Hello, Everyone!

I have an announcement: Starting Monday, I will be devoting most of my free time to my novel, which I hope to have published by this time next year. As you can probably guess, this will leave very little time for fanfiction, and what little I do have will probably be devoted to "Case Red" or one of my other pet projects. This may very well be the last entry uploaded for a while. Hopefully I'll find the time to pick it up again someday in the not-so-distant future, but I can't make any promises.

I hope you've enjoyed "How to Live with a Demigod 101," and that the memory of our team's antics will continue to make you laugh!

Thank you so much for all of the reviews, favorites, follows, and encouragement - you've been a wonderful audience...

Entry #39: Camping Trip [or, "Breakfast and Coffee"]

"I saw him land right over there!" Steve insisted, pointing toward the northeast.

Loki arched a slender eyebrow. "'Land' is far too generous a word."

"Crashed. He crashed right over there."

Natasha was about to run in that direction when Thor reached out and gently stopped her. "ALLOW ME, LADY ROMANOFF."

Steve shrugged. "We'll be seeing him soon, I'm sure."

"With or without Mr. Fuzzwell?!" wailed Natasha.

"Either way, there's nothing you can do about it now. He's probably already hightailing it back here."

"THE CAPTAIN OF AMERICA IS RIGHT, LADY ROMANOFF. THE MAN OF IRON WILL BE HERE MOMENTARILY."

Natasha sighed and glanced up at Thor—just in time to see him brush a few crumbles of chocolate from his short blonde beard. "What are you…!"

Thor quickly hid the crumpled-up Hershey's package behind his back. "I NEEDED SUSTENANCE!"

In an instant, Natasha's tearful 'pity-me' face vanished, replaced by a thunderous expression that would have rivaled any lightning storm Thor could have conjured up. "Hand over the bag," she demanded, holding out a hand.

Thor sheepishly did as she requested.

Natasha stared at the crumpled plastic bag, and then turned it upside down.

Nothing.

She shook it, and a few meager crumbs fell to the ground.

"Thor…"

Thor gave Natasha his most convincing, puppy-eyed, I'm-so-sorry-I-didn't-mean-to look.

Unfortunately, Nat was no stranger to such looks. She'd gotten them quite a lot from Clint. "You ate. My chocolate," she growled. "All of it."

Thor seated himself in one of the folding chairs—which was much too small for his bulk and creaked ominously—and folded his hands in his lap, looking like a scolded school-boy.

Natasha gave the colossal demigod a severe stare. "Therefore," she passed her sentence imperiously, "you shall have no dessert tonight after dinner."

"Nobody will," Steve pointed out. "He ate it all."

Nat whirled on Steve, but before she could lecture him, there came a loud rustling from the edge of the clearing.

All four of them glanced over their shoulders just in time to see one seriously disgruntled Tony Stark emerge from the trees like a specter of doom. His hair was askew, and one eyebrow appeared to have been slightly singed. Bits of twigs, foliage, and dirt clung to his rumpled clothes. Mark VII was nowhere to be seen.

A half-melted Walmart grocery bag dangled from one hand. Several marshmallows were stuck to the billionaire's ruined T-shirt, and what might once have been chocolate bars was now dripping from the grocery bag in long, gooey strings.

"Good morning!" Loki grinned and waved cheerfully, and then bit delicately into his third graham cracker of the day.

"…Is it?" Something in Tony's voice made it very clear that to give a reply of any sort would be to sign your own death warrant.

Natasha slowly reached out and took the melted groceries from Tony, pinching the plastic handles between her thumb and forefinger as more chocolate oozed from a tear in the bag. "Is this it?" she asked dryly.

Tony walked stiffly over to the campfire, and then sat down in one of the folding chairs with a partially stifled groan. "…back there." He pointed wearily in the direction from which he had come.

"And where is Mister Fuzzwell?"

An irate stare was Tony's only reply.

With a small squeak, Natasha dropped the grocery bag and ran in the direction indicated. She was out of sight in moments. Steve ran after her, yelling something about an escort, and Loki stared after them with an amused expression.

Tony glared at the abandoned grocery bag, tried to get up, and then collapsed back into the folding chair. He thought for a moment, and then said, "Loki. Get me the bag."

Loki gave him a flat stare, and continued to nibble on his graham cracker.

"You're our prisoner. Consider yourself part of an inmate work crew."

Still no reply. Only a vague smirk.

Tony grumbled something unintelligible. "Loki, if you get me that bag, you won't have to share a tent with Dr. Banner and Clint anymore. I'll move in to their tent, and you can move in to Steve's."

Apparently, Loki found that an agreeable trade, and—after stretching luxuriously like a sleepy cat—he sauntered over to the other side of the campfire, retrieved the grocery bag, and set it down on the ground by Tony's chair.

"Now open it up and find the instant coffee packets."

"That was not a part of our negotiations," Loki said arrogantly, lifting his chin and glaring down his nose at Tony.

Tony glared back, but felt that he was at a distinct disadvantage. Finally, he said, "If you don't find the instant coffee packets, the deal is off. And not only is the deal off, but I'll put a whoopee cushion in Dr. Banner's sleeping bag."

Loki wasn't sure what a 'whoopee cushion' was, but he decided that it would be better not to find out. So he fished out two instant coffee packets for Tony Stark, and dropped them unceremoniously in his lap.

"Great. Now boil some water."

Loki turned around with a mortified look on his face and opened his mouth to reply, but thankfully Natasha and Steve reappeared before he could say a word.

Natasha held something lovingly in both hands, and Steve was walking several paces behind her, carrying three huge boxes and several more mostly-intact grocery bags.

"I found him!" crowed Nat, holding up a little wire mesh cage.

Tony immediately bounced up from the chair, grabbed the instant coffee packets, and sidled around to the other side of the campfire. "You!" he shouted. "What were you thinking?!"

Natasha stuffed Mister Fuzzwell in her sweater pocket and held out an empty hand. "I'm thinking I'll make it up to you by preparing your instant coffee."

Tony glared and held his coffee packets protectively against his arc reactor, which appeared to be on the verge of spazzing out. "You're gonna have to do a lot more than fix one little pot of coffee! You put my LIFE in danger!"

Nat gave him a look. "Well?"

Tony sat back down in the chair and leaned back, folding his hands behind his head and putting his feet up on Loki's armrest. The demigod glared at him, to no affect.

"I want to be waited on hand and foot," Tony demanded.

"For how long?"

"All day. I want you to make me coffee and set up my new tent."

Natasha put her hands on her hips, but said only, "And?"

"Fix me something special for dinner."

"And?"

"Iron all my clothes."

Nat raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I see. What else?"

Tony rolled his eyes back in his head and thought for a moment. "After that, you can fan me with a palm leaf for a few hours..." He smirked at the thought. "Now, bring me a bonbon."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "You're getting breakfast and coffee."

Farewell for now! Any entries from this point forward will be a bonus. ;) I'm not saying I'm going to entirely abandon this fanfiction - it's been a joy to write! - but it will be on an indefinite hiatus. And, of course, I will be continuing to co-author Insanity's wonderfully dark and angsty Avengers fic, "Case Red."

In the meantime, God bless you all!

~Alassiel