W00t! Kudos to Agent-Hamilton123 for catching that Chris Evans was in "Not Another Teen Movie," which happens to be Steve's first line of dialogue in the previous chapter, and to Bookdancer for noting that Clint does at some point don the Captain America costume. I love readers who notice details. ;D
Unlikely Housemates
By: Syntyche
Day Fourteen: Logistically Speaking …
The Avengers, such as they now were:
Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America, clad in a black catsuit and possessed with remarkable flexibility and stunning red hair that gently swept across his bright blue eyes. If anyone had wished to imagine what Rogers would look like as a woman their curiosity would now be unhappily satisfied: it wasn't quite the turn on one might think, but that may have been because, unlike his teammates Stark and Banner, Rogers' physique had not been altered and he looked like an extraordinarily well-built drag queen.
Tony Stark, AKA Iron Man, although The Incredible Iron Hulk might be more apropos at the moment, since the suave billionaire had mutated into a large green monster, clad in nauseatingly purple pants and a black Judas Priest t-shirt. Where Banner as the Hulk always looked angry, Stark as the Hulk just looked … annoyed.
Bruce Banner, AKA the Incredible Hulk: slim, toned, and happier than ever in a neat, close-fitting uniform shaded purple and black. He continued to look forlornly over his shoulder at the empty space across his back where a weapon - or quiver - of some sort should go, then glance sadly his teammate standing nearby fiercely clutching a large, colorful shield in one hand and a bow in the other.
Clint Barton - said teammate - AKA Hawkeye, was clearly irritated with his bold blue spandex. It was an overwhelming color choice if you weren't prepared for it, and Barton was a man of simple taste who preferred to lead when necessary without all the fanfare; it was really difficult to be discreet when you looked like a rocket pop.
And Natasha Romanoff, AKA the Black Widow, more juggernaut-like than her norm in the Iron Man suit usually modeled by Stark. The red of her face nearly matched her fiery hair: clearly the cumbersome nature of the metal suit attached to her slender body tried the assassin's patience beyond levels she was able to control.
Loki looked upon his grand achievement - the bold remaking of the Avengers - and smiled. He really did do good work. But despite his unexpected and - he thought - gloriously dramatic entrance into their movie night, to Loki's immense surprise the mixed-up Avengers did not welcome him or his four-man camera crew with open arms. In fact, the closest thing to an open arms greeting the god of mischief received was that upon seeing the demigod, Clint Barton lunged for him with a strangled snarl, wrapping his rough fingers around Loki's long neck and squeezing tightly, the promise of retribution glinting darkly in his blue eyes.
Loki had already known that without any superpowers Hawkeye was dangerous. He very quickly came to the realization that, gifted with Captain America's strength, the archer was terrifying.
"My friends!" Loki gasped out in a tone much more frazzled than he'd dreamed he'd use in his triumphant re-entry into the lives of the Avengers, who seemed more content to let Barton do his own avenging than step in and help the god who, really, they should be thanking for bringing them all together in the first place.
Really, they owed him.
"It's so … pleasant … to see you," The demigod tried his normal stunning smile, which he unhappily suspected was less effective with his lips turning an admittedly unflattering shade of cerulean.
"It's even more pleasant to see you," Stark responded amiably, "turn blue."
Loki had to admit that while he'd rather admired Stark's polished good looks when he was in his rightful body, the Iron Man's goateed face atop Hulk's massive and unwieldy body created a rather unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach. Stark would be the first returned to normal, Loki promised. If he lived long enough to change them back. "Ahh," the demigod managed to almost-purr, motioning for the camera crew to keep rolling, "very clever wordplay there, Tony Stark."
"It's a gift." Stark shrugged in a way that wasn't meant to be modest in any sense, but he looked distracted and saddened by his giant green arms, and he tucked his hands into his armpits awkwardly.
"I've noticed that there's … something different … about you all," Loki stuttered, speaking was becoming more difficult and he realized that he needed to get Barton to let go, otherwise his victorious return would end before it even really started. Also, his hair was getting mussed and that wouldn't do for the cameras at all. He just needed to get the hook in: "I believe I … can help … right bodies," he tried to explain, and he gave Barton a dirty look when black spots started to dance before his eyes.
