Work Text
1. Index2. Darcy/Bruce for ginkitsune14, by mutesilence3. Rogue/Gambit for tjada-sees-the-world-go-round, by mutesilence4. Rogue/Gambit for tjada-sees-the-world-go-round, by ozhawkauthor5. Hydra Husbands for thefancydragonqueen, by ozhawkauthor6. Valkyrie & Ororo for mariknickerbocker, by Meilan_Firaga7. Melinda May/Phil Coulson, by ozhawkauthor8. Sam/Darcy for deprough, by Artemis_Day9. Melinda May/Natasha Romanov for theguiltyhours, by Meilan_Firaga10. Tony/Darcy for nakedpears, by CeliaEquus11. Loki/OC for leviackerman457, by ozhawkauthor12. Loki/Tony for aerie11e, by mutesilence13. Vision/Scarlet Witch for bunnigirl174, by MelyndaR14. MockingHunter for backwardsandinhighheels, by ozhawk15. brotp Bucky & Nebula for thelittleswanao3, by lj_todd16. Pepperony for generalantiope, written by Artemis_Day
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Darcy and Tony are both walking back from retrieving snacks from the seemingly bottomless pantry of the upstate facility when Darcy passes Bruce’s lab and has to backtrack and do a double take.
“Oh, don’t mind Brucey-bear’s cloud of displeasure. Thor seems to have a distaste for the particular fluid he chose when he started vaping, and he’s just been happy to ward Point Break off while he works.” Tony is standing, turned to face Darcy and completely unfazed by the faint haze and the way Bruce is smoking a little like a chimney.
“Oh, I don’t give a shit. Honestly, Thor still feels bad for dragging him into helping fight his sister… which, I thought, in the mythos Hela was Loki’s kid?” Darcy shrugs and motions him on with the venti peppermint latte in her hand. “I’m gonna stop and see if he needs any help. Jane should still be occupied for another few hours between Thor and the sleep that follows good orgasms and being ripped in half.”
“Are we sure we’re not related?” Tony winks at Darcy, they are sure, but it had seemed like a close thing for a moment when they first met. “I forgot you worked a hookah bar the first few years of your college education.”
“Actually, my junior and senior year too, I got held back in kindergarten for being really bad at everything because of the unmanaged ADHD. I swear you need to consider it.” Darcy leaves Tony to huff grumpily in the hallway while she goes into Bruce’s lab.
“Sorry for the cloud. Friday, recirculate the air again, please?” Bruce waves as he breathes out another cloud. It smells like tootsie rolls and mint, and Darcy can’t help but laugh.
“Is that Minotaur I smell?” Darcy grins and sets her coffee down to reach into her pocket.
“How did you guess the name of my vape fluid?” Bruce looks startled, but a grin is creeping over his face.
“I have Cyclop’s Athena in my vape right now cause I was in the office, but when I’m in my room I’m usually toking off Artemis or Hades.” She offers her own rig to the man and takes a hit of his, mulling over the chemical baked good taste. “Oh, that’s… not that great.”
“Yours is good, though.” Bruce nods and agrees with a snort, smoke trailing out of his nose as he does. “Okay, but I’m sad they discontinued Cerberus.”
“You know, everyone said it smelled and tasted like chocolate Twizzlers, but I thought it was a tootsie roll after a junior mint or peppermint patty.” Darcy leaned on the table at their side.
“Exactly. And Thor would have hated it as much as he does this.” He grins at the younger woman so casually comfortable in his space and reminds himself that her cavalier spunk following tasing a thunder deity was why she wasn’t nervous around him the way a lot of the other assistants around the facility were. “I love him, but he needs to stop trying to make up for something I already forgave.”
“He’s got a lot of guilt riding on Loki dying again, and wondering if he really is actually dead this time. His people dying. Wakanda being obliterated.” Darcy shrugged. “I’ll see if I can talk to him about it some more.” She gently reaches out and squeezes Bruce’s side, an openly affectionate movement that she seems prone to around him. Would you like some help with anything in here? I have some time on my hands, at the moment.”
“Um… well, uh…” Bruce casts a look around the work area and considers it. Here in the facility he doesn’t really ever have or take paper notes, he meticulously cleans every few hours to try and keep himself from getting frustrated over math that carries itself away from him or to give his mind time to mull over things while his hands work. “I think I don’t actually have a lot I need help with?” He scratches at the back of his neck and then scrubs at his hair.
“That’s alright! I figured I’d offer. It looked tidy and neat, and from what I remember reading about your research studies with Doctor Ross while I was looking into lab ethics, you were pretty meticulous then, too.”
Bruce winces and takes another hit of his vape and watches Darcy do the same as she quickly pockets the rig and snatches her coffee.
“On that note, as I try and hop away with one foot in my mouth.” Darcy steps back and goes to leave. “Oh, try the Gryphon fluid next. I don’t know if the danish part will carry over well or if it’ll cockblock Thor away from the wonderful fruity smell of the blueberries.”
“You’re welcome anytime, Darcy. Honestly, at this point, the only thing in Betty’s and my way is her pride, and rightfully so, and my cowardice. And y’know, her husband.” Bruce laughs when Darcy’s head snaps around to him and then down to look at what she’s doing when she licks some coffee from where it sloshed on her hand in her startled double-take.
“Oh, I- I didn’t know about that. Not that it lets me off the hook for talking without thinking.”
“Don’t worry your pretty hair grey early. Besides, there are other girls my type that I’ve been looking at lately.” He winks at Darcy and shoos her towards the door before taking another hit of his vape.
“Oh. Well. Uh, that’s good to know. I, uh, I hope you have a good day, Brucey-bear.” The door closes and Tony is still standing in the hallway, waiting for her as if he’d known she’d be turned down in her effort to help, and cackling at her use of his nickname for the other man.
From the amused look on Bruce’s face before she turns to chase Tony down, hiking the backpack of snacks up for the sprint, he at least thought the little slip was cute.
“Anthony I am going to annihilate you!” Darcy takes off, careful as she goes not to jostle her coffee and spill it as she goes around the corner of the hall after him, the smell of peanut butter cookies following her as she goes.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Karen was pretty sure that Jessica was actually making a significant effort to restrain her drinking. Which, considering it would take at least 3 times as much to get her drunk, was really considerate of her. She was also listening as Karen talked about her work at the newspaper, how much she enjoyed researching.
“It’s a good feeling, isn’t it?” Jess agreed with a smile, her dark green eyes sparkling. “When some tiny detail everyone else has missed leads you right down the rabbit hole and out the other side…”
“Yes!” It was so nice to talk to someone who got it. Jessica’s work as a PI was in so many ways similar to Karen’s; it was just that Jessica’s research was usually intended for an audience of one, whereas millions might see Karen’s. They both had a responsibility to be right, though.
Though they’d met before, they hadn’t really had much to do with each other until Karen followed a lead which led smack bang into the middle of one of Jessica’s cases. They ended up teaming up to take down a bad actor; Jessica’s client was more than happy for their enemy to be publicly humiliated by a published exposé in the New York Bulletin. And Karen - well, Karen had long since learned the value of someone with special abilities to watch your back when you were dealing with a certain class of people.
The big surprise was after the case was closed and the article published. Karen got a text from Jessica which simply said;
I don’t like celebrating alone
.
Which, from Jessica, was pretty much an engraved gold-edged invitation.
They’d met in a seedy bar mid-way between their apartments and Jessica drank Karen under the table. Then she carried her home, tucked her into bed, and slept on the couch.
“You could have slept in the bed,” Karen said the following morning, as Jessica peered dourly into the fridge and muttered about the lack of caffeinated energy drinks.
“Yeah, that whole lack of explicit consent thing bothers me,” Jess mumbled into the fridge cavity.
“I was just talking about sleep,” Karen said.
“Oh.” A blush slowly suffused Jessica’s pale cheeks as she turned around.
“But since you mention it.” Karen grinned at her. “I’m definitely in a state capable of giving consent
now
.”
That was three months ago, and they still didn’t have what other people might call a relationship. They did meet up at least twice a week, though, and Karen had learned a whole lot about investigative techniques from just hanging out watching Jessica work. And Jessica - well, Trish had remarked Jessica seemed happier and more relaxed than usual, so Karen had to hope at least a little bit of that was down to her influence.
“Earth to Karen,” Jessica said, waving a hand in front of her face. “You want that last spring roll?”
“You eat it.” Karen shook her head. “I’m stuffed.”
“What were you thinking about?” Jessica asked, dunking the spring roll in her soy sauce.
“My next story,” Karen fibbed, not wanting to tell Jess she’d been musing about the nature of their odd relationship, such as it was. “Did you know Wilson Fisk is out of jail?”
Jessica froze mid-bite, and then withdrew the spring roll from her mouth and set it down on her plate. “I’m sorry, did you say
Wilson Fisk
?”
“Yes, he’s…”
“I know who Wilson Fisk is. More to the point, I know who Wilson Fisk is
to you
, and with Matt gone… you’re not going anywhere
near
Fisk.”
“Excuse me?” Karen blinked, hackles rising. “Since when do we tell each other what we can and can’t do? I want to do an exposé on Fisk…”
“He’ll kill you.”
“No, he won’t.”
“Yes, he fucking well will! I’ve seen the wreckage left behind when someone tries to challenge him, Karen. Matt’s not the only one of us who tangled with him. You gotta stay clear.”
“And let him just step back into his role as kingpin of Hell’s Kitchen? Like hell I will!” Karen shoved her chair back and rose to her feet. “Otherwise, everything Matt did is for nothing, and I’m damned if I’ll let that happen!”
“Well, at least you’ll die doing what you love, walking blindly into danger!” Jessica snapped back, standing up as well.
“Oh, look who’s talking,” Karen said scornfully.
“Hey,
I
try to avoid trouble. I just associate with all these dumbasses who are magnets for it!”
They glared at each other heatedly for a minute before Karen’s lips twitched and she sank back into her seat. “Oh, sit down.” She reached for the wine bottle and poured them each another glass.
Jessica sat down again, eyeing her thoughtfully. She ate the spring roll and downed the glass of wine before asking “What can I do to get you to back off investigating Fisk?”
Karen just looked at her.
“Fuck.”
“It’s
literally
my job, Jess.”
“You and Trish, what a bloody pair,” Jess muttered. “No sense whatsoever.”
“We could call in reinforcements,” Karen suggested tentatively.
“
Please
tell me you’re not talking about Frank Castle?”
“I wouldn’t even know how to contact him,” Karen lied. “Actually, I was thinking about Luke and Danny. And Misty and Colleen. Fisk doesn’t know shit about Danny and Colleen, at least, and I’m sure the police will be
very
interested in Fisk.”
“Misty’s a
Harlem
detective, unless you’d forgotten?”
“Oh, Fisk has plenty of fingers in Harlem pies too. I’ve got a whole dossier.” Karen grinned widely, knowing Jessica was at least thinking about it.
“Will you absolutely promise to duck behind Luke if the shooting starts?” Jessica asked finally.
“Pinky swear.” Karen widened her eyes and crooked her little finger.
“You’re so full of shit,” Jessica sighed, “but if I can’t stop you, then I guess I’d better help you.”
Karen hid her smile in her wineglass. “Thanks, Jess,” she murmured.
“Matt’s ghost would come back and haunt me if I let your ass get killed, anyway,” Jessica said, picking up the wine bottle and making a face as she found it empty. “You got any more of this?”
