Chapter 13: A superior man is modest in his speech, but exceeds in his actions (Confucius)

A researcher named Jim Pfaus once wondered whether the instinct to mate was stronger than the instinct to survive. So he sprayed female rats with a liquid that smelled like a dead, rotting rat and put them in cages with virgin male rats. The drive to mate was so powerful that it overcame the instinct to avoid the smell, and the rats hit it off. Actually, that's not so strange. The strange part was what happened next.

Once the male rats had learned to associate sex with the smell of death, Faust put them in cages with different objects to play with. The male rats actually preferred to play with the object that smelled like death, as if it were soaked in something they loved. [1]

Now, while these studies like so many others completely neglected the other side of the deal (would the female rats simply let male rats stinking of death jump them, or would they reject them and end up getting raped because male rats put their instinct to mate above everything? Would they still shy away from objects sprayed with the odor? Would they learn to exploit their power over males that put one instinct above everything else, even the one to survive?), they revealed valuable information about the "reward center" in the brain, about the chemicals and hormones that created new synapses, new connections, that normally would attract every living being to healthy behaviors and encourage to form supposedly life-supporting habits.

Ziva David had learned a lot about conditioning other people to benefit her intentions. In the very beginning, becoming intimate with people that appalled her but wouldn't be cooperative otherwise, had disgusted her. After a while, she did not care anymore. Sex had become very useful tool and nothing more, and now, once more, Ziva had trained her very own male rat to play with death.

She was not sure if McGee even realized what would happen should they be caught. She had asked him for help, coming up with a tearful story of missions that would go to waste because she could not warn the respective people anymore, and hinting heavily how thankful Mossad, how thankful s h e would be should he find a possibility for her to get her security clearance back.

Since he didn't have the power to give it back to her, he did the next best thing – and allowed her to use his. He was even bragging how he had set up a system so he could use his access from home (or anywhere else), something that would just add to the accusations of high treason he would receive.

Ziva would be long gone by then, letting him take the blame.

Poor stupid, little rat, he should have known to put his survival above everything.

She threw an annoyed glance to her sofa where McGee was sleeping, all white skin and soft curves where she actually would have preferred tan and hard muscles. Ever since she was back from the useless training sessions she had to suffer should she want to keep her position as a liaison officer, he showed up on her doorstep like an eager puppy, computer in one hand, this time with a wrapped Christmas gift in the other, a lecherous grin on his lips.

It had somehow gotten out of hand – she never had wanted him in her flat, but the benefits outweighed her discomfort, so she simply let him in, let him lounge on her couch (contemplating to throw out the soiled comforter, but then she'd have to get a new one, so maybe she would just wash it) and wrinkled her nose a bit about the snoring person there while browsing his computer, accessing files on the NCIS server that McGee most probably also wasn't really having access to, but hacked into them anyway, simply because he could.

Michael would've looked better there, on her couch, and most probably she would not mind the dirty blanket if it had been him to soil it. But he was not spending a lot of time with her, lately, being more than busy with his own assignments. He knew about McGee, she never kept that source a secret, and he never seemed to mind, after all, they both underwent the same training.

She would kick the NCIS agent out of her flat as soon as she was done snooping through the files.

Then she would take a very long shower.

And then, maybe, she would call Michael…


Michael Rivkin packed his field glasses away, rubbing his eyes after having to strain them to make out the content of the files Ziva was looking at on Timothy McGee's laptop. He had bugged her flat, of course, but somehow she never was positioned in a way that the camera could catch anything, so he had to resort to some old school methods.

Names and dates once more fit with the information he had on the next few missions that were also of interest for Mossad.

So, most probably, the few failed missions from the past months were nothing more than bad luck, officials changing time tables or locations last minute. It would not be the first time this happened to one of them.

He would report this to his superiors, hoping that this mission would be done for now. Maybe he could get out of this cold weather and be on his way back to Tel Aviv before he received another needy phone call that had Eli David's daughter demand her way into his pants.

He for sure would not miss her screeching his ears off during sex.

Agent McGee did not seem to mind going deaf (or saw it as a proof for his prowess that she was screaming like a banshee). He most probably also would not mind filling the gap Michael would leave in Ziva's life.

