Uploading this entry sooner than I thought I would, but... I was bored. :)

Actually, truth be told, I am currently trying to avoid cleaning That-Deep-And-Unbreachable-Abyss-Which-May-Or-May- Not-Have-Once-Been-My-Bedroom. At this point, I'm ready and willing to simply throw everything in the closet and bar it closed with my desk chair. Eheheh...

That notwithstanding, I hope you enjoy the following!

Entry #38: Camping Trip [or, "A Situation"]

Tony clumped toward the checkout line, carrying three massive boxes, four giant bags of marshmallows, a few bottles of Dr. Pepper, several cans of mosquito repellent, some insecticide, a large bag of M&M's, and eight packages of instant coffee.

Everybody who had been standing in line at the number six register immediately scattered.

The cashier flinched as Tony dumped everything on the conveyor belt. Two bags of marshmallows and an instant coffee packet hit the floor. Tony bent over to pick them up and accidentally hit his helmet on the counter with a tremendous thunk.

After shouting several choice words, he cleared his throat and glanced at the cashier. "How much do I owe you?"

"Three-hundred seventy-five dollars and sixty-two cents."

Tony pulled out his wallet, which he had thought to bring along with him, and then fumbled through his dollar bills. "I only have two hundred…"

"We take credit?" she suggested timidly.

At that moment, Tony's built-in phone started ringing. His own caller ID popped up on his helmet screen. "Apparently I'm calling myself," he muttered, mentally glaring at whoever had stolen his cell phone. "Jarvis, put 'em on hold."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but it appears to be urgent. I suggest you take this call."

Tony handed a credit card to the cashier and then grumbled, "Please excuse me. …Hello?"

There was a brief pause, and then an irritatingly familiar, much-too-pleased male voice. "Is this Anthony Edward Stark?"

"Beat it, Wonder Boy," growled Tony.

"I have a message for you. From your little team of self-proclaimed superheroes."

Tony accepted his credit card, which had been handed back to him, and hefted three plastic bags over one arm and two huge boxes under the other. "Well? Spill it."

"Spill it?"

"Cut to the chase. Spit it out."

"Oh, I see." Loki sounded vaguely bewildered, but pressed on with his message. "I have been instructed to inform you of the presence of one rather loathsome intruder in your general vicinity."

Rolling his eyes, Tony headed for the automatic doors. "Don't tell me: you're in the Wal-mart parking lot."

"Hardly. I am neither small, nor furry, nor fanged."

"Wow. Could have fooled me."

"Nor do I have eight legs."

"…So there's a mutant kitten in the parking lot. Oh, I'm scared now!" Tony grumbled, striding through the doors. "Don't you have better things to do than prank-call people with MY cell phone?"

"It seems that subtlety is not going to be an effective means of communication with you mortals."

"Subtlety is my middle name," protested Tony. "And here's a subtle piece of advice: GET THE HECK OFF MY CELL PHONE OR I'LL SIC JARVIS ON YOU!"

"Again with the imaginary friends," Loki drawled. "I think you're a bit old for that—"

Another, more irritated, and much more female voice cut through his mocking tones. "This isn't working. Gimme the phone."

"Only if you let me transfer to Steve's tent."

"Loki, give it to me."

"No."

"Give it to me! …Clinton! Come over here!"

"What am I supposed to do about it?"

"Make him give me the phone."

"Why me?"

"Because she is a mortal, of course, and respects my position of superiority as a god."

"No: because if I take it from you, you'll be getting a contusion in return!"

"Just hand her the phone."

"I shall not."

"Okay. I'm stressed. I'm outta here."

"Wha—Bruce! Where are you going?"

"Loki! Give me that phone right now!"

"Or what? You'll put him in time-out?"

"Can we just be nice to each other for five minutes? Come on, guys. Loyalty! Patriotism! Team bonding! Isn't that what this whole camping trip is about?"

"We're having a situation here!"

"When Tony finds out about this—"

Tony, now standing in the middle of the parking lot, shouted, "FINDS OUT ABOUT WHAT?!"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. Then Clint's voice said, "Do you remember the… well, Mister… er… Mister Fuzzwell?"

Tony grumbled. "You mean the thing that almost gave me a stroke at Nick Fury's office meeting?"

"Yeah. That."

Tony gave an involuntary shudder. "Guh! Spiders. Can't stand 'em."

"In that case, you might want to get out of that Iron Man suit as fast as possible."

Tony narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason." Clint's voice now sounded a bit strained. "Just that Natasha accidentally put Mister Fuzzwell in your suitcase this morning."

"WHAT?!" Tony shrieked. "Get it out of there! I don't want that thing—I just—ew! That's not right! And what was she doing rifling through my suitcases?!"

"Not those suitcases, Tony. The special one you brought. The red one with the gold racing stripes on the front."

"The red one with the…"

And then it hit him.

"Um, Tony? Are you there? Did you faint? Are you okay? Hello! Tony?"

For a moment, Tony couldn't breathe. His vision went fuzzy. His legs turned to mush. His heart skipped a beat.

And then—

Clint held the phone away from his ear as a piercing wail emanated from the speaker. It was then drowned in a wave of curse words and static. Moments later, the signal was completely cut off.

"Tony?"

There was no reply.

Clint hung up the cell, and then tossed it to Steve. Steve gave Clint a look, pocketed it, and then crossed his arms. "Now what?"

Natasha sighed and paced the campfire circle. "I guess we wait for him to get back."

"I'd love to stick around," Clint said hastily, marching toward the edge of the clearing, "but, unfortunately, I'm going fishing with Dr. Banner…"

"Coward!" Nat called after him.

Clint flinched, but kept walking. "I have been called many things in my life, but 'coward' is NOT one of them. I'm just being…"

"A scaredy-cat?"

"I prefer the term, 'foresightful.'"

Natasha waved him off and plopped into a folding chair. "Oh, Mister Fuzzwell," she moaned. "I'm so sorry I let this happen to you…"

Steve patted her awkwardly on the head. "Don't worry, Miss Romanoff. We'll get him back for you."

Natasha wiped a tear from her cheek and nodded silently, like a reassured child.

Loki looked up at the wispy clouds expectantly, twiddling his thumbs, as if he were waiting for Iron Man to simply fall out of the sky.

Meanwhile, Thor had discovered Natasha's secret chocolate stash and was surreptitiously nibbling on a Hershey's bar.

"So, do you go fishing a lot?"

Bruce nodded, baiting his hook with some sparkly putty-like substance. "I find it very relaxing."

Both Avengers cast their lines, and then sat down on the bank to wait for a catch.

For several minutes, there was nothing but silence.

Then Clint heard a strange sound that reminded him vaguely of the time Fluffy's tail had been caught beneath the rocking chair. Seconds later, a red and gold lightning bolt streaked across the sky.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, but didn't take his eyes off his fishing bobber.

Clint shifted slightly, unsettled. "Do you think he'll survive?"

"You mean the impending crash-landing, or the inevitable mental trauma?"

"Either or."

Happy 4th everyone! Here's to many more years of Independance...

One nation under God!

~Alassiel

P.S. I hope the "unseen conversation" over the phone was understandable. I did my best to make it clear who was speaking at what point in the dialogue.

P.P.S. Review for another update! ;)