Kirsi: Chapter 9, Ratatouille
Based on a challenge/prompt by Sheneya at "Avengers Fanfic Challenges and Recommended Reading"
Standard Fanfic Disclaimer that wouldn't last ten seconds in a court of law: based on characters and situations created by someone else (other than Kirsi Lokidottir, who's mine). All other characters (except for minor NPCs) are from the Marvel Cinematic Universe and used without permission and without any hope of chance of financial profit. Just in case anybody has any doubts, I do not own the Avengers. (Wish I did.) To paraphrase Aggie2011 (who just put up a new Hawkeye story, BTW), if I owned the Avengers Joss Whedon and J. Michael Straczynski would be collaborating on the Hawkeye/Black Widow movie right now. Ten thousand thanks to Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, Joss Whedon, Jeremy Renner, Tom Hiddleston, Marvel Comics, Disney Studios, etc. This story is debuting as 'netfic and has not been previously published in any fanzine or APA. Please don't sue. I'm too broke to pay attention, let alone legal fees.
Challenge: Loki had a daughter. He brought her with him during the Earth invasion, thinking he was going to win. He spent so much time on trying to take over, he using dumped her on MindSlave!Hawkeye to look after. After his defeat, it's revealed that due to an ancient Asgard law, now that Loki's going to prison, Hawkeye is her legal guardian. How will he cope with going from a solitary person to looking after the child of the man who used him so badly? Not to mention the well-meaning, but not always usable, help of his fellow Avengers.
Clint Barton tried to drain the grease from the skillet. The ground beef tumbled to the bottom of the pan, threatening to fall out. He straightened the pan and considered the problem. He grabbed a fork and tried to use it as a strainer to keep the ground beef from falling out. Some of the grease drained into an empty spaghetti sauce jar. So did some of the meat. Swearing under his breath, Barton put the pan back on the range top. He took the fork and tried to spear the fallen meat, but gave it up as a lost cause after a moment.
"Well, that's most of the grease." He turned and looked at the sink full of dirty dishes. Maybe, he considered, he should wash the dishes in advance, instead of waiting until he was cooking tonight's dinner to take care of yesterday's plates and silverware. Not until he had finished the silverware did he turn and pick up the box of Hamburger Helper to read the next step of the directions. "Should have added the water already."
He filled a measuring cup with the correct amount of water. He was about to pour it into the pan. Instead, he stared at the burnt meat and swore softly. Another dinner ruined. He poured the water back into the sink. He reached over and turned off the stove.
"Jarvis!" he raised his voice. Stark had claimed that Jarvis wouldn't eavesdrop unless called. Barton wasn't sure whether or not he believed Stark. In his experience as a security expert, if someone had eyes and ears on someone else, those eyes and ears got used.
"Yes, Agent Barton?" the British accent of the AI came through the intercom. "Shall I send out for pizza again?"
Barton was tempted, but they'd had pizza three times in the past two weeks. "What's the special in the employee cafeteria?"
"Beef stew with sourdough bread or ratatouille with baguettes,"Jarvis announced.
Barton thought a minute. With his cooking - or feeble attempts thereat - the kid probably wasn't getting enough vegetables. "Two servings of ratatouille, and two slices of chocolate silk pie for dessert."
"Beverages, Agent Barton?"
"Got that covered." Milk for her and as much as he wanted a beer, milk for him, too. He didn't drink on duty, and Fury had made it clear that babysitting Loki's daughter was his assigned duty.
"Very good, sir. I'll have it sent up at once."
"Thanks. And call Kirsi for me, please," Barton added.
"Summoning her now," Jarvis said. Tony Stark had given Kirsi a watch with a link to Jarvis. Not only did it have a GPS tracker to make it easier to find her, but Jarvis could send an electronic signal, causing the artificial jewels on the watch to blink, alerting her it was time to return home.
Ten minutes later, Kirsi and the food arrived almost simultaneously. She waited until the deliveryman had left before turning to her guardian and asking, "Barton, didst thou burn dinner again?"
"Go wash your hands," Barton ordered, ignoring her question.
Once her hands were clean, the two of them sat down to dinner. "So, did you have fun in the park?"
"Oh, yes! Cassie and I went on the swings, and we went very high," As she ate the French vegetable casserole, she explained to him how she and their neighbor Cassie Lang had gone on the swings, the slides, and the monkey bars.
Barton had been nervous the first few times she had gone to the park without him, but Scott Lang had assured him that it was safe and the girls were old enough to play there unsupervised. He felt more comfortable once Stark had told him that Jarvis could hack into every security camera in the area and watch Kirsi as she played.
"This is good. What is it called?" Kirsi asked.
"Ratatouille."
Kirsi smiled in delight. "Ratatouille. But that's a peasant dish."
"Peasant dish or not, you'll eat it or -"
"Nay, Barton, 'tis from Cassie's DVD. The she-cook says that when Linguini wants to make it for the food-judge," she explained. "If you like, I can borrow the DVD from her and show you after dinner."
Barton didn't reply, but a wry smile crossed his face. Kirsi was getting acclimated to Midgard faster than he had expected, especially when it came to all things Disney.
"Please, Barton?"
"If it's OK with Cassie's Dad."
After dinner, it was a quiet family evening. The two of them watched Ratatouille, sitting together on the red couch. Kirsi snuggled happily against Barton, and he found his arm around her, although he hadn't intended any such thing. He hadn't really meant to pay attention to the movie; he was planning to reread Sun Tzu's The Art of War, but he got caught up in the adventures of Remy and Linguini. The book lay on the couch, completely ignored.
They had a little music practice after the DVD, him on the guitar, her on the lap-harp.
Afterwards, he drew her a bath, warm with plenty of bubbles. He waited until she was in the tub with the curtain drawn, then sat on the toilet and read aloud to her from Grimm's Fairy Tales. Half an hour later, he stepped out of the bathroom, giving her privacy to dry off and put on her nightgown.
He managed to hide his scowl from her when she kissed her finger, then laid it against the framed picture of Loki that sat atop her bookcase.
He tucked her into bed and kissed her forehead. "Good night, Princess. Sweet dreams."
"Good night, Barton."