Most probably, the probationary agent would be rather thankful…


Bruce was following the four Asgardians once they had reached the Christmas market. This way, he could observe his personal telenovela unfold undisturbed while also ogling all the flimsy stuff people inevitably bought every Christmas.

To be honest, he lost his four friends a few times because of the latter, having zoned out in front of a booth, and he was rather glad that all of them were so tall, so it was rather easy to make them out in the crowd.

That, and the fact that Loki was wearing a Hulk-green wooly hat with a matching scarf and mittens. He just had to look out for the wandering green hat in the crowd. Thor would be following that green hat and the incredibly tight jeans the God of Mischief was wearing till the end of the world, anyway. Fandral was far busier fussing over Aron's leg all the time, starting to annoy the poor guard who had actually snapped at the swordsman when he wanted to help him out of the limousine.

So, Aron was miffed and grumpily following Thor, and the chastised puppy Fandral was following him. He could not really lose the lot of them, anyway.

He ignored some commotion staring behind him, it was a crowded market after all, people were stepping on other people's toes, some of them were a little tipsy already from the mulled wine, no matter what time of the day it was.

He was a bit surprised that he did not worry more. The Hulk, in a crowded space like this, it was a liability, it was insane! Weirdly enough, the other guy seemed to be quite content with ignoring the ruckus at the other end of the market, even purring a bit in the back of his head at the relaxed mindset his smaller, pinker version had adopted in the past few months.

The flimsy, sparkly, and ridiculously overprized stuff in the booths seemed to catch his attention more than anything else, Bruce even ended up buying a few things just because the other guy thought them cute. And if push came to shove, the Hulk would be out within the matter of a few seconds, knowing that there were at least three Gods there to back him up.

Fandral would bench Aron, no matter how much the guard would insist on being fully functional… and Bruce/the Hulk might have to pee himself with laughter about the confused glances the following cat-fight would receive from any bystander, the people trying to assault them included.

Whistling to himself, he decided to catch up with the others before they would end up buying too many unnecessary things, after all, Tony had already bought out that shop in Washington DC.

Maybe he should remind them that they were here for a tree?


Jethro Gibbs did not remember when the last time was that he slept in.

Well… his couch was a lumpy old thing, the floor beneath the boat was hard and cold, so it was not really a wonder that he only slept the minimum needed by his body to function. It was also no wonder that he fell asleep practically everywhere when he had time to sleep. Even the back of a Navy transport plane was better than his haunted house…

He knew that he was fighting depression for a long time now, refusing to accept the fact that he was, indeed, depressed. That he had not stepped a foot into his bedroom ever since Shannon had died, had in fact remodeled a guest room to live in with his other three wives, was only one sign.

He had made his own house a shrine for his murdered family, and had forced three more people to live in it.

No wonder those marriages were doomed.

Sometimes he was asking himself what he would have done if either Diane, Stephanie, or Rebecca had put her foot down – if they had refused to live in a house where two rooms were a taboo and he refused to let them know why… He had been happy with Stephanie when they lived in Moscow… happy to leave this doomed house behind, the two ghosts in it.

At some point he decided that lying around in bed, overthinking his situation, all the relationships he had destroyed in the past wouldn't help him so he got up and ready to face his father. He could smell breakfast, Jackson always liked to cook in the mornings, and Jethro was wondering about the fond smile that was spreading on his face.

He had cut this connection 20 years ago, most probably destroying his father's relationship back then with his accusations of the older man sleeping around whenever possible. He did not remember if he liked his father's breakfast when he was still a kid, because he'd always been too busy seeing him the way his mother saw him: always busy, never fulfilling her wishes, leaving her alone…

With a sigh he finished getting dressed and left the guest room, taking in the changes Jackson had made in the past two decades. The color was different. The handrail on the stairs, too… and there were pictures…

Photos… all along the wall of the stairway, pictures of the woman he remembered accompanying his father to Shannon's and Kelly's funeral… children, a boy and a girl…

He was most surprised when he found his own childhood pictures intermingled with his father's new memories and once more did not know how to feel about this change. How to reconcile the sudden knowledge that his father had continued his life without him with the fact that he had abandoned Jackson, and not the other way round? How his Dad dared to finally interrupt this vicious circle of seeking happiness and, in Jethro's eyes, blemishing the memory of his late mother?

