My sweet psychopath
Alright, the start to a new fic! Yay! I don't normally write crossovers, so I'm sorry if it's not what you guys want to see :C This will progress to be FrostIron (LokixTony) and Cherik (CharlesxErik), so if you don't like those pairings I would recommend not reading. There is a history to this story, but hopefully the past arrangements will become evident later on. I hope you all enjoy, and if you want, a review would be much appreciated. Also, I have a soft spot for JARVIS.
Chapter One: Off To A Good Start
The announcement of the pending quests invoked a varied reaction from the towers residents. Doctor Banner (despite being socially awkward and often reclusive) was transparent on the matter and radiated an over-abundance of anticipation. He was a knowledgeable man and his only guilty pleasure was discussing theories. While he did this with Stark – an equal if not superior scientist – as often as he could, the man's expertise lay in machinery rather than genetics.
It was mutually agreed that the unity of two super groups would be convenient if not beneficial. Steve had emphasized this at the previous meeting, moral and diplomatic as ever. Tony couldn't but help suspect the only reason he had spoken was literally just for the sake of contributing. Hell, who could blame him? In a world so alien to him, it probably just felt nice to be able to participate without being criticized or corrected.
Fury and Natasha both retained deep secrets – personal and professional – and neither were fond of the proposal of a telepath in their proximity. It was concluded that boundaries would be initiated upon Xavier's arrival.
Despite being an assassin, Clint held an opposing view to his female counterpart. Or, externally at least. While no one could be certain in regards to the duo's true perception, he had expressed interest in witnessing first-hand mutants (though he was to avoid making a spectacle of them).
As for the remaining team members, neither Stark nor Thor cared particularly. While neither had developed in social, intellectually or material poverty, they both possessed flawed characters. The idea of someone being able to penetrate his mask did make Iron Man somewhat nervous – especially considering his recent developments in both technology and 'private' business – though not enough to display, or for it to affect his opinion of the guests. The god seemed to hold a similar view, probably more worried about Asgard than anything personal.
It was several days after the decision was made that they arrived, shuffling into the common room (a name the billionaire was indifferent to due to the fact 'his tower was unique, there was nothing common about it') in awkward assembly.
It appeared, judging by the formation, the young, crippled brunette was there leader. He removed his hand from the arms of his wheelchair and extended it to the Avengers, smile sweet and sober. His face was youthful, but the hollowness in his eyes showed echoes of experience only age and trauma could have left behind.
Accompanying him were a group of juvenile mutants, varying in height and appearance though all clad in what seemed to be yellow spandex. Some of the 'genetic alterations' were more... prominent, than others.
Despite prior warning, Tony found it hard to draw his eyes away from the beastial features. The despondency set in his downcast optics, surrounded by his oceanic tone, held an unwelcome familiarity.
The disabled man allowed a pleasant smile to toy with his thin lips, "Xavier, Charles Xavier, a pleasure to meet you."
"The telepath," The Black Widow acknowledged, "I take it you can control your ability?"
His expression faltered slightly, "Of course. I apologise if it makes you feel uncomfortable, and while I can sense the bases of emotion radiating, I will not pick up on thoughts or memories without consent. If I trespass, you have every right to punish me. Of course, I don't need to read your mind to know you are Miss Natasha Romanoff."
Stark stepped forward, deciding he disliked the exclusion from the conversation, and motioned to the wheelchair "Don't mean to get off on the wrong foot, but how fast can that thing go?"
Charles reclined and cocked an eyebrow, amused. He seemed to have prepared a response, seemed to be willing to participate in witty banter, but the animalistic mutant made a provoked noise, "Watch it, flashlight."
The two moved closer towards each other, bristling with tension, gaze never faltering, "Wanna hold that tongue, kitty cat?"
Steve intervened at this point, stern expression directed at the duo before letting it melt into something friendlier, reassuring. He resumed the introductions and soon enough the two teams had identified themselves – Avengers and X-men.
The line up on the latter side (ignoring Charles), consisted of; Hank McCoy, also known as beast and for good reason; Alex Summers, or Havoc, who had been previously on SHEILDS radar and Sean Cassidy, a straggly haired brunette who responded to 'Banshee'. Tony subtly made a comment asking 'how loud he could scream', which despite being an innuendo got a demonstration of the teens ability. Clint had taken him aside, fascinated and bemused.
Director Fury had appeared and cocked his head, "I was informed there were more of you?"
All the faces drew tight at the remark. They glanced round at each other before Charles offered an explanation, "Mild complications occurred, and we lost some members."
"Ah," Nick pressed his mouth together uncomfortably. Expressing pity was far natural and the best he could do was furrow his brow sympathetically which gave him the appearance of frowning.
After more tense silence Banshee yawned, and it was brought to their attention just how jet lagged the quartet were. The towers owner had JARVIS pull up a holographic diagram of the selection of rooms. While each of the avengers had their own living space there was a spare floor. He made a suggestion to the telepath of which room – going by how accessible they would be by wheel chair – and showed the others the options. The level was equipped with a kitchen, but meals were held in mutual territory.
"With me," He beckoned and led them to the elevator, then after the swift and equally as awkward ride. By the end he was just happy to have dismissed them, and returned to his floor.
Stark would be lying to say the appearance of Thor in his lounge didn't make him do a double-take. Of course, when residing with a god who seemed to have no boundaries or appreciation for personal space it was something one adjusted to. Besides, it was nowhere near as bad as the first time he had given the deity new clothes. Apparently in Asgard it was acceptable to get changed in the presence of a friend (much to the horror of both Tony and Clint)
Thor's eyes were glazed and distracted, "I am to leave once more for my home. I take it you are to accompany me?"
The former knew that his expression had become sheepish in that split second and loosened it slightly, "Yeah. Normal arrangement."
"Of course. We will leave the coming morning," The bulky frame stood and strode passed him, large shoulder hunched slightly. The mortal put a hand on his back and patted reassuringly.
"G'night, big guy," Tony concluded, before picking his way to his room and collapsing on the mattress. He never had regulated sleep, and for once rather than a late night collapse he found himself lost to the sweet embrace much sooner than normal, "Wake me up at a good time, alright? Night, JARVIS."
"Of course, sir. Good night, Mr. Stark."