“In the kitchen. But I was thinking, if you’d finished eating… we might call it a night.”
Half-way to the kitchen, Jessica changed direction, heading for the bedroom door instead. “Last one naked’s a rotten egg,” she called over her shoulder, and Karen, grinning, followed her, discarding her clothes as she went.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The only person Remy had met so far at the X-Mansion who didn’t seem to have a stick rammed right up their ass was Logan Howlett, and the Wolverine had taken one look at him and grunted “Oh, fuck off ya Cajun asshole. Nobody wants your flirtin’ ways here.”
It didn’t seem like he was going to fit in too well, but then Remy LeBeau had never fit in anywhere all that well - anywhere save at a card table, anyway. He’d promised Xavier he’d give it a week and consider the job offer - there were a lot of things he could teach gifted kids they’d need to know to pass in the real world. He could be useful here, but happy? He didn’t know about that.
At least, until he was wandering the corridors late one night and saw a door ajar, soft light and laughter coming from within. Nudging the door open slightly, he glanced in to find half a dozen kids sitting at a table, cards in front of them, a bottle being passed around.
“Y’all know what the legal drinking age is in this state?” he drawled.
“Twenty-one, and we’re all over it, so get over yourself,” a girl with her back to him snapped without even turning around. “Just because Kitty looks twelve…”
“Shut it,” the tiny young woman at the other end of the table threw a peanut. It missed completely, sailing past the girl’s head. Remy caught it neatly, flicked it into his mouth and crunched down with a wink at the tiny girl. She blushed slightly.
“You’re Gambit, aren’t you? We heard about you. Like to join us? Pull up that other chair, Bobby.”
A husky blond leaned out from the table to grab the indicated chair and dragged it in. “Come on, Gambit,” he invited. “We’ve all been warned not to play with you for money, but since we’re playing for matchsticks anyway, it’s all good.”
“If ya got a stake,” another blond man drawled in a distinctly Australian accent.
“John,” the huge guy at the end of the table remonstrated. He was the only face Remy recognised; a guy that big was hard to miss. Piotr, also known as Colossus. “Here,” the Russian said, pushing a pile of matchsticks in front of the empty chair. “I do not mind sharing.”
“Because you’re winning!” Bobby pointed out with a laugh as Remy decided he might as well join them. If they really all were over twenty-one, they must be the permanent members of the on-call X-Men, and therefore possible future team-mates.
Piotr made the introductions as Remy took a seat, giving both real names and code-names. The tiny woman was Kitty Pryde, or Shadowcat. The pretty Chinese woman was Jubilee - name and codename, as she grinned at him - and Bobby was apparently Iceman. John, the Australian, was Pyro, which made Remy give him a sideways glance, having heard that name in other circles. Pyro glowered back at him.
Well, Remy wasn’t afraid of a firestarter. Shrugging, he scooped his matchsticks into a pile, glancing towards the woman who’d had her back to the door as Piotr made the las introduction.
“Anna-Marie D’Ancanto, also known as Rogue.”
She was glorious, porcelain-pale skin framed by long dark hair with a thick white streak down the front. Melting brown eyes glanced over him dismissively before she lifted a pack of cards in her gloved hands to shuffle them.
“Want me to handle that for you,
cher
?” Remy said instinctively. “Can’t be easy with gloves on.”
“I’ve got it, sugah.”
She was deft enough not to irritate him, at least, and the Southern accent was charming. Southern Mississippi, Remy guessed, and she didn’t bother trying to conceal it. Fascinated, he could barely take his eyes off her as she dealt, considered her hole cards and tossed some matchsticks into the pot to call.
He had a pair of tens, and the flop brought out another one, so he decided to play the hand out. Everyone else but Rogue and Pyro folded, and Pyro tossed his cards in with a grimace when the river produced an eight.
“Y’in, Cajun?” Rogue drawled, sliding in another pile of matchsticks.
He couldn’t see a win for her. The ten was the highest card on the table, and the only two in the same suit were the ten and the eight, both hearts. Maybe she had two hearts and was hoping for a third, in which case she might have him beat. Worth seeing, anyway.
“Why not, beautiful.” He winked at her, and she turned over the final card to reveal a nine of hearts.
Which might give her a flush, or even a straight. But since there was a nine of spades on the table, he had a full house. The only way she could possibly win was if she had the queen and jack of hearts, and the odds were against that. She was nibbling on her lip now, those melting brown eyes cast down at the table, and Remy hid a smirk. She was trying to hide triumph, but she had no way to know he had her beat.
She declined to up the bet, and he decided to be magnanimous. It was her first time, after all. Laying his cards down with a flourish, he smiled at her.
Rogue smiled back and flipped her own hole pair.
“
Non
,” Remy said in disbelief as the queen and jack of hearts smirked up at him and the rest of the table erupted in applause.
“Maybe we
should
play for money, after all,” Rogue said with a sweet smile, scooping the pile of matchsticks in front of her.
Remy smiled back dangerously. “Or clothes,
p’tite
? If you think your luck will hold, that is.”
He was gratified to see a blush come to her pale cheeks, a swallow in her throat as she held his gaze for only a moment. Catcalls and whoops around the table showed the amusement of the others at their clash, but Remy knew what he saw.
Sooner or later, he and Rogue
would
be playing for clothes. Though she might have taken the first hand, in the end Gambit’s luck would win the day. And the fair lady.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Vampires and werewolves were natural enemies. It was the order of things; it was the way it had always been. Vampires were the only predator a werewolf really had to fear, after all. However, in modern times both species were so vanishingly rare Jack Rollins had only met one vampire in the whole of his long life. He didn’t like Alexander Pierce, but the vamp, after one considering glance at him, had apparently decided to leave him alone, so Jack was willing to live and let live.
When he walked into the first briefing on his first day as a member of STRIKE Team Alpha, however, all the hackles on the back of his neck stood straight up as the scent of something very old, very cold and very dangerous washed over him.
It was a huge effort not to transform right then and there, to either go full wolf and run away yelping or go hybrid and try to tear out the vampire’s throat before it ate him alive.
The man at the head of the table straightened slowly, dark golden eyes meeting Jack’s, a smile quirking thin, chiselled lips. He could have stepped straight out of a frieze of warriors from Roman times; black hair, olive skin, powerful muscles bulging under the thin cloth of his black T-shirt. A combat harness criss-crossed his chest and Jack could see the hilts of several knives.
Of course he likes knives. He wants to make sure there’s plenty of blood shed.
“You must be Agent Rollins,” came a drawl, the accent pure New Yorker even though Jack was quite sure New York wasn’t founded until a millenia or two after this vamp was born. He was a daywalker, and that meant old. Very, very old. Maybe even older than Pierce, because this vamp fought in daylight, not just walking around in it.
“Sir, yes sir,” he managed to croak out, not at all sure how he wasn’t peeing his pants in terror.
“Sit down.”
It was a good thing there was a chair right next to him. Jack just managed to get into it as his legs folded instinctively.
“The rest of you are dismissed.”
“Yes, Commander Rumlow!”
The rest of the team saluted sharply and were gone in moments, the door sliding shut behind them, leaving Jack alone with the monster of his childhood nightmares, gliding towards him on soundless booted feet, terrifying and impossibly sensual at the same time.
He’s shorter than I expected
.
“I was considered very tall when I came to manhood, actually. Mankind were shorter all-around back then, of course.”
Jack’s eyes flew wide with fright.
He can read my mind!
“You’re practically shouting at me! Calm down, Agent Rollins. I’m not going to eat you. Not unless you want me to, anyway.”
“But you could mindfuck me into wanting you,” Jack protested. “To eat me. That is.”
“Actually, I couldn’t.” Rumlow perched one hip against the table and ran his fingers through perfectly coiffed black hair, which immediately sprang back into place as though he’d never even touched it. Jack was jealous of that hair. He had to keep his own shorn close to his scalp or it betrayed his wolf origins.
“You made me sit down,” Jack objected. “I couldn’t resist the command.”
“Telling you to sit down and making you desire harm to yourself are a very long way apart, Agent.” Rumlow sounded as though he wanted to laugh. “You smell absolutely delicious, but please believe me when I say I’m not going to overwhelm you by force, either.”
“Why should I believe anything you say? You’re a vampire!”
“And you’re a werewolf. Big whoop. We’re both the scary bad things which go
snarl
in the night.” Rumlow rolled his eyes. “I need blood to live. This job makes it easy for me to get it. Let me guess as to why you’re here.” He put a finger to his lips, pretending to think. “Ah yes, I have it. You’re a lone wolf alpha. You don’t want a pack and no alpha would tolerate you in their territory because you’re too damn strong, but you can’t suppress your hunt-and-kill instincts. Am I close?”
“You reading my mind again?” Jack was starting to feel more angry than afraid.
“Scenting you, actually. I don’t smell any other wolves on you, and no pack alpha would be apart from his pack long enough to let their scent wash off.” Rumlow shrugged, almost apologetically. “Pretty easy to guess the rest from there. Why don’t you want a pack? I’ve never met an alpha with scent as strong as yours. You could have the strongest pack on the continent if you wanted it.”
There was no point whatsoever in trying to lie to a vampire with a sense of smell at least equal to his own. So Jack just shrugged and told the truth. “I’m gay. Bit pointless to have a pack when the alpha male isn’t siring the next generation.”
“Ah.” Rumlow’s gaze was a touch pitying - and suddenly extremely sensual. Jack started to feel warm all over. “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell doesn’t really cut it when everyone can smell exactly who you’re sexually interested in, does it?”
“Most werewolves who enlist are here for their own reasons and don’t give a shit.” Jack shrugged, wishing his own keen sense of smell was as useful against the vampire as apparently Rumlow’s was against him. All Jack could smell was
predator
, though he was getting used to it now.
“I think we could work very well together, actually,” Rumlow said. “You want the chase, the hunt and the kill. I want to feed. What do you say?”
“You don’t need to make the kill yourself?” Jack asked cautiously. “You don’t need live prey?”
“Plenty of my kind live on the bottled stuff. No, the prey doesn’t need to be live, though the fresher the better, for preference. I’m perfectly happy if you just want to make messy, delicious, blood-draining wounds. Saves me having to cover up what I’ve been up to.” Rumlow licked his lips, and Jack’s gaze followed helplessly. He couldn’t help but wonder about the vampire’s sexual preferences.
Rumlow laughed softly. “Ah, Agent Rollins. That’s for me to know, and you to find out. After our first successful hunt together, perhaps?” Smirking, he leaned forward and pressed a slow, sensual kiss against Jack’s lips before sauntering out of the room.
His lips were warm
, Jack thought, before he bounded to his feet and followed Rumlow from the briefing room, not caring in the least that he was acting like a puppy gambolling at his new master’s heels.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Brunhilde was settled on the couch and hip deep in a bottle of indeterminate liquor (and — if we’re being honest — indeterminate number) by the time Ororo got back to their apartment. They’d been roommates for the better part of a year — the result of an interesting collaborative battle between the X-Men and the Avengers that Thor, Brunhilde, and a massive ship full of Asgardian refugees had crash-landed in the middle of — and while the sight of one of them drinking on the couch the second one walked through the door wasn’t exactly odd Ororo got the feeling that this time something might actually be a bit wrong. That idea might have had something to do with the red carpet footage of the Mutant Awareness Fundraising Gala she’d attended on the arm of Avenger Sam Wilson playing on a loop on their television. A big red X had been drawn on the television’s screen in what she hoped was not permanent marker. It magically landed directly over Sam’s face whenever the video looped back to them posing for the camera.
