Taking a look around my current situation, I felt a little bemused. Who would have thought a girl from West Virginia would end up hanging out with three of the most attractive (in my opinion) Marvel actors? And yet here I was, a year after the first time I met them and we're still going strong.

Sebastian Stan was sitting on the floor leaning against my legs. He was laughing at Chris Evans as he was telling the LONGEST goofy story about one of their long nights filming. And Tom Hiddleston, who might seem like an odd duck in his present company, was lying back in the recliner looking a little too Loki ate the canary for some people.

I sat back, shaking my head at the men I lovingly referred to as "my boys". How did we meet? Funny story.

One day, as I was stomping through an upscale grocery store in Georgia of all places, I was adopted by these three. Why was I stomping? Why was I adopted? Well, here's how it went:

My day had been shit from the get go. First of all, I was only supposed to be in Georgia for two weeks, and the day we met I'd been there for two MONTHS. I had come to help the screenwriter who was writing the adaptation for one of my books hammer out some of the more obscure details that I felt should be kept in the screenplay. The first book I had sold the rights to was part of a series, so I had to make sure that it was ALL going to make fucking sense. And there was the whole part that I was a little territorial about my writings. Did the screenwriter give all the time it took to write the original story? Did he bleed his heart out for months to send it to his literary agent and PRAY that they liked it? No, so sue me if I didn't want it to turn into one of THOSE adaptations. The ones that have the same named characters, but nothing else seems close enough to the book. Not on my watch. Which is why I was in Georgia during the summer. Ugh.

The writing didn't kill me as much as the other things the studio tossed at me. And on this particular day, they had sent the location scout out to drag me to different locals to make sure they would work for the settings of my story. Did I mention that this was Georgia in the summer? And a great deal of my first book takes place outside? And the location scout was far more thorough with the beating the pavement and bush, so to speak.

With that in mind, and yes I know I asked for this by being so mama bear with my book, I was stomping (which is Chris' word for what I was doing in the market) through the store hot, sweaty, and over the whole experience. And I mean the WHOLE experience. Book to movie? Fuck that noise.

My cart was full of snacks, none of which would count as a part of the four major food groups unless you squinted VERY hard, and I had come to a stop in front of the vast selection of overpriced cheeses. Apparently I was glaring at the display, wondering how the Hell I could back out of the whole deal. I was interrupted by a voice.

"You're glaring at the Limburger." He was standing to my right.

I bit my lip and really had to talk myself out of telling him where he could shove the Limburger, when I chose to make a joke. "Sorry, is it a friend of yours?" I couldn't drop the death glare.

The guy gave a deep chuckle. "No, but I was wondering what it did to you to make you want to stab it."

I turned to him and was greeted by his chest. Sighing, even pissed because of my shortness, I tilted my head up. Great, I shook my head, Chris Evans. Must have missed the part about Marvel still filming in the area. "It's cheese, isn't the point to stab it?" I asked, my face still showing my irritation at full force. Damn him and his Captain America, boy next door, sexy ass.

He grinned down at me, not even bothered by my obvious bad mood. "Not maliciously." He shook his head. "Although it IS Limburger-" He wrinkled his nose at the thought of the smell. And that's all it took.

I laughed. He looked so serious in his contemplation of the cheese and my anger at it. Big goofy meatball.

Chris smirked down at me. "There you go. Knew you'd be cute with a smile."

UGH. Mentally counting to ten to curb another irritant on my shitty day list. I've been called cute my entire damn life. Damn my stubby legs. "Is my bitchface back?" I asked, no longer able to differentiate between my mood and my expression.

He checked me over, not lingering long on my face, but taking ample notice of my cleavage. Rolling my eyes, I waited for him to give me the verdict. "No, not back." He confirmed. "Wait, why would you still be pissed off?"

"Cute." I offered. I walked away from the display and went in search of the booze. I heard his groan behind me and then he was beside me again. Short fucking legs. I found the alcohol, and was trying to decide just what type I wanted, obviously it had to be a vodka, gin, or rum. He caught up with no problem and offered a poetic apology for my mood.

"I'm a dick." Chris said, looking at me as I perused the different clear alcohols.

I turned to see him holding his hands as if pleading with me for forgiveness. Another eye roll from me. "Help me pick a clear liquor." His smile returned and he turned to face the wall of bottles I was standing in front of.

"Ketel One is supposed to be smooth, at least that's what I've heard, for vodka." He said, pointing to a bottle I knew well. "Tanqueray London is a great gin. And no one hates Captain Morgan." He looked so proud of himself that another chuckle rose from me.

