Title: Earning the Right
Fandom: Avengers
Pairings: Various (Why spoil the surprises, I wonder?)
Warnings: Language, slash, het, mpreg, angry people of the female variety, and modern music-bashing. Eventually. Also, here, there be Original Characters.
Author's Notes: Shaking the rust off with this one. I promise a little bit of everything, with absolutely no fear. On my own part, that is. I may leave some ready to weep into their oatmeal. With that said, enjoy!
"No. Mischief is a small thing, a toy I've well used and discarded. This isn't mischief. This is mayhem. Just watch."
It seemed Thor - big, clunky, brazen, loud-mouthed Thor - was a surprisingly-easy figure to avoid. That came in handy when one wasn't supposed to be where one ended up. That one being Loki. And, that place being New York City. In a city of such a size, he was quite certain that the other could be misplaced in the center of the street. But, for better or worse, steering clear of Thor was not on his day's agenda. And, it really figured that, the one time he actually needed his brother, the big oaf was nowhere to be found. Luck was really turning in his direction.
A bitter chill was in the air, one that he could feel, causing Loki a deep frown, as he pulled his jacket tighter around himself. Not even October, yet, and the humans were forced into bulky bundles, just to keep warm. And, here he was, traipsing about the busy city streets like some sort of tourist. A commoner. If only other options were up for discussion.
It was a stupid idea, he knew, tracking down the Son of Asgard. After all, what was he to expect the other man to do with him? Send him right back into the throes of Hell, no doubt. Strike him clear across the room, if he was to be so lucky. Unless he was to explain, he hoped. Things were so much different, now. And, Thor had to see that, he just had to. Or, so Loki continued to tell himself. Even if Father could not, Thor had to appeal to reason. To common sense. To that big, soft heart of his.
Nothing like taking advantage of a poorly-kept secret, he supposed.
Shaking his head clear, Loki once again began to move his feet, one in front of the other. Stark Tower, a place that he remembered, well, was coming into clear view. He nearly sagged against the nearest building, in relief. His thighs were beginning to ache, his back likewise protesting the support of his upright angle for very much longer. After all, if he did stop…
…-No. Stopping was not an option, either. He kept that notion in-mind, and took a deep breath into his lungs, pushing onward. Loki knew himself to be many things, but, a quitter simply was not among them. He would not stop until there was resolution to any situation (even if that meant blood and war, the price of peace of mind). And, this needed settling, as soon as possible. He was just about there. Only so many more steps to go, and he would have his chance. In so short a distance, hope awaited him. Hope, in the form of the monstrous Norse God who would think little, if anything, of hammering him straight across the city.
So much for the idea of that big heart.
It was getting so that a man - or, in his case, God of Thunder - could not even get through his Pop-Tarts, anymore, without a problem arising. The first smash was nothing to worry about, he figured. Nor was the subsequent crack that followed. Tony Stark was surely causing chaos with a new project, upgrading his suits, or tacking on that new gadget to the television. What had he called it, again? TiVo? Well, it was never the mind, in the end, especially not when the third bang vibrated the entire level, causing a nearby porcelain fruit bowl to shatter to the floor, beneath, and the new assistant to all but leap onto the counter top.
Knocking his breakfast to the floor.
Thor closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. Fantastic.
"S-Sorry," Mychelle nearly squeaked, climbing down from her accidental perch. She carefully retrieved the dry pastries from the floor, and handed them back to Thor with a nervous smile of apology. "Wasn't expecting that," she offered, weakly.
Accepting the Pop-Tarts back onto his empty plate, the blond man nodded. "I shall go and see what the noise is, then." He stood from the kitchen stool, and proceeded toward the source of the commotions. Noise was of little consequence to Thor, until someone was to get hurt. These humans were so jumpy, it was either incredibly comical, or extremely pathetic. He had half a mind to call it an even split, and go on about his day. But, to disturb the sanctity of a man's breakfast? No. No, such an evil deed could not go, un-punished.
He was half-way across the living room when a tell-tale buzzing signaled a visitor to the Tower. He stopped, looking toward the entrance. There was not even time to debate whether to re-direct himself; before he could take a simple pivot-step, Mychelle was rushing toward the door with a distinct shouting of, "I've got it!" And, after all, who was Thor to argue her? As he understood things, it was in her job description, anyway.
Continuing toward the source of the disruptive sounds, the first thing that caught Thor's attention was debris. A lot of it. It littered the stairs, all of the way down to Stark's workshops. And, him temporarily without Mjölnir. How fantastic, indeed.
