First off, I am terribly sorry for leaving without notice and not updating for, what, a month? I hope all will be forgiven with this new chapter, because I worked extra hard to rectify the unforeseen absence.

"Hey, nice moves," a kid wriggled his eyebrows at Loki when entered the classroom. He wrinkled his nose in disgust before taking his seat. "Dance for me, cowboy," another girl leered, her eyes twinkling suggestively.

"Loki, babe, what do we owe you for that table dance?" Tony added his words with a sneer. .

"Alright, not that I give a damn, how was everyone's weekend?" Fury cut in and made the comments halt temporarily.

"Oh, I dunno, maybe we should ask Loki."

"Unless he kicked your stupid ass, I don't wanna hear about it. Open up to page 73, sonnet 141 and listen up:

"In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes.
For they and thee a thousand errors note.
But 'tis my heart loves what they despise,
who in despite of view is pleas'd to dote."

"Now, I know Shakespeare's a dead white guy, but he knows what's up, so we can all overlook that. Your assignment is to write your own version of this sonnet." Loki's hand raised and Fury sighed, clearly certain it would be some sort of opposition.

"Yes, Mr. Opinionated?"

"Would you like us to write it in iambic pentameter?"

"You're not fighting me on this?" He narrowed his eyes in disbelief, ignoring the question.

"No. I think it is a fine assignment."

"You're joking?"

"No. I truly look forward to writing this."

"Get out."

"Excuse me?" Loki frowned, confused. He was being sincere, after all. Fury just did not believe it and assumed it to be Loki's sarcasm once more.

"You heard me. Get out of my classroom. Out!" The volume of his voice rose with the words, and Loki rose with them, gathering his bag and the notebook on his desk. He left with a frown still on his face and his eyebrows close together.

"Thanks, Fury," Stark grinned.

"Shut the hell up."

Natasha pulled a textbook from her locker and paused to recall anything she may have forgotten. Bruce stepped up behind her with a slight smile, eying the mini-poster print of Shakespeare in her locker.

"Is that supposed be a decorative dog collar?" Bruce tried to joke, and so he forced his own laugh to kick dirt over his slight failure. "Kidding. I know you're a fan of Shakespeare."

"More than that. We're involved." Her voice lacked amusement of any sort.

"Okay." He looked at her a moment as she reached into her locker again. He realized she was going to continue ignoring him. "Who could refrain that had a heart and in that heart . . . " he trailed off and she finished the quote with a growing smile. "Macbeth, right?" He looked sheepishly at Natasha.

"Right," her face showed that she was faintly impressed.

"So, uh, listen, I have this friend,"

Clint sat next to Steve, perched on the bleachers bordering the green field. The soccer team was hard at work, and neither of them had said a word to each other.

"What did you do to him?" Steve finally spoke, looking to Clint for an answer.

"I didn't do anything. He would've been to drunk to remember if I had anyway." Clint looked towards the field again, eyes picking the dark haired player out as he raced down the field, the ball staying within 12 inches of his feet no matter how fast he went.

"But the plan was working."

"What do you care? I thought you wanted out anyway," he pointed out, remembering Steve's 'I'm giving up' speech towards the end of the party.

"Yeah, well, hah," he bit his lower lip and his cheeks went a little pink. "But then he kinda.. He kissed me."

"Where?" Clint turned to Steve, a grin spreading across his face. Steve had grown on him, and he felt a trickle of pride to hear his success.

"In the car," Steve looked towards the sky dreamily. Clint squinted at Steve's misinterpretation of the question, but shook it off. Just then, Bruce came jogging up, crossing the track and nearly getting mowed down by two sprinters, who yelled "Dweeb!" at him. He called "Sorry!" in return before turning to his friends. Panting, he grabbed Steve and Clint's attention.

"So, I got the word."

"And? What did he say?" Steve inquired, hopeful.

"Hates him with the fire of a thousand suns. Direct quote."

"Thanks, that's awesomely reassuring."

"You never know. I mean, maybe he just needs a day or two to cool off, a little space?" Steve spoke, trying his damnedest to be helpful. A soccer ball flew between their heads, notably close to Clint, like a cannonball. They all looked at the direction it came from to see Loki standing down on the field with a deadly glare across his face.

"Maybe three days." Clint looked at Steve, amusement in his eyes.

Loki and Natasha left the building together, walking side by side. A prom poster was hanging on the brick wall of the school, and Loki made sure to tear it down as they passed. Someone shouted "Hey!" after him, but he took no notice.

"Can you imagine who would go to that antiquated mating ritual?" His voice dripped with disdain. Natasha raised her hand.

"I would. If I had a date."

"Do you honestly want to get dressed up to attend a dance with some jerkoff drenched in Calvin Klein, sporting a boner, who feels you up while you are forced to listen to music that can be defined as trash?"

"Fine, fine, we won't go. It's not like I have a dress anyway."

"You are looking at this from the wrong point of view. We are making a statement."

"Oh, great, something new." Natasha could not really help but feel at least a little deflated at Loki's utter refusal to go to the prom.

"Hey there, Cupid," Tony approached Thor as he raised his bow to his face, hand pulling the string back to his cheek.

"Hi, Tony," Thor replied without taking his eyes off the target in front of him.

"You're concentrating pretty hard for gym class, don't you think?" Tony raised his eyebrows. Thor turned to face the brunette, releasing his arrow a moment too late. It lodged itself in the teacher's leg as he disinterestedly asks Tony "Can I help you?"

"I want to talk to you about prom."

"You know the deal. I cannot go if Loki does not." In truth, Thor has no desire to go with him anyway. Sif went to help the teacher who limped around with the arrow still in his body.

"Your brother is going."

"Since when?"

"I'm taking care of it." Tony handed Thor another arrow before taking off.

Tony pressed two hundred dollar bills into Clint's hand, his eyes gleaming as he rattled off "This should take care of everything, your tux, the limo, flowers, whatever. Just make sure Loki gets to the prom." Clint looked troubled and almost reluctant to take the cash, because oh shit he had developed some feelings for Loki. He could deny it all he wanted, but when he thought of getting paid for this, it made him itch.

"You know what?" Clint looked Tony straight in the eye, pursing his lips as he made up his mind. "I'm sick of this little game of yours." He stuck his hand out to give the cash back.

"Are you sick of, say, three hundred dollars?" Clint's eyes lost their shine and he was fighting with himself. He sighed and his frown deepened, but he accepted the third hundred.