With a sigh, Ororo tossed her purse onto their cluttered entry table, kicked her heels across the room, and shuffled into her bedroom. Once she was out of the torture contraption she’d called an evening dress several hours previously and redressed in her comfiest at-home clothes she made her way to the fridge and fished out a bottle of beer. Open drink in hand, she plopped on the couch and reached over to curl her hand around her best friend’s, pressing the “Fuck this” on her wrist against the “Agreed” on the Valkyrie’s own. The fact that Brunhilde didn’t fight it was a good sign.
“You know Sam was just on loan,” Ororo assured her, taking a hearty swig of her beer. “Natasha, Steve, and Bucky would collectively skin us both if it was anything else. Not to mention what the Dora Milaje would do to me for breaking their king’s heart.”
Brunhilde didn’t say anything in response, but she sat her liquor bottle down on the coffee table long enough to launch its cap at the screen. It clinked against the surface just as Sam appeared once more.
“I can’t go to these things without some kind of date. No one believes you’re dating the King of Wakanda, and you remember what happened the last time some guy didn’t take no for an answer.”
An almost sinister smirk crossed the Valkyrie’s face. She’d laughed long and loud at the footage of the handsy bastard getting a bolt of lightning straight to the testicles after he’d palmed Ororo’s ass. “I am personally offended that you didn’t ask me to be your fake date to protect you from the non-believers.”
Ororo snorted. “Jealous, are we?”
“I might be a bit.” They drank in companionable silence for several long moments, hands still clasped together. There were times when they had trouble convincing people that their soulbond was nothing more than a friendship, particularly when people saw them holding hands or the like, but moments like this when they could just exist in one another’s company were what made their entire relationship. Affection without expectation, no romantic pressure, and just a genuine interest in being a part of one another’s lives was more than enough for them. After a few more pulls from her bottle, Brunhilde grudgingly offered an olive branch. “Did you at least have fun pretending to canoodle with the pretty birdie?”
There was nothing fake in the dramatic sigh that Ororo released in answer. “Did you know that the Falcon is an amateur ornithologist? Because that’s a thing that I know now. In great detail.”
“The fuck’s an ornithologist?”
“Bird watcher, basically.” She paused long enough to let Brunhilde’s brief snort of laughter subside. “Did you know that there are thirteen common species of perching birds in the DC area? Sam knows that, and he’s willing to discuss it at length.”
Her roommate laughed so hard that she snorted a bit of rum through her nose and devolved into a fit of swearing. When she finally recovered she leveled a hard stare at Ororo, sure the other woman was yanking her chain. “Next you’re going to tell me that he goes out in the woods to look at birds with the bow and arrow guy.”
“Oh, I got all the details on the weekend retreat they’re planning next month. Interested in joining them? I’ve been told we’re always welcome.” Ororo’s monotone delivery really sold Brunhilde on the trip. They both laughed.
“I swear, if you don’t take me as your date after this mess I will be genuinely insulted,” Brunhilde assured her friend, flopping sideways against the arm of the couch. She regarded the tv and the X she’d drawn there with a dubious expression. “I hope I used one of those washable markers.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Every SHIELD agent had heard of Tahiti Base. Despite being set in the next best thing to paradise on earth, it wasn’t exactly a desirable posting, because being sent for a stint on Tahiti Base meant Director Fury thought you were approaching burnout.Because field agents were more likely to burn out than desk agents, Phil Coulson really hadn’t expected ever to get sent to Tahiti. Yet, here he was, feeling underdressed in board shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, easily the pastiest person sitting in the beachside bar. Everyone else around seemed tanned, relaxed and utterly comfortable with sand getting places it shouldn’t while they sipped their mai tais and watched the sun set.It was definitely an attractive sunset, Phil acknowledged. There were some thin clouds far away on the horizon, and the red-orange sun bled through them to create streaks of neon pink and lavender, darkening to indigo further up in the sky. He lowered his gaze to the horizon, wondering if he’d see the rare green flash, when something a lot more interesting entered his field of vision.A woman was walking up the beach, having just emerged from the waves. Scraping wet black hair back from her face, she wore a scarlet bikini which… well. There wasn’t enough fabric in it to make a handkerchief, Phil suspected.Damn if she wasn’t absolutely rocking it, though. She walked with a calm, easy pace even though the deep sand, slender legs swinging with an easy grace which made Phil’s mouth go dry. As she stepped up onto the sanded wooden boards of the bar’s floor, Phil suddenly realised he was ogling, and snatched his gaze away, flushing with embarrassment.
It’s been way, way too long since I had sex.
From the corner of his eye, he spied the woman easing onto the bar stool next to his. The barman hurried over to serve her instantly, and she ordered a pina colada in a husky, slightly accented voice which had Phil grateful his Hawaiian shirt was a size too large and hung low over his groin.The drink was set before her in record time, and she lifted it to her lips for a long drink before suddenly swivelling towards Phil.“Cheers,” she said.Phil blinked and choked on his own tongue.The beautiful woman, who was obviously of Chinese origins now he looked at her properly, reached out and gave him a few surprisingly firm thumps on the back. Despite her slender, willowy frame, she was exceptionally strong.“You alright? Sorry, didn’t mean to catch you off guard. Just thought I’d welcome the newcomer. I’m bored of drinking with all these losers. I’m May. Melinda May.”Phil choked again. He’d heard that name before; she was one of Peggy Carter’s last proteges before the former Director retired. May was whispered as being one of the finest young Specialists the agency had ever recruited, maybe the finest.What the hell was she doing on Tahiti?And more importantly, was she hiding words somewhere under that tiny scrap masquerading as a bikini, and what were they?“Nice to meet you,” he croaked finally, and was rewarded by her brown eyes widening as one slim hand flew to her right breast. She lowered it instantly, but he was encouraged enough to unbutton his shirt far enough to reveal the single word printed in tiny, precise script just above his left nipple.“Well, Tahiti just got a whole lot less boring,” Melinda May said with a grin.“Yes,” Phil said, somewhat dazed. “It’s a magical place.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Darcy Lewis was not a superhero. She was not a government agent. She was not a politician.
If she was anything, it was ordinary. Her parents were both accountants; their claim to fame was doing the mayor’s taxes every year. She coasted through high school and college with Bs and Cs helped in no small part by her impulsive decision to take a summer internship in New Mexico that had nothing whatsoever to do with her major. Her days involved keeping house at Jane’s lab and making sure all her emails were answered in a timely manner. On any given night, she could be found on the couch, partially dressed and browsing Netflix.
The simple truth of the matter was this: you didn’t get much more ordinary than Darcy Lewis. And she was just fine with that. Superhero nonsense inundated her daily life, and as cool as it was to be mildly acquainted with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, Darcy preferred a tub of chocolate ice cream and the new season of Stranger Things to saving the world.
So
how
, she thought while running down some random street in some random European country she didn’t know the name of while an international news report plastered her face on every television worldwide with the words DANGEROUS FUGITIVE underneath, had she ended up a wanted terrorist?
**
The streets were crawling with cops. Amazing how fast law enforcement here worked when national security was on the line. Maybe they should send some of their guys stateside.
Darcy peeked through the double doors of the abandoned building she’d taken refuge in. The place was damp and full of rat droppings, but it was better than taking her chances out there. Most of the cops had their weapons drawn. The chief was speaking rapidly in French, and while it’d been years since her high school language classes, Darcy picked up a few key words like ‘dangerous’ and ‘kill’. Whatever was in those bullshit news reports must’ve been really bad to warrant this kind of reaction.
“Lord, what did I do?” She sunk to her knees, fighting back hot tears of anguish. “What did I do to deserve this? Is it because I ate bacon that one time? I know it wasn’t kosher, I just wanted to know what it tasted like. I’m
sorry.
”
Heavy footsteps came from outside and Darcy held her breath. She ran a finger over the taser in her pocket. It was almost out of juice, but if she was lucky, she might get one last hit out of it. She stood up on jelly-like legs, whipping out her taser as the door creaked open.
The next few seconds, went like this:
Darcy’s taser sputtered and died, leaving her helpless and vulnerable.
A smoke bomb went off next to the police officers, sending them in a frenzied scramble.
Cold fingers wrapped around Darcy’s mouth as she was pulled against a powerful body and dragged kicking and screaming into the alley.
A van pulled up at just the right moment for Darcy to be thrown in, the door slamming shut behind her.
The next few hours went like this:
Darkness.
**
Darcy awoke to tires rolling over a gravelly road, knocking her head against the metal floor of the vain. She groaned and rolled around in agony as memories of the last few days came crashing down. She bolted upright. The car was slowing down, but with no windows and no way to mark the time, they could be in Australia for all she knew.
‘I knew I should’ve charged my phone before I became a wanted criminal.’
She kept her useless iPhone close at hand as the car came to a full stop. The front door opened and closed. Footsteps moved to the side door which was then unlocked. Darcy crouched down with her lousy excuse for a weapon at the ready. If she was about to die, then she was going out swinging.
The door opened. A hulking shadow of a man appeared. He backed up into the light and Darcy… slumped over. Her head was suddenly killing her. “What the everloving fuck, dude?”
Bucky Barnes smirked, offering her a hand like he could make the switch from kidnapper to gentlemen and she’d just accept it without question. Not happening.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, leading her through a doorway and down several flights of stairs into a large basement. “The cops were on my tail and I had to get you out of there ASAP.”
“How’d you even know where to find me?”
“We’ve been tracking you ever since the warrant went out for your arrest. Here’s a tip. Next time you want to hide your identity, don’t use your mother’s maiden name as an alias.”
“Well, excuse me if I skipped that day in ‘Fugitive 101’,” Darcy snapped. “And who the hell is
we?
You got a boss now?”
“You could say that,” said a disembodied which was subsequently embodied when Jane appeared at Bucky’s side. “I keep him clean and well dressed, so I guess that makes me the boss.”
“You don’t do either of those things,” Bucky said, wrapping an arm around her, “you just have a shower and a washing machine. And if you’re the boss how come you’re always calling me ‘sir’ when we-”
“JANIE!” Darcy threw herself at her former boss. She would’ve knocked her off her feet were it not for the solid brick wall that was Bucky’s torso. “Oh god, Jane. I thought I’d never see you again! I thought you wouldn’t believe in me!”
“Darcy, it’s been four days since we last saw each other.” Jane tried to push her off, but Darcy had her in a vice grip. “And of course I believe you. You’re afraid to kill a spider, much less a foreign dignitary.”
“It’s true! I’m a total wimp!” Darcy cried into Jane’s shirt, soaking it through with tears. “I’ve missed you guys so much. I thought I’d never see you again and-”
“That’s all very sweet of you,” said Jane, patting Darcy awkwardly on the back, “but maybe we should do this later? Like after we’ve come up with a plan for clearing your name?”
“Can’t we just change our identities and move to Mexico?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Dammit, I like Mexico.” Darcy released Jane from her vice-like grip and sat on a desk. “Okay, what’s your plan? Because aside from Mexico, I got nothing.”
“You know it’s not too late to turn her in,” Bucky hissed in Jane’s ear.
“I can hear you!”
