising to the ceiling at random intervals. Strings of lanterns and sheer lengths of material in a rainbow of colors were strung between them. Soft colors painted the ceiling, the walls, and the diners. One corner was filled with a few musicians playing instruments that looked odd, filling the air with the soft hum of gently stroked strings and lyrical pipes. It was the most amazing place she'd ever seen.
The hostess finally stopped at a table by the wall and motioned toward the small alcove. Several panels of the same sheer material hung between two columns set between each table to create the illusion of privacy. "If you'll have a seat, your server will be with you shortly," the woman smiled, motioning toward the pillows with one hand. She laid out a pair of menus for them before stepping back to allow them access to the table.
"Thank you," Thor said with genuine pleasure, then helped Astrid down onto the pile of pillows that acted as their chairs. When he was sure she was comfortable, he settled beside her and reached out to pluck a grape from a small dish resting close to the edge. It was popped into his mouth and chewed with relish, an action she completely enjoyed. A slightly larger bowl of fragrant flowers sat in the center of the table, between two thick pillar candles. There were napkins and golden goblets on the table before them, waiting to be put to use, as well as silverware and thin plates of finely wrought metal.
When they were alone, Astrid turned to look at the man beside her with wide eyes. "This is certainly a strange place."
"Tony assures me that it is the finest dining establishment in the city," Thor replied. He sounded earnest, as if he thought she didn't like it. Astrid smiled at him.
"I'm sure it is. Its just a little overwhelming for me. Because I'm not used to this. I feel out of place."
Thor cocked his head at her and stared. "How could you be out of place? You're beautiful and you outshine all of those who have come here to dine and drink."
She blushed at his praise. And she might have called him a smooth talker, except she knew that he didn't really lie. She wasn't even sure if he knew how. And then their waiter was standing before them, pen in one hand and pad of paper in the other. She offered him a smile, scooped up the menu, and cast her gaze over it. There were things on the menu that she'd never even heard of. Not that it mattered. "Bring us The Feast," Thor said.
"Sir, that meal is meant to be shared by at least four people. You can't possibly finish it all off by yourselves." Astrid's eyes found the menu item Thor had ordered. And they bulged. Because The Feast was a huge meal. She gave brief consideration to strangling her boss when she next saw him because she had a sneaking suspicion that he'd been laughing at them when he'd gotten them a reservation at "The Roman Orgy."
"Don't argue with him. He can eat all that and more, I'm sure." Astrid told their waiter. The man gave her a look that said she wasn't helping. But she slid her gaze toward Thor meaningfully. The waiter followed suit and stared for a few moments. Then his eyes widened as he apparently recognized Thor. Or maybe it was just that he realized that the man wasn't going to be swayed.
"Very good, sir," the waiter replied, jotting it down on his menu pad. "And what would you like to drink?"
"Wine is good," Astrid interjected before Thor could say anything else. The toga clad waiter nodded and wrote that down, as well.
"I'll be right back with your wine and I'll put your order in," the man assured them, then hurried away. Probably to go tell someone that Thor was sitting in his section. She chuckled at the waiter's reaction, settling in to wait for their food and drink. The music filled the air around them and made speaking feel unnecessary. So Astrid leaned against Thor and listened to the music and enjoyed the feel and smell of him. There was something terribly intimate about their surroundings.
The waiter soon returned with a pitcher of wine. After filling their glasses, he smiled and hurried off to do more waiter type things. Thor asked the occasional question about her day and what she was working on but the questions were never meant to push the conversation and they lapsed into that comfortable silence that she'd come to enjoy with him.
Despite the size of the meal Thor had ordered for them, it didn't take the kitchen staff more than fifteen minutes to get it made. Astrid and Thor were in the middle of their comfortable silence when they noticed a small group of waiters heading their way. Each one carried a large platter heavily laden with food. Astrid gaped at the line of waiters because she didn't think that there was going to be room on the table for all of those platters. They made room. It was a feast fit for a king.
They were left alone with their heaping platters of food. Thor was attentive and carefully added portions of everything to Astrid's plate before serving some to himself. Some of the patrons eyed them from time to time, a quick look that was meant to not be a look. They no doubt wondered how the two of them would manage all that food. Astrid did her best to ignore prying eyes and focus on her food. Thor ate with great relish, taking time to savor each bite before moving on to the next.
There was an unbridled joy in Thor's actions and Astrid spent more time watching him eat then she did actually eating. He paused his feasting when he saw her watching him. A faintly puzzled look crossed his face. "Does the meal not appeal to you, Astrid?"
"No. I'm just enjoying feasting my eyes on you. You're enjoying this more than anything we've done together before," she replied.
He set down the rib he held and turned to look at her. There was a youthful exuberance on his face that she found made him that much more attractive. One hand reached up so that his thumb could touch the corner of the mouth, then he motioned to the platters of food piled upon their table. "I have not had such a feast since leaving Asgard, Astrid."
"The feasts there are big?" she asked, genuinely interested to know.
"My friend Volstagg could eat what rests upon this table and still go back for more. He has a love of food. All kinds of food. And he takes great relish in sampling it. In large quantities. And as he ate, he told stories. Stories of his daring battles and stories of his children." Thor's look took on an expression of fond remembrance. "Volstagg is always ready for a feast."
Astrid smiled. "Volstagg likes food?"
"He does," Thor confirmed. His gaze slid around the interior of the restaurant, lingering on the staff in their vibrant white togas. And on the sheer panels in various hues, casting rainbow colors across the ceiling and columns. One hand reached out and ran over the plump curve of a pillow. The material used to cover the pillows was rich and lush, expensive enough to look pricey but not so expensive as to be uncleanable. "This place reminds me of the furnishings in my father's hall."
She glanced around, trying to see things from his point of view. "Oh, yeah?"
He nodded, turning so he could trail a gentle hand down the sheer panel hugging the wall behind them. "The material is rich and fine. My mother would approve. I remember when I last saw her. She wore her hair in intricate loops that looked like knot work and a shimmering golden gown. She is always the finest dressed at the feast. I think she would like this world, with its strange customs and even stranger people. I think she would like this restaurant, with all of its gilt and glitter. I think she would like you."
There was such a wistful look on his face that she knew, in that moment, just how much he missed his mother. She gave a faint thought for her parents and felt an old, familiar pang of sadness and regret. There was no point in dwelling on it, so she tucked it aside, reaching out with one hand to lay it on the finely woven arm of his dinner jacket. "You love her very much. And you miss her very much. Don't you?" she asked him softly.
"I do," he admitted, offering her a faint shadow of his usual smile. "It feels as if its been an eternity since I've seen her. And my father. And my friends."
"You want to go back." It was a statement of fact. Not a question. When Thor turned to look at her, there was a hint of hope in his eyes, tempered with hesitation. She offered him a smile meant to encourage him.
"I do," he agreed. He reached out and clasped her hand in both of his. His skin was warm and the touch sent warmth rushing through her. Not the warmth of need and desire. Just the warmth of one tender soul touching a close friend. "I wish to return to Asgard."
"I see." Just like that, the warmth was gone. Astrid searched for a way to free her hand from his hold without upsetting him.
"And I want you to come with me. I want you to meet my friends and family. I want them to meet the woman who has captured my heart." His words started her heart pounding in her chest. Warmth filled her again. A tentative smile settled upon her face.
"You do?" she asked him.
"I do," he nodded. He reached out to take hold of his goblet of wine, sipping at it to give himself a moment. She could see that he was working up to something and the hesitation made her wonder. She'd come to think of him as fearless, capable of facing down any foe or danger. To see him worried was a little disarming. "I will, of course, understand if you say no. What my brother did to you was--"
She tugged her hand free to lay it over his. "What he did to me is not your fault. I would love to go to Asgard and meet your parents. When will this happen? When do we go? And why are you asking me this now? I mean, I'm thrilled you asked me, but I don't understand why now."
