Notes: People familiar with tourtière may, as they read the first part of this chapter, be thinking, "Wait, wait, that's not how you make tourtière!" There are many kinds of meat pies referred to by that name, but- because of the region of Quebec my grandmother came from- I think of the Lac St. Jean variety as " tourtière," while the one filled with a variety of ground meats is just called "meat pie" in my family. Looking at various recipes for the Lac St Jean version on the Internet, I see we should probably have had them cut up the meat the day before, and left it to marinate. Sorry about that: the last couple of years when I arrived at my parents' house for Christmas Eve, the tourtière was already in the oven, so I haven't seen it made in a while.

Warnings: Loki does not mean to be blasphemous, but he and I apologize if we offend anyone. The gang is attending a Catholic church because that's what I know.

Chapter Twelve

The original kitchen of this house had been large to begin with, and had apparently been renovated several times over the years to reflect contemporary standards for food preparation and the comfort of domestics. The most recent work had been commissioned by Tony, who would be the first to admit he had focused on what could be accomplished, as opposed to what reflected his requirements in a house he only visited occasionally, and almost always alone.

As a result, the kitchen—like that in the New York country house- was equipped to cater for groups numbering a score or more, as if Tony had it in mind to hold corporate retreats here. (Which he most definitely did not.) The renovation work had represented grandiosity for its own sake, a golden-horned helmet of a kitchen, to ensure everyone who entered it knew what manner of man owned it.

A lonely one, Loki thought, as he sat on the sofa in the corner of what amounted to the staff lounge, matching socks- white athletic socks belonging to Clint- into pairs and piling them neatly with the rest of the archer's clean and folded garments. Lonely, and perhaps with fantasies of one day having trusted, beloved companions enough to justify such a space.

And see how his wishes had finally come true.

In spite of his grumbles about exploitation and forced labour, Tony took on his own share of the work with what appeared to be a willing spirit. Loki had to impress upon him the importance of separating colours from whites, and Agent Coulson the necessity of dealing with the glassware before immersing the greasy bacon pan, but Tony did not argue with either of them. He muttered about the possibility of employing lasers to simplify both tasks, but so far as Loki could tell he was not serious.

It turned out Thor was wise to ask assistance of someone other than Loki with the pies, because between setting up the machines and folding dry garments, Loki had not sufficient hands to help with food preparations after all. And after boasting of his domestic skills, he really did not want to do the job with divided attention and ruin some piece of clothing prized by one of his companions.

Washing at home was a simpler matter, but even so in those early days Loki had received careful instructions from Annie on the advisability of heeding labels, especially those which recommended the hanging of items to dry. Of course, he no longer feared expulsion from the household, to starve and freeze all alone, if he accidentally destroyed a garment. That much had been made clear to him early in his tenure in Bristol, after a wool jumper of George's had been reduced to child-sized in the dryer, and Loki then without recovered magic enough to reverse the process. He would have hidden it and denied all knowledge of the matter, if Annie had not been present when he unloaded the dryer. He did not think his friends knew even yet just how deeply he had dreaded George's reaction- which after all his fears had amounted to a muttered "Argh," and then matter-of-fact acceptance of Loki's anxious offer to provide a replacement.

That still did not mean he wished to ruin anything. It was far too cold to hang wet clothing out-of-doors, and besides everyone would wish to reclaim their belongings as soon as possible. Loki therefore set aside everything that required air-drying, to deal with as he had time. Finished with Clint's socks, he picked up a blouse belonging to Mrs. Coulson, held it at arms-length, and concentrated.

"What are you doing?" Bruce asked, glancing over at a crucial moment.

"A simple drying spell," Loki explained, laying the finished blouse carefully aside.

Bruce looked more impressed than such a mundane bit of magic warranted. "What does it- I mean, can you explain how it works?" He made a little grimace as he added, "I mean, I know I probably wouldn't understand the principles behind it- " it was clear from his face, and Jane's, how that knowledge ground at them- "but just the basic mechanism."

Loki picked up a cashmere pullover of Pepper's, one that had required the Delicate setting, and explained as best he could:

"It is the simplest version of such a spell- all I am doing is drawing the wet into myself."

"All," Bruce echoed, glancing ruefully down the table at Jane, who made a humourous grimace in return. Loki had by now enough experience of these humans to know they were not making sport of him, and he tried to clarify his explanation.

"Any spell that banishes something, even as simple as moisture, must send it somewhere else. As I say, the most straightforward way of dealing with it is to pull it into the spell-caster, especially something harmless like water." He offered a little smile as he folded the dry, soft pullover. "And before you ask, Tony- yes, I will need to visit the lavatory at regular intervals as I perform this spell."