Bucky smiled innocently and Darcy wondered if punching him out would be worth the broken bones. “Luckily, we already have a plan in place. All you have to do is stay here and let us take care of everything.”
Darcy put her hands on her hips and glared. “Are you implying that I should curl up in the corner like a damsel in distress and let the big strong heroes save me?”
“Pretty much.”
“Okay, that sounds good,” Darcy said, all bravado gone in an instant. “I am in way over my head and I cannot deal with this. Yesterday I went to the bathroom twelve times because I’m so scared.”
“Twelve times?” This was a new voice Darcy had never heard before. It came from a man she’d never seen before, who appeared from behind a gap in the wall and flashed his blindingly perfect smile in Darcy’s face like it wasn’t a legitimate lethal weapon. Which it was. “Damn. Now I know you’re not a terrorist.”
“Darcy, this is Sam Wilson,” Jane said, “you might know him as Falcon.”
“I do.” She maybe had a poster of him on her door and she possibly had a dream once where they were in bed and his tongue was doing wonderful things to her breasts.
“So you’re the great Darcy Lewis.” Sam shook her hand and she almost forgot to let go. “Nice to finally meet you.”
“I’m not great,” Darcy said instead of ‘you too’ or ‘thank you for helping to clear my name’ or anything else a normal, not terrified person would say.
Sam chuckled. “I’ve heard different.”
“Sam’s gonna watching your back for a while,” Bucky said. “He was the best we could do on such short notice. Sorry about that.”
Sam shot Bucky a look. “You know, I think a lot about how much better Jane could do.”
“Okay!” Jane got in between them because Bucky could punch Sam’s lights out. “Everyone relax. We’re moving out of here soon so we’ll all need our strength.”
Jane was right in many ways, most of which she didn’t know until approximately one and a half seconds later when a massive explosive took out the far wall. The attack killed the power, but rapid flashes of gunfire gave Darcy enough light to see Bucky shove Jane behind a metal table and then use the nearest armored officer as a flail to knock three more guys to the ground. While he systematically decimated his hundred guys, Sam grabbed Darcy around the waist and took to the air. He flew far above his hundred, raining down fire like a mechanical death angel. Darcy had no idea how many were left by the time they soared out the window.
“What about Jane and Bucky?” she shouted over the wind and through a mouthful of hair.
“Don’t worry. They know where to meet us.”
He kept low enough that she could breathe and not die of hypothermia. Flying without an aircraft was so much less cool than it looked in the movies. If Darcy made it through this, she’d be writing a strongly worded letter to Hollywood about their irresponsible depiction of flight travel.
Speaking of which, a massive helicopter was now on their tail. They weren’t shooting yet, but those mounted guns were like a bunch of evil faces glaring at Darcy. All they wanted was a chance to tear her head from her neck.
“Reach into my belt. Now!”
Darcy obediently grabbed the smooth metal instrument attached to his side. Her fingers fell into appropriately shaped grooves as she pulled it over his shoulder. Her eyes bugged out. It was a gun. She screamed and dropped it. Down, down, down it went into the ocean.
“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I freaked out.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Sam said. He held her tighter and made a sharp turn left. “I should’ve warned you. Grab the other one and hold on to it. You know how to use one, right?”
She’d taken a couple of classes on her parents’ insistence. They didn’t want her living in New York, much less with superheroes, without some way of defending herself. Her aiming skills left much to be desired, but if she had to, she could probably point and pull the trigger. Assuming she wasn’t two hundred feet in the air with machine guns after her.
Said guns went off as they left city limits. Darcy screamed and buried her head in Sam’s chest. Bullets tapped off his wings and armor. They were newly reinforced with vibranium, or so she’d heard. Vibranium or no, they were tough. Sam barely seemed conscious of the threat to their lives as he fell into a zigzag pattern. The helicopter stopped shooting, allowing Darcy to reach around for the second gun. It was heavier than the first and her palms were soaked, but she had a good enough hold to react instinctively when the helicopter started gaining on them.
She fired once and hit the window, cracking it. The recoil almost knocked her out of Sam’s grip. Her ears rang and her arms felt like fire. The helicopter’s course faltered, allowing them to fly towards a nearby cliffside undeterred. Darcy kept her eyes closed from there. She didn’t hear any bullets, but the whirring blades continued for a long time and never seemed to get any softer.
Not until she caught the scent of saltwater did she dare to look. They were over the shore and about to land on top of a small mountain. Sam lowered her gently to the ground. It was warmer down here, but once she was finished kissing the sand and then spitting it back out, she felt the chill and pulled her jacket tighter around her.
“Solid land,” she moaned. “I’ll never leave you again.”
Sam pulled off his goggles and chuckled. “Sorry, that was such a bumpy ride. We’re safe here for now.”
“For now,” Darcy repeated. “That is slowly but surely becoming my least favorite phrase of all time.”
“I don’t blame you,” he said.
He guided her to a rock big enough for sitting. Darcy leaned her head on his shoulder before realizing what she was doing. Following the requisite seizing stab of embarrassment, she decided she didn’t give a crap and hugged him.
“You were good back there,” he said.
“No, I wasn’t,” she said. “I’m a mess. I should’ve even be in this situation. I’m not a hero, I’m just a coffee girl. What makes me so special?”
She whimpered like a sad kitten drenched in rainwater. This was the worst day of her life. She was a wanted woman, she’d been shot at a million times, and God, her parents must be so pissed right now. She’d never hear the end of it.
“Give yourself more credit,” Sam said. “You’re in a tight spot, but you’re still moving. Still trying to clear your name. A lot of people would’ve cracked by now.”
“I’m on the edge, believe you me.”
“But you’re not over it.”
He had this weird way of making everything he said, no matter how unbelievable, seem perfectly logical. Darcy didn’t know if this was the therapist in him or just her brain’s desperate need for a human connection taking his words to mean more than he intended, but goddamn, did she want to kiss him so badly all of a sudden.
“When this is over, you want to go out sometime?”
Sam brow shot up. “Really?”
Darcy flinched. “Was that a ‘holy crap I’d love to’ kind of really or a ‘holy crap I can’t believe you’d even ask’ really?”
“More like a ‘this is not the best time’ really,” he said, smiling, “but yeah, I’d like that.”
His phone beeped at the same time Darcy’s buzzed. On his call ID was a photo of Bucky asleep with a shaving cream Santa Claus beard on his face. Jane’s number flashed across Darcy’s screen.
“Looks like our ride is on the way,” Sam said, squeezing her shoulder. “Let’s get your name cleared and then we can get pizza.”
“And watch Stranger Things?” Darcy asked hopefully.
“Works for me.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Don’t think I’m not aware of what you’re doing.”
Melinda May didn’t give the slightest pause to her movements as she continued to situate her undergarments and strap on her holsters. “You have eyes,” she said in bland agreement with the other woman’s statement. “They’re not covered. That should make the fact that I’m getting dressed pretty obvious.”
On the bed Natasha heaved a dramatic sigh. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” In the mirror Melinda watched as the redhead twisted her body in a languid stretch, the sheet that was her only covering slipping further from her skin with every movement. Natasha’s eyes found hers in the looking glass, a smirk quirking up one corner of her lips. “You can just admit it if you’re too old to keep up with me, you know,” she taunted, trailing one hand from her collarbone to the valley between her breasts. “You don’t have to make up some mission just to get away from me.”
Melinda knew she was being baited, and normally she would let such a statement roll over her shoulders without a second thought, but this was Natasha. She was only human. The thigh holster in her hands slipped to the floor, forgotten, as she turned from the mirror to face the bed. In two strides she stood so close that a toss of Natasha’s head dusted the ends of copper curls across the skin of her thigh. She threaded her hand through those curls, tightening her grip just enough to bring the younger woman’s gaze in line with her own.
“Did it occur to you that I might be trying to give you a break?” she asked as one dark eyebrow arched upward, her voice growing husky. “Maybe I’m not so sure the famous Black Widow can keep up with me.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow of her own in flawless imitation, parroting her response back in the exact same tone of voice. “Is that a challenge?”
Instead of giving a verbal answer, Melinda slid to the bed in one smooth movement, dragging the hand that wasn’t clenched in Natasha’s hair along the other woman’s body. She snagged the edge of the sheet and tossed it away at the same moment she pressed their mouths together. Their tongues and limbs tangled as one, the Russian’s entirely bare form moulding against Melinda’s body half covered in nylon and lace. Melinda straddled her hips as Natasha peeled each piece of clothing she’d only just donned away, their kiss growing truly debauched as they writhed against one another. When they were both equally nude, panties and weaponry forgotten over the edge of the bed, Natasha flipped them against the sheets, settling herself between Melinda’s thighs. They rocked together for what might have been an eternity before Melinda spread her legs wide and canted her hips upwards. She pulled back from their kiss with a tug of her teeth on Natasha’s bottom lip. A playful grin crossed her features as she pressed against the redhead’s shoulder, urging her down where she really wanted her.
“Age before beauty,” she teased.
