Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers.
Author's Note: I know, I know, I haven't finished "Loki and the Beast" yet. I have 2 chapters left to write but I've been so busy with my theatre department and college applications and I've been lacking motivation to write it. I'll finish it eventually.
If you know me in real life, do not read this fanfiction. That means you, Joe.
Day One
The Avengers stumbled into Stark Tower, beat-up and exhausted. One would think that since they're a team composed of two master assassins, a demigod, a super soldier, a man who turns into a green rage monster, and a genius, playboy, billionaire philanthropist, defeating Doctor Doom would be somewhat of a manageable task. Obviously, it wasn't.
Clint had used up every single one of his arrows, and was able to re-use about 7 of them a few times. He had waited to use his arrows though, using his gun first. He was out of ammo within the first hour. Natasha was better about using up her ammo than Clint was, as it took a few hours before she was almost out. She was in a terrible mood now, and she immediately retreated to her apartment in Stark Tower.
Thor didn't seem too badly damaged; he was a demigod, after all. He wasn't as exhausted as everyone else, but he was covered in as many cuts and bruises as the rest of them. Steve was on the same level of exhaustion as Thor, and had just as many cuts and bruises that were already almost healed. His hair was messed up and the ends were singed in some areas; nothing a shower couldn't fix.
Banner was the most exhausted out of them all. Even though he wasn't even the one that had been fighting – the Other Guy had been – it wore him out to be a beast that performs unimaginable stunts during battle. He didn't even make it to his apartment in Stark Tower. He crashed on the couch in the main socializing area and was asleep before his body finished colliding with it.
Tony was his usual jackass self. His suit was a wreck, though. He removed it and immediately went to the bar to fix himself a drink.
XXXX
Thor was the first one to wake up. He lazily made his way to the kitchen and stood in the center of the room for a few minutes, his mind still clouded by sleep. He normally didn't sleep in Stark Tower. He lived on Asgard, coming and going as he pleased. He had decided to stay for a while, wanting to learn the ways of the Midgardians. He snapped out of his daze when his stomach growled. He looked around for the food. Glancing at the table, he saw no food already prepared that he could munch on, much to his disappointment.
He walked to the cabinets and refrigerator that lined one of the walls, opening drawers and doors as he came across them, finding nothing but dishes and cleaning supplies. He nearly had a heart attack when JARVIS' voice came on.
"Sir, would you like some assistance?"
"Who is there? I am Thor Odinson, of Asgard. Show yourself!" he threatened.
"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir, as I am an artificial intelligence computer. I have no body."
"Coward!"
"Sir, I simply wish to assist you. I mean you no harm. I am Tony Stark's home computing system."
Thor relaxed, "Oh. I apologize. I was not made aware that you were part of this household."
"Quite alright, sir," there was a pause, "Would you like for me to assist you in your search for breakfast?"
"That would be of much help, thank you. What sustenance is available in this dwelling?"
"We have cereal, fruit, bacon, various breads, and Pop-Tarts."
"What on Asgard is a Pop-Tart?" Thor asked, baffled.
There was a short pause, "Wikipedia states that Pop-Tarts are a brand of rectangular, pre-baked toaster pastries made by the Kellogg Company. Pop-Tarts have a sugary filling sealed inside two layers of rectangular, thin pastry crust. Most varieties are also frosted. Although sold pre-cooked, they are designed to be warmed inside a toaster or microwave oven. They are usually sold in pairs inside foil packages, and do not require refrigeration."
"That sounds delicious. Where might I acquire one of these Pop-Tarts?" a cabinet door opened just near him, nearly giving him another heart attack, "Thank you, Voice of the Tower."
"My pleasure, sir."
Thor peered inside the cabinet. It was filled with blue boxes presenting the label "Pop-Tarts" on it. Thor took out every box and set them on the counter. There were five boxes of Brown Sugar Cinnamon, two boxes of Cherry, four boxes of Strawberry, one box on Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, and five boxes of S'Mores. Thor didn't understand what any of the names meant, so he looked at the pictures. After a few minutes of contemplating and debating, he decided on a Brown Sugar Cinnamon. He ripped the box open and silver packages came out, spilling over the counter. Thor picked one up, put the rest of the boxes back in the cabinet, and placed the small packages in various places within the cabinet and closed the door. Feeling triumphant, he looked at the silver package in his hand.
"Bodiless Man?" Thor called out, unsure.
