Authors' Notes: (We do not own the characters from the Avengers. Others that show up though are ours.) This story is based off of notes taken by Clint and Thor. It was then written by Thor and Bruce. More details at the end.

Getting There

Deciding what, exactly, this party would be proved somewhat more challenging than anyone had expected. It turned out that the only one who liked Tony Stark's idea of a night on the town was Tony Stark, and while the others all had ideas, forming them into coherent plans was proving troublesome. This quickly became apparent the next day at lunch. Steve, Bruce, and Clint were sitting around a table in the S.H.I.E.L.D. mess hall discussing the plans for the party. Well, actually Steve and Bruce were discussing them; Clint was playing with his long-since cold mashed potatoes, trying to morph them into the shape of a hawk without much success. So far, Steve and Bruce had decided that they would spend the evening watching movies, and Clint had formed something vaguely birdlike. Unfortunately, it was proving impossible to agree upon what movies to watch, and Clint's further attempts at sculpture resembled some sort of lizard. Temporarily abandoning the problem, Bruce had announced that he also wanted to make a cake, seeing as he would have the use of a kitchen for once. Steve had agreed with that, and they were now in a deep discussion on frosting.

That was when Thor strolled in. It took him a moment to spot them, sitting as they were in the thick of the mess, which was fortunate, since it gave Clint time to move all breakable and pointy things out of harm's way.

"My friends!" boomed Thor as he made his way towards them. This was the cue for all ordinary S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel to move to a further table.

"Ah, Thor," said Steve, making room for the Asgardian, "so we're having a get together at Tony's this weekend."

"I have been told," he stated. The others stared.

"How'd you find out?" asked Bruce.

"Tony hath ran into me earlier." Thor laughed like he was sharing an inside joke. Clint made a note to ask him about later. "He informed me of these plans."

"Yeah, well, we'll be watching movies."

"Can we please watch something modern?" asked Clint. Of course, this didn't fail to rekindle the original argument.

"It's a classic film, they still call it one of the best ever made-" Steve began.

"Look, you've missed seventy years of classic films, and I don't see why we have to-"

"I don't see why we have to watch something that's not as good just because it's modern."

"What about that one that won the film fest award? Steve, I bet you'd like that, be openminded-"

"Name one exciting thing that happens in Casablanca.One thing!"

"What is the cause of your dispute?" asked Thor.

"What movie to watch. Steve wants to see Casablanca, Clint wants to see this spy thriller thing, and I'm up for either, but I'd actually like to watch Take Shelter, and-"

"Why would you want to watch spy movies?" Steve demanded. "That's like, what you do in real life anyway!"

"Hey, didn't they actually make a whole bunch of documentaries about us recently?" asked Bruce.

"Yeah, I've seen a lot of them. They're pretty good, and the one on the Battle of New York is still in theaters," Clint replied.

"Well, Stark at least would agree to that, watching movies about himself," said Bruce.

"So we're going to spend the whole weekend watching stuff we lived through?" asked Steve.

"This sounds like a wonderful idea. I hath love to see what the people of Midgard think of my great battles," commented Thor.

Steve shrugged, thinking of all the propaganda films of his day. Bruce was trying not to imagine what Tom Brokaw would say about him.

"Well, if we are going to do this, we should go all out. We can act the part of total geeks and dress up and stuff," added Clint. "I know how to make T-Shirts."

It was as good a plan as any.

So it was decided that the Avengers would spent the weekend watching movies about themselves. And that they would play the part of regular people as they went to the theaters.

And so they headed over to Clint's to make the T-shirts. Well, Bruce, Thor, and Clint did. Tony had excluded himself from the process, claiming that he'd be more or less useless (nobody argued), and since Steve was relying on him for transportation to California, neither were present.

Fortunately, Clint had extra vacation days piled up, because of course high level S.H.I.E.L.D. agents just get so many chances to use them, and was able to get out earlier that Friday. On his way home he swung by and picked up Bruce from his habitual bench in Central Park. Thor had already agreed to meet them in the Denny's on West 44th Street.

