Dinner Time
Assembled in the dinning room, Tony seated at the head of the glass-topped table (a martini glass in hand), Pepper at his right and Bruce on his left, the only sound in the room was the clinking of matching dishes, silver knives scraping china, and the dull thunk of a half-full glass being set down. Arriving shortly before dinner had been ordered (Tony had his personal chefs cook a personalized gourmet meal consisting of steak, salad, and desert cake), Phil Coulson (who had came over at the request of Nick Fury to make sure that things were going as smoothly as they could) filled in the one empty place at the ten-person table. He was seated between fellow agent Barton and Thor, sitting diagonally across from his childhood hero, Steve Rogers.
"So, who is this?" Coulson asked conversationally as Magdalyn joined them at last, taking her place next to Pepper and between Natasha.
Tony grumbled something into his drink, receiving a dirty look from Pepper, who answered the question, "It's kind of a long story."
Clint, who had hastily taken the spot next to Bruce so that Natasha couldn't get it (ending up facing Magdalyn), added, "We're not sure."
"You're not sure?" He asked in disbelief, assuming that any given person in the room would have done an extensive background check.
Loki, at the other end of the table, smirked in Clint's direction, "Sounds familiar, doesn't it?"
"You wanna go a round?" The archer leaned over on his elbow so that he could get a better look at the fallen god.
"Clint!" Natasha scolded him in a warning tone.
Grinning at the short leash the Mewling Quim had kept him on, Loki added more fuel to the fire, "I don't make it a habit to fight house pets. Though I must admit that the offer is rather tempting."
"LOKI!" Thor thundered at his brother, slamming his fists down on the table, upending a steaming pot of mashed potatoes.
Unfortunately, the cleavage at the receiving end of the flying food was none other than Magdalyn. Looking between her chest and Thor, arms held up, it looked like she was about to scream at the top of her lungs. Whatever didn't make contact with Mag flew on either side; Natasha merely dodged to her left, and Pepper only got a little bit on her person. Being directly across from her, his keen vision seeing the mashy white substance making contact in almost perfect slow motion, he was drawn to notice her feminine... wiles.
"... I really wish I could say that this was a first..." She was shaking, making an effort not to explode.
Loki rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath (even though they all heard him (proposed alliance forgotten)), "I would bet that she's quite used to things flying at her."
Scooping up a handful of mashed potatoes from between her shirt, Magdalyn balled it up in her fist, hurling it directly at Loki. It hit his lower jaw, spattering partially on his sable vest. She grinned back at him, "And I guess I was wrong - you're not used to taking it in the face."
"I do not understand." Thor, befuddled by the innuendos, looked between his fellow Avengers, and guests, for answers.
Tony rolled his eyes, a 'just shoot me now' look on his face.
Trying to stop the childish antics before they could escalate any higher, Steve prepared to make a heartfelt speech (his normal method of breaking up a fight in his room). Joining in on the madness, Natasha grabbed the head of broccoli from his plate and stuffed it in his mouth. Approving of her actions, Magdalyn grabbed the rolls from their neat little basket, tossing them at random (more than one bouncing off of Tony's head). Not understanding, or maybe understand better than he had been given credit for, Thor stood up, flipping the table over so that all of the food fell on the girls (and Steve (his progress slowed drastically by Tony holding the table, just giving Pepper enough time to scoot away from the line of damage)).
"EVERYONE, OUT!" Pepper shouted so loudly, they were surprised that the glass in the room didn't shatter.
Frightened, they couldn't get out of the dinning room fast enough.
A Little Bit Later That Evening
Showered and in a fresh pair of coal-grey sweat pants and a simple black tee, Clint sat alone at the fourth floor bar (it was the only room in the mansion fully stocked with every kind of liquor imaginable). The gigantic jukebox in the back was set to random, playing songs that weren't surprisingly limited to AC/DC (Five Finger Death Punch's From Out Of Nowhere blasting out of the sizable speakers). Mulling over thoughts of Natasha, revenge, and dinner, he was taking his time with his poison of choice when the door opened behind him. Clad in a semi-sheer chemise the color of wine, long hair tied back like a Grecian goddess of old, Magdalyn sat at the bar next to him, pouring herself a peach-flavored wine cooler.
"Nice jab." He said, looking at his glass, taking a swig.
She smiled, doing the same of her own fruity beverage, "Someone had to say it."
"You old enough to be drinking that?" He looked at her, hazarding that she wasn't (though she looked like she could have fallen into either category).
