"Where have you been?" Clint asked sharply the moment Lucy stepped off of the elevator later that evening.
"Thor and I were working in the city," Lucy answered.
Clint looked incredulous as he asked, "Doing what?"
"Cleanup." Clint raised his eyebrows and she muttered, "Stupidest idea ever."
"Why?"
"Why did I suggest it? To make a good impression on Odin. Why was it a stupid idea? I am an intellectual, not a carpenter, and I am now in pain."
"Poor mortal," Clint snorted. "Tomorrow we can leave you in the lab with Banner instead."
"I suspect I might enjoy that," Lucy admitted. "I know it would be better that what we did today."
"Work's good for you."
"Every muscle in my body is about to snap in two. How is that good for anyone?"
"You'll be fine, Angel," Clint said dryly. "Cheer up; we've got plans."
"'Plans'?" Lucy repeated warily.
"Apparently Stark was whining for a night on the town since it's Friday, but Pepper told him no because we're still trying to let things simmer down from what you caused. Instead she suggested a group movie night on Stark's level, and our presence is once again demanded."
Lucy groaned, demanding, "Tell them I send my deepest apologies, but alas, I cannot move, nor do I intend to do so for the rest of the weekend."
"Not going to happen, Angel," Clint replied. "Go take a shower and put on some of the clothes from that bag on the kitchen counter, then we'll leave. And no more stealing my clothes; you're supposed to convince them that you've been a woman for your entire life. You keep dressing like that and they're going to become convinced you're swinging for the other team."
Lucy cocked her head to the side, her eyes glittering with mischief as she said, "That would be an interesting twist in the life saga of Lucy Saint. I wonder if I could get Agent Romanoff to play along with me?"
"No," Clint answered. "Tasha's genuinely happy to finally have the real attentions of a decent guy like Cap, and if you mess with that for her, you're going to wish you had killed me when you had the chance."
"By the gods, Barton," Lucy muttered, turning to go into the kitchen. "I was just kidding. I am entirely content to fall head over heels for your desperate self for as long as I am here."
Clint rolled his eyes and flopped down on the couch to wait for her to get ready. Lucy was turning out to be a good woman – making him wait and testing his patience and driving him out of his mind. What else was a guy supposed to expect from a girl?
Twenty minutes later, Lucy reemerged wearing the jeans and t-shirt from Pepper, her hair pulled up in a ridiculously messy topknot.
"Ready, Angel?" he asked, jumping up from the couch.
"No," she griped.
"Glad to hear it," he said, gesturing for her to go ahead of him into the elevator. When the doors closed behind them, he asked, "Are you going to be airhead Lucy again?"
"I wasn't 'airhead' Lucy; that was 'overly-excited' Lucy."
"What are you going to be tonight? I demand to know in advance."
"'In pain' Lucy," she groused.
"Why don't you just take pain meds and shut up? Wasn't it your bright idea to go do cleanup in the first place?"
"Yes, but I didn't realize how much weaker the mortal female form is!"
Clint smiled. "Do not let Natasha hear you say that; your death will be slow and painful if she does."
"I think I've gotten used to the idea of that sort of death – especially if these rebuilding things are the sort of projects the All-Father expects from me in order to let me go back to Asgard and for me to be given my powers back. At best, I'll most likely die trying to meet his expectations."
"You're depressing," Clint accused.
Lucy snorted, "And you're not?"
"I had my brain played with. What's your excuse?"
Lucy cocked her head to the side and looked at him, asking, "Do you know how I communicated with the Chitauri?"
Clint shook his head.
The elevator doors opened then, and Lucy offered only, "I thought not."
"Why does it matter?" Clint asked, his curiosity now piqued.
"I'll tell you later," she muttered, automatically stretching a smile across her face when the duo ran into Pepper in the hallway.
"Lucy!" Pepper beamed. "We were just wondering if you'd still be here!"
"Actually, I was wondering if I might stick around a bit longer than I planned to," Lucy admitted. "I don't have any family or a job back in Waverly anymore, and reconnecting with Clint has just been so nice…"
"I'm okay with it if Clint is," Pepper said with a grin, guiding the duo towards Stark's entertainment room.
"Do you think Mr. Stark will mind?" Lucy asked, feigning her nervousness as she looked at Pepper.
"Please, call him Tony, and not at all; he won't mind! The more, the merrier, according to him. Besides, even if he did mind, I can talk him into pretty much whatever I want."
Lucy leaned into Pepper with a mischievous grin on her face, the very picture of shared womanhood as she said quietly with laughter in her eyes, "I expected as much."
Pepper looped arms companionably with Lucy and they went into the entertainment room together, suddenly laughing like old friends. Clint, on the other hand, fought the sudden desire to vomit.
And that was even before Clint realized what series Stark had chosen to have them watch tonight. It wasn't Stark's normal choice of video entertainment, and Clint knew that it had to be an entirely pointed move.
"Legolas and company are here!" Stark called out.
Apparently he and Lucy were once again the last ones to show up, because the others flooded the room then. Steve sat on one side of a couch and Natasha lay down with her head in Cap's lap, draping herself languidly along the length of the rest of the piece of furniture. Stark and Pepper took over the loveseat, and Banner and Thor each claimed a recliner. Clint crouched on one half of the window seat, and was a little surprised when Lucy came over and folded her lithe frame into the other half.
"Hey, look at that," she said, jabbing his knee with her elbow and pointing to the computer screen. "I Love Lucy."
"Go figure," Clint muttered, glaring at nothing in particular.