Hello!
This chapter was a bitch to write, and I'm still not happy with it, but it's the best I got, so blah.
Steve belongs to Marvel and Disney. Erika, Erik, and my interpretations of Jormungand, Fenrir, Sliepnir, and Hela belong to me.
Not long after Erika got going on her project, she got stuck. She tried and tried to move past it, but it wasn't budging.
"J.A.R.V.I.S, close Project Night Fury," she said tiredly. "I need a break. Also, please schedule a flight to England on Daddy's jet for tomorrow morning, and schedule a reservation for five at the Palm Court for Afternoon Tea." She felt like having real English tea, and what better place to get it than straight from the source?
"We're going to England tomorrow," she announced to her siblings. "Wear your formal clothes and be ready to leave around nine a.m."
They were used to their sister's tip of the hat whims, so nobody questioned it.
"Can I wear my vest?" asked Sliepnir, referring to the purple paisley vest he had just gotten.
"Knock yourself out," said Erika—everyone had several formal outfits, at her insistence.
"Would it be too much to ask if Erik spent the day with you tomorrow?" Jormungand asked Steve shortly after his sister's announcement of their trip. "Erika's whisking us away to England tomorrow for tea."
Steve looked up from his book. "Uh, sure."
Jormungand gave him a smile. "Thank you, Steven. Normally I would have given you more notice, but . . . . you are familiar with my sister's whims."
Steve bit back a laugh. "Yeah, Tony springs thing on us last minute a lot, too—it kinda runs in the family, I guess."
Things were still a little off-kilter between them, but they'd gotten more comfortable around each other since Jormungand's injury, and Jormungand was glad that Erik had his father around.
The flight from Manhattan to London was uneventful, and they arrived just in time for Afternoon Tea.
"Erika Stark, party of five," said Erika easily at the restaurant's matre de podium, and they were seated shortly after. A served came out with a bottle of Mumm champagne and handed out menus. They picked their finger sandwiches and teas, and the server left to place their order.
"Do Midgardians have tea like this every day?" Hela asked.
"Only in certain countries. Nobody can beat authentic English tea, though, and I thought it would be fun to get out for an afternoon," said Erika. She looked over at Sliepnir, who was frowning at the tea menu. "What's wrong?"
"I've never had tea," he admitted. "I don't know what to get."
Erika covered his hand with her own. "Don't worry—you're in good hands. Now then, it looks like there are three kinds of tea here—traditional, herbal, and oriental. I myself prefer traditional, but I'm known to enjoy a cup of peppermint tea from time to time."
Sliepnir hesitated, then nodded. "Okay, I'll try traditional." He then noticed that there were six teas listed under 'Traditional English Teas. "Umm . . . ."
"If you're not sure, stick to English Breakfast—it's the most commonly ordered one," she advised, and Sliepnir nodded again.
When the time to order their pots came, Erika and Sliepnir decided to share a pot of English Breakfast, Hela chose Chamomile, Fenrir chose Fine Ceylon, and Jormungand chose Vanilla Black.
Nobody was surprised when their tea came and Jormungand used up most of the table's supplied sugar in his cup.
"It's a little strong," said Sliepnir after a sip of his own.
"Here, try adding milk," said Erika, offering him the one of the small porcelain creamers. He took it and poured a small amount of milk into his tea, and then stirred before sipping lightly, and Erika could tell he liked that much better.
"So, why did you decide to kidnap us?" asked Hela.
Erika tapped her fingers against the table. "No reason," she said innocently.
Nobody bought it.
Erika's mask of ignorance cracked. "Okay, fine," she huffed. "Besides the fact that I really wanted real English tea, I wanted to talk to you guys about something." She looked around briefly, then lowering her voice, she asked, "What do you know about dragons?"
"Papa, hvert fór mamma að fara?" asked Erik, but before Steve could ask J.A.R.V.I.S to translate, Erik stuck his tongue out slightly in concentration before saying in English, "Where's Momma?"
"Your Aunt Erika Stole him for the day," he said.
"Oh. When . . . . when is he coming back?"
Steve was impressed with how far Erik had come in his pursuit of the English language. "I'm not sure, Buddy—it's a long flight from here to where they went, so they'll probably be back some time tonight."
"Oh. O-kay," said Erik, and then he went back to playing with his toys.
Steve was struck by the sudden urge to draw his son sitting amongst his toys, so he reached for his sketchpad and a pencil, and turned to a fresh page.
Later that night, when Erika and her siblings returned, Jormungand asked Steve why Erik was sleeping in the middle of the floor.
"He wanted to wait up for you," said Steve sheepishly. "He gave me The Face when I tried putting him to bed."
Nobody could resist The Face except Jormungand, but he'd had practice.
"Very well," Jormungand huffed, gently picking up the sleeping toddler. "I'll have him clean his mess first thing tomorrow. Goodnight, Steven."
"Goodnight," Steve said back quietly, watching Jormungand retreat to the elevator.
"Go to him, you idiot!" Erika said to Jormungand one night not long after her and her siblings' tea trip. "He still likes you—everyone can tell! Plus, it would make Erik happy, so everyone wins!"
Jormungand didn't look up from his coffee cup (they had finally lifted his caffeine ban, thank the Norns).
"Come on, what are you afraid of?"
Jormungand blinked. "I feel like we've had this conversation before," he admitted. "It's . . . unsettling.
"What, like Déjà vu? Don't worry, that's normal. Getting back on track—come on, Jor, you need to say something! I'm surprised he hasn't said anything—you should have seen him when you were hurt, he was a mess!"
Jormungand blinked. "Really?"
Erika gave him a look that said 'DUH.' "Why else do you think he asked you out after you were well enough to move around? Obviously, Captain Spangles wants you back, but he lost his nerve after that one date—
"It was hardly a date, Erik was with us!" Jormungand interrupted.
—So you gotta step up and make a move!" Erika finished like he hadn't spoken.
Jormungand huffed. "Fine!" he snapped, and vanished in a shimmer of green light, and Erika had approximately three seconds to think 'oh, boy,' before Jormungand returned to his seat in another flash of light, red-faced. "Happy now?" he snapped.
"Did you let him know you're still interested?" she asked.
Jormungand's blush deepened and he nodded tersely.
Later, Erika would ask him what he did to make a red faced Steve Rogers run into the kitchen and kiss him senseless.
He never told her.
A/N: I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ENGLAND'S AFTERNOON TEAS OR LONDON'S PALM COURT SETUP, I'M SORRY IF I GOT SOMETHING WRONG!