On the large-screen television, the screen faded to black as the young couple - the only two teenagers left alive out of the dozen or so the movie had started with - ran trembling for the car that had been parked outside all along - and the credits rolled. Phil Coulson sighed and levered himself out of the recliner with easy grace, and his calculating gaze landed on the archer calmly strangling the demigod.
"Stand down, Barton," Coulson ordered evenly. "But only a little."
Barton eased the pressure just slightly. "You have sixty seconds to explain," he growled darkly, shaking the god of mischief like a wet dog.
"Yes, well," Trying to control his gasping, Loki smiled what he hoped was his most disarming grin; it didn't help that this lot wasn't as easy to manipulate as his lunkheaded brother. "I see that there's been a … mix-up of sorts, and I'd like to offer my assistance in restoring you all to your proper bodies and abilities."
Stark wasn't fooled for a second by the seemingly helpful offer. "In exchange for?" he demanded, his brow furrowed at the rumbling roar that had replaced his pleasant tenor.
"In exchange," Loki murmured smoothly, though it was extremely difficult to appear as the king he was with Barton's malevolent presence hovering so closely; it actually saddened the demigod that his former pet now regarded him with such hatred, and he mentally added make amends with Agent Barton to his bucket list. "In exchange," he repeated, "for your agreement and cooperation in allowing me to record and televise your daily exploits."
Total silence blanketed the room - not that it had been loud anyway with the only sounds being the end credits music of the teen movie, random noises of disbelief and disgust from the Avengers, and Loki's labored breathing.
And then Iron Natasha said slowly, "You want to make a reality show? Of the Avengers?"
"Of course!" Loki enthused, clapping his hands together cheerfully. "It benefits us all, does it not? The Avengers receive excellent PR while I appear a little less evil and a little more … enterprising."
"No," Coulson, Barton, and Romanoff said together immediately.
"Not while I look like this," Stark contributed darkly, but added, "Once I'm back to my normal svelte self though? Maybe. Cameras love me."
"It would be an excellent chance to teach today's youth about morality and making good choices," Rogers opined thoughtfully, reaching down to touch his toes a few times.
"And Hulk could certainly use a better public image," Banner added contemplatively.
"Why are we even still listening to this?" Romanoff demanded. She went to put her hands on her hips and lean forward in the way she did when she was taking charge while reminding anyone with eyes that she was still a woman, but her efforts were restricted by the jerky movements and the non-cleavage-revealing nature of the Iron Man suit.
"Uh, because we don't want to look like this forever?" Stark answered irritably, and they could all hear the "duuhh" hanging at the end of his sentence. A few of the more suspicious Avengers suspected Stark's judgment might be compromised by his distaste of his new Hulk body, and those suspicions certainly weren't unfounded.
"Speak for yourself," Banner muttered quietly, but not quietly enough that Barton didn't hear him and the archer gave the physicist a strange look. Banner shrugged and smiled.
"I think it's a great idea." Pepper Potts finally lifted her blonde head from where she'd been rapidly typing away on her StarkPad, already working on the initial press release for the new Avengers reality show. As the Avengers unofficial PR manager, she continually received numerous complaints about the team: everything from Thor's bad table manners to Bruce's random bouts of destruction. Also a lot of requests for the Black Widow's phone number.
"Do you, Miss Potts?" Coulson asked a little too sweetly, and they all thought Pepper was a little scary when her smile turned frosty and she repeated firmly,
"Yes. I. Think. It's. A. Great. Idea."
"Uh, yes," Coulson agreed hastily, "it sure is," and the rest of the team nodded appropriately even though half of them clearly weren't happy with the idea.
"Oh, that's fantastic," Loki trilled gleefully. "I shall get to work on restoring you all immediately."
"Make sure Thor's here; he needs an image makeover almost more than Banner," Pepper commanded sharply, and Loki twitched unhappily but nodded.
"Take your time," Banner said, lovingly flexing his delicious musculature; his brow furrowed as he craned his neck to look at his left bicep carefully. "Wait, Barton, do you have a tattoo?" he asked incredulously.