He offered her a more certain smile and returned his attention to his food again. "My father made it known that he wished to meet the people who stopped Loki from destroying this realm. I thought that this would be a good occasion to take you to Asgard to meet my family. Of course, it is entirely up to you if you would like to go. And I will understand if you decide you don't wish to go."
He didn't look at her, but she heard the uncertainty in his voice. Hearing him, a man of muscles and strength, sounding uncertain and weak left her feeling sad. She didn't like the idea of him so lost and sad. She was the one who reached out this time, laying her hand against the cheek farthest from her so that she could turn his face toward her. "I would love to go meet your family and your friends, Thor. I would be honored."
He said nothing for a few moments, then his smile erupted, wide and broad and bright as the midday sun. He took hold of her and pulled her to him, kissed her fast and hard and rough in his excitement. She was left with a spinning head and a burning need. Thor turned to face the restaurant. "Waiter! A bottle of the best champagne! And charge it to my friend Tony Stark! She said yes!"
There was a moment of silence before the entire place erupted into applause and cheers. Oh, boy.
~*~
Chapter Twenty Nine: Just a Normal Day
Fandom: something like the Marvel Universe, leaning mostly toward the Movie!Avengers branch
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: lots of sex and violence, language, anything else i can toss in. probably some drinking.
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of Marvel and whoever the hell else owns them.. 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,
dazzledfirestar, mistress_o_muse, ginevrasm, rylan_m, and ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.The Mary Sue Virus: Lights, Camera, Avengers! - The Index
~*~
Elsa sighed and pushed back from the microscope, one hand reaching up to tug her glasses off the bridge of her nose. They made a clattering noise when they hit the surface of her work table, but she didn't pay that any attention. Instead, she spent a good amount of time rubbing at her temples and eyes. There was a deep well of frustration inside that was reaching critical mass. Which meant she needed to take a step back and think or she'd completely fuck up her experiment.
"Fuck," she muttered, face in her hands until she realized just what she'd said. With a start, she glanced around the room to make sure she was still alone. It didn't matter that she was hiding out in her private laboratory and there would be no one there. She checked anyway. Then chastised herself for the language. She'd never been quite so quick to curse before. But ever since the helicarrier had crashed and she'd been on those really amazing pain killers, she'd found that swearing came that much easier to her. Maybe she'd talk herself out of it. Maybe she wouldn't. Only time would tell. For now...
She turned back to the slide waiting for her in the microscope. It contained a small sample of Steve's blood, well preserved and taken from the numerous tubes of blood Fury had had her collect from the good captain. Samples that she'd taken from her labs at S.H.I.E.L.D. and brought home in order to allow her to work around the clock. They were the only samples left of Steve's blood because the rest of it had been destroyed in the helicarrier crash. As had her original set of notes. Fortunately she still had a second set. She always had a second set. Because one never knew when something would happen to their notes and they would need another copy.
A tiny finger of guilt worked its way through her, leaving her staring at her notes with a frown. She'd promised Steve that she'd let the research go. He'd been so worried that something would happen to her because of it that she hadn't had the heart to say no to him. And, for a while, she'd left it alone. Until she'd had a thought, just a stray bit of memory rising to the surface in a moment of clarity. That thought had seen her slipping away to her lab to work quietly on the puzzle that was the Super Soldier serum.
She was reaching out to pick up her glasses once again when the cell phone in her pocket chirped. Said hand detoured and dropped down to dig it out of the pocket on her lab coat. A glance at the screen gave the guilt a stronger hold. She pushed the button to connect the call and shot for cheerful. "Steve! Hi."
"Hi, Elsa." Steve's voice flooded the line, his tone rich and filled with warmth. It was enough to leave Elsa filled with warmth and it took conscious effort not to squirm.
A minute or two ticked by before she found it possible to answer him. "Hello, Steve."
He was silent for several seconds. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?"
"No. Of course not," she assured him. "I was just in the middle of some notes and I didn't want to lose my place."
"You're working on a new experiment?" There was genuine interest in his voice, prompting her to bite her lip on the urge to tell him that she was still working on the serum.
"Yes. Something for a geneticist friend of mine. Its all to do with cells and molecules. Very boring stuff. I'm grateful for the distraction." She made sure to put a smile into her words at the end. She didn't want him thinking that his calls were unwelcome. As a matter of fact, they were more than welcome because she rarely saw him for more than an hour or two at a time these days. He was always busy with either Avengers business or S.H.I.E.L.D. business, which left them little time to spend together.
"I have some free time tonight. I was hoping we could go out. Maybe catch a movie or go dancing? Get some dinner and just relax." There was a touch of hope in his words, letting her know that he was looking for an opportunity to get away from the responsibilities that came with being Captain America.
"Of course, Steve. Whatever you like. I just want to be able to spend time with you," she replied instantly. She didn't say it out loud, but she missed him. It had been some four months since the attack on the helicarrier and S.H.I.E.L.D. was still in the midst of their rebuild. When Steve wasn't saving the world with the rest of the Avengers, he was busy helping the agency get back on its feet. When she'd first met him, Steve hadn't seemed to get tired much. Now, most nights saw him falling asleep fairly quickly. There was a bone deep exhaustion in him, brought on by so much happening all at once, and it would take time before that feeling went away.
"There's a theater showing a bunch of classics. I really do like sitting in the dark with you," he told her, just a hint of heat coloring his words. She felt herself blush at the implications.
"But we have to sit in two different seats. So there isn't much touching of bodies at the movies," she replied, proud that her voice came out steady and even. She certainly didn't feel either one of those things.
"Well, then. There's a club doing a Forties night," he suggested. She thought she heard the desire to go in his voice.
"Is it one of those USO party things?" she asked, pretending she hadn't already made the decision to go.
"It is."
"Does this mean you're going to put on your uniform and go as a soldier serving in the war?"
"It does," he replied, his tone suggesting he knew that she'd already decided to go.
Just picturing him in his Army browns did things to her. "Mmmm. I do so love a man in uniform. And I might have something in my closet that will be perfect for the evening."
"I'll be happy as long as you're wearing real silk hose," he replied. Elsa had to bite her lip to hold back a groan. Because he was obviously referring to the last time she'd worn silk hose around him. She was pretty sure she'd fallen asleep wearing nothing but those silk hose on that night. "What time do you think you'll be done with the experiments?"
Elsa glanced at the equipment spread out before her and stared. A pang of guilt at ignoring Steve's request shot through her and made her flinch. She was glad that Steve couldn't see her face. She hated lying to him, but she was sure she could solve the puzzle of his blood. All she had to do was look harder. "Oh, I can leave the lab whenever I like. There's no rush on this task. Just helping out a friend."
"Great," he replied. She could hear in his voice just how pleased he was and that made her feel worse. It would be absolutely horrible if he asked her about her work during dinner or when they were dancing later. There was no way she could lie to his face. He'd know it for a lie the second she spoke. Because he'd be able to read it on her face. She'd always been a terrible liar. The phone rustled for a second as he did something, likely looked at his watch to check the time. "How does six sound to you?"
Elsa took a look at the clock on the wall. It was just going on one now. That gave her another three hours to putter in the lab before she had to be home to get cleaned up. Her gaze slipped to the mess on her work station. She had a little time... "Sounds good, Steve. Six it is. I'll be ready and waiting."
"I look forward to seeing you all dolled up, Elsa," he told her, his voice filled with anticipation. She smiled at that, blushed a little even though she knew he couldn't see it. His speech had changed over the months, become a touch more modern, but he still slipped and let something go that said he was much older than he looked.