Had he always been this selfish and just did not want to realize that the people leaving him were doing it to protect themselves? Three failed marriages and driving away Tony DiNozzo, the man who had been loyal to the bone, seemed to prove this more than anything.

Fortifying himself for whatever he might find in the kitchen, Gibbs sighed. He was no coward. He would go in there and face the music, most probably answer some inconvenient questions, maybe drive his father away even further (if that was even possible after not talking to him for the past 20 years).

He was not really prepared for facing two people hiding behind open newspapers despite the gallery of pictures he had seen in the stairway, feeling rather foolish when he harrumphed and then hastily added a more polite "good morning", to catch their attention.

It was Libby? Laura…? Linda…? who lowered the paper first, green eyes scrutinizing the younger Gibbs as she answered.

"Good morning. Would you like some breakfast? We kept you some on the stove."

Gibbs eyes were glued to the table by now, laid for three people.

He wished for some serial killer right now. Someone who murdered people for a living or wanted to blow up entire buildings. He knew how to interact with these people, knew what to expect, knew how they would react, even if he didn't understand their driving force.

Situations like this one made him wanna run, though. Run away from having to face himself, having to face his motivations, because he knew he would not like what he'd see, and sometimes he just did not know why he did what he did.

He had ended up here, because he had nowhere else to go, though. So, according to his decision that he definitely was no coward, he decided to just take things as they were coming for now.

"That would be nice…"

Jackson just briefly looked up from the Sports part.

"There's also some coffee left. It won't dissolve your gut, though."


Loki once more did the perfect impersonation of an art-school student strolling over the Christmas market, including the cellphone in his hand and the earplugs in his ears. J.A.R.V.I.S. had helped putting together the outfit, and even though the young God did not really understand why grown men would squeeze themselves into pants as tight as the ones he was wearing, he had to admit that he definitely could wear them together with the soft pullover the AI had chosen for him.

The scarf, hat, and mittens had been an impulse purchase in the internet simply because of the color, made already before he had had to leave for Asgard, and the way Bruce's face had lightened up when Loki joined them in the garage wearing this ensemble was worth the confused frowns he received from his brother, Fandral, and Aron.

Loki chose to ignore them, relaxing back into the leather seats of the car, not even removing his headphones when they had reached the market and he started moving from booth to booth, picking up hilarity after hilarity, ending up buying a vitreous Iron Man because it was handmade and Anthony would love it, while simultaneously continuing to check his cellphone.

Thor was following him, trying to keep his distance, and still bumping into him every once in a while because he was busy scanning the crowd for either Fandral and Aron, or Dr. Banner, and as clumsy as always, not really paying attention where he walked.

It made the younger God take a deep breath before continuing his path, trying to steer not only Thor away from unnecessary trouble. His not-brother always had had a keen sense for turmoil, even though most of the time he ended up causing it himself.

Director Coulson's leash on General Ross was not as tight as both Anthony and the leader of S.H.I.E.L.D. had hoped. This man was inconvincible, still claiming that Dr. Banner was property of the military rather than a human being, and not even the three restraining orders the SI legal department or the S.H.I.E.L.D. legal department had gained on both Banner's and the Hulk's behalf could stop him from trying to apprehend the physicist.

No, Ross still was sprouting nonsense about the Hulk being a mindless, violent creature whose only intention was to kill and destroy to everybody who wanted to hear it. And every other person who didn't give a damn, too.

It was Anthony who had started destroying this picture of the green berserk by leaking pictures and videos taken during the battle of New York, where the Hulk was protecting humans, and only smashing the Chitauri (and Loki, in the end, but since that was what was needed to break the mind control on the young God, Loki was not the slightest bit resentful).

The video of the Hulk saving Iron Man was one of the most popular ones. Only topped by the one where the Hulk of all mutants helped Anthony with some repairs on the arc reactor fueling Stark tower. While Banner would have been the number one choice with the physics part, Stark had needed some muscles… and ended up giving orders to his mean green smashing machine in a way that very soon reminded everybody living in the tower of the way he was talking to DUM-E and U.

