Chapter Nine: Drinks and Dares

I crossed my arms across my chest and stared at my handiwork. Okay, the tree didn't look terrible. That was about all that I could hope for. It was basically just a mass of green, interrupted frequently with shiny tinsel and a random spattering of ornaments. And my jeans were covered in excess glitter that made me look like a disco ball.

With a sigh, I walked across the room and flopped onto the couch, not caring how messy I was. It was ten minutes until six o'clock, and my arms were sore from trying to reach the top of the tree. Damn my shortness.

"Mo, you're getting glitter all over my couch!" Stark complained, strolling into the room, one hand behind his back.

I laughed. "Sorry," I said unconvincingly. It was a leather couch; he could just wipe it off. "Did you buy food? Like, actual food, and not just booze?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, mother," he sighed dramatically. "It's in the fridge; get it out when you want it."

I smirked and crossed my arms behind my head. "Excellent." He nodded and moved away, walking backward. I sat up, eyeing him suspiciously. "Wait, what's in your hand?"

Stark smiled. "Nothing."

I stood, glitter falling to the floor as I did so. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying." He brought his hands around and held them up for me to see. The only problem? They were clenched into fists.

I stuck my lower lip out in a pout, hands on my hips. "Tell me."

"The proof is right in front of you, crazy! I'm clean!" he protested, backing away from me, fists still raised protectively in front of his face. There was a wicked gleam in his eyes that I didn't like.

I sprung forward, arms outstretched. They circled his body, causing my face to smash into his chest, and both of us to crash to the floor. My nose was sore from the collision, but I probably wasn't in as much pain as he was, although he didn't look too bad. "Tell meeee!" I screeched, drawing out the last word in a painfully high octave.

"Get your fat ass off me," Stark moaned, ignoring me and pushing me off him with one hand. The other remained firmly closed around his dirty little secret.

I rolled over and lay sprawled on the floor, splayed out like I was making a snow angel. "You are a horrible person, Stark."

He laughed and shrugged it off. "Yeah, I know."

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"Nope." I moaned loudly, in an overdramatic way. "Mo, come on. You're acting childish."

I sat up, rested my elbows on my knees, and eyed him reproachfully. "I don't approve of secrets, Stark," I began in a businesslike manner. "And it pisses me off that you won't tell me. So, if you decide not to, I will 'respect' that answer and instead turn to making your life a living hell." My voice dripped with venom, and then turned to sound like Nick Fury. "It's your choice. Pick the right one."

Stark raised his eyebrows. "I've been in hell for several years. What harm could you possibly do?"

I gave him another pouty glare before jumping on his stomach, pummeling him lightly with my fists. Yes, childish, but who cares? It's Christmas! "You're so mean!" I yelled, annoyed. He just shook his head in amazement.

The elevator dinged, but I didn't notice it until I heard the footsteps approach us. "Mo? What are you doing?"

I looked up and blushed. "Oh, hey, Rogers."

Steve Rogers stood above Stark and me, giving the two of us a look of utter bewilderment. Natasha, Banner, and Barton strolled up behind him. Thor trailed after them, giving me a smile when he saw me.

Stark pushed me off him again and stood, yanking me up with him. That evil glint had returned, fixed on Barton's unaware face. I elbowed Stark in the ribs and growled, "What is your issue?"

Suddenly, his face lit up with a crazy grin and his fist opened and he smacked me on the forehead. Before I could even think to ask what the hell had just happened, he'd shoved me into Barton's chest, yelling, "Merry Christmas everyone!"

I was blushing furiously when I stepped back. Barton's cheeks were tinted with pink also, but he said, "A present? For me?" Then he winked. "But I didn't buy you anything!"

"Present? What present?" I asked, confused. Everyone was laughing at me. I crossed my arms. "What?"

Barton reached out and pulled something off my forehead. A shiny blue bow was cupped in his hand. "I believe Stark made you into a Christmas present, Mo."

I was sure that I looked like a tomato with how red my face was getting. I directed my gaze to my bare feet, scratching the back of my neck. What for? I asked myself. Why are you so embarrassed? I had no idea.

So I straightened back up, took the bow from Barton's hand, and placed it on my forehead once again. "Merry Christmas!" I sang, throwing my arms out wide.

They all cheered and laughed, holding their arms out like mine were, even Rogers. Nothing about him seemed quite as reserved as it usually was. He just looked like a man who hasn't seen a hard day in years, and knows that he's got good things to look forward to for days and days to come. He wasn't a military man. He was just old Steve Rogers.

Well, post-transformation Steve Rogers, anyway.

"Well, we've got drinks and food." I paused. "And that's pretty much it."

Natasha smiled at me. "That's all we need."

oOoOo

A few hours later, Stark was singing at the top of his lungs and spinning in circles. As I still hadn't found my iPod, I'd unearthed a radio from a hall closet and figured out how to turn it on. So Stark was the entertainment, singing every single song. The only problem? I don't think he even knew what the song was. Even if he did, it was all too slurred for me to tell.