"And I look forward to seeing you in that uniform, handsome. Now hang up and let me get back to work so I can at least tell my friend I accomplished something today." She did her level best to keep anything telling from her voice. He chuckled.
"Good bye, Elsa. See you tonight." The connection clicked off before she could answer. For a moment or two, she did her best impersonation of an awe struck lover and simply sat holding the phone in her hand. Steve had the ability to do that to her, make her feel like a giddy teen going to the prom with the captain of the football team. Then she shook the foolish sentiment away and deposited the phone in her pocket once again.
Moment gone, she turned back to her tables and let her gaze slide around the papers and vials and slides spread across it. There was something there, something she'd missed. She knew it was there, had woken from a dream a few nights ago with the idea that she'd missed something important. But it had been lost in the warmth of Steve's hands on her skin as he'd soothed her back to sleep. And the next morning, she'd been left with a vague, niggling sense that there was something she needed to look for. If only she could remember just what it was.
She'd never before had problems with focus. Then again, she'd never before been in love with someone, much less someone like Steve Rogers. He tended to be a huge distraction for her, which was both scary and annoying. Science had been her life for as long as she could remember and she was good at it because she had drive, determination, and focus. Well, she still had the first two. The third one was not as easy to come by these days. That worried her because she needed that focus to do her job. Steve was testing her. She needed to put thoughts of the big blonde lug aside and get back to the task she'd set for herself.
Right. There was something in Steve's blood that held the key to the serum. She just had to find out what that something was. Elsa settled her glasses on her nose and considered where to start. She'd looked at the blood a thousand times and hadn't found anything. Likely because there were no viable samples left from the Forties. Which was a pity. That would make things so much simpler because she could simply compare samples and look for differences or anomalies.
Why Fury hadn't been able to provide her with samples, she didn't know. If it was possible for them to make a serum that had effectively enhanced everything about Steve, why hadn't they been able to preserve a quality sample of his blood taken before they'd done the enhancing? And surely there were more notes than she was given. These men had been the top minds of their time. They'd obviously kept standard notes for their tests and experiments. But they should have kept more private notes. Private notes that...
Private notes. The thought stopped her short. Oh, she was so stupid! Why hadn't she thought of that before? Her grandfather had kept private notes about the tests and experiments. She scrambled for one of the journals he'd kept his notes in, vaguely recalling that there'd been a page in it she'd dismissed as scribbles. She'd thought it had been written when he'd gotten older. But what if it hadn't? What if whatever was in that journal wasn't just random scribbles?
Her hands were shaking when she pulled the right journal out from under a pile of papers that had been carelessly tossed over the books. Elsa could remember reading this one time and time again, trying to determine what her grandfather had been going on about because there were the scribbles in the back and a few pages of notes written in his version of short hand. She'd never deciphered either, but maybe she'd get lucky today. As carefully as she could, she turned pages until she found the scribbles, then used a couple of random items to keep the book open. Then she dragged a clean sheet of paper her way, picked up a pencil, and began taking her own notes.
It was almost as if she'd needed to want to know what was contained within those pages because the short hand came to her in an instant. The scribbles seemed to rearrange themselves until they made full words. No. Not words. Symbols. Her excitement grew exponentially with each newly decoded scribble until she nearly shook with giddy joy.
The scribbles became symbols became a formula.
By the time Elsa was done, she had line upon line of the formula. But, more importantly, she had a piece of the puzzle that had previously eluded her. This was very possibly the breakthrough she needed. She only needed to test it. Gathering up her notes, old and new, she rolled her stool over to the other side of the room and took up a position before her desk. A click of her mouse button opened up the program she needed. Her fingers began typing, began creating a computer model.
When every last bit of data was entered into the system, Elsa sat back and looked at her work. Looked at the three dimensional model of Steve's blood at its most basic, molecular level. From before he was treated like a guinea pig and tested upon. And after. It was almost completely identical, almost a mirror image of itself. Almost. Because there, in the model, she could finally see the difference. She could see it. The Super Soldier formula.
She could see it. Which meant she could map it. Which meant...
Her hand fumbled excitedly for her phone yet a second time and it took a full minute for her to calm enough to dial the number. The other end rang once. Twice. Three times. A fourth. She was almost ready to hang up when it was answered. "This better be good."
"Director Fury, its Elsa Jones. I have something here that I think you'll be interested in seeing."
~*~*~*~*~
Tony was just setting down his glass of water when he saw the hostess heading toward his table. Once upon a time, Tony might have tried to charm her into his bed because she was exactly the kind of woman he used to have one night stands with. But that was once upon a time. Before Phoebe. Now, he could look at her and appreciate how attractive she was. And that was all. It was less weird being attached to one woman than he'd thought it would be, even after his failed attempt with Pepper. There was just something about Phoebe...
Agent Coulson was following behind her, moving at a steady pace. It didn't look like it was entirely smooth, though. Tony thought he caught a faint hint of a limp. No doubt the man was trying to look as if he wasn't favoring that leg. The hostess stopped beside the table and motioned to the chair across from Tony. Then she turned a million watt smile on him. "Your party, Mr. Stark."
"Thank you," he returned without looking away from Coulson. The other man settled himself into the chair with a barely noticeable hitch. A menu already rested on the table before him, so there was no need for the woman to stay.
"Enjoy your meals, gentlemen," she said politely, then hurried away to reclaim her post. The waiter joined them almost immediately and asked for Phil's drink preference. Coulson ordered a glass of ice water with his usual bland expression. The waiter nodded and left them alone.
"Agent Coulson. Good to see you. Thanks for coming," Tony began, only to fall silent when Coulson hit him with a stare that said he was clearly not impressed by their surroundings and he really didn't have time for Tony's shit. "There's no need to give me that kind of look, Coulson."
"You invited me to lunch at one of the most expensive restaurants in the city. Forgive me if I find myself questioning your motives, Mr. Stark."
"What? I can't buy you lunch without there being some underlying reason?" Tony asked. Coulson's look clearly said he thought that was exactly what was going on here. "Phil. I'm hurt. I just wanted to buy lunch for a friend. See how he's doing. There is absolutely nothing underhanded about my asking you here." Tony made sure he put on his best hang dog face. Phil shot him a look. "I'm being totally honest, Phil. There is nothing underhanded going on here. Besides, I know that you're not the kind of guy to go for a bribe." That comment earned him a little twitch of the lips.
Further conversation was put on hold because the waiter chose that moment to return with Coulson's drink. The cut crystal glass filled with water delivered, the young man produced an order pad and asked for their orders. Tony glanced at Coulson to see him staring at the menu without any sense of purpose. Right. Time to take charge. He glanced at the waiter and flashed a smile. "Bring us a platter with a little bit of everything on it. Just make sure nothing has suction cups on it." He couldn't stop the shudder that rippled up and down his spine. There was just something vile about suction cups. He could do without them, thanks.
"Very good, Mr. Stark," the man said, then took the menus from them. He was gone without another word.
"No suction cups?" Coulson asked lightly.
"No suction cups. I went on an internet bender one time and... I saw things." Tony stopped and shuddered again. "No. No suction cups. No tentacles. Ever."
Phil looked bemused for all of half a second before he gave a bland and polite smile. "Forget I asked."
Tony watched him for a moment or two, taking note of the healthy flush of color to his skin. There was a touch of shadow under his eyes, suggesting a parade of sleepless nights. It was a look Tony was familiar with. It usually suggested too much time spent working and too little time actually spent resting. For just a second, that part of his brain that was all male and all sex, all the time, wondered if the lack of sleep could be blamed on having a girlfriend like Miriam Grant. And then he had Pepper and Phoebe's voices in his head, telling him just how sexist that thought was. He shoved it aside and pretended he'd never thought it. Apparently even the infamous Tony Stark could be taught.