And while the engineer gave a few people heart attack after heart attack (the lovely Miss Potts claimed to have aged at least five years after finding out how her friend had removed all the debris from the reactor room so fast), said engineer ended the entire ordeal with a: "Great work buddy, I knew you were the man! Give us a hug!"

The rest was history. The Hulk carefully had approached the inventor after staring at him for quite a while, probably asking himself if the other man really wanted a hug. They had cuddled for a while, Anthony had grinned like a mad man… and the Hulk had smiled.

The video soon had overtaken most cat videos concerning the amount of clicks, even though the commenters were not really sure if the correct reaction was "Aaawwww, cute!" or "Dear Lord, is he crazy?!"

Stark just continued demanding cuddles when the Hulk was out to play. It proved to be an idiot-proof method to calm him down, no matter what had aggravated him, and Tin Man soon had turned into Tony, making Anthony brag about the fact that he was the only person whose given name was used by the Hulk.

The world had learned that the Hulk was more than just a monster.

Ross did not seem able to change his opinion, and would have to learn the hard way.

"How close, J.A.R.V.I.S.?" the Trickster murmured into the speaker of his headset, aware of the fact that Thor was close enough to witness that something was going on, that Loki was not simply taking pictures with his phone. The artificial intelligence had asked for his help, not trusting S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to handle the situation with the discretion it needed.

And his brother, the oaf, might ruin the mission if he jumped to his own conclusions and, in the end, really might release the Hulk in a place like this. It was risky enough, but Ross was slippery as a slug when he wanted to be. So he actively sought the Thundergod's glance, locking his eyes with him before putting his forefinger to his lips.

"Two more yards", J.A.R.V.I.S. responded in the earpiece, and Thor's eyes were following the younger God's as he looked down again, only to see the map on the screen.

"One yard", the artificial intelligence counted in his ear as the Thunderer crept closer.

"Two feet", J.A.R.V.I.S. continued, and now also Thor could make out a red dot that was approaching a certain green perimeter.

"One foot."

"Let him enter the perimeter, so he cannot deny breaking the restraining order, but stop him before Banner notices", Loki murmured, eyes widening slightly as two more dots appeared.

"Two more men have joined General Ross. I advise apprehending them now!" J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice sounded urgent now, and Director Coulson was giving orders in the background. Loki glanced at the blonde God again who was still watching him confusedly, before both of them turned around rather abruptly, watching out for the source of some shouting.

Fandral and Aron had done the same, the four Asgardians only briefly checking out the brawl in the background where at least S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were apprehending General Ross and his lackeys. All of them instantly also were watching out for one person who had been following them, idling about to look at some booths, making sure he was fine.

Bruce simply waved at them as he caught up, smiling as he was greeted with open arms, pointing out that they came here to buy a tree and not even more decoration.


Dino left the cockpit with a grin. As much as he hated boats and the way they were rocking on the waves, as much as he abhorred sitting in the back of a Navy freight transport machine, watching Gibbs sleep while everybody else was trying to keep their stomachs were they belonged, namely inside their bodies, he loved sitting in the cockpit of a Gulfstream, and the Stark Industries company jet was just this – a Gulfstream.

The pilot had indulged him for a while, most probably thinking that if they were allowed to open one of the windows the rather enthusiastic agent would have stuck out his head (and his tongue) like one of these dogs on the passenger side of a car.

T had just laughed as his better half fidgeted with his seatbelt as soon as the sign to stay buckled up went off and decided to just get comfy on the couch, most probably preparing for a short nap.

When he came back into the passenger space, Dino found him in the same position as when he had left, though with a deep frown on his face and his cell phone in his hands, hectically typing away.

"Maybe next time I can take over for a bit, make a curve or something? Hey, you have a pilot's license, right? Otherwise you wouldn't be allowed to pilot your own Quinjets, I guess… think I could get one, too?" he pretended to not realize T's dark mood as he moved closer to the comfortable passenger seats. He waited for his boyfriend to look up, aiming to distract him from whatever at SI or the Avengers had him frowning. He was still supposed to recover, to rest, to not fucking deal with them. That was Pepper's and Coulson's job, for Pete's sake!

"The pilot said we'll land in about 30 minutes, and somehow the guy was glad that I left the cockpit again."

Dark brown eyes only briefly flitted to him before he continued typing away on his phone, worrying Dino even more.