It wasn't much of a party, really. Just friends hanging out with a Christmas tree in the room. I was sat at the bar with Thor, watching him down glass after glass. Barton was leaning against the wall, talking to Banner. Both had nearly empty glasses. Stark had an entire bottle.

"Shut up, Stark!" Rogers came walking into the room, a glass of alcohol in his hand. I, apparently, wasn't the only one getting tired of the billionaire's voice, although the outburst did surprise me a little.

"Okay, who gave Captain Tight-Ass the booze?" Stark asked, cutting the dying whale noises with a look of complete astonishment on his face. I stifled a laugh when he hugged his vodka bottle to his chest, like he was trying to protect it from the mean old captain.

Rogers shrugged. "Nobody. I helped myself."

I looked at Thor. "Do you think it's a good idea for him to be drinking?"

Thor grinned. "Who? Stark or Rogers?"

"Rogers. But Stark drinking probably isn't much better."

This made Thor laugh. "Banner is drinking, too. And so am I. Sometimes we men need to take our minds off our troubles." I gave him a look of disbelief, but he ignored it. "By the way, where did Natasha run off to?"

I looked around. She wasn't in the living room with us, nor was she behind us in the kitchen. She'd disappeared. "You know, I'm not sure." I shrugged. "She'll be fine."

Thor laughed again and leaned back in his chair, taking a swig from his drink. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "Are you not going to have any?" he asked, indicating the glass in his hand.

"I'm sixteen."

"And?"

I shook my head with a grin. I forgot he wasn't from here. "That's illegal." And even if it wasn't, I'd smelled what he was drinking, and it was strong enough to put Stark in the hospital.

"Ah." Thor nodded. "We do not have rules like that in Asgard."

I crossed my legs and folded my hands into my lap, turning the barstool I was on until I was facing Thor. "Tell me about Asgard."

I wasn't prepared for a long description of the scenery and the food, the people and the places. Although it took him a long time just to talk about his father, the king, and his mother, it was nice to hear about it. It was also plain to see that he enjoyed telling someone, too. But there was one thing missing from his tales.

"What about your brother?"

"He's adopted," Thor mumbled quickly, glaring at the floor.

"Okay, what about your adopted brother?"

He gave me a cautious glance. "Why do you want to know?"

I tried to think of a good reason, but couldn't find one. "I don't know," I answered truthfully. "You've told me about everything but him. Why?" Thor was silent. I nudged him with my elbow. "Come on, please? It's not like you hate him or anything."

He gave a halfhearted chuckle. "No, I feel no hate toward him. We were raised as brothers, Loki and I. That is all we have ever known of each other. He looked different, he acted different, he could do magic perfectly, but he was my brother. We fought together, caused trouble together." He smiled. "Nothing else mattered."

"But?"

"But then he grew jealous. He wanted the attention I was getting. When I was banished here, he tried to take over after finding out the truth of his origins. His anger had blinded him. I returned, and we fought, and he fell off the Bifrost. We all thought he had died."

I nodded sympathetically. "But he turned up here."

"Yes. And you know what happens after that." Thor drank from his glass again. "And now he's imprisoned back in Asgard."

Well, I wasn't sure what to say after that. "Okay. Thank you for telling me." Eh, good enough.

I was so absorbed in our conversation that I hadn't noticed that the other men had grown quiet. Stark, Rogers, Barton, and Banner were talking in the far corner. For some reason, this worried me deeply. "What do you think they're talking about?" I whispered to Thor.

He took another gulp from his drink. "Nothing good, I am sure. Sit here. I will go and see."

Thor stood and walked over to them. They immediately hushed their voices. I strained to hear without being too obvious, but had no luck. Banner was shaking his head; everyone else was nodding. I took that moment to look around again. Natasha was still nowhere to be found.

Thor returned shortly after. "What's going on?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Their voices were too slurred for me to figure it out. They have had too much alcohol, I believe." This remark surprised me, as Thor had drank more than any of them.

He laughed suddenly. "I hope nothing too bad happens. Pepper will have a fit when she returns."

Pepper…that sounded familiar. "Pepper. She's the CEO of Stark Industries, right? I think I saw something on TV about that."

"And she is Stark's lady."

Stark's got a girlfriend? Oh, this will make things interesting. Something to hold over his head next time he steps out of line… Excellent.

Speak of the devil. Stark came waltzing over. He sat on the barstool next to me. "So, Mo, what kind of classes do you take in school?" he slurred. He put a hand on my arm. I shivered; he grinned.

I raised my eyebrows. What a pointless question. But I answered anyway. "Geography, American lit, chemistry – "

"Chemistry?" Stark interrupted. I realized my mistake a little too late. "Are you any good at Chemistry?"