"Yes, sir?" JARVIS responded.
"Are these to be warmed?"
"Yes, sir."
A pause, "How?"
"You may use either the toaster, toaster oven, or microwave."
"What is a toaster?"
"It is the silver contraption near your right arm."
Thor turned to his right, and sure enough, there was a silver contraption there. He put the package on top of the toaster and waited. JARVIS hadn't said anything about his actions, so he figured that he was doing it correctly. He poked at the small package, wondering how he was supposed to eat it. The box had shown him pictures of delectable-looking pastries, and he wanted to eat them, 'Maybe they are concealed within the small package,' he thought to himself.
After about ten minutes of poking at it, he began to get agitated, "Why is this confounded contraption not working? Does it truly take this long for Midgardian food to heat up?"
"What are you doing, Thor?"
Thor looked up, startled. Steve was looking at him, sleep still very much in his eyes.
"I am making breakfast," he stated.
"I'm no professional at modern-day technology, but I think you're doing it wrong." Steve shuffled over to where Thor was, "I've seen Tony make these things before. You're supposed to take them out of the foil, first." Steve picked up the Pop-Tarts and ripped open the package, "Then ah… Oh. Next, you put them in these slots," He placed them in the toaster, "Then you have to wait."
"I have been waiting for ten minutes! I do not wish to wait any longer!"
"Calm down, Thor. It will only take a few minutes."
Thor narrowed his eyes at Steve, "Fine."
The two men waited, watching the toaster. Thor's stomach growled three times in the few minutes they were waiting.
"Has it finished?" Thor asked.
"I have no idea," Steve responded honestly.
"Should it not be warmer now?"
"I think so," Steve put his hand above the toaster, "It's not."
Thor sighed heavily. They waited some more.
"Maybe it's broken."
Thor had had enough of this tomfoolery and growled. He held his arm out, hand open. Steve heard clattering, and in a moment, Thor's hammer found its way into Thor's hand.
"Thor, I don't think-" But it was too late. Thor held his hammer above his head, and Steve knew what was coming. He didn't even argue with the demigod – it would be pointless. Instead, he quickly took cover under the kitchen table and covered his head with his arms, covering his ears. Thunder rumbled outside of Stark Tower, and soon the kitchen lit up and a loud CRACK was heard. As quickly as the thunder had come, it left. Steve cautiously emerged from beneath the table. He looked up at Thor, who was again standing triumphantly above the toaster, black smoke coming out from it.
"I have succeeded in warming these pastries!"
Steve burst into uncontrollable laughter. Thor picked up the toaster and turned it upside down, the burnt Pop-Tarts falling onto the countertop.
Just then, a worried Tony, a terrified Clint, and a slightly green Banner ran into the kitchen.
"What in the hell was that?!" Tony demanded.
"I have toasted Pop-Tarts!" Thor replied.
Clint, spotting Mjölnir, "Did you use that thing to toast them?"
"Your Pop-Tart heating machine was not heating my Pop-Tarts, so I was required to do so myself."
Clint and Tony joined Steve in uncontrollable laughter. Bruce chuckled, and Thor grinned from ear to ear.
Once the laughter died down, Clint's eyes went wide as he heard heavy footsteps down the hall. "Shit."
"Something wrong, Clint?" Steve asked.
Clint gulped, "Yeah, there is," the footsteps got closer, and Clint scrambled to the glass door to the balcony, "Whatever you do, don't do anything stupid. You're on your own, guys," Clint saluted as he opened the door and disappeared, leaving the four very confused men to fend for themselves.
They looked at each other skeptically, "What's he talking about?" Steve wondered aloud.
As if on cue, Natasha sauntered into the kitchen. She was wearing dark grey sweatpants that sported the words "Emerson College" down the side of the left leg in large white letters, and she had on one of (what used to be) Clint's black t-shirts. It was fairly large on her thin frame and it hung loosely, exposing part of her right shoulder. A thick white sports bra strap was showing beneath. The neck of the shirt had been cut off along with the ends of the sleeves and the very bottom of the shirt. Her hair was a mess, and dark circles found their ways under her eyes. She did not look happy.
"What was that noise," She asked flatly.
"I have toasted the Pop-Tarts!" Thor proudly picked one up and handed it to her. She looked at the burnt Pop-Tart, then at Thor, and back to the Pop-Tart. Raising her hand, she smacked it out of his hands. It landed on the floor with a soft crunching sound, breaking into pieces, "Idiot," she mumbled under her breath.