"T? Is everything ok? Did something happen?!" He was sitting down next to his boyfriend, trying to catch a glimpse of the screen to see if he was coordinating his suits to counter an attack together with J.A.R.V.I.S., or if he'd just received some bad news from SI, like back then when the CEO of another company had somehow misplaced his brain, and his penis thought it was a good idea to grope Pepper.

To be honest, that idiot was lucky that he tried to feel up before-Extremis Pepper. He'd only lost his job and his credibility (and had Tony Stark and J.A.R.V.I.S. breathing down his neck) and gained a limp from a stiletto in his foot instead of ending up as a grilled chicken.

Anyway, the frown T was wearing now matched his expression back then, so Dino immediately started fearing the worst.

The inventor just sighed deeply.

"Phil used Bruce as bait to catch Ross and asked J.A.R.V.I.S. for help. J.A.R.V.I.S. asked Loki for help, Thor thinks it was Loki's idea, Loki now isn't talking to either Thor or J.A.R.V.I.S., and I think my AI is heartbroken because of that. In case I ever complain how boring we sometimes are, please remind me of this situation. I have no clue what to do with this bunch of super-powered teenagers!"

Scooting up to Dino, T rested his head against the agent's shoulder, snuggling up to him.

"Does J.A.R.V.I.S. even know that he has a crush on Loki?" the taller man asked as he got comfortable next to his significant other, his fingers unerringly finding his way to the other man's hair. Yeah, he knew that J.A.R.V.I.S. was self-aware and sentient, but he had no idea how evolved the AI was. He joked all the time about J being T's son, yet did not know if he was anthropomorphizing the computer program in a way that didn't fit J.A.R.V.I.S.

"He's still trying to reconcile Loki and Thor, I'm not really sure if he's aware of his own crush or tries to hook them up with each other… Did you know you had your first crush when you had your first crush?" T answered, getting an amused snort as answer.

"I had a best friend who pointed out whenever possible that Cindy Carter and I were sitting in a tree in third grade", Dino smiled, finding his favored spot on T's temple again to brush his lips over it.

"She had the best sweets. You could've taken one for the team and at least have talked to her", Stark mused and Dino cringed at one particular memory he had concerning Cindy Carter.

"She was giving her dog open mouthed kisses whenever her parents visited, so no, thank you."

The engineer crinkled his nose at that, making the agent laugh.

"You glad now that I didn't follow that crush?"

T just turned his head up a bit, facing Dino, pursing his lips. "I'm the only one you're allowed to give open mouthed kisses. Actually, I demand some now."

Dino was happy to oblige, delivering a tiny peck that had T protest loudly about the cheap quality kisses he was receiving, both of them necking each other until the pilot announced that they were starting to descend.

T was nibbling one last time at Dino's lower lip, both of their faces flushed from their recent make out session, before sitting up a bit.

"To be continued later?" Stark asked, leering a bit, and receiving another peck on his nose before DiNozzo replied.

"We first need to deal with the bunch of teenagers in our house, otherwise it'll be a pout-fest when we're decorating the tree."

"Man, being a parent is hard. Can't we just ignore the drama und decorate the tree with Bruce, and DUM-E and U? The bots are babies, and will be over the moon once I'm back at the tower. How do I even give J.A.R.V.I.S. the birds and bees talk?! He can be neither bird, nor bee!"

Dino just smirked. "Don't forget the shovel talk you have to give Loki should he decide to go after your virgin AI." His grin just widened when T looked even more horrified.

"Shut up! Oh, good God, I will end up as a smear on the wall if Thor figures out any of this shit. I bet he'll defend his baby-brother's virtue."

"And you won't defend J.A.R.V.I.S.'s virtue? Did the virgin AI somehow not make it to that big brain of yours? Our poor, innocent baby boy, preyed by a millennia old Norse God! He doesn't stand a chance", Dino continued mocking.

"J bought half of the content of our toy drawer, Sweetheart… I don't think he needs his virtue defended, but rather some instructions how to negotiate his kinks…", T deadpanned, smiling sweetly as Dino tried, but failed to come up with a response.

After a few moments, the agent huffed.

"It's gonna be some interesting holidays, huh?"