They'd all assumed making T-shirts would be relatively easy. The instructions had been simple enough: print the design on the iron-on paper, cut it out, peel the design, iron it on. Of course, it didn't work out quite like that. Or rather, Stark's shirt didn't. They had made Steve's first, and it came out perfect. But nothing in regards to Tony Stark is easy. Ever. Even when he's hundreds of miles away. On their first attempt at the shirt, Bruce didn't cut the design's edge right. On the next try, the design stuck to the iron. They printed another and tried again, but this time they forgot to peel off the backing. They began to wonder if they were cursed, or if Steve's shirt had just been lucky. Perhaps they needed to wash the starch out of the shirts first? In the end, they decided that the universe just hated Tony Stark. That's when Thor came up with a brilliant (he at least thought so) idea.

"We should dance to the T-Shirt gods," he volunteered, as Clint cursed out their latest attempt and Bruce stood in the corner, taking deep breaths.

"The T-Shirt gods?!"

"Yes, there are gods for everything and they all appreciate recognition." Bruce and Clint exchanged a glance.

"What harm could it do?" Bruce shrugged.

"So, how does one, ah, dance to the gods?" Clint ventured. Thor smiled broadly.

"Well, you need to fling your arms around like this. And stomp around like this," he said, demonstrating as he talked. "You must also chant!"

"Great."

So while the next iron-on was being attempted, they commenced to, well, um, dance. And unfortunately for Clint and Bruce's dignity, it worked. Which meant they all had to dance for the rest of the T-shirts, too. And all the other shirts worked on the first try. Thor said this was because the gods were appeased. Clint said it was just further proof that the universe hated Tony Stark. He was hanging on to all the ruined arc reactor designs to fling in Tony's face later on.

Pick up, pick up, pick up!Tony thought furiously at those on the other end of the line. What can be taking them so long?

"Hello?"

"Clint, where are you?"

"Um, well the shirts are taking longer than expected." There seemed to be some sort of weird music in the background.

"Well, hurry up!"

"Why are you complaining? It's your fault."

"What?"

"Tell you later..."

"Is that the Man of Iron?" Thor's voice boomed. "Does he wish to join us in our dancing?"

"What?"

"Never mind, Stark, be there in a bit."

"Don't you dare hang," the line went dead, "Damn, you Barton."

"So, are they coming?" Steve asked. He was currently leaning against the doorway leading to the kitchen, arms crossed.

"They're almost done."

Steve just nodded. Tony gritted his teeth in frustration and started devising a plan on how to get Clint back for forcing him to put up with the Captain for so long.

After finishing the shirts, Clint, Bruce, and Thor headed out to Stark's. Right as they were leaving, Thor informed them that he need to fetch something and took off. Bruce and Clint were somewhat bemused, but they agreed to rejoin him on their way to the mansion. The two of them followed in the Quinjet.

Thor had chosen a rather obscure location to meet them at, and so Clint and the pilot ended up fighting about where they were going for most of the time it took to get there. Once they did arrive, they found Thor, burdened with presents for everybody. Ah, Asgardian hospitality. The pilot, an old friend of Clint's, found this amusing, and he and Clint traded wisecracks for most of the journey.

After Barton hung up on him, Tony sat down at his desk to work. Or not really work, but he figured he ought to keep up appearances in front of Steve. Not that it really ended up mattering: barely two minutes later the super soldier was sound asleep. One minute, Steve was sitting on the bed looking over Tony's shoulder asking annoying questions. The next, he was passed out. Tony mentally shrugged, snapped a picture-you never knew when you might need blackmail-and went back to work.

Authors' Notes Con:

THIS HAS NOW BEEN WRITTEN FOR OVER A FULL SOLAR CYCLE. I DO NOT KNOW WHY WE HAVE NOT PUT IT UP FOR YOU ALL. Yeah, sorry about the delay. We'll try to be more punctual in the future.

This chapter is. . . a bit of a window into our haphazard decision making process in situations not involving averting global catastrophes? Also, I can't say dancing to the T-shirt gods actually causes success, but I will admit there does appear to be a distinct correlation. Correlation, not causation. And who knows? I'm a particle physicist writing autobiographical fan fiction with a Norse god. The universe is a big, strange place.

As always, comments are welcome, and hope you enjoy the story.