Ah, shit. "Yeah, I guess so," I sighed, waiting for the punch line.

"I'm sure." He nodded. "I'm great with chemistry." Ah, there it is.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Stark, are you really playing the chemistry angle? Because that's kind of pathetic." I looked at Thor for help. He shrugged again. Thanks for the help, buddy, I thought drily.

Stark closed his eyes and sighed. "You drive me crazy."

"Yeah, well, you drive me crazy, too."

Both eyes snapped back open and a sly grin emerged on his lips. Dammit. "Is that so?" he asked, leaning forward so his face was close to mine. He smelled like vodka.

I turned and looked him in the eye. Time to play with my new information! "I'm sure Pepper would love to hear about this, don't you think?"

Stark opened and closed his mouth a few times, like he wanted to say something. Finally, looking defeated, he got up and left.

Thor laughed and shook his head. "You handled that quite well," he said, smiling at me. I smiled back.

"At least he's gone." I watched Stark receive a few pats on the back and what I'm sure were condolences. Then Stark have Barton a little push and I heard a faint "you're up".

Thor's glass was shaking in his hand from laughter, badly enough that he had to use both hands.

"Oh, no," I sighed as Barton came over. He didn't sit, just stood there in front of me with his arms crossed in front of his chest. I noticed that, even though I was on a bar stool, and my feet weren't touching the ground, he was taller than me. I sighed again and looked him in his blue eyes. "Look, Barton, I – " Then he kissed me.

I drew in a sharp intake of breath as his calloused hands held my chin in place. Alarm bells were blaring in my head, but I couldn't pull away, despite my attempts to do so. His lips tasted of alcohol, not as strong as what Thor was consuming, but strong enough that I could tell it was there. I was completely caught off guard, and I had to hand it to him for being so blunt.

Let me go, let me go, let me go! I pleaded silently.

He drew back but didn't release my face. I realized my eyes had closed (when did that happen?), so I opened them. "Barton – "

He kissed me again, lightly this time. "No talking."

Everything had gone silent, except my heart. It was hammering in my chest, loudly enough that I was sure everyone could hear it. This was all just so…bizarre. My eyes stared into his.

Rogers broke the silence. "How the hell and I supposed to top that?" he exclaimed.

"You can't!" Thor replied gleefully. "Barton wins!"

I wrenched myself out of Barton's grasp. "Excuse me?" I snapped, heat rising inside me. "What do you mean 'wins'? Was this some stupid contest?"

My outburst seemed to have sobered them up a little. "Mo – " Barton began, but I silenced him with a murderous glare.

I looked to Thor. "Were you in on this?"

Thor cleared his throat. "Well, in a way I was." At my warning hiss, he continued. "They requested that I be their judge."

I crossed my arms across my chest and leaned against Stark's counter. I blew out a puff of air, making a curl dislodge and fall into my face. I tucked it behind my ear. "You know that was all way illegal, right?" I was referring, of course, to the fact that I was a minor and they were all grown men.

They had all drawn nearer during that short span of time. Stark was now standing beside me, rubbing my shoulder. "What are you going to do about it? Alert the authorities?"

"Maybe."

"Sweetie," he breathed into my ear. Once again, I was struck by the foul stench of alcohol on his breath. "We are the authorities."

I prepared to kick him, but he was lifted away before I could. My blonde-haired, heavily muscled guardian had Stark by his shirtfront. "That's enough," he growled with his deep, starting to become scary, voice. "I already deemed Barton the winner."

"Who says I was doing this for the competition?" Stark sneered.

I stepped into his range of sight. "You'd better be saying it for the competition if I decide to tell Pepper," I warned. Overkill, maybe, with the Pepper threats, but he was pissing me off and I knew it'd scare him.

"You have no proof any of this even happened," he countered.

That was true. So what could I do now? I just glared angrily at Stark, who was giving me a triumphant smile. Barton was trying to catch my eye, but I ignored him. He was at fault here, too. As much as I wanted to hate Rogers and Banner for being in on this, they didn't really do anything. I couldn't bring myself to feel anything more than slight irritation. Thor, on the other hand, had me completely baffled. He knew what was going on, but he'd also just rescued me from Stark. And I still couldn't find Natasha!

My head was starting to hurt from all the emotions swirling around, so I whipped around and stalked to my bedroom, completely done with that sorry excuse for a party.

It was your idea, Mo.

Shut up, head! I snapped. Oh God, I'm going crazy.

Well, I had learned something new about my friends and drinking. They were each a different breed of drunk: Rogers was a loud drunk, Banner was a silent drunk, Thor didn't get drunk, Stark was a mean drunk, and Barton… I had no idea.

And speaking of Stark… Thor had set him back on his feet. "Retreating, are you? Couldn't think of anything else to threaten me with? Figures."

His gloating smile and horrid laughter pushed me over the edge.

"Merry Christmas, you bastard!" I yelled, slamming the door in all of their faces.