"How are you feeling, Phil?" he asked. The question seemed to surprise the other man. Maybe it was because Tony was being genuine, that he was openly displaying that he worried about people other than just himself. "You're looking much better than you did after the crash."
For a heartbeat or two, Agent Coulson stared at him with a calculating gleam in his eyes. Then the agent persona seemed to melt away in an instant and Tony was left staring at Phil. "My understanding is that it isn't hard for me to look better than I did that day. But thank you for noticing. And, to answer your question, I'm feeling good."
Tony nodded and leaned back in his chair. Where he was almost lounging in his chair, Coulson sat straight. It looked like he was going to be all business. Tony hated all business. It was boring. So that meant it was time to rock Coulson's world. "How's the girlfriend doing?"
The question didn't even merit a single blink. "I'm pushing fifty, Mr. Stark. Girlfriend is a ridiculous word to use at my age."
"Fair enough. What do you prefer to call her, then? Significant other? The old ball and chain? Sex toy?"
"I think its only fair to warn you that I've brought my taser, Mr. Stark, and I'm not afraid to use it." Coulson remained stone-faced. Tony grinned at that. He'd hit a soft spot. Time to pick at it.
"We're in public, Coulson. You won't tase me in front of witnesses. Not to mention I doubt you can afford to cover the check when it comes," Tony replied, waving a hand at him to let him know that it didn't matter to him. Coulson's face said he was less than impressed with Tony's testicular fortitude. "How about we call her a hot piece of ass? Because she really is. And I do know a hot piece of ass when I see one."
Coulson crossed his arms over his chest, a sure sign that he was very unhappy with the direction of their conversation. It only served to egg Tony on in search of Coulson's line in the sand. No doubt someone who didn't know Tony would think he was on a wild goose chase. But he had a theory. And he was going to either prove it true or false. He just had to find the right phrase. "Okay. Not hot piece of ass, even though she is. How about arm candy? Put that woman in a designer dress and a pair of heels and she turns heads."
Coulson gave the appearance of having something to say, but his mouth thinned and his eyes darkened. Not quite there yet. Which was good. Because Tony was having lots of fun with this. He considered his next move for a few seconds, sifted through a variety of choices and rejecting them all. And then it hit him, bringing a slimy smile to his face. Well. Almost all.
"Obviously not. Well, then. I guess there's nothing for it. We'll call her your trophy wife. She seems to be a good candidate for a trophy wife. Young. Hot. All curves. Every sugar daddy needs a trophy wife."
There was a hint, for just a moment, on Phil's face that the very idea he was little more than Miriam Grant's sugar daddy was something he'd thought of before. Tony saw it in the frown that tightened the corners of Coulson's mouth briefly. He saw it in the man's eyes when they darkened with unpleasant memories. He saw it in the tense set of the man's shoulders. He'd thought of it before, had considered that maybe he was nothing more than the woman's sugar daddy.
"I imagine she's young enough to still have that new car smell. Does the ten thousand mile warranty still apply? Do you make her call you sir at home?" Tony paused for a moment, then decided to push his luck. What was the worst Coulson could do to him? "Do you give her a spanking when she fails to file her paperwork? When she makes a mistake on it? Or do you just make her get down on her knees under your desk and she can make it up to you that way?"
"Agent Grant is a highly respected S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, Mr. Stark," Coulson told him, voice crisp and cold. Oh, yes. He'd hit a nerve for sure.
"And you're in love with her," Tony said quietly. His words, delivered without any flair and so softly, brought Coulson up short and it actually took the man, the man who was always on his game, a full minute to actually process what he'd just heard.
"I don't think that's any of your business, Mr. Stark," Coulson - no, Phil - said politely. But only just. There was an edge to his voice and Tony realized that the other man was surprised and perhaps a little embarrassed at being called out like that. He was given time to deal with his secret being discovered by the arrival of the waiter. The man put a large platter down between them on the table. It was laden with all manner of sushi. A second, smaller platter had small dishes of sauce for dipping. The waiter dropped off their meal, left two sets of chop sticks, asked if they needed anything else, then left after they'd assured him they were good.
"On the contrary, Phil," Tony replied, not bothering to make a move toward the freshly delivered sushi. "I think its entirely my business. Because its obvious that you haven't done a thing about it. And I'm pretty sure that Miriam is pining away in silence."
Coulson blinked at him. It looked as if that was news to him. "I'm happy that you're in a relationship that you enjoy, Mr. Stark, but I think you're projecting your emotions."
Tony stared. Seriously? Coulson honestly thought that? How was it that he couldn't see that Agent Miriam "Hot Piece of Ass" Grant was head over heels for him? Was he blind or had he simply told himself there was no way a woman like that would ever be interested in a man like him. Tony straightened in his chair and reached for his glass of water. Oh, this was going to be so good and so sweet. Because he'd been sitting on this for so long. "I don't think you know Miriam as well as you think you do, Phil."
"You barely know her at all, Mr. Stark."
"True. I've never had the pleasure of sitting down and having a conversation with her. I don't know what her favorite foods are. I don't know what she likes to do at home after a long day at work," Tony said and shot Phil a smug grin. "But that doesn't mean I don't know anything about her. Or you."
"Mr. Stark, if you brought me here to--" Phil began, but Tony lifted a hand and brought his speech to a halt.
"Phil, I brought you here to genuinely ask after your health. You nearly died in the helicarrier crash. And, despite your best attempts to keep me at arm's length, you've grown on me. Kind of like a fungus. I'm still not sure if I like that." Tony paused and took a drink of his water. "But now that we're on the subject, let me tell you the things I do know about."
Tony paused, gave Coulson the opportunity to head him off at the pass. Neither of them had touched the fresh platter of sushi and, if the conversation kept going the way it was, it would remain untouched. But the other man drew a deep breath and glared at Tony, daring him to go on.
"I know that you and Miri left after a Christmas party some years ago. That was also apparently the first time Legolas hooked up with Miri's little friend, but that isn't important and I suspect you know that anyway." Tony waved that away with one hand and pinned his gaze on Phil's face. "I know that there is a string of credit card receipts pointing to hook ups at cheesy motels and hotels all over the place. I know that you were eager to get on a plane and head to Scotland to see with your own eyes that she was okay after an encounter with an explosive device. I know that you and she disappeared for some time at the fund raiser."
Again he paused. If Phil wanted a chance to explain himself or deny it, Tony was going to give him a chance. But the man looked to be somewhere between surprise and resignation. It was time to put him out of his misery.
"I was with her when she found you in the helicarrier." If there was a more subdued tone to his words, Tony didn't think Phil noticed. And if he did, he had the good grace not to mention it. That had been hell and he still had nightmares about that night. "She was determined to go in and head up the search party. No one could convince her to sit it out and let someone else do the dirty work. She had to be in the middle of it. She had to find you. And when she did... She damn near fell apart. In front of me. Phil, that woman is completely in love with you. Now is the time to tell her you feel the same."
Coulson opened his mouth, closed it and said nothing.
"Actually, the time to tell her that was months ago." He waited a few moments before he cleared the human tones from his voice and made sure that he sounded as snarky as usual when he next spoke. "So you might want to get on that right away.
Tony stopped to watch Coulson work through that bit of information. Yeah. The man had just been broadsided. Surely Fury would forgive him if he partook of something with a bit of a kick. He lifted his hand and waved their waiter over. "Bring my friend some Glenlivet. Neat."
The waiter hurried off to fill the order, back in less than five minutes with a heavy crystal tumbler containing the requested beverage. The glass was deposited before Phil, then the waiter was gone without another word. Tony watched him as he stared at the alcohol, as if he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with it. He motioned to the glass with an exaggerated hand move. "Oh, for God's sake, man. Have a drink. You look like you're having a feeling or something. You're freaking me out."