With a gentle huff of laughter, Natasha ducked her head to where she’d been directed. Age did, in fact, come before beauty, but she more than made up for it afterwards.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Quick! Pick a number between one and fifty!”Tony arched an eyebrow. He vaguely recognised Foster’s assistant/Bruce’s snack girl from the lab, but since he only talked to Bruce when he visited the lab they hadn’t been introduced. This was the young woman who’d knocked out the god of lightning with a taser? And not even a taser made by Stark Industries?“Forty-two,” he said.“Thanks!” she said, tapping something into her iPad. Why didn’t she have one of Tony’s products? It was bad enough to know that she used an iPod, but this was the last insult.“Hey!” he said, standing up and preparing himself for a rant. She raised her eyes to meet his, a bright smile on her face. Tony forgot what he was about to say.“Uh, I’m doing a survey,” she said.“Hi, ‘I’m doing a survery’. I’m Tony.”“Oh my Thor, you did not just say that. Such a dad joke.”He winced. He wasn’t old enough to be her dad, right? Well, not the age his dad was. There was only, what, twenty years between them? At most?Twenty. He blinked. He peeled back the sleeve he kept over the soulmark on his arm and looked down at the words he’d tried his best to ignore for over two decades. Quick! Pick a number between one and fifty! “Huh,” he said.“Well, Janey and Bruce were arguing about how many people at Stark Industries are fans of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy , and I don’t know how they got onto the topic while I was just getting coffee, but I thought…” Tony had started to walk towards her, and she trailed off as she saw the writing on his arm. “Oh. Oh . You’re my soulmate? Dude! I’ve been waiting my whole life! Hug time.” She spread her arms.“Not until you start using a StarkPad,” he said, crossing his arms.“You capitalist,” she said, and she pouted. “Glad I didn’t get a hug now.”“You don’t know what Apple could’ve bugged to get my secrets.”“What, and you can’t block bugs in your own tower?”“Your iPod was in SHIELD’s hands. Which was also HYDRA. Excuse me for being careful.”“But HYDRA’s gone,” she said. “And SHIELD. What’re you worried about?”“The things I don’t know,” he said darkly. “Uh… what’s your name again?”She rolled her eyes.“You can call me Apple Girl until you’ve earned the right to use my name,” she said. She spun around on her heel and stalked off. Tony figured that he couldn’t be sued for harassment for studying his soulmate’s figure as she walked away. His lips tugged up at the edges.“FRIDAY, who was that?” he asked.“I have been forbidden from telling you, sir,” she said.“For… forbidden? By who?” She didn’t reply. “Traitor.” He pulled out his phone and dialled Bruce’s number. “How could she even do it that quickly… Bruce! What’s the name of Foster’s assistant?”“Why?” Bruce asked cautiously. “If she’s started a prank war with you, I’m not getting her into trouble. She keeps me fed and she’s really nice and I don’t want to risk her retribution.”“She’s my…” There was a beep in the background. “Soulmate. She, uh, didn’t have a chance to introduce her--”“Bruce, don’t tell Tony D… her name,” Foster called. “Intern’s orders.”“Sorry, I can’t help you, Tony,” Bruce said, and he hung up. Tony stared at his phone in disbelief.Time to talk to Thor. She worked quickly, he’d give her that. No one was willing to give him details about her, not even about where she studied. He mysteriously couldn’t access any footage with personal information about her and she was difficult to track down. Whenever he visited the lab, she wasn’t there.It took him way too long to work out what to do. So much for being a self-proclaimed genius.He waited in the lab from after breakfast, right through lunch, until his soulmate eventually stomped in with food for her lab pets. Her lips were pursed as she walked past Tony to place food on Foster and Bruce’s benches and forcefully pulled them away from their projects.“Eat it before it gets any colder,” she said. “I won’t have you fainting with hunger just because Tony’s being an ass.”“So, Apple Girl, wanna get dinner with me tonight?” Tony asked. “We need to get to know each other. You’ve somehow corrupted my AI to work against me without needing any technical knowledge, which is impressive. You’ve turned my science bro against me, which shouldn’t be possible--”“Don’t call me that,” Bruce said, somewhat muffled by a mouthful of vegan burger.“I’ll let you keep your tech, as long as I’m allowed to go through it all first and check for bugs,” he continued. She rolled her eyes again.“You checked everyone’s personal tech yourself before we moved in,” she said.“What… even yours?”“Yeah.”“Oh.” He had a vague memory of sneering at many inferior devices. And a few vibrators probably submitted to troll him. “I remember that now.”With a huff, she uncrossed her arms.“Fine,” she said. “My name is Darcy Lewis. You can pick me up from my room tonight at six.”Tony pumped his fist in the air and jumped down from the stool. He’d almost reached the lab door when he turned around, eyebrows furrowed.“Which one is your room?” he asked.“Oh no,” she said with a mischievous look. “That’s something you’ll have to figure out yourself. And you’ve only got four and a half hours, so you’d better get started.”Tony’s jaw dropped.Looks like he may have found his match.This was going to be interesting.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Good morrow, Lady Alyssa!” Thor greeted in his usual cheerful way, pausing at the open door of my office. I looked up from the computer and smiled at him.
“Good morning, Prince Thor. Prince Loki.” Thor’s brother was just behind him, his darker shadow, wearing an all-black suit with a dark green silk tie. He inclined his head, but said nothing.
“Is there anything I can do for you this morning?” I checked. As one of the team of personal assistants to the Avengers, it was my job to try and anticipate their needs, but sometimes one of them would take it into their heads to request something unexpected. Usually it was as simple as tracking down someone who could cook Sokovian cuisine when Wanda felt homesick, or finding a bottle of Natasha’s preferred brand of expensive Russian non-export vodka, but occasionally Steve or Bucky or one of the Asgardians threw me for a loop. I’d been known to phone Wong in desperation on occasion. He owed me a few favours, anyway.
“Not today, thank you,” Thor said cheerfully. “Anything we think up can wait until you return from your break, anyway. Are you still intent on only celebrating for one day?”
“Yes, thank you.” I smiled at him. “It’s perfectly normal here.”
“What is?” Loki asked, looking mildly interested in the conversation.
A bit embarrassed to say, I ducked my head.
“It is Lady Alyssa’s celebration of her birth tomorrow,” Thor answered for me. “Apparently here on Midgard, celebrations of the natal day are confined to the actual day itself.”
“Only one day? You must celebrate hard, then,” Loki spoke directly to me. I shrugged slightly. He didn’t need to know I planned to spend most of the day running personal errands I never got time to deal with, before treating myself to takeout from my favourite Vietnamese restaurant and an evening rewatching a favourite movie or two on my couch in my comfy pyjamas.
“I brought you a gift in celebration,” Thor said, dragging my eyes back to him. A lot of girls I knew idolised Thor, said he was the most beautiful man they’d ever seen, but whenever Loki was around, my eyes were drawn to the darker of the two brothers, as inexorably as breathing. There was something about him, a fascination which made it hard to look away.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” Embarrassed, I looked down at the package he fished from his jacket pocket and laid down on the desk.
“Open it tomorrow,” Thor said with a smile. “It is bad luck to open such gifts early.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” I said with a smile, getting up and reaching to kiss his cheek. He beamed, leaning down to let me.
Still standing at the door, Loki let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes, folding his arms and tapping his foot impatiently. “If you are quite done with your latest conquest, brother?”
“Hey!” I scowled at him. I wasn’t about to let him get away with that, demigod or not. “I’m nobody’s conquest, and your brother and I are friends. Don’t be so rude.”
For the first time in our acquaintance, I had the satisfaction of seeing Loki actually look surprised. After a moment he inclined his head in a slight bow and said “I beg your pardon, Lady Alyssa.”
“So you should.”
Thor laughed at our exchange. “Lady Alyssa will not tolerate your ill manners, Loki,” he remarked. “She is entirely impervious to charm and platitudes, too.”
Loki’s expression as he looked at me was considering. I had the distinct feeling he was reassessing his opinion of me in light of Thor’s words.
“Well, I’d best get back to work,” I said hastily. Having Loki watching me more closely wasn’t something I wanted, because then he might spot the way I found it hard to keep my eyes off him. “Thank you for the gift, Thor. That was very kind of you.”
“Natal days must be celebrated,” Thor said seriously. “May your celebrations be merry!”
* * *
Thor’s gift turned out to be a scarf made of some incredible shimmery fabric of a colour somewhere in between gold and green; I’d never seen anything like it on Earth and was pretty sure it was of Asgardian make. It was soft and silky, running between my fingers like water, yet warm when I put it around my neck.
Enchanted, I sent Thor a text to thank him once again before heading out to run my errands. Living on-site in the Avengers facility had its advantages - no commuting, to begin with - but it did mean a twenty-minute drive into town to go to the shops, or the hairdresser, or the bank, or any one of a dozen other little jobs I never got time to deal with. Getting a weekday off was too useful to waste doing nothing in particular, and being my birthday was at least an excuse to get my hair done. I made time for a mani-pedi as well and felt thoroughly pampered as I headed home late that afternoon.
“Lady Alyssa,” a voice said as I juggled bags and parcels to open my apartment door. “May I be of assistance?”
I’d know Loki’s silky, perfectly modulated tones anywhere. A little shiver raced up my spine as he moved up beside me, taking parcels from my hands so I could swipe my keycard.
“Thank you,” I said a little nervously as the door opened and he followed me into the kitchen, placing the parcels he’d taken down on the counter for me.
“You’re welcome.” He looked curiously at the bag I was just putting on the counter. “Takeout dinner? Are you not going out to celebrate with friends?”
“Uh, no,” I admitted. “I was just going to chill out in front of the TV, actually.”
“This will not do,” Loki said decisively. “I shall take you out to dinner.”
“I beg your pardon?” I blinked, startled.
He seemed to rethink his words, cocked his dark head slightly. “If you would like to, that is?”
Would I
like
to go out to dinner with Loki, prince of my darkest dreams? I tried not to sound too eager as I said “Sure,” in as casual a tone as I could manage.
He looked me over slowly, taking in my scruffy trainers, yoga pants, baggy sweater and the stunning scarf Thor had given me. He seemed to pause a long time considering the scarf before a smile touched his thin lips, and then he said;
“The outfit just won’t do, though. If you will allow me?”
“Allow you what?” I didn’t understand what he was asking. He was definitely right about the outfit, though. He looked dressed for anything in yet another of his tailored black suits, this time with a dark green shirt and a black and gold striped tie, his black shoes polished to a gleaming shine, black hair slicked back from his austere, fine-boned face.
“The scarf can stay,” Loki murmured, looking me up and down again, “the colour suits you, but as for the rest…” His fingers glowed green as he lifted them, made several passes in the air. “There. Much better.”
“What is?” I frowned, and he smiled, placing a long-fingered hand on my shoulder and guiding me over to the mirror beside the apartment door where I always checked my reflection before heading over to my office.
I stared in silent disbelief. My scruffy clothes had vanished, replaced by a long, elegant gown in emerald green, edged with fine bands of gold embroidery at the neckline, sleeves and hem. A belt of gold links set with emerald green stones clasped around my waist, a matching necklace around my neck. The scarf was woven into my hair, somehow transformed from a windswept mop into an elegant updo.
“Who,” I said finally, gesturing at the mirror, “is that?”
Loki’s reflection appeared behind me, towering over me as he placed his hands lightly on my shoulders.
“Don’t you know?” he said quietly. “She is the most beautiful woman on Midgard.”
I hadn’t the faintest idea what to say, but he removed the need for me to say anything as the air shimmered green around us and suddenly we were somewhere else.
“This looks like a very fancy restaurant,” I said faintly, looking around. “Do we need reservations?”
Loki chuckled deeply. “They know me here.”
Indeed, a maitre d’ was bowing in front of us and leading us to a table beside the windows, the view from which overlooked a city I was fairly sure I’d never seen before. The menus set before us were half in English, half in some completely unrecognizable language.
I decided not to ask. To just go with the evening, strange and magical as it was turning out to be.
The most magical thing of all was the way Loki was looking at me, anyway.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“I would like for these ‘friends’ of yours to remain oblivious to our relationship.” Loki grumbles as he puts out a foot, Tony’s abdomen colliding with it as he goes, mindlessly, to flop across Loki’s lap at the end of a particularly long binge of design and application of theory, various scientists, and scientific theory on to develop better engines for the helicarrier and the quinjets.If they are going to carry his teammates, and perhaps him sometimes, Tony wants it to work flawlessly and with as little chance for mishap as possible. Which, in this case, led to four days without sleep and so much caffeine that he isn’t sure if it’s his waking nightmares or the chemicals he has consumed that are making his heart feel like it’s stuttering. “Right, certainly.” Tony instead brushes past Loki’s foot and heads for a rather prime looking rug in a sunbeam.Technically, the magical shackles on Loki should keep him from doing anything with his own powers, but Tony knows they don’t seem to affect his ability to conjure a glamour. The other’s own sleeplessness isn’t visible on his face or in his posture, Tony had seen it when he had checked in on Loki a few times.Under the pretense of ensuring their prisoner was contained while Asgard readied itself to contain such a… royal threat. Of course.“It’s sweet that you seek me out for comfort, all the same.” Loki murmurs the words as he continues to read his way through a collection of classical Midgardian literature.At the moment Loki was reading The Martian and can’t but help finding himself amused at the references he is able to catch, and occasionally utilizing the search engine on the tablet Captain Rogers had thoughtfully offered him when he had heard what book he was reading, in the event that he wasn’t sure of the accuracy of something. He believed that the suggestion had actually been mentioned to him by Romanoff in passing.Tony had assured him that all their suggestions weren’t pointed jabs.He didn’t believe that as Clint had told him to check out several equestrian magazines.“I seek out breathing people for comfort when I am tired. While a person is is preferable, though, at this point as long as it’s vaguely horizontal and not entirely covered in hornets, I’ll sleep like a log.” Tony eased himself onto the rug and yelped when a pillow slammed into his ass from across the room.“Use a pillow, caveman.” The voice Bruce filtered in through the already closing door and Loki flinched as he heard it before turning his focus to his reading when he was sure the other man hadn’t actually entered the room.Tony tucked the pillow under his head and shoulders in a lump, humming as he settled down. When it was clear there wasn’t anyone else following the Avenger, Loki stood and collected one of the blankets from the little compartment in one of the steps of Tony’s lounge area and moved to where his partner was laying. He flicked up the hood of Tony’s sweatshirt and loosely shook the blanket out over the prone form. He pressed a kiss to the tips of his fingers and then ran it across and then down Tony’s shoulders and spine in some instinctive action that had possessed him several times now.“Thank you.” Loki hears the faint murmur from Tony as he’s already turned away to return to the couch. He hums in response but continues forward.And if Loki found himself moving to sit against the window later and humming to soothe Tony of the early signs of terrible dreams, then only Thor might notice, as he was the only one to enter the room for the rest of the afternoon.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Leave. Me.
