Two months between updates. Not bad, right?

*crickets*

I've been busy in my time away. We're looking at 27 chapters IN ALL. And before you get alarmed/excited, there should be…2(?) more of comparable length to those I've already posted. Most of the rest of them will be shorter. Or they SHOULD be, shorter. Things have a habit of getting away from me.

I'm nearly done with all of it, and I'll be working to get the rest to you between now and early January!

I.

"So, just to let me recap," Tony pressed the bridge of his nose with one hand, not quite sacrificing his grip on the glass to steady himself on the arm of the couch he was straddling. "You have a brother, you were – quite literally – raised in the circus – and you didn't think that any of that," he waved his hand definitively, nearly losing his balance for his theatrics, "was pertinent before now."

Unabashed, Barton gave a one armed shrug. "Tasha knew."

Tony snorted and from across the ring of couches, Bruce laughed.

Laura, Wanda and Pepper had all gone to put the three children to bed. One to one – Tony thought the odds were pretty decent he'd be seeing Pepper again sometime before morning.

Nostalgia had started tugging on Tony's leg, and as the level of homemade eggnog lowered in the jars Natasha had stashed in the fridge, the pull got stronger. When conversation fizzled out, he demanded stories, told in turn, of Christmases lost to bygone days.

Clint's had him hooked.

Barton was seated cross-legged on the coffee table. He lifted his cup, muttering, "Didn't think it would come as such a shock."

That was too much for Tony, "You ran away from an orphanage to join a circus, it worked, and you didn't think we'd be surprised?"

"Nope."

"He gets along with the rest of us," Banner said, "And we're not…conventional…"

"He's got a point," Wilson said.

Tony eyed him. "Don't help," he decided. He finished the last of his drink.

"You know what?" Rogers said, "Fair enough."

Barton raised his eyebrows, "I thought so."

"What about you, World War Z?" Tony was straddling the arm of the couch kitty-corner to the one occupied by Thor and his brother. Addressing him, Tony kicked his ankle. "You guys've gotta have some interesting stories what with…" he waved his hand vaguely.

Nodding his head, Thor gave a short laugh. "Oh," he craned his head back to look at the ceiling, "where to begin?"

Wilson turned to face them. "Now this I'm interested in."

Lang, who'd taken up residence on a footstool that was nestled between two couches, snuggled down like a kid at storytime with his chin between his fists.

"There was that one night," Loki – unexpectedly – said. "You remember. When Fandral talked us into 'proving our bravery' by sneaking out after the Julebukk?"

"Oh yes," Thor laughed. "You know," he lifted his glass, blue eyes flashing over them at his brother, "he never thought we'd do it."

"I," Loki lifted one finger, snorting a laugh, "knew that."

Chuckling dryly, Clint rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Here we go,"

"Hey," Natasha poked out one foot from where she was curled on the couch beside Banner to nudge him mockingly, "Ease up on the inter-world discrimination, Barton."

"I've been with my kids all day," Barton said. "I'm not really up for multi-lingual conversation right now."

"Ca doit etre difficile," Tony said.

"Very funny, Stark."

"I thought so." Tony gestured at Thor, "Please continue."

"You see, my friends," Thor said, addressing the room, "Jolaria – our…Halloween – is rather more sacred than yours. It is the night when the Powers of Darkness hold sway. We keep the preceding portion," he partitioned the air in front of him with his hands, "of the Jol in order to ready ourselves for it, and it is not until Modhranit that the balance shifts and the Motherhood of the Dark is shown. And it's not until the last night," he grinned, "the Nyarsdagur, that the balance truly tips in our favor.

"So," sitting back, Thor shook his head. "To be out after dark on that night, is not to be advised. Not that proud young fools don't try it. But it was not a thing even we tried twice."

"Mm," Loki gave his head a slight shake. "Not a thing you tried twice."

Two things Tony had learned throughout the course of the evening about Loki:

One: he liked making conversation when he had a drink in his hand. He was almost friendly, which was…unsettling.