"I wasn't going to ask," Tony protested, looking uncharacteristically embarrassed. It was clear from his expression that he had at least been wondering.

Loki was certainly not the only busy person in this room, which was why he (and Mitchell, much of the time) had taken up station on the sofa, out of the way and yet able to see and talk to everyone else. The rest of the company were engaged in food preparation. Mrs. Coulson had taken on a mostly supervisory role, as Clint and Natasha worked zealously to produce little cubes of meat and potato to her exacting specifications.

"It's especially important for the potatoes to be cut fine, so they cook at the same rate as the meat," she explained. Agent Coulson had been drafted to prepare a broth to add to the meat and potatoes, once Thor's pastry was ready, and the pie was then to bake for several hours in a large roasting pan.

"Like this?" asked Clint, displaying a heap of potato cubes to her inspection. Mrs. Coulson examined and approved. Clint was not quite able to conceal his pleasure at her approbation.

Tony, restless as ever, had disappeared from the kitchen with Steve and Pepper in tow. They returned a short time later, Scamp and the kittens trailing behind and Steve carefully carrying another of the cardboard boxes from the attic. He came into the lounge area and set it down on the floor in front of the sofa. Loki pulled up his feet to sit cross-legged so as to give the others more room. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"What have you there?" he asked. It was only when Mitchell giggled that Loki realized he and the kittens were certainly looking at the box with exactly the same expressions of avid curiosity. Face warming, he sat back a little, coaxing the kittens to his lap.

Tony glanced at him and smiled. "I don't know if you're familiar with record albums?"

"Yes," Loki said, leaning forward eagerly again and hugging the kittens. "Mitchell has some." They were, according to Annie, an archaic means of storing recorded music, but Mitchell clung to his even when he possessed the same music in more modern formats. Some of Mitchell's record albums dated back to before Steve Rogers' war.

"So did my parents, when we used to come here," Tony said, and shook his head. "And I'm afraid I didn't inherit my musical tastes from either of them. This, my friends, is a box of the purest Christmas cheese."

Mitchell reached past him and pulled several of the records out to look at their covers. He flipped through them and began to laugh.

"You're not kidding, are you? Bing Crosby- "

"Really? People still listened to Bing Crosby when you were a kid, Tony?" Steve asked, sounding thrilled.

"- Nana Mouskouri- Roger Whittaker? Really?" Mitchell grinned at Tony. "I should have realized you were the sentimental kind."

"Hey, I didn't buy any of these," Tony argued, trying to sound defensive.

"No," Mitchell said, "but I notice you also didn't hide them someplace and pretend they don't exist."

By now the others were gathering round to see what else was in the box. Steve pulled out another record.

"Mario Lanza," he read, frowning thoughtfully, and flipped it over to read the track listing. "'Joy To the World,' 'O Christmas Tree,' 'The Lord's Prayer'- hey, does anybody mind if we listen to this one?"

"Not me," said Mitchell, when he saw Steve's eyes on him. "I've always liked Lanza."

"That is a wonderful album," Mrs. Coulson agreed. "Such a beautiful voice."

Tony gently snatched the record away from Steve. "Sorry, this is for tomorrow morning. First thing, I promise. Anyone see anything they'd like to play right now?"

Bruce had picked out the Bing Crosby record. "I know this is the ultimate Christmas cliché, but- seriously, guys, I'd love to listen to this one."

"I've got no objection to that," Steve replied. "I saw him on a USO tour during the war. I didn't know he had a Christmas record."

Even Loki found that hard to believe. Clint, ever blunt, asked what everyone was wondering:

"So what have you been doing for Christmas since you woke up?"

Steve shrugged, embarrassed. "Well, last year I went to church and then pretty much spent the rest of the day trying not to think about… everybody. By which I mean, I spent the rest of the day thinking about everybody. Tony, I can't tell you how grateful I am that you thought of this gathering, and that you invited me. I was really dreading another Christmas like last year."

"Yeah," Bruce said. "I was planning to say it a little more privately, but… Yes. Thank you." Clint mumbled something that sounded like agreement, and most of the others nodded.

Tony glanced around, looking cornered. Opened his mouth, and closed it.

And then he took the record from Bruce's hands and fled from the kitchen. A moment later, the strains of a smooth deep voice, singing "Silent Night," could be heard from the speakers most commonly used by JARVIS when he addressed them.