"Stark?" he called out, nearing his destination. He was careful of a rather large piece of - was that some of the ceiling? - by the last step. Shards of glass from the shattered door went unnoticed, as they crunched beneath his boots. "Stark? Are you down here? What's going on?" He was already assuming the worst. Had the genius finally managed to cause one of his own inventions to explode, right in his face? That was usually where the smart money was. And, if so, would the man live to tell the tale? To die a hero's death would have been far more satisfying, but, an idiot's death just seemed to be screaming out his comrade's name.
A single step further into the workshop, and Thor instantly knew that Stark's fate was nothing so glorious - nor anything quite so… embarrassing. In fact, the large man nearly palmed his forehead, eyes falling to rest on the two flushed, sheepish faces that greeted him.
"Hey, there, Big Guy," Stark offered, after a lengthy pause. He slowly began making his way to his feet, face twisting in pain, one hand gripping over a knee. "Shit… That probably wasn't the smartest idea…" He turned his eyes on the third party, accusingly. The Captain gave no response, other than to rub at the back of his own neck, seemingly content enough to remain on the floor, back rested up against the only untouched wall around them. Giving the room a once-over, Stark blew out a low whistle. "Damn… Really bad idea…" At least Pepper wouldn't see it, he consoled himself. She'd flip her lid. And, these days, especially, he would much rather avoid that.
Still over by the crumbling entryway, Thor was shaking his head. "What were you two thinking? Do you know how loud that was?"
Opening his mouth for a smart reply, Stark was denied his chance.
"I apologize, Thor," the Captain chimed in, finally seeing fit to work his way to a standing position. "It wasn't our intention. We were just… sparring… And, really, it just got a little out of hand."
Stark scoffed. "If you could call it that."
Cue eyebrow raise. "What exactly does that mean?"
"That means that you fight like a little old lady, Rogers. Oh, hold on. Don't take another step. Let me fetch your walker."
"Listen, Stark," Captain threatened, pointing a gloved finger in the aforementioned man's direction, "One more 'old' joke, and I'll-"
"You'll, what? Beat me down with your cane?"
Thor rolled his eyes. He could already see how this had begun.
Captain's eyes narrowed. "That can be arranged, provided you don't intend to live long enough to see Fatherhood."
Just as it looked that Stark was about to lunge at the Captain, Thor forcibly stepped between the two. He stretched his arms out, keeping the bickering pair as far apart as physically possible.
"That's enough!" he commanded, staring down first the instigator, then the instigated. "I care not of how this began. I now wish it to be put to rest." He paused, individually eyeing each man, once again. "Are we at an understanding?"
The Captain glanced at Stark, then away, and nodded, still in a slight pant. Stark said nothing, instead pulling away from the hand against his chest plate, and retreating back toward his now-dust-covered desk. For Thor, that was close enough to peace.
Unfortunately, his own shouts had attracted some much-unwanted attention, as highlighted by a sudden gasping.
"Oh, my… Look at this place!"
Thor and the Captain looked up. Stark cursed, as quietly as he could manage. Pepper Potts stood by the foot of the stairs, eyes wide and disbelieving (though, how one honestly could not believe such a sight was still beyond the Norseman), mouth agape, and pale as a ghost. Behind her, Mychelle was in a similar state of shock.
At least he now knew who had been at the door.
"Pepper…" came Stark's sickeningly-placating tone. "Pepper, now, you know what the Doctor said. No need in getting yourself all upset over something you didn't need to see, in the first place."
The woman in-question turned her bewildered expression right on Stark. "Look at this place!" she repeated herself, loud enough to rival Thor's own booming tones.
Stark knew to tread, lightly. "Look, Steve and I just got a little worked-up. Things got out of hand."
"'Out of hand' wouldn't leave Dummy cowering in the corner, Tony!" All eyes followed Pepper's gesturing hand, landing on a sad sight. Poor Dummy, surely trying to stay out of harm's way, had taken shelter behind a displaced shelving unit. Stark visibly flinched, though he would never admit, the severity of situation really beginning to sink in. Pepper paused, and took in a few, shaking breaths. "I can't believe you, Tony! How could you just go and be this reckless?"
There was no good answer to that demand. And, as such, Stark remained silent. Which only made Pepper all the angrier.
"And, you!" the woman continued, her fury suddenly directed at the Captain, whose eyes merely widened, a fraction, in surprise. "How could you just let him do this? Did you encourage it? I expect more of you!"
"Hey, now, much as I'd like to let him take all the fall for this one, it's not really just his fault-"
"Oh, shut it, Tony!"
As the air began to electrify - and, not of his own doing - Thor seized the opportunity of sure escape, nudging the uninvolved and somewhat-wrongly-accused parties out of the workshop. The three quickly made their way back up the stairs, and down the elevator, temporarily freeing themselves of Stark Tower. They stood around, outside, in a bit of an awkward silence. The Captain relieved himself of his mask, and took a deep, calming breath. It was good to be Steve, again.