Thor stared at the broken pastry on the ground like a sad puppy. The others stared.
Natasha turned and walked to the refrigerator, opening it forcefully. She stood there for a moment before she spoke, "Where are the goddamned apples?" she shouted, causing the men in the room to jump back in surprise, not having expected her to do so, "I said… where are the apples?" she enunciated each word individually.
Steve was the first to walk to his doom, "Uhm… There are… No more apples…"
Natasha turned slowly, closing the refrigerator door as she did so. Steve backed away when he saw the crazy glint in her eyes, as did the rest of the men.
"Well, we're going to have to fix that, now won't we?" she said calmly, "And Steve, you're going to be the one to do so."
"Wh-what do you mean?"
"You're going to have to go with me to the store and buy me apples. Alright?" Steve nodded his head quickly, "Good," she turned to Tony, "Stark, I'm taking the Saleen S7," Tony opened his mouth to argue, "And don't even think about trying to persuade me otherwise. There is nothing that you can say or do to change my mind," turning to Steve, "Steve, come with me. You're driving, and bring your wallet." she turned and walked out of the kitchen and headed down to the garage.
Tony, the only one who fully understood what was happening, walked toward him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, "Farewell, soldier. It was nice knowing you."
"I do not understand. For what reason is Miss Romanoff behaving so negatively?" Thor questioned as he bit into a burnt Pop-Tart.
"She could just be tired. Or she has some chemical imbalances," Bruce suggested.
"Nice try boys, but I know what's going on. It's 'that time of the month' again. She's going to be like this for the next four to seven days." Tony told them. Something clicked inside Bruce, and he immediately understood.
"Four to seven days?" Steve's voice cracked, "Why? What's wrong with her? Does that mean it'll happen every month?"
"She's on her period," the men turned to see that Clint had returned. Steve processed what he had said for a moment, then immediately turned a bright shade of red, "She'll be angry, happy, horny, sad, and any other emotion you can think of. Her emotions will change constantly, so don't even question it. Considering the fact that she's the Black Widow, I wouldn't piss her off too much. A few years ago, some intern at SHIELD did something really stupid – I can't remember what it was, for the life of me – and she held a gun to his head as she lectured him. It was hilarious to watch, honestly. The kid never came back." Steve gulped, "Steve, I suggest you get your ass to the garage right now before she does the same to you," indicating the rest of the men, "I'll give you a full run-down of how to best handle this while they're out. Steve, I'll fill you in when you get back." Clint saluted him, and Steve slowly turned and walked to his metaphorical death.
XXXX
Natasha walked into the grocery store with Steve trailing along behind her. He sported a pink handprint on his face where Natasha had slapped him. He had commented on her hair, and that she should brush it out. She had gotten offended and slapped him.
She made her way to the sanitary items aisle, looking for supplies. Steve wouldn't step foot in the aisle; he was too embarrassed to.
"Steve, get me a shopping cart," Natasha called to him.
Grateful for something to do, Steve retrieved a shopping cart. He returned after a few moments with the shopping cart, stopping at the opening of the aisle.
"What are you waiting for, Rogers? Get over here," Natasha demanded.
"I can't."
"Why the hell not?"
"This aisle is for... Women," he said bashfully.
Natasha rolled her eyes, "Rogers, it isn't the nineteen hundreds anymore. You're allowed to walk down the women's aisle in a grocery store. Men do it all the time. Ask Clint; he's done it more times than he can count."
"Are you sure, Natasha? I don't think it's right," Steve stammered, trying to talk his way out of this.
"Yes, I'm sure. I wouldn't lie to you about something like this. Now get your ass over here before I do something about it," she threatened.
Steve, not wanting to be slapped again, blushed a shade of red, took a deep breath, and stepped into the aisle, walking briskly toward Natasha. Once he was near enough, she grabbed a few packages of pads. Glancing quickly at each one that she tossed into the cart, Steve saw the word "winged."
'Why would sanitary pads need wings?' he thought to himself.
Natasha turned her attention toward another section of the wall lined with menstrual needs. She tossed in a box of tampons.
"Natasha?" Steve squeaked.
"Hmm?"
"Didn't you want to buy apples?"