Alone
,” Shuri shouted, hurling a wrench at the latest Dora Milaje in a string of brave women who had attempted to coax the young queen from her lab in the past four days.
It had been a hard week for them all, with some of their teammates inarguably dead, and others having disintegrated into thin air. Shuri, in a move that she knew in her heart was the
wrong
move, had left the running of Wakanda to M’Baku as soon as her sudden coronation was over, and she had drowned herself in the familiar, in her work. In a desperate move to make
something
right again, she had fixated on restoring what remained of Vision after Captain Rogers and Thor had brought his – could one even call it a corpse? – back to her lab.
By now, the mechanics of his body worked. As a machine, as an AI, he was fully functional. Stark was even working on digging up the bare bones of the program that JARVIS had once been, and he had promised to give it to her as soon as possible. If only they could have the mind stone back in his head, Vision at least could be restored to them all, unlike so many others.
<><>
Wanda shivered even though it wasn’t cold where she sat, staring out at an endless orange sunset. Or maybe it was a sunrise. She couldn’t even tell, didn’t really care. Wherever they were – inside the soul stone, according to Dr. Strange – the sky didn’t change anyway. She closed her eyes, ignoring the glow of orange light that still filtered through her eyelids, and did her best to imagine Vision as he had been in Scotland – blond hair, blue eyes,
there beside her.
Though she loved him no matter what he looked like, she had learned the hard way to avoid thinking of him as the familiar, red Avenger she had first fallen in love with. Those thoughts unavoidably led to memories of the cold, grey, dead Vision – the one that she had destroyed.
She clenched her hands and drew in a sharp breath, eyes popping open as the image came unbidden to mind regardless. Behind her, Dr. Strange cleared his throat, the edges of his cape floating into her peripheral vision before the rest of him appeared, and he sat down with a few inches between them.
“I don’t know that it helps right now,” he said quietly. “But if this plays out the way I saw it, this isn’t over. We’re not stuck here; we’ll get out, and, best case scenario… you’ll see him again.”
Wanda knew what he’d thought – he’d said it all before – but he was right about something. While they were sitting here, able to do nothing, the thought didn’t help right now… and she wasn’t sure she could believe him in the first place.
<><>
“Son of a—” Clint stammered over his words, stopping himself short as he glanced at Cooper by his side. “—Gun.”
“Mom’s not here,” Cooper pointed out, trying to put on a brave face even as he gripped his father’s hand. “You can say whatever you want; I won’t mind.”
Even as he spoke, Wanda felt his hand begin to tremble as she took his free one, sandwiching Cooper between her and Clint. The burnt orange of the sky started filling with an equally unnatural blue color as an Asgardian simply… appeared – brought here by an Infinity Stone, as they all had been.
“Dad,” Cooper said softly, real fear seeping into his voice. “Is that—”
“Shh,” Clint ordered quietly.
“
Your savior is here
!” the Asgardian declared grandly, and a woman warrior in Asgardian garb burst out in happy laughter, though she was apparently the only one truly glad to see him.
Wanda followed Clint’s line of sight to the gauntlet that was slung across Loki’s shoulder via a rope, like some horribly powerful handbag. The gauntlet was cracked and chipped in places, and Wanda didn’t want to know how much of a fight had been necessary to reduce it to such a condition. Most importantly, though, she noted that only four Infinity Stones remained in the gauntlet – the soul stone, the space stone, the power stone, and the time stone.
“Don’t look so morose, you’re being
rescued
,” Loki called out, still coming closer to the cluster of Avengers that made up the front line of the slew of humanity. Stopping in front of Dr. Strange, he said a little more quietly, “I believe that I have something of yours, oh second-rate one?”
Dr. Strange glared but said nothing about the slight as he opened the locket of his amulet. Wanda watched curiously as the time stone settled into it of its own accord.
“Peter Quill?” Loki inquired, and Strange pointed to the man in question.
Wanda watched as Loki moved to him, and when Quill pulled a casing out of a pocket in his jacket, the power stone moved into it in a similar manner. Loki said something else to him before going back to his more centered spot and asking with a mischievous smile, “Now, I presume the rest of you would like to return to Midgard?”
<><>
They landed in Wakanda, suddenly back on earth nearly before Wanda could process what was happening. Pilots flew people around the world free of charge for days on end, roads were clogged, and even every possible boat, train, bicycle, and
horse
were used by people desperate enough to get home as soon as possible and return to their normal lives. It still took weeks before things slowed down enough for Wanda to feel like anything other than a glorified traffic cop, or flight attendant, or taxi driver, or babysitter.
Not all the time did saving the world involve fighting aliens, apparently.
But when it was all said and done, in true Stark style, Tony and T’Challa threw a party in the palace. It was hard for Wanda to enjoy it, though she did try. The afternoon before, Dr. Strange, Loki, and Thor had left with the time and space stones, and they had returned with Gamora in tow. Seeing Peter Quill and Gamora together now only twisted the knife in Wanda’s own heart, but what could be done? The rules of resurrection or resuscitation were likely a little different when the love of one’s life was a dead machine and marvel of science without his power source.
That knowledge didn’t ease the pain she felt, though.
<><>
Shuri could feel Stark watching her as she watched Loki, clearly enjoying himself at this party, enjoying the fact that – after he had put together the rescue of half of “Midgard” and the ultimate defeat of Thanos – the Avengers had begrudgingly included him among their ranks.
She watched the space stone, swinging from the Asgardian’s neck in the same manner the time stone did from Dr. Strange’s. Running her tongue over her teeth, she narrowed her eyes in consideration when Stark wandered over and suggested quietly, “I’ll grab him; you grab the stone and make a break for Viz while I distract him?”
“You know I would,” she muttered, but she had seen enough of her mother’s political negotiations in her day to hope that it wouldn’t come to that. “Let’s try something else first. You have your bracelets to call your suits to you if need be?”
He looked at her sideways, nodding warily as she slid off of her barstool and approached Loki where he was sitting with Valkyrie and M’Baku. “Have you done everything you wanted to with the space stone?” she asked him directly, meeting the Asgardian’s eyes with the same frankness.
“Excuse me?” Loki scoffed, giving her a quick once over. “Why would that matter to you, little one?”
“Because I’m Princess Shuri of Wakanda, you are in my house, directly above
my
labs, and I want that stone.”
He gave her a disbelieving look before a tolerant smile flickered at the edges of his mouth. “You can’t possibly be serious. You have no idea what this stone can do, your highness. All due respect, you had best leave it with an adult capable of handling it as delicately as it merits.”
“All
due respect
, your highness,” she shot back. “I have every idea what that stone can do, and I have a very specific purpose in mind for it, actually.”
M’Baku raised his eyebrows, studying the steely expression on her face before he advised Loki from behind his tankard of beer, “You’d best give it to her, Asgardian. I know that expression; she might try to rip it from your neck if you don’t.”
Loki reconsidered her, though he was clearly still more amused than anything. Standing from his own chair, he demanded, “You say you have a purpose for it? Show me.”
Shuri ground her teeth, but spun on her heel, marching towards the elevator without a word. If he wanted to know, he could follow her. Stark and Banner materialized beside her, and she relaxed slightly, just knowing that there was strength in numbers now, and that maybe, if need be, she
could
rip the stone away from him if it came to that.
<><>
It was nearly dawn and the party had ended hours ago, yet Wanda still couldn’t sleep. She had ended up sitting on the window seat of her bedroom, thinking of when she had often found Vision doing the same thing while they were in Scotland and wishing that she needed as little sleep as he had, which was to say none. That was as much as she’d been sleeping recently anyway, no matter how exhausted she was. It was difficult to sleep now, without him beside her, and with the images of his death looming constantly in the corners of her mind.
Wanda whipped around at the creak of her bedroom door opening, her hands flaring automatically red as she quickly counted five figures standing in the doorway.
“Miss Maximoff?” the smallest of her visitors, Shuri, stepped forward. “There’s someone here who would like to see you.”
At this hour? Who on earth…?
“Wanda?” She saw the telling yellow glow of the stone before Vision, gloriously red and moving and
alive
, stepped into a shaft of moonlight pouring into her room. She gasped audibly, scrambling to her feet on shaky legs.
Surely her sleep deprived mind was not playing tricks on her?
Yet she was nearly afraid to move, nearly afraid to break the illusion of his presence if that’s what this was. He came to her instead, cupping her face in his hands and repeating her name. “Wanda? Don’t shake now; it’s alright. I’m here.”
But she was trembling as she reached for him, brushing her hands over his knuckles, the back of his head and neck, pulling him closer… pulling his face closer to hers, kissing him. “Viz?” She choked on his name, realizing she hadn’t spoken it aloud since his death. “It’s really you?”
“It is,” he promised, holding her tightly. “I’m here, and I’m not going
anywhere
without you.”
Wanda chuckled for what felt like the first time in forever and held onto him a little tighter, declaring, “You’d better not; I love you too much to let go for a while.”
Vision kissed the top of her head, hearing what she didn’t say and replying gently, “And I love you too, dearest.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He was trapped. Again.“Why is it always the bloody boot?” Hunter groused to himself, feeling desperately around for the safety catch. Those bastards had fucking removed it, he finally realised. He had no way out until they pulled him out, no way to get to Bob, to help her. Agonised, he shut his eyes, squeezing them for a minute.It had seemed like such a simple job. Hunter had liked Pete Wisdom the moment the fella introduced himself; he’d seemed straight-up and the intel he’d given them had certainly been good. Wisdom had been a little vague on exactly why his own MI-13 people couldn’t infiltrate the neo-Nazi cell themselves, but he was offering bloody good money and both Hunter and Bobbi fit the bill physically. Bobbi, with her height and her blonde, blue-eyed beauty, was the absolute ideal that the extremists were looking for.He hadn’t realised until too late that their leader really wasn’t impressed that Bobbi already had a husband. By then they were well and truly embedded in the cell, and the smooth bastard was doing his level best to get into Bobbi’s knickers.Hunter knocked his head on the floor of the boot. It was his own fucking jealousy that had got him in this situation, he freely acknowledged. Bobbi had no intention of sleeping with the Shithead (as Hunter was now calling him) but she did plan to flirt, to use the attraction to get close, to find out more about the cell’s plans.Hunter hadn’t been able to take it. Seeing Bobbi on the Shithead’s arm, his fat pink hand stroking her slender thigh, had snapped something inside him. He’d jumped the gun and decided to search the command bunker.Well, he’d found the plans, all right, but he’d been caught, and Bobbi was ‘convicted’ right along with him of being a spy. And now they were both being taken to locations unknown, for purposes undoubtedly nefarious. He only hoped that Bobbi was being taken to the same place. Together they might just possibly have a chance of kicking enough neo-Nazi arse that one of them might get away to warn Wisdom of the very real and serious threat to the country.Lance Hunter had already tried to give his life more than half a dozen times to protect Bobbi. He’d somehow never managed it. This time, though, this was something bigger. This time he had to succeed, because it wasn’t just Bobbi he was protecting. It was the land of his birth, the home of his people.Mother England.“This is an unexpected surprise,” a voice said, and Hunter’s eyes snapped open; how had he not felt the car stop?