And two: the closer he got to being drunk, the closer he got to Thor. And Loki was close indeed, that fine evening. They were practically…snuggling.

"You went out again?" Thor gaped at him, amusement snapping in those electric blue eyes. "Alone? Without telling me?"
Loki shifted evasively. "The others already thought you worth their time," he muttered.

"How did I not hear of this?"
"Simple." Loki's smile was a little sharp and Tony got the idea that even in his state of near-intoxication, the former-super villain was regretting his choice to share his experiences. "I didn't tell anyone."

"Didn't that sort of,"

Loki's head swiveled and he frowned suspiciously at the Captain.

Roger's shrugged loosely with his hands, "defeat the purpose?"

Laying back against the couch, Loki snorted. "I knew," he said. He draped one hand languidly across his eyes. "That mattered at the time."

"O-kay," Tony drawled, interrupting what he felt could easily turn into a property-damaging tiff. "So there's Halloween. Either of you got anything a bit more Christmas-ey? You have heard the rest of our stories, right? There's not…ghouls in ours. Or," he grimaced, "words professors couldn't pronounce. Because P. T. Barnum over there does have a point." Tony gestured at Clint.

"Really, Stark?"

Tony grinned at him.

"I hear you, Bro," Wilson agreed.

Steve glanced over appreciatively. "I hoped it wasn't just me."

"It's Christmas," Wilson continued."Let's leave out the 'Powers of Darkness.'"

Thor grinned at them, "Of course. If you will but give me a moment…" he stared pensively into his drink.

"Now," Dr. Strange leaned forward as he spoke, "Viking-age mythos was never my field of interest," he said. "But I was under the impression that your father, Odin, was the model for the legends behind 'Santa Claus'."

Loki had slung his legs back towards the floor. Startled, he choked on his drink.

Taking the glass from him, Thor set it on the table.

Tony was a little bit…not at his full capacity. It was the holidays. He'd had enough of Natasha's eggnog and…various other beverages…that everything felt pleasantly warm and a little surreal.

Loki dropped his elbows on his knees and he laughed, coughing as he tried to catch his breath.

Chuckling, Thor patted his back.

Maybe it was something about the eggnog. Tony held it up to inspect it in the light. When the eggnog failed to give up its secrets, Tony found Natasha's eyes and mimed a question.

"Just eggnog," she shrugged.

As he looked at her, it occurred to Tony that hers were the only eyes in the room that were – strictly speaking – clear.

He gestured another question.

Giving a soft little one-sided smirk, Natasha shrugged. "I'm Russian," she said.

Loki had his head in his hand and Thor was laughing at him.

"Is he all right?" Steve asked.

Tony sighed, "That's a no, then?"

"Our father was," Thor searched and finally allowed, "never one for the Romjol."

"Never," Loki sat back, catching his breath, "one for the Romjol is the most blatant falsification of the facts that you have ever uttered."

"Well, he wasn't!" Thor protested.

"Do him justice, Thor," Loki said. "All we heard about for weeks before was how deeply he wished it over with."

Thor's mouth twitched. "He wasn't as bad as all that,"

"Wasn't as bad as all…" Loki snorted. "And you say they based your 'Santa Claus' on him?"

"So I'd heard," Strange shrugged.

"Krampus maybe," Loki took his drink from Thor, "but never Santa Claus."

Sitting straighter, Lang frowned. "Krampus, as in…the horror film?"

"No, Lang," Loki rolled his eyes. "The demon predecessor of the horror film, dedicated to the slaughter of children whose behavior deteriorated in the wake of the holiday."

"That's…" Tony thought about it, "dark," he decided. "You know? And I can't believe I'm saying this," he reached out to try and kick Loki's leg but he wasn't tall enough to reach and missed. "I like you better when you're drunk."

"Likewise, Stark." Loki said pleasantly.