Phil gave him a look and picked up the tumbler, took a drink from it before setting it down. Then he smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Stark. Thank you very much."
~*~*~*~*~
Phoebe saw the swing long before Tony made it and easily ducked out of the path of his arm. She pressed forward and drove a shoulder into his stomach. Or tried to. He caught her at the last moment, his hands curling around one arm to pull her off balance. She ended up on the floor with Tony on top of her. They stared at one another for several long moments as she plotted her next move and Tony... Well, to be honest, she had no clue what Tony was thinking. Not until he smiled at her.
It was what she liked to call his 'slimy, planning something' smile. She had a split second to make an effort to toss him off of her, but she was too late. Even as his hands reached for her wrists to pin them to the mat, his weight was settling down onto her, effectively pinning her on her back. Then he went one step further and inched back until he was sitting on the tops of her thighs, making it impossible to lift her legs off the floor. It made his position awkward, stretching his torso out so that he could keep her pinned to the mat, but that didn't matter because she was literally in no position to do anything that would throw him off balance.
"You're in a good mood," she commented, mind still turning over possible ways to get herself out of this mess. "Normally, you hate sparring with me."
"I can think of much more enjoyable things I can do with you. Funner things," he replied, smile turning into a full on smirk.
"Of course you can," Phoebe replied on a sigh. "But you're the one who insisted that I stay sharp and capable of defending myself. So we spar." He said nothing to that. He didn't move, either. "So. Why the hell are you so smug?"
"You know me, Phoebe. I'm always smug. Smug is my middle name."
"Okay," she nodded. He was right about that. "You've got a point. But you seem especially smug today. So what happened? Take over Justin Hammer's business? Break into Fury's personal computer? Buy a small, third world country?"
"No. Nothing so mundane," Tony replied, giving a shake of his head. Then he frowned for a second. "And I'm insulted that you think I'd want to take over Hammer's business. He's been a pain in my ass for a long time, but I don't want him to become my headache." He paused, head tilting ever so slightly to the side. Then the smile came back. "No, I had lunch with Agent Coulson today."
Phoebe frowned at that. How could having lunch with Agent Coulson be considered out of the ordinary? Not that she knew him that well, but it seemed odd that Tony would think having lunch with him was unusual. "Okay. I don't think I'm seeing the connection between Agent Coulson and out of the ordinary here. Maybe you should explain."
"Well, Coulson is a pretty private person. Not very chatty. And he doesn't seem to like me much," Tony told her. His face went serious briefly as he considered that. "And that's something I can't really figure out. Why he doesn't like me. I'm a likeable guy."
Phoebe rolled her eyes at that. "How dare he not like you," she said with a grin.
"Exactly. How dare he," Tony echoed. Phoebe pinched his arm to bring him back to the present. It wouldn't take much for him to run off on a tangent if she didn't take control of the conversation. "Ow! That was uncalled for, Phoebe! Why did you pinch me?"
"Why was lunch with Agent Coulson so unusual?" she asked, holding on to the urge to sigh and shake him. Chances were good he was being obtuse on purpose just to annoy the crap out of her. Maybe it would help loosen his tongue if she put a little cheek into her words. The grin she gave him was broad and devilish. "Did he threaten to taser you?"
"He only threatened to do that once, thank you very much," Tony shot back and settled some of his weight on her. So he was going to play that game. Well, he was in for a surprise or two. Phoebe decided it would be best to simply let him think he would have his way, then hit him below the belt when he wasn't looking. He gave her a look to see if she was going to do or say anything more. She made a motion with her head that said he could get on with it. "He was human. And talking. It isn't a combination I expect from him so it threw me off my game."
That earned him a quizzical stare. "He talked to you. Like a person. And that put you off your game. So now you're in a good mood. I'm not making the connection there, Tony."
"Right. My mood. Well." He paused and took the opportunity to lift her hand so that he could press a kiss against her knuckles. She worked the hand free of his and reached up to curl her fingers into his hair. The sharp pull she gave it drew a soft sound of approval from him, prompting him to settle down onto her even more. "Agent Coulson and I had a discussion about his love life."
Phoebe could feel the surprise blossom on her face before she could even contain it. Tony, as she expected, frowned at her. But he waited expectantly for her next comment. She didn't bother to disappoint. "A discussion? Its never just a discussion with you, Tony. What did you do to the poor man?"
Tony spent about two seconds trying to give her an affronted look, then he sighed and it slid away into something far more serious and... tender. And it struck Phoebe then that Tony's actions had been done out of his care for the other man. Not that snarky Tony Stark would ever admit to caring for people. She knew a little bit about his childhood and exactly how his father had treated him, just a couple of minor blurbs from the media and one or two things that Pepper had mentioned. It was enough to tell her that Tony used sarcasm to keep people away. It was a very effective method of protecting himself. It had taken him a long time to put his feelings for her into words. Tony didn't let people in often, or very deep. She was surprised that he'd seemingly allowed Agent Coulson in. "I gave him advice on his love life."
"You..." she began, only to trail off on soft bubbles of laughter. This time, Tony was able to manage that affronted look with ease. And that look sent her into near hysterics.
"Well, I don't think my lunch was as funny as you do."
His comment only made her laugh harder. Tony let go of her wrists so that he could cross his arms over his chest and glare down at her. "Oh, come on! Let's be real about this, Tony! You are not the person who comes to mind when I'm trying to find someone to give me advice about my love life."
"Well," he began, pausing to let that smug grin of his come to life. So much for his affront. "Seeing as your love life involves me, I'd be the wrong person to ask for advice about it."
"You're not the person I think of for asking any advice on love at all, Tony. I don't think anyone else does, either." She said it softly, with a hint of apology in her voice. Tony, for all of his prickliness, just nodded. The grin faded a little and a thoughtful look filled his eyes. It wasn't one she saw very often and she found herself thinking about why he wore that look. "You really like Agent Coulson, don't you?"
"He's a good man, Phoebe. And he almost lost his life in that cluster fuck of an attack. And Agent Grant loves him more than anything," Tony told her quietly.
Okay. That was a surprise. Not that Miri loved Agent Coulson. That Tony knew that Miri loved Agent Coulson. There was a story linked to his words and the expression on his face. She reached up a hand and cupped Tony's cheek with it. "What kind of advice did you give him, Tony?"
"I just told him that she loved him and it was long past time that he told her the same thing," Tony returned. Phoebe stared for a moment.
"How do you know she loves him?"
He smiled. "I was there when she found him in the helicarrier's wreckage, remember? I saw it on her face. She's been in love with him for some time, I suspect. But they never said anything to each other out of some misguided belief that it was inappropriate or some other shit like that. Work place ethics. Who knows?"
"Yes. We know you know nothing about work place ethics and what is and isn't appropriate," Phoebe retorted. Tony rolled his eyes at her. At the same time, his body shifted and gave Phoebe the opening she was looking for. It didn't take much effort on her part. Just some shifting of her weight and then a few twists and it was done.
Tony was looking up at her from the mats, his expression one of laughable surprise. Phoebe had him pinned, her hands on his wrists to hold them down. She settled her weight perfectly on his groin and felt the immediate reaction of his body to her weight. Smiling, she leaned down until she was close enough to plant a kiss on his lips. "Now. This is just how I like you. Flat on your back and not a word coming from your mouth."
"Well, I could be persuaded to do something constructive with my mouth. You just say the word and its a done deal." Tony tossed a smile at her, eyes dark and burning with hunger. She pretended to give it consideration, tilting her head slightly to one side while she stared down at his face.
There was no tension in his body, his muscles loose and relaxed against the mats beneath him. It was times like this, when he was still and calm, that she saw the man he tried to hide from the world. She liked this Tony, liked his quiet certainty. She liked that she saw just how much he loved her in his eyes when he stared at her. It always made her feel important and as if she was his entire world. Even if it was for just that moment in time.