I grabbed a bottle of each of his selections, thinking that I could try each one until I found the one that would help me feel better about my current life choices. Moving to the soda aisle in case drinking straight was too much. My new large shadow came along. "Must be my lucky day." I muttered darkly.

"And why is that?" He asked, still standing right beside me.

I looked up at him, because personal space wasn't being invade at all. "Well, let's see. First I was trapped with a location scout all day, running around this state that feels like Satan's asshole this time of year. My stay here was only supposed to last two weeks, but here it is two months later and I feel like it might be better to just buy a fucking house." He grimaced. "And somehow, on my worst day ever, I managed to get Chris "Captain freaking America" Evans as my own personal bodyguard."

A flash of pain crossed his face and I felt like a bitch. He was only trying to help a stranger feel less upset. Groaning, I reached out and touched his arm.

"Sorry." I said, feeling like shit. "Not your fault. You were just trying to keep me from murdering ol' Lim back there and I'm being a bitch." He gave me a half smile. "'I'm Tess Alley, by the way."

Chris nodded, clearly knowing my name. "You looked so angry back there and I couldn't help but want to bring you out of it." He bit his lip.

"You did." I assured him, with what I hoped was a kind smile. "My mood is just constant irritation for days on end and the heat today got to me. I may look murderous, but only toward smelly cheese, I promise."

He changed the subject, it was pretty heavy for a market. "Having a party to bring up your spirits?" He gestured to the almost full cart in front of us.

I really laughed at that. "Sure, party of one."

Chris' eyes widened and he shook his head. "No, no, nope, not going to happen." He took the cart and started returning all of my hard wrought work to the appropriate shelves. I fought to keep up with him and didn't enjoy the irony of me following him around like a shadow now.

"Would you give me my cart back?" I asked, indignant that I was rushing after his long stride. Fucker, I thought. "I put a lot of consideration into the contents of that fucking cart."

He snorted. "Really?" He asked, putting up the booze. "A lot of consideration in picking out-" He glanced at the cart. "Chips, dip, candy, booze, soda, and a rapidly dying bag of ice?" I could feel the condensation in his voice. "Honestly, you'll thank me for stopping this trainwreck one day."

I rolled my eyes and practically growled at him. "I'm a grown ass woman, Evans, give me the fucking cart back." I moved to grab it and he practically danced away from me with it.

"Seriously, Tes?" He asked, and I briefly wondered when we got to nickname status. "If you go through with your 'plans' for the evening, you're going to feel much worse tomorrow." Ass, I thought.

I stood glaring at his stubborn ass, and almost missed being joined by a new variable. "Chris, what the hell are you doing to this poor lady?"

Turning I caught a glimpse of Sebastian Stan. Of course, because where there's one irritating superhero, I thought, there must be two. And then Tom freaking Hiddleston turned the corner. I fought the urge to roll my eyes again, just in case my grandmother had been right about my face freezing that way. Dear God, I thought, what did I do to deserve this torture? So lost in my own irritation and frustration, I nearly missed Chris' explanation.

"I was stopping the angry pixie from waking up miserable tomorrow, Seb. For fuck's sake," he said, as I took his momentary distraction to take my cart back.

"Actually, he was making my fucking decisions for me," I snapped, moving away from the three far too attractive men standing in front of me. "And I am taking it back!" I glared and started moving back through the store, trying to put refill it with the things that I had picked before he stepped in and started 'helping'.

I could hear them chattering amongst themselves as I walked back to the booze wall. I would gather my shit together again, and screw the superhero who tries to stop me. I gathered my three choices into the cart as I turned back toward the soda aisle, I could feel the far larger shadow contingent. I held back a sigh. Seriously, God, why me?

Another set of hands took my cart and I felt the fight go out of me. Fine, I thought, I'll find a fucking Wal-Mart. I threw up my hands, but stopped at the soft voice who spoke next. "Now is that really necessary, love?" I looked up, way up this time, since it was Tom who spoke. Probably really is part fucking giant, I thought.

"Is it necessary to what?" I asked, confused. Certain he couldn't read my mind. "To leave and find another, less hero populated store? Yep."

"Now, now." He said, taking a hand off the cart and taking one of mine. "How about this?" He was looking into my face as though I held the answers to the world, and I realized that this must be so distracting to his co stars. This complete attention "Why not gather the supplies you want, and then WE'LL accompany you to this 'party' of yours? Drinking alone is not healthy, correct?"

I found myself nodding. In the back of my head I was wondering why the hell I was agreeing to them booze-blocking me. However, looking up into his impossibly blue eyes, I couldn't not agree. Fuck. Now I'm stuck with three gorgeous men and cannot possibly get complete drunk and stupid.