How was he no longer in the car???
He was still lying down, curled in the foetal position with wrists and ankles secured together with zip ties, but he now appeared to be in some sort of cave. He couldn’t see any visible light source, but the walls were glowing faintly golden - and there was an old geezer sitting at a table a few feet away, just now turning to look at him.“I’m feeling kind of surprised too,” Hunter said, “don’t suppose you can cut me loose?”“Certainly,” the old geezer said, getting up, and bringing with him, not a pair of scissors or a penknife, no, an absolutely bloody massive sword.“Fuck me, what?” Hunter tried to scramble backwards.“The only sharp tool I have on hand, I’m afraid,” Old Geezer said apologetically, and with surprising delicacy flicked just the very tip of the sword at the cable ties.The archaic weapon had to be bloody sharp, Hunter acknowledged, as the plastic parted like butter. Old Geezer stepped back, set the sword down on the table again and sat down, as though suddenly exhausted.A little unsure of just what the hell was going on, Hunter sat up slowly, got to his feet. “Excuse me if I seem rude,” he said, “but where the bloody hell am I, and who the fuck are you?”Old Geezer actually smiled, as though amused, gestured to a chair opposite him. “Please, sit down.”Hunter didn’t see that he had much choice. The cave had no visible exit. Slowly, he sat down, looking at the table. The sword was the only thing on it, apart from a flat wooden box a little bigger than his hand.“My name is Merlyn, and you are in the Heart of Avalon,” Old Geezer said conversationally. “And your name?”“Lance Hunter,” he said, almost by instinct, and then “Wait. Merlyn? Avalon?”“Yes, that Merlyn and that Avalon, Lancelot. It has been many centuries since you walked this earth.”“Lance, not Lancelot,” Hunter said hurriedly.Merlyn gave him a secretive little smile.“Okay, I’m hallucinating, right? Overcome by engine fumes.”“I’m afraid not.”Merlyn’s eyes were like polished black pebbles, peering out from beneath bushy grey eyebrows. Hunter couldn’t look into them for long.“So, what?” he said finally.“You have a mission you must complete. For Britain. Your need was great enough to bring you here, where few have ever come before. I see in you strength enough, and so I am empowered to offer you a choice. You may take up the Sword of Might, or the Amulet of Right.” Reaching out, Merlyn opened the wooden box, revealing a golden pendant with a deep red stone set in it, hanging from a heavy cord.“And the catch is…?” Hunter asked suspiciously.Merlyn smiled. “The Sword is the path of violence, the Amulet the path of reason.”Hunter looked from the sword, gleaming silver and he already knew brutally sharp, to the softly glowing red stone in the amulet.“Not so long ago, I’d have grabbed the sword and legged it,” he said slowly, “but one thing Coulson taught me is that you really have to use your head. So… I’m gonna ask why I can’t take both.”Merlyn looked completely and utterly startled. “Nobody has ever asked that before!”“Maybe I’m just a greedy ambitious arsehole, then, but I don’t think I like being tied down to one option like that. Violence has its place, but so does reason. Violence without reason is what the cocksuckers I’m trying to stop resort to; reason without violence is something they don’t respect. So again, is there some reason why you need to hoard one of them like a dragon sitting on its gold? I won’t keep them both, if that’s what you’re worried about. Bob always was better at being the voice of reason than me. She can have the amulet.” The sword called to him; he could almost hear it in the back of his mind.“I am afraid that won’t be possible,” Merlyn said. “Give me your hand, please, Lancelot.”“Please stop callin’ me that, you’re makin’ me really bloody nervous.” Hunter held his hand out, and Merlyn took it between his aged, withered ones, peering at his palm. “Did Lancelot get this choice?” he suddenly thought to ask.“No. The sword was already held by another. Britannia needed two champions at the time, so I elected to give you - Lancelot - the Amulet anyway, hoping to balance violence with reason.”“Why do I have the feeling that didn’t turn out so well for you?”“Do you need to ask? They were never meant to be held at the same time by two different people.” Merlyn let go of his hand, stared at him again. Hunter had the uneasy feeling that the ancient being was staring directly into his soul.“Love was their downfall,” Merlyn said, “that they both loved the same woman, yet not enough to be able to share her. You hold in you a greater love yet; the willingness to do whatever you must to see the woman you love happy, even if it means letting her go.”“Already did that once,” Hunter said steadily, feeling somehow more able to hold Merlyn’s gaze now.“Perhaps my downfall was not enough faith,” Merlyn murmured, as though to himself. “Very well. Britannia needs her champions, now more than ever, yet I will not risk dividing her against herself again.” He sighed, took the amulet from the box. “Nobody will ever be able to take this from you,” he told Hunter, “not even I. Should you die, it will return here to the Heart of Avalon, as will Excalibur.”“Wait,” Hunter’s brain finally caught up. “Wait, that’s Excalibur? I thought it had to be given by the Lady of the Lake, or pulled out of a stone!”“Roma is not here right now, and merely lifting it from the table will be proof enough of your worth,” Merlyn said with an amused smile.“Does this mean I have to be King of England? Being filthy rich’d be nice and all, but I don’t think I’d be good at all the pomp and circumstance shit. I swear too much.”Merlyn chuckled, standing up and moving around the table. “No, a king-champion is not what Britannia needs in this day and age.”“I don’t think I’m really what she needs either,” Hunter said, “but since I’m still ninety-nine percent sure that this is a petrol-fume hallucination, go for it, me old son.”The amulet felt very cold as it settled around his neck. He didn’t feel any wiser, but then, he supposed, it was a dream, so he wouldn’t, would he?“Take up the sword,” Merlyn said quietly, and Hunter reached out.The worn leather-wrapped hilt felt utterly natural in his hand, and though he’d expected the blade to be heavy - Merlyn had apparently struggled to lift it - it actually felt incredibly light, like a broom handle. Standing, Hunter swished the blade experimentally a few times.Behind him, Merlyn started chanting something, in a language was sure he’d never heard spoken before but somehow found distantly familiar, like an ache at the back of his brain. Whirling, Hunter gaped to see the magician no longer ancient, but standing tall, his hair and beard still white but his face appearing no older than middle-aged.“Wait a fucking min…”************He startled awake with a yell, jerked up and smacked his head on the roof of the boot.“Fucking ouch!”He put a hand to the lump on his head, cursing under his breath again. “Should’ve known it was just a fuckin’ dream, no way Merlyn would give me Excalibur…”His hands were free. How the hell had he managed that? They’d been bound tightly with cable ties, more hooked around his ankles and linked to the ones on his wrists to disable him completely. The tight plastic was gone, though.With a sudden feeling of unreality, Hunter felt at his neck. Inside his shirt was a cool lump of metal that definitely wasn’t there normally.“So I’m still dreaming…” and now I’m dreaming myself locked in the boot of a fuckin’ car. Why can’t I get good dreams, like me and Bob on a beach in Ibiza, her wearing that little tiny teal-blue bikini… Twisting over, his hand brushed something cold.Hunter froze before very carefully feeling along whatever he’d touched. If he was dreaming that sword in here, it was really, really sharp…… it was the sword. His hand closed around the warm, leather-wrapped hilt.Hunter swallowed.“On the off-chance that this is actually not a dream,” he said aloud, “thanks, Merlyn.”He thought he heard the ghost of a chuckle somewhere in the back of his brain, just before he wrapped his fingers more tightly around the hilt and stabbed the sword hard through the back of the seat in front of him.************ There were some thumps and thuds when the car stopped. Bobbi wasn’t quite sure what she expected to see when the trunk lid popped open, but she really hadn’t expected to see her husband, smiling cheerfully down at her.“Hey, darlin’. You all right?”Cramped and stiff, she blinked in the bright sunlight beaming down on her, unable to believe her eyes for a moment. “How…” There wasn’t even a mark on him. Lance had rescued her before, but she couldn’t think of a time when he’d done it without picking up at least a few contusions.“Do you think you’re dreaming?” he asked, puzzling her immensely.“It’s possible,” Bobbi allowed, “since I wasn’t really expecting you to escape. Farley took great pleasure in telling me all the horrible things he was planning to do with you.” The bastard had laughed at her screams of rage and fury before ordering her bound and chucked into the trunk of the car. Her last sight of Lance had been him being beaten to the ground by half a dozen of Farley’s men. Since she couldn’t see any sign of the bruises he had to have picked up in that beating, maybe she was dreaming.“If it is a dream, I’m glad you’re here.”He grinned, that old, rakish smirk that made her heart turn over in her chest. “Don’t freak out, but I’ve only got one knife to cut you loose with.”She nearly screamed as he held up the sword. It had to be over four feet long. “Jesus Christ, Hunter, where did you get that?”“That in and of itself is quite a story.” Cutting the cable ties that bound her carefully, Hunter reached in to help her up. She took his hand, climbed out of the boot, and looked up at him.“Okay, so this is definitely a dream,” they both said simultaneously. Hunter looked at his feet to check that he wasn’t standing on a ledge or something, but no, his boots were on a level with Bobbi’s.They were also dark blue, which they hadn’t been that morning.“That’s an… interesting outfit,” Bobbi said slowly. “This is quite some dream.”“I’ve never been taller than you even in my dreams,” Hunter said, puzzled. The boots didn’t look or feel like platforms, and he was looking down at Bobbi from about a six-inch height difference. Which should mean he was on stilts. He stamped experimentally.“You look - bigger. Not just taller.” She touched his arm, measured the breadth of his shoulders with her hands. “You didn’t get given any super-soldier serum or anything, did you?”“Maybe that fish oil pill finally activated or something,” Hunter shrugged off the shock, though he couldn’t quite explain the outfit. It looked like a British version of Cap’s dark blue battle suit, with deep red and thin white crosses overlaid on his chest. “Or maybe Merlyn threw the suit in along with the rest.”“Who?”“You know what, let’s talk about this later. I’m having a really weird day, but the fact remains that I think this is a public road and we’re surrounded by dead neo-Nazis.”He wasn’t wrong, Bobbi realised, looking around. She was in the rear of two cars pulled up at the roadside, and there were quite literally bodies spilling out of the front doors, blood pooling in sticky piles on the road from the multiple stab wounds each of them were pierced with. One of them didn’t have a head. She looked back at the sword in Lance’s hand.“It doesn’t seem to need cleaning,” he said, correctly reading her glance. “The blood sheets right off.”She said nothing, just took a few steps forward and peered into the back of the other car. Most of the back seat had been literally cut to pieces, bits of plastic and upholstery mingling with the blood and body parts.“I’ve seen some crazy shit in my time,” Bobbi said slowly, “even aliens, but this is right up there, Hunter.”“I know.” For a long moment they looked at each other, and then Hunter said, “On the very small possibility that we’re not dreaming, luv, I really think we’d better get a move on. Farley isn’t here, which means he’s somewhere else, and we need to let Wisdom know what I found in that bunker.”He was right, and Bobbi drew on all her training, pushed aside the impossibility of what Hunter had done and the evidence of her own eyes. “Phone,” she said.“One of them must have one,” Hunter looked around at the dead men. “And then I think we’d better get the hell out of here before anyone shows up and starts asking really awkward questions. Excalibur isn’t very easily hideable.”“Exca- no, you know what, I’m not ready to deal with that right now.” She’d rather search the bodies. The first’s phone had been neatly sliced in half. The second had a locked iPhone, which she could bypass with a bit of time - which they didn’t have.The third man’s pockets turned up a wallet full of cash and a cheap, generic-brand, unlocked burner phone. Bobbi held them both up to Hunter, who nodded.“Good job, luv!” He’d been busying himself pulling bodies out of the less messy car, the one she’d been travelling in. “Let’s go!”She had to stare as he laid the sword down on the backseat before getting into the driver’s seat. “Shouldn’t you hide that in the trunk?”“If we happen to run into any more of Farley’s thugs, I’m leaving it where I can get my hands on it, thanks very much,” Hunter said.“Let me drive, then…”“Luv, we’re in England. You know I love you, but on this side of the pond? I drive.”“On this stupid side of the road, you mean,” she grumbled, getting into the passenger seat. There’d been blood all over it, but Hunter had done a fair job of cleaning it off with one of the dead men’s jackets. They’d have to ditch the car as soon as possible anyway and find another; finding her some clean clothes at the same time shouldn’t be too hard. She slid another sideways glance at Hunter.On the other hand, her husband and partner had now suddenly become a whole lot more noticeable than he had ever been before.She pushed the thought away as he started the car. Deal with what you can, right now. The longer things went on, the more convinced she became that she wasn’t in a dream.