"I've been legally drinking for over four years, besides, I think you'd find that I've been through enough to deserve it." It looked like she had wanted to say something else, but he didn't feel like pressing her on that personal of a matter.
Clint finished his glass during a brief period of silence, pouring another, "You sure did manage to shake things up, and at a very opportune time."
Gathering what he was implying, she shook her head, "I'm not here for Loki."
"Then what are you here for?" He looked at her for perhaps the first time, measuring her and her response.
"..." Aware that now was not the time for sarcasm, she looked at him, debating what to say (purposely taking a long drink to stall for time), "... I'm here because I made a mistake, and now I'm trying to fix it."
Reminded of Tasha by that answer, he repressed a smile, "Why couldn't you go back to when you made it?"
She shrugged, downing her drink (proceeding to fix another as they spoke), "Time-travel isn't that precise."
"You sure have a good story, I'll give you that." He said, doubtful of her sincerity.
Mag laughed, her checks tinting with the liquor, "I've had plenty of time to practice it."
"Drunk already?" He found it ironic that she would be drunk, especially given her earlier claim (how likely was it that Tony's daughter would be an alcoholic like her father, taking into account how much she disdained him (he also found it next to impossible that Tony's child could be a lightweight)), pointing out that she had only had two drinks.
"Not yet." She had actually already been drinking before she had came into the bar, "I was enjoying a nice bottle of bubbly in my room, but it's no fun to drink alone."
He was skeptical about her sobriety (not that he was one to talk at that point), "You sound like you knew I would be in here."
"I did. I know you very well."
"Do you?"
Pointing at his heart (missing by a lot she poked his shoulder), Mag nodded, "You're a good man, but like me, you're really screwed in the head. That's why it made sense."
"What made sense?" Even not at the top of his game, he could still tell that she was talking about something else entirely.
She frowned at him, "... You being here? What else could I possibly have meant?"
Not convinced, he sat back, contemplating his next move. She was an unknown in every sense of the word, but she wasn't without her natural advantages, and having an axe to grind herself, she would certainly understand his position without much explaining. But even if he could trust her, was he really ready to go to that level with Natasha? It was true that she had broken his heart, but could he do the same to her? And with this girl? Was it right to approach her while she was this inebriated?
"I love this song," She laughed drunkenly as the song changed to Closer, by Nine Inch Nails, "You let me violate you, you let me desecrate you. You let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you."
To say that her singing was off-key would have been a compliment. Of major proportions. But he had to give her some credit at least - she put a lot of spirit into her wailing. It helped immensely that her layered nightdress accented all the right curves.
"My whole existence is flawed. You get me closer to god. You can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings. You can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything. Help me tear down my reason, help me its your sex I can smell. Help me you make me perfect, help me become somebody else. I want to fu-"
"Magdalyn-"
"Mag," She reprimanded, cutting short her sorry excuse for singing, "Magdalyn is what I was called when I'm in trouble. With my mother. Or when some one doesn't know me at all."
He raised an eyebrow at that, "And what makes you so sure that I know you?"
The mischievous glimmer in her hazel eyes brightened, "History."
Under the impression that she was hitting on him, Clint suddenly found himself between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, he was physically attracted to her (he was the only one in the house that was), but on the other, she was either a spy or the daughter of a teammate (and in this scenario, he wasn't sure which was worse). Not to mention what this could do to his plan to get revenge on Natasha... Mag was the only other woman in the house (which was convenient in the short-term, not so much in the long), but she was still at that age where certain things seemed like more than what they actually were... Forget that she wasn't exactly clear-headed...
Even without him having to say it, she understood what was running through his mind. This was the time in his life when he had been in love with Natasha, and judging from his reactions to her at dinner, this was the most painful part of his relationship with her - the turning point when it became clear that they had no future together. That made things messy for her, but knowing where he was coming from (and where he was going) gave her an advantage. He wanted to hurt Natasha for hurting him, and her hatred for her father gave her the perfect excuse to help him (she knew that her personal circumstance would give him pause, but he would get over it).
Something told him he was going to pay for this somewhere down the line...
First off, I'm so happy to have twenty reviews! You guys so rock! And secondly, I may be wrong, but it seems as if chapter 8 was overlooked by a great many of you. I was surprised, because in that chapter, if you haven't read it already, there is a great scene between Thor and Loki that really develops their relationship as brothers. Also, as far as Hawkeye goes, it's pretty hard to write for a character that doesn't have a ton of parts in the movies (Psst, if you make the movies, you should put more of him in them). The Five Finger Death Punch song was actually on the Avengers album, so that made that choice a no brainer... Well, here's to the reviews!