Everyone waited. Tony did not return.

After a little while, Pepper quietly excused herself and left the kitchen.

~oOo~

Tony seemed quite recovered, when he finally reappeared, although Loki was at some pains not to look very closely at his eyes.

The eggnog was ready by that time, one batch with rum and one without. Loki tried a sip of each and then, because Midgardian alcohol had so little effect on him anyway, opted for the rum-free version. He was joined in that by Mitchell (for the same reason), Steve (for the same reason), Bruce (not for the same reason), Mrs. Coulson, and, rather surprisingly to Loki, Natasha. Fury and Rhodey started another vat of the drink as everyone else went back to their work.

The eggnog with rum was deservedly popular. It was therefore no surprise that, as work progressed and the smells of baking permeated the kitchen, the mood within became increasingly festive. It was only a matter of time before singing broke out, which it did when a tune began to play about an animate snowman named Frosty. Despite suspecting this appellation might be applied to him in the near future- possibly the next time Tony or Clint had a little too much to drink, which given the state of the eggnog probably translated as "any moment now"- Loki did not find the excessively cheerful tune unappealing.

He did not join in the song about the bullied reindeer who finally proved himself of use to his tormenters and so gained at least conditional acceptance- which he was aware was probably not the message the writer of the lyric intended, but Loki could not help himself, he cordially hated the song. However, "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town"- a song Loki had never particularly cared for- was another matter entirely. Now that it reminded him of Annie putting Owen in his place, he had to stifle his laughter at the line "so be good, for goodness sake."

The most amusing thing about their kitchen sing-along was the discovery that JARVIS, when he had been installed in the house, had apparently also been programmed to know all of the words to all the songs of Christmas. It was a little disorienting to hear his voice coming out of the same speakers as the recorded music, but Loki at least found it strangely touching.

"Next up, Nana Mouskouri," Tony announced, holding up the record, his expression of facetious gusto back in place.

"I love that name," announced Jane. "It's so much fun to say. Nana Mouskouri. Nana Moos-koooooo-ri. Nah-nah Moos-kooooorrrrrriii- "

"I think perhaps you have had enough rum and eggnog," Thor said kindly, plucking her empty glass from her hand and setting it in the sink.

Jane eyed him narrowly. "You're no fun," she said, enunciating very carefully.

"You will thank me in the morning," Thor assured her. Jane did not look at all convinced.

"It's seven-thirty," said Steve, apparently a propos of nothing. Everyone looked at him. He smiled, embarrassed. "There's an eight o'clock Mass at the Catholic church in the village. I thought I might walk over- " He trailed off, looking embarrassed, which Loki found puzzling. Surely the festival of Christmas had, at its heart, a religious significance? Why then should Steve seem apologetic about wishing to recognize that fact?

"How long a walk is it?" Mrs. Coulson asked. "I'd like to go, too."

"Steve, if you're comfortable with the right-hand drive you're welcome to take the Rover," Tony spoke up.

Loki, rather hesitantly, asked, "Would you permit me to join you?" Motivated solely by curiosity as he was, perhaps they would prefer he did not-

"Of course," Mrs. Coulson said warmly.

"Can you drive?" Steve asked.

Loki looked at Tony. "Is your car the sort with three pedals, or the other kind? I did not notice, the night we arrived."

Tony looked amused. "It's a stick. So yeah, three pedals." To the room at large, he explained, "Loki can't drive an automatic."

"I have done so," Loki protested. "I simply did not like it. I found it confusing."

"I wish I could come," Jane said mournfully. "But I think I'm too drunk for church." Loki stepped toward her and laid his right hand on the back of her neck. Jane jumped at the touch, relaxed after a moment- and then looked startled and suddenly sober. "What did you just do?"

Loki shook his hand gently. "A variation on the charm I used earlier to dry the clothing."

Jane raised her eyebrows at him, alert once again. "You drew the booze into yourself?"

"Well, the effects. More or less," Loki said, with a deprecating shrug. As she continued to look startled, he echoed his brother's words: "You will thank me in the morning."

Jane laughed. "No, I'll have a ton of questions for you in the morning. I'm thanking you right now."

~oOo~

The final churchgoing party consisted of Steve, Mrs. Coulson, Loki, Agent Hill, Thor and Jane. It was decided that everyone would have a snack now, then eat a late meal of tourtière and set out the gifts when the church party returned.

Loki drove- the Rover was much bigger than Mitchell's Volvo, but there was little traffic, and he parked without mishap in the churchyard. Mrs. Coulson sat in front with Loki and everyone else was rather crammed in the back, but there were no complaints.