Because she was smart enough to know that she wasn't his entire world. Tony had Pepper and Happy. And Tony had Rhodey. And the rest of the Avengers. There was an ever growing sense of purpose to him these days that hadn't been there when she'd first met him. She liked to think that maybe she'd had a hand in making that happen.
"God, you're beautiful. How the hell did I ever get so lucky?" he asked softly. Something inside of her melted at the honest sincerity in his voice. She shifted positions, lowered herself until she was closer to him. Until her mouth hovered just over his.
"I don't know. But you are so very lucky to have me," she whispered. The sass in her tone brought chuckles up his throat. He easily pulled his hands from her hold and reached up to curl them around the back of her head. When he tugged her down the last breath of space so that he could kiss her, she didn't fight him at all. Their kiss was all heat and fire. His hands quickly moved away from her head and slid down her back until they cupped her ass. When he pressed her down to him, his hips ground up into hers and she had to fight off a shudder of need.
She was just to the point of needing air when she heard the high pitched chime of her computer echoing from the other room. Phoebe forced herself away from Tony and rose to her feet before his hands could hold her in place. "Let it go. Come back here and let me set off some of your alarms."
"Sorry, big boy." Phoebe tossed a grin at him and started for the door. "I've got some important data that I need to look at. Maybe later."
She was through the door when she heard him huff in resignation. "You're a cruel, cruel woman, Phoebe! In fact, I'm going to tell Pepper just how cruel you are to me!"
Her only answer was honest, throaty laughter.
~*~*~*~*~
Clint threw himself into a sloppy back flip only seconds before Steve's fist whistled through the air in the spot where Clint's head had just been. Frowning, he used a few more tumbling routines to put some space between them. Something had climbed up the good captain's ass and Clint was tired to taking the abuse that came with the other man's frustration. He feinted left before rolling to the right. He was on his feet only seconds before Cap came at him again. This time, he took a more surprising route and threw himself at his opponent. It was enough to startled Cap and give Clint the edge he needed to knock the man on his ass. "Where's your head, Rogers? Because it certainly isn't in our sparring match? What's eating you?"
Rogers blew out a breath and shook his head. Then he stepped back, a non-verbal sign that he was disengaging. Clint took a moment and headed to the bench to grab the two bottles of water that sat on it. He carried them both back to where Steve stood and handed one over. "Sorry, Clint."
"Hey. I don't mind sparring, but I do like keeping my head right where it is. Comes in handy when I need to do things like shoot and keep an eye out. And Lexi likes my head right where its at because she has her own uses for it."
Steve gave him a look that should have been in the face of someone three times his physical appearance. But he said nothing and took a drink off the bottle. "Sorry. I guess my head is a little preoccupied."
"You want to talk about it? While we work out? I think my leg can take some more abuse before it tells me to fuck off for the day." At the reminder, Rogers glanced at Clint's thigh as if he expected it to be bloody and swollen or something.
"I'm sorry. I forgot."
Clint laughed. "Its all good. This is good for it." He took a couple swallowed off his water, then took the bottle from Steve and carried them back over to the bench. When he returned to where Rogers stood, the other man was eyeing him questioningly.
"Can I ask you a question?" Steve asked. Clint nodded and took up a loose, ready position. He watched as Rogers rolled his shoulders and then his head in an effort to relax stiff muscles. Steve stepped into place and bounced on the balls of his feet for about half a minute, then he launched a swing that Clint neatly dodged. Rogers gave him an impressed smile.
"Ask away, old man. I'll answer if I'm able," Clint replied.
He watched as Steve considered the question and the best way to ask it. At the same time, their bodies fell into an easy rhythm of circle and swing and dodge and block. There was an occasional leg to contend with. It was simple and it wasn't, because none of Steve's blows were soft. For his part, Clint gave as good as he got. And if the muscles in his thigh were already screaming at him, he wasn't listening. "I need help with Miri."
The comment nearly saw Steve taking Clint's head off but, again, he ducked it just in the nick of time. When he came back up, it was with a leg that caught Steve in the ribs with enough force to send him stumbling off to the side just a bit. Clint followed it with a shoulder that would have sent Steve to the mats if he hadn't twisted away and to the side at the last moment. Clint backed off and drew a breath. "What kind of help with Miri?" he asked warily. He wasn't entirely sure this wasn't a ploy to put him off his guard.
"I don't know if you've heard, but she doesn't like me very much right now. I need to know how to approach her so we can get past it. On the off chance we have to work together again," Steve admitted. Okay. So this was legit.
"Oh, I've heard. There isn't much that happens regarding Alex or Miri that I don't know," Clint assured him.
Steve gave a rueful smile and threw himself forward, fists swinging. Clint was ready for him, his body bending and flipping away in a graceful series of hand flips that put a good six feet between them. "I need to talk to her about things. But I don't think she'll listen to me if I just walk up to her and suggest we talk."
"You're right. She won't. She's still pretty pissed at what happened," Clint informed him. The knowledge saw a frown tug the corners of Steve's mouth down. Clint didn't have to wait for him to speak to know what was going to come out of his mouth. "It was her operation, Rogers. She had every right to tell you to stand down."
"She shot a kid after he surrendered."
"That kid worked for HYDRA and he pulled a knife. Miri was well within her rights." The frown Rogers gave him let Clint know that Steve had heard this all before and it hadn't made a bit of difference. Sighing, he stepped back and dropped his guard. "Let's take a break. And I'll try to explain to you why Miri is pissed."
Steve gave him a wary look for a second or two, then nodded and shifted out of fight mode. The two of them went to have a seat on the bench, for which Clint was eternally grateful. He scooped up his towel and rubbed at the sweat beaded up on his face. Rogers did the same, his gaze focused and far away. Clint had a suspicion he was recalling that night. Clint did his level best not to think of it.
They sat in companionable silence for a while before Steve turned to face him, a curious look on his face. "If you really want to talk to Miri, you're going to have to be willing to eat crow. Because I don't know if there's anything that will make her forgive you for ignoring her orders that night." Even before Steve could open his mouth to protest, Clint held up a hand. He wasn't sure how much of the story he should give. It wasn't his to tell. But Rogers deserved to know if he was even going to understand.
"Agent Coulson almost died in the crash, Steve," he began.
"I know. I heard about his injuries."
"Did you also know that he and Agent Grant were..." Clint trailed off, not quite certain he could say they were dating. He kind of thought that boyfriend and girlfriend were a little too juvenile for the two of them.
"They were having a sexual relationship at the time. I know."
Clint nodded. He wasn't sure who had told Steve, but he was glad they had. Too bad they hadn't told him everything. "It was more than just sexual. It is more than just sexual. Miri and Phil love one another. They have for some time. Imagine finding out that the person you're in love with was nearly killed."
He gave Steve a moment to consider that. The set of the man's jaw told Clint that Rogers was busy turning it over in his mind.
"Top that with Miri being the one to find Coulson amongst the wreckage. And the fight that happened between herself and Alex immediately following. Add to it all of the people who work for S.H.I.E.L.D. that died at the hands of HYDRA. How did you expect her to react?"
Steve glanced at him. Clint could see a dawning understanding in the man's eyes.
"Miri almost lost Agent Coulson that night. She almost lost her best friend. She was walking a thin line. Maybe she snapped. Maybe she didn't. But she did not kill him for sport or fun," Clint told him quietly. "She didn't kill anyone that night for sport or fun. And you had the balls to question her actions. In front of her. In front of both of them."
"Alex wasn't in charge."
"No. But she was doing her job the same as Miri. And she would have shot the kid, too, if she'd been the one in charge. And I'd be one hundred percent okay with that." His quiet words had Steve staring at him questioningly.