"Where we at, Point Break?" Tony flicked Thor. "Got anything for me yet?"

"There was a story…" Thor said pensively. "That our mother used to tell us every year after we'd brought in the Tree." Glancing up he asked, "Do you remember it, Brother?"

Loki snorted. "How couldn't I?"

"It was about a girl," Thor said. "Her mother lost in her birthing, and her father away at war. But," he raise one finger, "he had married a beautiful Vana widow before the war, and he had brought both her and her two daughters into his home –"

"Cinderella?" Barton asked incredulously.

Wilson laughed, "Oh I'm gonna enjoy this."

"I…" Thor faltered, "do not know by what name you might call it. You have heard the tale before?"

"I think I might've," Barton said. "Let me guess. Dad dies, step-mom enslaves his daughter, the prince throws a party and step-mom won't let her go. Fairy Godmother shows up with glass slippers –"

"Slippers?" Thor frowned. "No. No, the girl's dead mother, hearing her cries of lamentation,"

Putting one hand over his face, Tony groaned.

"came back from the grave to assist her daughter with certain treasures from the land beyond, treasures that came in the form of three," Thor held up three fingers, "nuts. Each one with a special property."

"Okay," Wilson said, "but that 'special property' helps her to win Prince Charming, right?"

"After attempting first to kill him,"

"That's attractive," Bruce muttered.

"Some people think so," Natasha laughed.

"and then to flee his advances by their merits, but, in the end, yes." Thor said.

"Right." Barton looked like he was trying to digest that. "Little more…yeah," he shook himself. "Still Cinderella." He looked at Scott as if for help. "Right?"

"Sounds like it to me," Lang said. Then he shrugged, folding his arms over his chest. "I mean…kinda. In a Viking-y sort of way."

Thor nodded his head appreciatively. "I had wondered how many of our tales might have travelled this far."

"Why tell it on Christmas?" Natasha asked.

"Ah," Thor said. "Yes. I had forgotten…you mortals," shaking his head, he gave a soft laugh. "The girl lived for some years with the Jolasveinarnir amid the mountains while she fled the prince –"

"Years?" Clint asked.

"That's commitment." Sam said.

"And it was his theft of her from their halls that brought the Jolasveinarnir down into the city for the first time. She had become," he opened his hand, "quite dear to them, you understand. By the time the people in the city knew of their coming, it was too late. The Jolasveinarnir can be…quite fierce, if not appeased. But they are also quite stupid, and the girl – after her many years living amongst them – knew this, and having fallen deeply in love with the prince, she did not wish to see their destruction of his people."

"Good for him," Clint muttered.

Lang chuckled.

Sam shook his head, "Fairy tales," he said. "Gotta love royals, Man."

"It was she," Thor ignored the interruption, "who told the people to lay out food and gifts for the Jolaveinarnir. They were so delighted, and so charmed by the images they saw through the lighted windows of the sleeping children that they went back up into the mountains to craft gifts for them in thanks. The story," Thor rubbed his chin with one hand, "goes on to say that the girl and the prince were happily wed, lived long and well, and ruled the people admirably until their deaths. But even until this day, the Jolasveinarnir remember."

He shifted, leaning backward into the couch. "It was Loki's favorite tale, as a child. I do believe it might have been his favorite part of the Jol."

Clint turned to Loki, "You didn't strike me as a Cinderella guy."

Tony sputtered a laugh.

Loki flushed a slightly deeper shade of pink.

"Oh come on," Natasha laughed. "It's cute."

"Mm," Loki muttered, "quaint."

Loki, the god of mischief, evil, chaos and lies, was blushing. And Tony took advantage of that fact to stand up, and retrieve that special something he'd found at the gas station that afternoon from its hiding place on the shelf. "Aww," he said. "Is Loki embarrassed?"

One hand pressed the bridge of his nose and Loki did not look up as he said. "Stark, the Ancient Laws of Hospitality dictate I am allowed no violence unless direct harm is threatened my person. Make one further move toward me with that thing and I shall consider it the first move of an aggressor."