"I apologize for that," Mychelle began, after a few moments. "I tried to keep her upstairs, but, ah…" She eyed Thor, grinning, sideways. "Your voice kind of carries, if you hadn't noticed."
Thor snorted a laugh. "It was unavoidable, I am sure."
"You think she's really that mad?" Steve asked, twisting his mask in his hands, a few times. "I mean, I know we were in the wrong, but, she…" He paused, and sighed. He hadn't meant to upset Miss Potts, so badly. But, then again, he hadn't exactly expected to be caught.
Mychelle waved a re-assuring, albeit dismissive hand. "Oh, she'll be fine… It's just the hormones." She tried for a positive smile. "I think she's just had enough of being 'kept quiet', the last few weeks." This seemed to do little to ease Steve's apparent guilt. The young Agent fell silent. She'd 'helped', quite enough, she figured.
"Mother and child shall be just fine, I am sure," Thor agreed, lightly patting Steve on the back - as lightly as one of his strength and stature could manage. It was a moment longer before Steve looked up, and into Thor's eyes… Before just turning, and walking away. Thor allowed his arm to drop back down to his side, watching Steve's form retreat back into the Tower. He was not alone in his observation.
"…-While it's really not my place, I have to say that I'm a little bit worried about him."
Thor could only nod in response. He, too, had seen it. It was hardly detectable, at first, the quiet that would fall over Steve Rogers. The tight emotion that would twist in his eyes, whenever the man's mind would wander away to something, to nothing, and surely to everything. But, slowly, over the last few months, the God had picked up on the almost… depressed aura, he supposed, that had been following his comrade. It was disconcerting, to say the least. He had not had a chance to call the man on it, yet. Though, he couldn't even be certain that he would seize the opportunity, was it ever presented to him.
Looking toward the sky, Thor allowed his own mind a moment to wander. It was about time that he consider going home, and soon. Short a stay, though it would certainly be, he had to admit that even a brief time in Asgard would do him wonders. He missed Mother, and Father… Friends, and comrades… Even his brother.
'Even'? he scoffed at himself, mentally. That is certainly a heartfelt sentiment. He missed Loki… probably more than anyone, if he was to be perfectly honest with himself. He had not even paid the man a visit, when last he was in Asgard. While he hardly felt that Loki would have cared, one way, or another, the guilt still weighed heavily upon his own mind. But, then, what would he have said? What could he have done? With Loki's sentence and imprisonment, it was over.
Oh, excuses, excuses, he could hear Stark's voice telling him, even now. If he was any brother, at all, he would have gone to see his own, in the first place. Not cower away from the very idea of sitting, face-to-face, with his criminal kin. There was so much to be said, and yet, so very little of it that would make a difference. If anything…
"Agent Cade," he began, at some length, before he could think better of it. "Have you any siblings?"
Mychelle glanced up, blinking in surprise. "Ah… Just one."
"Older, or younger?" He looked at her, sideways, for the briefest of seconds. Casting a private bet, in silence.
"Younger," she replied. Thor's face broke into a smirk, which she caught. "What? Why's that funny?"
Thor shook his head. "It's not. I am only considering that I am not surprised by this news."
Mychelle nearly scoffed. It was hardly what she would call 'news'. But, however the elder wished to take it, then, so be it. "I seemed the type?" she assumed, instead.
"Indeed." Content to leave the topic there, he heaved a sigh. "Rain is coming," he observed, casually. "Looks like it will be soon."
Following the other's gaze to the sky, Mychelle noted the graying clouds that skirted the horizon. She did not see where they appeared to be in a hurry to reach them, but made no comment of it. Another thought, entirely, had suddenly occurred to her, and she groaned. This grabbed Thor's complete attention.
"Agent Cade?" he asked, eying her with concern.
"I just realized…" she all but whined, hands coming up to cover over her face. "If it rains, then… We all get stuck inside… Listening to THEM…"
Under any other circumstances, the complete surrender to gravity by Thor's facial features would have been all-too-comical. Clearly, the poor soul had not considered that fact, either.
"What are our options?" he asked, in a panicked hurry. "It might take a little work, but, I could get us to Asgard?" It took a moment, but Mychelle chuckled, Thor not a second behind her. The situation, though not quite so dire as to call for a full retreat, did require a proper plan of attack. "Seriously. What are we to do with a rainy afternoon?"
Mychelle thought on this, for a moment, hands finally having left her face. "Do you like museums?"
To this, Thor raised an eyebrow. "Loathe them."
"Great," the Agent replied, with a grin. "We'll just tell them you wanted a little culture, when we get back."
Thor looked at her, curiously. "And, in the meanwhile?" He held his breath, knowing what answer he was hoping for.
Not one to disappoint such a hopeful expression, Mychelle nodded. "We can go see a movie."