"Oh, that's right! Thanks for reminding me," she said cheerfully, confusing the hell out of Steve. Nonetheless, he followed her to the produce section. Natasha ripped off one of the plastic bags at the apple section and picked up, judged, and put back at least seven apples before she was satisfied with an apple. She put it in the bag and repeated this process several more times. When she had filled up half of the bag, she smiled and placed the bag into the cart.
"We all finished here?" Steve asked.
"Not quite. We need more cheese, crackers, and chocolate."
Steve followed her, pushing the cart around the grocery store. When she was finally content with what she had chosen, she told Steve that she was ready to check out.
"Oh, finally," Steve said with an exasperated sigh.
"I'll go wait in the car while you check out."
"Ah, what? Why do I have to check out?" he questioned.
"Well you don't expect me to buy pads and tampons, do you? That's embarrassing."
"Well it's embarrassing for me, too!"
"Hey, plenty of men do it. Just ask Clint; he's done it more times than he can count," she repeated what she had said earlier.
Steve didn't try to talk his way out of this one, already knowing that she wasn't going to let him out of this.
"I'll see you in the car," she smirked as she walked out of the building.
XXXX
Tony, Bruce, Thor, and Clint were sitting around the living room in various positions, waiting to discuss the matter at hand. Tony was the first to speak.
"Alrigh' Merida, hao d'weh goh aboot thees, thehn?" Tony asked Clint, who ignored his attempt to be funny.
"Well, first thing's first. I can tell that neither Thor nor Bruce know what the hell is going on, so we should explain it to them."
"I know what's going on, Clint. I'm just confused with how to deal with it," Bruce stated.
"I, for one, do not understand at all what is happening," Thor boomed, "What is a period? Is it not a length or portion of time?"
"Not in this case. Natasha is on her period, which means that her body is telling her that one, she's not pregnant, and two, that she has an excuse to be a bitch for a few days." Tony scoffed.
"I am beginning to understand this now. Do go on."
Clint nodded, "There isn't much else to say, except that... uhh... When a woman is on her period, she ah...," Clint paused, "She bleeds out of her woman part," all of the men cringed at that.
"Does this happen to every female in Midgard?" Thor questioned.
"Sadly yes, it does. Every twenty eight days."
Thor scrunched his face in thought.
"So how do we prevent her from killing us?" Bruce asked.
"That's what I wanted to talk to you all about. Nat has very specific things happen to her while it's that time of the month. From what I can tell, on the first day, she's just angry. Her cramps also start then, so make sure we have lots of Advil or Tylenol around the house. She'll probably just want to lie around the house and watch movies and eat chocolate. Tony, do you have a Netflix account?"
"What do you take me for, man? Of course I have a Netflix account." Tony told him.
Clint nodded, "I also know that she gets angry easily, eats a lot of chocolate, and she either wants attention a lot or wants no one to be around her. It depends on her mood, which will change constantly. Oh, and she gets cramps."
"Cramps?" Bruce asked.
"Cramps," Tony affirmed.
"What does that mean?" asked Thor, who obviously didn't understand anything about the topic of discussion.
"Let me ask you this, Point-Break," Tony spoke up, "Ever been kicked in the balls?"
Thor grimaced, "In fact, I have. It is not a pleasurable experience."
"Exactly. Imagine getting kicked in the balls all day long for four days in a row," Thor cringed at the thought, "Yeah, that's exactly what it's like."
"Are there any special precautions we should take?" asked Bruce. "Like how we can avoid being murdered?"
"Might I suggest a men-only vacation for a week?" Tony suggested.
"I wish it was that simple," Clint sighed.
"And why isn't it that simple?"
"She gets very… needy when she's on her period."
"Needy how?"
Clint made a point to look all of the men in the eyes, "She will literally turn us all into her man-slaves. She'll blackmail us and make us do things against our will, just like what she's doing to Steve now."
"I hope you're exaggerating, Clint," Bruce said.
"Well, maybe a little bit," Clint admitted, "But she will make us do things for her."
"Such as?"
"Make us buy things that she needs, listen to her bitch about whatever. We'll need to compliment her a lot and she usually gets zits on her face, which she hates."
"What is a zit?" asked Thor.
"It's a red spot people get on their faces. It's a clogged pore. Teenagers almost always have them covering their faces when they go through puberty," Tony explained.
"Yeah, what he said. So, we'll need to be extra cautious for the next few days. Keep quiet, don't do anything stupid, and don't bother her unless it's absolutely necessary," he smirked, "Oh, and I'll deal with her when she gets horny."