The church was a small stone building, smelling of incense, with wooden benches to sit upon, and a sanctuary and altar at the front. It was by now almost eight o'clock and Loki expected to have to sit at the back, but the rear benches were all occupied and several in front left empty. Apparently these were not reserved for anyone in particular. It seemed very peculiar that the seats at the back should be considered most desirable, but Loki was pleased indeed at being able to see the rituals properly.

The humans taking their places made a little courtesy to the sanctuary, which Loki copied, then knelt in apparent prayer before sitting, which Loki did not. They all made a characteristic gesture, the right hand passing from forehead to heart, then across from left shoulder to right, that intrigued Loki. He turned to Mrs. Coulson, on his left, with a questioning face. She smiled and whispered,

"That's the sign of the cross- you see the symbol of the church?" There were crosses on the steeples of many churches in Bristol, though Loki had not noticed tonight in the dark. And at the front was a most disturbing tableau, of a man on such a cross. Loki had never entered a church like this before, but he had read a little of the religious practices of this realm, enough to know there was a rather ghastly story of sacrifice attached to that figure. He hoped it would not be the focus of tonight's observances.

Mrs. Coulson added quietly, "I won't be able to help you with most of the service- I wanted to come to church on Christmas Eve, but I'm actually not Catholic."

"Thor and I are not, either," Loki assured her, and Mrs. Coulson stifled a laugh.

All things considered, it was a most enjoyable service, despite moments of confusion: there was some standing and sitting, which Loki and his friends had to scramble to emulate, and it transpired the worshippers were expected to respond to some of the remarks of the celebrant, which they could not- except for Steve and Agent Hill, who spoke up with confidence. There was also singing, and Mrs. Coulson showed Loki how the numbers posted on a sort of board at the front of the church would tell him which song to look up in the book supplied with the bench. There were no reindeer or snowmen in these songs, but calls to the faithful, joyful and triumphant, and Loki decided he preferred these, anyway.

Later, they were read stories, clearly part of some larger narrative he did not know- except for the third piece, read by the priest himself in his lovely burring voice. Loki was startled, halfway through, to recognize the same words that had been used by the little friend of Charlie Brown, to explain the season of Christmas. He glanced around, but no one else seemed taken by surprise. It was a good story- Loki was glad he could fill out his tax forms and send them by post, rather than having to travel to a distant city to do so, but he liked the idea of the family finding shelter in a warm stable on a cold night, and the baby and the angels and the shepherds, although it occurred to him to wonder what they had done with their sheep.

Then the priest spoke a few words, of hope and light in the darkness of winter, and then later everyone was shaking hands with those around them and wishing them peace and the happiness of the season- it was clear Loki and his friends were nearly the only strangers present, but those seated nearby made them feel very welcome. Thor could be heard exchanging greetings in the muffled boom that only Thor could consider suitable for indoor use, and Loki noticed the human worshippers glancing over to smile at his enthusiasm.

Loki had no idea what was happening when the humans began to go to the front of the sanctuary, but Jane, and Mrs. Coulson did not get up to join them, so Thor and Loki kept to their seats as well. It did not feel like being excluded, to sit and watch, and besides, there was more singing to listen to. Steve and Agent Hill joined the line, and came back looking thoughtful but in Agent Hill's case not at all fierce, for once in a way. Then there was another song, proclaiming joy to the world, and everyone got up to go.

There was an odd moment, as they walked toward the door, when Loki wondered whether what he had thought was the smell of incense was actually something else entirely.

Quite a number of people spoke to them on the way out, asking whether they were guests of Mr. Stark, and once more wishing them the pleasures of the season. The priest spoke very kindly to all of them, and Agent Hill seemed very glad of the interaction. It was not until they were in the car again that Loki realized this was probably the sort of service Mitchell might have attended when he was young, when he and his brothers still lived with their parents, before the war.

He wondered whether Mitchell regretted being unable to come with them tonight.

Once in the car, Mrs. Coulson paused in the act of fastening her seatbelt to smile at Loki.

"What did you think?" she asked.

"I liked it very much," he replied. "I felt most welcome- how did you feel, Thor?" he asked over his shoulder, as he started the engine.

"Do not tell Tony, but I think I prefer Christmas to Festivus," Thor replied solemnly.

Mrs. Coulson laughed. "And when we get back, you can decide whether you prefer tourtière to spaghetti with red sauce."

"I can hardly wait," Loki assured her as he shifted into first gear.