Hi! I'm a long time guest but this is my first time writing, so please be gentle. This is going to be an OC fic, so if you have something against OC's I'm letting you know you probably will not enjoy this one. I would be very grateful for any insight or comments anyone might offer even flames; I need to toughen up anyway. Alright, so disclaimers: I do not own the Avengers, Marvel Comics, Florence + the Machine, f.u.n., "Never Let Me Go", "Some Nights", iPod, or BBC's Sherlock, even though I really wish I did. I do, however, own Agent Sin so tally one up for me. Wew! Now, enjoy.
LVCatullus
I had gotten the call to come in two days ago but I haven't felt like running to his beck and call, Fury's that is. I had just finished a month-long stint in South Africa and hadn't gotten very much sleep over the past four weeks; four hours a night if I was lucky. Most of the time I went 48 or 72 hours without sleep, so excuse me for wanting to have a few days to myself before dragging my ass back to base.
Now I'm catching a bush-plane back to the mainland before hopping on the twelve plus hour flight from Cape Town to HQ located somewhere in a North American desert. I can't say I'm really looking forward to the flight. Who wants to be locked in a hyperbaric chamber packed in between people like so many sardines? It's not like I haven't done it before, but it's not the most pleasurable of experiences life has to offer. Once when I was flying from Newark to Edinburgh I got stuck in the middle seat between an old woman who I'm pretty sure was in the beginning stages of dementia and the largest, smelliest man I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. The whole flight, which was an overnight-er by the way, I had the pleasure of listening to a mad woman's ramblings and of trying to keep from touching the man who belonged in a pigsty rather than a commercial flight.
In any case, with a great sigh of consternation I make my way down the access ramp to the open door of the Boeing I'm was being forced to enter. The flight attendant checks my ticket and sends me off to first class. This time I have been lucky enough to have money from my latest job to spend on comfort. In my mind first class is the only acceptable way to travel. As I plop down into my leather padded arm-chair I wonder why I've been called in so suddenly. Usually I get one or two weeks off after an ongoing assignment like this past one. I sigh once again as I tilt my head to rest against the seat and ready myself for a day of complete and utter boredom. There's not much fun to be had on a plane; first class or not. I pull out my iPod and unravel my ear buds from the tangle they had become in my pocket. No matter what you do they'll always find a way to not themselves up in physics defying ways. I deftly put the right and left in their respective ears and start from the beginning of my music library. I give the little gadget a shake and shuffle does not disappoint me when "Never Let Me Go" starts trickling into my ears. Ugh, gotta love Florence + the Machine.
Sometime after the in-flight supper and "Some Nights" I must have drifted off to sleep because now I'm opening my eyes and cursing every muscle in my body that was abused by sleeping sitting up. At least my brain feels kind of refreshed. A flight attendant notices my state of consciousness and offers me some water and a tiny Styrofoam bowl of breakfast cereal and tells me that we'll be landing within the hour. Thank God. I can almost feel the clots forming in my legs from the constant inertia. I put away my iPod, rolling up my ear buds neatly, even though they won't stay that way, and turn on the monitor that's situated on the back of the headrest of the seat in front of me. After flicking through the TV and movie options I'm surprised when BBC's Sherlock appears in the list. I love the show but it's not very mainstream compared to the summer blockbusters and reality TV dramas that populate the rest of the screen. I won't be able to finish the episode but I select "The Blind Banker" and relax back into my seat.
Next thing I know Sherlock is running around a museum shouting quips at an unknown gunman and the plane is starting its descent into Newark. I turn off the monitor, slightly miffed that I hadn't even gotten to my favorite part, and check to make sure all my odds and ends were secure in my carry-on.