Which means that seriously weird shit is going down.
Bobbi dialled Pete Wisdom’s phone number.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
They met in the aftermath of Thanos' defeat.
When the universe had been saved and those lost during the fight restored to them.
Nebula had seen the darkly dressed man, the man with haunted eyes and an arm made of steel and gold that he looked at with disgust when he clearly thought no one was watching. She knew the look of a person who looked at themself and hated what they saw. That, when they looked at themself, all they saw was the monster that someone else had made them into.
She too did that.
Often.
Ever since the day she had first lost to Gamora and Thanos has begun replacing pieces of her, one by one, with machinery. All in the name of making her better. Of making her equal to her beloved sister.
The quiet captain had been the one to introduce them, calling the dark haired man with the haunted eyes
Bucky
. When those eyes swung to her, to the metallic parts, likely as familiar to him as his was to her, she saw it.
The understanding.
A deep understanding that no one else had ever looked at her with.
She had remained in Wakanda with him even when her sister and the other Guardians chose to leave the planet behind them.
She had wanted time, time to rest, to heal, to perhaps find a way forward, a new purpose now that Thanos had been sent to the nether and, not surprisingly, Gamora had understood and accepted her decision without question.
And Bucky, quiet and gentle soul marred by tragedy, had suggested Wakanda was a place she would be safe until she was ready to continue on whatever path awaited her.
So she stayed. In Wakanda. With Bucky.
It was easy, she found, to love him.
As easy as loving Gamora was.
As a child, all she had wanted was a sister, had fought so hard for it, had lost so much for that desire, but now she had something she had never once dreamt of.
A brother.
When they could not sleep, on nights when the darkness seemed to claw at them, the memories too much, they would talk. At first it was about foolish things. Bucky's goats. Nebula's dislike of Wakandan fruits. But then, slowly, they told one another of their pasts. Of the darkness, the taint, they would forever carry no matter how much they had changed. What they learned of each other, of the shared similarities in their pasts, deepened their bond.
Bucky took to calling Nebula
Nebs
, a nickname, something just between them. Like how he alone called the quiet, golden captain
Stevie
She asked, once, about the captain. About the relationship between him and her Bucky and Bucky had gotten the same goofy smile Gamora wore when she spoke of Quill. Love. It was love. And when she said as much, Bucky nodded, looking off across the sea of green grass to where his
Stevie
was trying, and failing, to herd goats with some of the local children.
It was an easy life. An easy routine. Peaceful.
So it was easy to forget that there was life beyond the quiet village they called home.
And then some foul Kree decided to attack, to target what he thought was a simple hide away, seeking to avenge his fallen friend, Ronan, targeting Nebula as a traitor against the deranged warlord.
It had not been difficult, between her and Bucky and
Stevie
and the Wakandan King, to defeat the rogue Kree, but in doing so Nebula was forced to confront yet another stain from her past. It riled her in a way she could not properly explain. Angered her that her past, her decisions, had put people she had come to care for in danger. In her rage she had destroyed one of the flying vessels the Wakandans used for transport before storming off to the house she shared with her brother and his quiet captain.
Once there she found she had no direction, no purpose, nothing to direct her anger too and so, instead, she screamed until she could scream no more.
Bucky found her, not long after, curled up on the floor, arms wrapped so tightly around herself her fingers were leaving tiny bruises in her skin.
"Nebs, hey, Nebs," Bucky spoke quietly, crouching down, reaching out to pull her against him, tucking her against his chest, arms wrapping protectively around her. "It's okay, Nebs. It's okay."
Nebula let out a frustrated, almost broken, sound.
"They could have all died," she said, nose wrinkling, tears prickling with unshed tears. "
You
could have died. Because of me. Because of what I have done."
Bucky pressed a quick kiss to her temple.
"We managed to take him down so quickly because of you," he reminded. "Because of what you knew about Krees.
You
are why no one died today.
You
were a hero today, Nebs."
Nebula said nothing, curling closer, one hand clutching at Bucky's arm, trying to believe what he was saying, but she didn't feel like a hero. She had brought danger to a place that had offered her safety and peace. She had endangered people she had, in her own way, chosen to protect.
Bucky, for all that he was a quiet soul, was also very knowing and saw through her silence, saw the heart of her turmoil, as he so often did.
"You are
not
to blame for what happened," Bucky said, hugging her a little closer. "You are
not
to blame for that madman's decisions. Just like you aren't to blame for the shit Thanos did to you."
Nebula twitched and let out a low sound.
"You're not to blame for other people's cruelty, Nebs." Bucky reached up to tip her chin up, to get her to look at him rather than hide as she had been doing. "You fought, bravely, fiercely, to protect this place, to protect those girls.
You
saved them.
You
refused to give up or run away. You ran into battle, like a warrior, and fought to protect those you care for. You fought for them.
That's
what a hero does. Not a monster.
A hero
."
Nebula started to smile when the door opened.
"Hey," the captain's voice, normally calming, grated on her already frayed nerves and, Bucky's chosen beloved or not, it irritated her that he was invading on their private moment. "Everything okay?"
"Out," Nebula snarled suddenly, shooting the blonde man a sharp and brittle look. "You and my brother may celebrate the victory later! You. Out. Now."
Stevie, thankfully, was unfazed by her growling. He had been on the receiving end of it many times, even commented a time or two that Nebula probably was Bucky's sister because their tempers were pretty much the same. So, instead of fleeing like most men would have, he walked over, shared a quick kiss with Bucky, murmuring that he'd check on the goats and to take all the time they needed.
Bucky smiled and returned his attention to Nebula as Stevie left, quietly closing the door behind him.
"Better now, Nebs?" He teased lightly and Nebula huffed, curling closer to him, tucking her head to his shoulder.
"Better," she murmured, eyes slipping closed. "He may be your beloved but you are my brother."
She felt Bucky's smile widen against her temple when he pressed a kiss there again.
"Not going anywhere, Nebs," he said softly, rubbing a hand over her back. "I got your back. Always, little sis."
Nebula hummed and let the warmth of his embrace, the warmth of his love and acceptance and understanding, help sooth her concerns.
She knew, in time, she would have to move on, return to Gamora, for a time at least. But she knew she would always find a welcoming place with her brother. With her Bucky.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Pepper felt Tony’s forehead, wondering if he’d stuck himself with a hot poker when she wasn’t looking. She stuck the thermometer between his unwilling lips. It beeped after thirty seconds. By some miracle, Tony had managed not to utter a word the whole time.
“Over a hundred,” Pepper said, shaking her head. “Sorry, Tony, you’re out sick today.”
“But I can’t be sick,” Tony moaned. “The world needs me.”
“The world will be fine for a few days. You need to rest up.”
“But-” a series of sneezes interrupted him. Pepper held out a box of tissues and he went through almost half of it before it stopped. “I feel light and heavy at the same time. Does that make sense?”
“I guess it’ll have to.” Pepper fluffed his pillows and kissed him on top of the head. Tony was never good about being sick. People thought he was an overgrown child when he was healthy. They had no idea. “Promise me you’ll stay in bed, and when you’re well again, we’ll go wherever you want on vacation and I’ll do that thing with the strawberry sauce you like so much.”
He sat up straight, his face instantly brighter. “Will you wear the maid costume, too?”
“We’ll see.”
“Come on, Pep. I did the pirate thing for you that one time.”
Pepper drew the covers over his chin. “Talk later. Rest now.”
The intercom beeped and they were no longer alone. Not that they ever really could be with a sapient AI running their house.
“Sorry to bother you guys,” said FRIDAY, “but Captain Rogers just called. There’s an emergency and Mr. Stark is needed.”
Tony sneezed five more times as he failed to drag himself out of bed. Pepper took him by the shoulders and gently pressed him into the mattress. Normally, this would be followed by Pepper herself getting in bed and neither of them getting out until the sun came up. For once even Tony seemed to realize that wasn’t an option. His fingers gripping her arms were like limp spaghetti noodles.
“It’s okay,” Pepper said firmly. “I can handle it.”
“I know.” His eyes were almost shut, but like everything else in his life, he powered through it. “You’re still in training, though. If these are aliens we’re dealing with, you might want to hang back.”
“It’s actually a terrorist cell,” said FRIDAY. “About ten or fifteen guys. They have some pretty impressive weapons, though.”
“Oh, okay. That’s not so bad.” Tony blew her a kiss. Pepper smiled and rubbed it in. “Go kick some ass, baby. Give ‘em an extra hard punch in the face for me.”
“You got it, boss.”
As she left Tony to sleep, her armor formed around her. Nanotech was a thing of wonders, and since Tony was currently in a friendly ‘who’s tech is more badass’ competition with Shuri, the newest model functioned like a second skin. Red and gold wrapped around Pepper’s hands and crept up her arms. A mask covered her face as FRIDAY’s voice appeared in her ear.
“Coordinates indicate they’re somewhere on the East Coast. About twenty minutes of travel time, give or take.”
“Works for me,” said Pepper. She took flight and soared across the ocean. This was always the hardest part for her, but every time she had to rush off to rescue someone, it got a little easier. “As long as we’re done by nighttime. I have one difficult patient to take care of.”