"Just one picture?" Tony whined. He let his hand drop from behind his back.

"Stark," Wilson got to his feet, aiming his hands in a finger gun, "put down the antlers."

"All right, all right," Tony dropped the red and green headband. The tiny bells jingled.

"No sudden moves," Lang chimed in.

Tony looked at him. He tipped his hands palm-up. "Do I ever make sudden moves?"

"Get those hands where I can see them, Stark,"

Obligingly, Tony waved both hands at Wilson.

"What's going on?" Pepper asked.

She stood in the doorway, with Laura and Wanda behind her.

"Oh. Good." Tony said. "The girls are here. Get glasses. Those of you who have 'em, fill 'em up. Hey," he snapped his fingers. "Focus up. We're doing a toast."

A few bottles were passed from hand to hand, but when Thor stood up, everyone – up to and not excluding Loki – looked at him.

"Shall we…" Frowning, Thor made a little gesture toward the doorway, "gather in the kitchen?"

"Nnooo," Tony said. "Thor – after all this time I – and I'm not gonna lie – I'm a little hurt you don't know me better. I keep the good liquor in here. Well," he shrugged. "Here, and in my office. And…the Master Bedroom. And…under the counter in the kitchenette off the Television Room. But mainly here."

Pepper looked at him. "Are you done?"

Tony thought about it a minute. "Yup."

"Yes, friend Stark," Thor gave half a laugh, like they were children playing at some kind of joke. "But not the toaster."

"Oh Thor," Laura put a hand over her mouth.

Not everyone was so discreet.

Thor laughed uncertainly, looking from one of them to another for explanation, "What?"

Loki looked tired. "Thor," he said, "sit down."

"Are we not to…go to the…" Thor gestured vaguely in the direction of the doorway.

"Evidently not," Loki said. He tugged the back of Thor's jacket and, reluctantly, still flummoxed and laughing at their amusement, Thor sat.

Then, Barton and Laura set about explaining to the Thunder god the concept of a toast. It was unclear to Tony if Loki had any better understanding than his brother or if he just kept his mouth shut and his looks of incredulity to himself better than Thor did. Either way, it was entertaining to watch.

"But," Thor laughed, finally, "why, then, is it called a 'toast'?"

Barton blinked several times. He looked at his wife.

"In the seventeenth century," Strange said coolly from his place at the table, "Europeans would often flavor their wine with spiced toast."

Thor's brows came together above his nose. "Why?"

Strange shrugged. He picked at something on his sleeve. He seemed highly tickled by all of this. "The name may have come from the idea that all of the wine was to be consumed in the gesture, all the way to the bottom of the glass, and, thus, the toast."

No one said anything.

"Perhaps," Strange continued, "the custom was a vestige of the old tradition of libation to the gods – where wine was poured out onto the earth or into the sea for the gods to accept it,"

Tony had a brief and poignant vision of a Grecian statue standing over a pool of spilled Scotch with a solemn look on its marble face and a hand extended in supplication.

"altered – as customs will be with time and culture – to the new age of 'rationality' and 'science' by the consumption of the beverage."

If the statue could speak, Tony was certain it would be wondering who in his right mind had come into his house and poured perfectly good Scotch on his floor, and who was going to clean it up, because he was not going to drink it out of the carpet.

He'd had his dark days, but never had Tony Stark been desperate enough to lap Scotch off of the floor.

He realized that Strange had stopped talking.

He pretended to snore. Then shook himself upright. "Good lecture, professor. Let's drink."

Raising her glass, Pepper smiled. She looked to him expectantly.

"To…holidays," Tony shrugged. "Past and future and…" he glanced at Thor, "weird. And to friends, likewise."

"To family." Rogers smiled.

"Yeah,' Tony grumbled. "That." He thrust his glass into the air. "To the Avengers!"