"You would condone Alex taking someone's life?" Rogers asked him.
"Alex has taken lives. Its the nature of the job. And you either accept it and go on or you let it eat you alive and go crazy with the guilt." Clint could see that Steve hadn't quite grasped it yet. Or, rather, he didn't want to grasp it yet. "Put yourself in Miri's shoes. Imagine it was Elsa who had nearly been killed. Imagine that Fury gave you the chance to payback the fuckers who nearly killed her. Imagine what you'd do or think or feel. If you can honestly tell me that you'd turn the other cheek, you're a bigger boy scout than I thought you were."
"If someone hurt Elsa," Steve whispered. His tone of voice suggested he'd already had those thoughts. Clint just needed to drive the point home.
"If someone hurt Alex, hurt her bad enough to nearly kill her, I wouldn't stop until every last one of the fuckers responsible was dead." His voice was soft and sincere and full of deadly promise. Clint couldn't even think of what it would have been like if Alex had been the one on the helicarrier. Steve looked up at him and frowned.
"Death is never the answer. But God help anyone who tried to take Elsa away from me," Steve told him, not an ounce of emotion in his voice. Clint nodded at him. He finally understood.
"Good. Now that we've got that all cleared up, I can tell you how to approach Miri." Clint rose to his feet and started gathering his things. His leg was killing him and if Alex found out he'd pushed himself, again, she'd take it out of his hide. "No bullshit, man. Don't go to her with an attitude. Don't say you didn't do anything wrong. Because the minute those words come out of your mouth, she'll be on the defensive and you'll be bleeding. She will shoot you. You're lucky she didn't shoot you before."
"No bullshit. Got it."
"Apologize to her but don't be a dick about it. Tell her you understand and you'll never question her authority again. Because that's just what you did. And it was a dick move, Cap." Clint told him. He could see that the man wanted to protest. "It was. Miri was justified in putting a round in that kid. He had a knife. And trust me. If you'd talked Miri down only for that boy to stab her, Alex would have shot you for her."
Steve gave him a look that could have been a grin or a grimace. "I have no doubt about that at all."
"Thanks for the sparring session, Cap. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to shower and head home," Clint told him. "I need to rub my thigh in and I need to get to Lexi's apartment before she does. She successfully boiled water last night and I don't want it to go to her head or anything."
Steve blinked in confusion at that. "O...kay?"
"Lexi is a horrible cook. I've been trying to teach her. Its a slow, arduous, painful journey. I'm beginning to think that she'll never be able to do more than make sandwiches or use the microwave. And I'd like to get home before she attempts to boil water and burns it. Have a good night!"
Clint headed for the exit without another word. Not that Rogers needed to say anything at all. Clint could feel the man's question heavy against his back. But that was a story for another time.
~*~*~*~*~
Astrid looked around at the interior of the restaurant with a touch of apprehension. This was supposed to be the new, happening place in town and the only reason why they were there was because her boss had gotten them a reservation. The hostess leading them toward their table was clad in a soft, sky blue toga styled dress that was cinched at the waist with a braided gold rope belt. A crown of leaves circled her intricately styled hair and flat sandals made no sound as she walked. The floor was cushioned with a thick layer of throw rugs.
They wound their way between low tables that were surrounded by clusters of thick pillows. Many of those tables were in use, with parties of two and three and four crowded around them. Thick pillar candles cast a glow of golden light across the flat surface, bathing the diners in mellow light. The servers were clad in white togas and carried large round trays laden with platters of food and hammered pitchers filled with wine and water.
There were columns rising to the ceiling at random intervals. Strings of lanterns and sheer lengths of material in a rainbow of colors were strung between them. Soft colors painted the ceiling, the walls, and the diners. One corner was filled with a few musicians playing instruments that looked odd, filling the air with the soft hum of gently stroked strings and lyrical pipes. It was the most amazing place she'd ever seen.
The hostess finally stopped at a table by the wall and motioned toward the small alcove. Several panels of the same sheer material hung between two columns set between each table to create the illusion of privacy. "If you'll have a seat, your server will be with you shortly," the woman smiled, motioning toward the pillows with one hand. She laid out a pair of menus for them before stepping back to allow them access to the table.
"Thank you," Thor said with genuine pleasure, then helped Astrid down onto the pile of pillows that acted as their chairs. When he was sure she was comfortable, he settled beside her and reached out to pluck a grape from a small dish resting close to the edge. It was popped into his mouth and chewed with relish, an action she completely enjoyed. A slightly larger bowl of fragrant flowers sat in the center of the table, between two thick pillar candles. There were napkins and golden goblets on the table before them, waiting to be put to use, as well as silverware and thin plates of finely wrought metal.
When they were alone, Astrid turned to look at the man beside her with wide eyes. "This is certainly a strange place."
"Tony assures me that it is the finest dining establishment in the city," Thor replied. He sounded earnest, as if he thought she didn't like it. Astrid smiled at him.
"I'm sure it is. Its just a little overwhelming for me. Because I'm not used to this. I feel out of place."
Thor cocked his head at her and stared. "How could you be out of place? You're beautiful and you outshine all of those who have come here to dine and drink."
She blushed at his praise. And she might have called him a smooth talker, except she knew that he didn't really lie. She wasn't even sure if he knew how. And then their waiter was standing before them, pen in one hand and pad of paper in the other. She offered him a smile, scooped up the menu, and cast her gaze over it. There were things on the menu that she'd never even heard of. Not that it mattered. "Bring us The Feast," Thor said.
"Sir, that meal is meant to be shared by at least four people. You can't possibly finish it all off by yourselves." Astrid's eyes found the menu item Thor had ordered. And they bulged. Because The Feast was a huge meal. She gave brief consideration to strangling her boss when she next saw him because she had a sneaking suspicion that he'd been laughing at them when he'd gotten them a reservation at "The Roman Orgy."
"Don't argue with him. He can eat all that and more, I'm sure." Astrid told their waiter. The man gave her a look that said she wasn't helping. But she slid her gaze toward Thor meaningfully. The waiter followed suit and stared for a few moments. Then his eyes widened as he apparently recognized Thor. Or maybe it was just that he realized that the man wasn't going to be swayed.
"Very good, sir," the waiter replied, jotting it down on his menu pad. "And what would you like to drink?"
"Wine is good," Astrid interjected before Thor could say anything else. The toga clad waiter nodded and wrote that down, as well.
"I'll be right back with your wine and I'll put your order in," the man assured them, then hurried away. Probably to go tell someone that Thor was sitting in his section. She chuckled at the waiter's reaction, settling in to wait for their food and drink. The music filled the air around them and made speaking feel unnecessary. So Astrid leaned against Thor and listened to the music and enjoyed the feel and smell of him. There was something terribly intimate about their surroundings.
The waiter soon returned with a pitcher of wine. After filling their glasses, he smiled and hurried off to do more waiter type things. Thor asked the occasional question about her day and what she was working on but the questions were never meant to push the conversation and they lapsed into that comfortable silence that she'd come to enjoy with him.
Despite the size of the meal Thor had ordered for them, it didn't take the kitchen staff more than fifteen minutes to get it made. Astrid and Thor were in the middle of their comfortable silence when they noticed a small group of waiters heading their way. Each one carried a large platter heavily laden with food. Astrid gaped at the line of waiters because she didn't think that there was going to be room on the table for all of those platters. They made room. It was a feast fit for a king.
They were left alone with their heaping platters of food. Thor was attentive and carefully added portions of everything to Astrid's plate before serving some to himself. Some of the patrons eyed them from time to time, a quick look that was meant to not be a look. They no doubt wondered how the two of them would manage all that food. Astrid did her best to ignore prying eyes and focus on her food. Thor ate with great relish, taking time to savor each bite before moving on to the next.