"Does anyone have any questions before we get started?" Loki interrupted, loathe to cede any further control to his new starring ensemble.
"Will we have a script?" Rogers asked somewhat nervously.
"There shall be both scripted and unscripted moments," Loki explained knowledgeably. "Along with one-on-one interviews and commentary." He glanced around at the team, clearly enraptured with his confirmed role of series producer. "Anyone else?"
"I have a question," Coulson piped in, shouldering forward. "Why do you talk like a well-educated man while your brother rocks all caveman style? Weren't you guys raised in the same home?"
Loki shrugged eloquently, the question clearly one that had long also puzzled the god of mischief. "You pose a query that I myself have mused over a great deal, Agent Coulson." He added admiringly, "And may I say that you face your own would-be murderer with remarkable calm and poise?"
Coulson shrugged amiably. "I plan to kill you in your sleep," he said pleasantly.
"Well, haha," Loki chuckled nervously, white teeth flashing. "Let's avoid that if we can. After all," he tapped one of the TV cameras lovingly, "it would be quite terrible if the first thing you did for your new public image campaign was to kill your producer."
There was general grumbling of dissent amongst the team and Coulson faded into the background quietly, his hooded gaze still fixed sharply on Loki. Loki's cheek jumped nervously as he turned away from the agent and again addressed the assembled, clapping his hands together cheerfully.
"Well, fantastic! Now we'll need a makeup crew, a lighting crew … " The demigod trailed away, ticking off various items on his long fingers, and the Avengers thought they actually heard him murmur something gleefully about leaving Kardashians in the dust. The team glanced at each other awkwardly, still quite uncomfortable possessing each other's abilities.
Tony finally shrugged, unable to stand still any longer. "I feel like smashing something," he said thoughtfully.
"Oh no, you don't," Pepper hastily rebuffed, not at all afraid to stand up to Tony, even when he was all Hulked out. "How about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich instead?"
"No crusts?" Tony bargained immediately.
"No crusts," Pepper agreed, and Tony nodded in agreement, following her toward the door.
"I can smash that," he decided.
Clint squinched his eyebrows. "Now we see who wears the purple pants in that relationship," he offered snarkily, to which Loki - already starting on his make amends pledge - laughed at loudly and a little too heartily. Clint backed away a step.
"I'm going to watch the sequel to that teen movie," Coulson muttered, already hunting for the remote. "There are at least three more."
"Well, I'm gonna go work out," Bruce announced as he felt his thigh muscles happily. He was also a little excited about checking out his ass in the gym's mirrored walls; he'd heard it was pretty nice and if Loki was about to switch them back he intended to enjoy every remaining second of his well-toned life. It was like his muscles had muscles!
Clint frowned at him unhappily. "Stop looking at my body like that," he complained. "It's weird."
"I want some Ben and Jerry's," Steve decided abruptly as he easily stretched his incredibly flexible legs. "Suddenly a pint of Chubby Hubby sounds really good."
Natasha eeped! as the other Avengers exited to pursue their various goals, and hissed to Clint, "Steve's going to eat my secret stash!"
"We'll get you more," Clint soothed, then his expression rumpled into a frown. "I'm actually more worried about what atrocities Bruce is going to commit upon my body right now."
"Your body?" Natasha questioned skeptically. "You're still in your body, though; he just sort of is, too. And at least he isn't planning on stuffing it with ice cream."
"True," Clint agreed, "Very true." They glanced at each other awkwardly: Natasha in the Iron Man suit, Clint in blue spandex.
"Wanna roleplay?' Clint asked with a grin. "As Captain America, the symbol of goodness and justice, I'd actually get to be in charge for once."
Natasha pursed her lips seductively as she inclined her head to let her red hair spill over one eye enticingly. "You can be in charge if you help me get this suit off."
Clint raised an eyebrow and gave her a roguish grin. "This super-strength has to be good for something other than carrying this goofy-ass shield around. Want to go back to my room and give it a try?"
Natasha smiled.
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Pleeeeeease review. I'll beg. Lol! Let me know what you'd like to see, because the cameras start rolling in the next chapter!