Glasses clinked. Toasts were drunk.

As he lowered his glass, Tony looked over the room – the soft Christmas music, the warm light, the murmur of voices. "This is us, guys," he said.

Pepper put one hand against his chest.

It was a silent plea, but Tony ignored that. "This is us," he repeated. "Nobody else is responsible for this. Not me," he pointed at Loki, "not you. Not even Nick Fury himself! This is all us. SHIELD has nothing on this,"

Wilson started clapping.

"And I dare Nick Fury to come up with a better party than this!"

Which impromptu speech was met with wider applause.

"Very nice," Pepper patted his shoulder, "Very nice. You done?"

"Yeah," he shrugged.

She looked tense.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said. "Later."

"Nothing is…not the same as later…"

Pepper wasn't listening to him.

Tony turned his attention elsewhere.

"But," Thor was saying to a very focused Barton, "is his name truly 'fury'? What kind of coincidence would that be?"

Loki's brow quirked curiously.

"Okay," Lang said, leaning in, "I follow…"

Wilson frowned, "What do you think his name is?" he asked. "You can't just float an accusation like that without a suggestion."

Standing beside Barton, under his arm, Laura was laughing. The white wine in her glass caught the tones of the Christmas lights above her.

"How do we know," Thor proposed. "That his name's not 'furry'?"

"For the love of…" Loki fell back against the couch, smearing a hand down his face.

"You gotta be kidding me, Man!" Wilson laughed.

Laura giggled.

Lang blinked, then raised one hand, palm-up in a helpless sort of gesture.

"Well?" Thor grinned. "How do we know?"

"I give up." Barton said. "We don't."

Tony shook his head. "Hey, Pep," he said. "On a scale of One to Thor, how serious do you think Thor's being?"

"I don't know," Pepper half-turned from her conversation. "Why don't you go ask?"

"Well," Tony smirked. "I just might."

II.

In retrospect, perhaps a night when everyone had been a bit more sober would have been a more prudent choice. But, in their defense, Thor was leaving in the morning, and after Gremlins Pepper was not allowing anything even remotely questionable to cross the television screen.

Since the film was in black and white, Tony thought it might be old enough for the Capsicle to remember it.

But no. Strange informed them all that the movie had not come out until 1946. Laura laughed at him for knowing that off the top of his head. Strange only smiled and shrugged. Tony could understand why Loki hated the guy. He was a font of useless knowledge.

(Seriously, who needed to know how to identify 243 distinct types of tobacco ash?)

So, the film was a couple of years too late to be memorable, but, close enough to be nostalgic. Tony had seen it, once, as a child. His father wouldn't watch past the first ten minutes, so he'd had to see it, just to one-up the old man. He'd nearly decided to leave ten minutes in too, afraid he'd die of boredom before the final credits. But, he decided, what the heck. Christmas was a time for second chances.

It's a Wonderful Life was a more powerful film than Tony's twelve-year-old self had given it credit for.

Manly tears were shed by all.

Now, keeping your favorite heroes in mind, go watch It's a Wonderful Life and tell me you don't laugh your ass off. Ten minutes in, I can just see a drunk Thor bawling his eyes out and hugging Loki.

Cinderella wasn't an entirely random choice. When I was trying to 'build' what and Asgardian Yuletide celebration might look like, I researched both ancient customs, and common ones from north western Europe. One thing that came up a surprising number of times (on Wikepedia, so, maybe its true, maybe its not. I don't have any European associates) was the story Thor told. I think it was called 'The Three Nuts' or something like that. The addition of the mountain trolls was mine, because I had to make the story pertinent to the rest of the celebration.

Happy day-after Thanksgiving to all of my American friends! And – like I said at the beginning of the chapter – I'll be getting back to all of you soon with the next chapters.

(Most of my favorite moments are coming up! There's more one-on-one, more character-driven stuff, some growth, less group chat. Lots more Loki.)

Happy Holidays, one and all ;)