There was an unbridled joy in Thor's actions and Astrid spent more time watching him eat then she did actually eating. He paused his feasting when he saw her watching him. A faintly puzzled look crossed his face. "Does the meal not appeal to you, Astrid?"
"No. I'm just enjoying feasting my eyes on you. You're enjoying this more than anything we've done together before," she replied.
He set down the rib he held and turned to look at her. There was a youthful exuberance on his face that she found made him that much more attractive. One hand reached up so that his thumb could touch the corner of the mouth, then he motioned to the platters of food piled upon their table. "I have not had such a feast since leaving Asgard, Astrid."
"The feasts there are big?" she asked, genuinely interested to know.
"My friend Volstagg could eat what rests upon this table and still go back for more. He has a love of food. All kinds of food. And he takes great relish in sampling it. In large quantities. And as he ate, he told stories. Stories of his daring battles and stories of his children." Thor's look took on an expression of fond remembrance. "Volstagg is always ready for a feast."
Astrid smiled. "Volstagg likes food?"
"He does," Thor confirmed. His gaze slid around the interior of the restaurant, lingering on the staff in their vibrant white togas. And on the sheer panels in various hues, casting rainbow colors across the ceiling and columns. One hand reached out and ran over the plump curve of a pillow. The material used to cover the pillows was rich and lush, expensive enough to look pricey but not so expensive as to be uncleanable. "This place reminds me of the furnishings in my father's hall."
She glanced around, trying to see things from his point of view. "Oh, yeah?"
He nodded, turning so he could trail a gentle hand down the sheer panel hugging the wall behind them. "The material is rich and fine. My mother would approve. I remember when I last saw her. She wore her hair in intricate loops that looked like knot work and a shimmering golden gown. She is always the finest dressed at the feast. I think she would like this world, with its strange customs and even stranger people. I think she would like this restaurant, with all of its gilt and glitter. I think she would like you."
There was such a wistful look on his face that she knew, in that moment, just how much he missed his mother. She gave a faint thought for her parents and felt an old, familiar pang of sadness and regret. There was no point in dwelling on it, so she tucked it aside, reaching out with one hand to lay it on the finely woven arm of his dinner jacket. "You love her very much. And you miss her very much. Don't you?" she asked him softly.
"I do," he admitted, offering her a faint shadow of his usual smile. "It feels as if its been an eternity since I've seen her. And my father. And my friends."
"You want to go back." It was a statement of fact. Not a question. When Thor turned to look at her, there was a hint of hope in his eyes, tempered with hesitation. She offered him a smile meant to encourage him.
"I do," he agreed. He reached out and clasped her hand in both of his. His skin was warm and the touch sent warmth rushing through her. Not the warmth of need and desire. Just the warmth of one tender soul touching a close friend. "I wish to return to Asgard."
"I see." Just like that, the warmth was gone. Astrid searched for a way to free her hand from his hold without upsetting him.
"And I want you to come with me. I want you to meet my friends and family. I want them to meet the woman who has captured my heart." His words started her heart pounding in her chest. Warmth filled her again. A tentative smile settled upon her face.
"You do?" she asked him.
"I do," he nodded. He reached out to take hold of his goblet of wine, sipping at it to give himself a moment. She could see that he was working up to something and the hesitation made her wonder. She'd come to think of him as fearless, capable of facing down any foe or danger. To see him worried was a little disarming. "I will, of course, understand if you say no. What my brother did to you was--"
She tugged her hand free to lay it over his. "What he did to me is not your fault. I would love to go to Asgard and meet your parents. When will this happen? When do we go? And why are you asking me this now? I mean, I'm thrilled you asked me, but I don't understand why now."
He offered her a more certain smile and returned his attention to his food again. "My father made it known that he wished to meet the people who stopped Loki from destroying this realm. I thought that this would be a good occasion to take you to Asgard to meet my family. Of course, it is entirely up to you if you would like to go. And I will understand if you decide you don't wish to go."
He didn't look at her, but she heard the uncertainty in his voice. Hearing him, a man of muscles and strength, sounding uncertain and weak left her feeling sad. She didn't like the idea of him so lost and sad. She was the one who reached out this time, laying her hand against the cheek farthest from her so that she could turn his face toward her. "I would love to go meet your family and your friends, Thor. I would be honored."
He said nothing for a few moments, then his smile erupted, wide and broad and bright as the midday sun. He took hold of her and pulled her to him, kissed her fast and hard and rough in his excitement. She was left with a spinning head and a burning need. Thor turned to face the restaurant. "Waiter! A bottle of the best champagne! And charge it to my friend Tony Stark! She said yes!"
There was a moment of silence before the entire place erupted into applause and cheers. Oh, boy.
~*~
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2014-01-21 04:35 am (UTC)--Comparing Clint to Legolas gave me the giggles
--Tony playing matchmaker is totally priceless
--Elsa and Steve are just sooo sweet
--Astrid and Thor -- the whole scene was so vivid for me that I almost felt like I was there. Wonderful.
Awesome work, Lady!
(no subject)
Date: 2014-01-21 05:04 am (UTC)the comparison of Clint to Legolas comes straight from the movie. Tony called him that during the Battle of New York.
yeah. its pretty funny that Tony was playing matchmaker. i mean, come on, Tony. seriously? you think people will take you seriously here?
Elsa and Steve are super, super sweet. almost too sweet. (to be honest, they kind of make me gag some times, they're so sweet.)
Astrid and Thor... that kind of felt like a natural progression in their relationship. and i'm so glad you could see the scene. that is always my goal with every thing i write.
(no subject)
Date: 2014-01-21 04:46 am (UTC)Tony... might want to watch his back if any of that gets back to Miri. ;) LOL Poor Phil, just a man at a mark, wasn't he? Hopefully he'll take the advice and get his act together soon! ;)
Clint and Steve was fabulous! I'm glad Cap's finally seeing some sense on all this. Maybe if he catches Miri in a good mood, that talk might go well. We'll see!
Aw, Thor and Astrid going to Asgard! That's fabulous! Talk about culture shock right? That should be a very interesting trip. And Odin wants to meet the heroes? Oh goodness! :D
Great work hun. Can't wait to see where it goes next!
(no subject)
Date: 2014-01-21 05:20 am (UTC)Tony means well. he really does. just... its Tony. you know how it goes with him. let's hope that he doesn't cross her path too soon after this. but time will tell.
Clint and Steve was... kind of hard? mostly because i wanted to touch on the comics relationship they had while still remaining true to the movies. and then work in the conversation and try to include everything. i was afraid i'd forget some of it. i hope i didn't.
Thor and Astrid are so cute and i can't wait to see her face when she finally lays eyes on Asgard. and Thor's family. that should be loads of fun!
glad you enjoyed, bb. hopefully soon! (also, ugh. i miss my paid icon space. we don't match anymore. :( that sucks.)
(no subject)
Date: 2014-01-21 05:15 am (UTC)Seriously though, sweetie...SO glad to see another installment of this! xxooo!!
*applauds happily*
(no subject)
Date: 2014-01-21 05:40 am (UTC)you know, i think i'd be worried if you didn't have that kind of reaction to anything i wrote involving Steve and Elsa. so i guess that means i did good with them, huh?
Tony and Phil. really. that was a fun conversation. Tony doesn't know when to be careful. so he kind of totally took his life into his hands there. because even though Phil took it okay, there's no telling if Miri will, should she hear about it.
Tony and Phoebe. yes. sexy. and playful. i just really tried to show that there's more to them other than just sexual attraction. because there really is.
Clint and Steve. its pretty bad when Steve is going to Clint for advice on how to approach Miri. because not even Clint knows how to properly approach Miri.
and finally, Astrid and Thor. that does sound like a cool restaurant, doesn't it?
i'm really glad you enjoyed, sweetie.