Hi!
So, it's been a while. Sorry for the delay.
Erika belongs to me, Jormungand is based off Norse Mythology, and the rest of the Avengers belong to Marvel.
Erika came to breakfast one morning humming an upbeat tune, tapping her fingers against her thigh as she rummaged around in the fridge for something to drink.
"Well, aren't we chipper this morning," Tony commented. "What's got you so cheerful?"
Erika shrugged, still humming. The tune she was humming sounded like something you would hear at a Fourth of July celebration and Tony couldn't help but think he'd heard it somewhere before. When he finally recognized it he started laughing. "Don't tell me you found that old World War II footage," he laughed.
Erika returned his grin with one of her own.
"What footage?" Steve asked. There was something familiar about the tune, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
"I found a bunch of old World War II propaganda films, one of which you should be familiar with," she told Steve with a smirk.
Steve sighed. "I saw a lot of propaganda films; the kind of blurred together, to be honest.
Erika's smirk widened into a grin. "Oh, you'd remember this one—Hey Dad, who's strong and brave, here to save the American Way?"
Tony just laughed, grinning at Steve. "Oh, I don't know—who vows to fight like a man for what's right night and day?"
Steve paled. "You didn't," he said. "Please tell me you didn't."
"I uploaded it into Jarvis," said Erika. "Jarvis, be a dear and upload the footage to the TV, please," she said, heading towards the entertainment room.
Clint was the first one out of the room to follow her and the rest followed, Steve groaning and massaging the bridge of his nose. Only Jormungand remained behind with him, though it was obvious he was curious to see whatever Erika had found. Curiosity won out and he hurried after everyone.
On the television a old propaganda film was starting up. A black and white theater stage was lined with women in short dresses; though the film was in black and white, Jormungand guessed that the women's outfits were red, white and blue—America's colors.
"Who's strong and brave, here to save the American way?
Who vows to fight like a man for what's right night and day?
Who will campaign door-to-door for America?
Carry the flag shore to shore for America?
From Hoboken to Spokane,
The Star-Spangled Man with a Plan!"
The women on stage continued singing and dancing, and in the middle of them, speaking about something called war bonds, was . . . . . .
Jormungand's head tilted and he glanced back towards the kitchen.
The man on the stage wore a much simpler costume, but there was no mistaking that costume or the man's voice. Jormungand and the others watched the entire film. Clint and Tony were laughing, Natasha wore a small smile, and Bruce looked like he was trying not to laugh.
"You never told us you punched Hitler!" Clint howled, doubling over. "Jesus Christ, Steve, this is priceless!"
Steve was still in the kitchen but Jormungand could still see him from where he was standing, and he did not look happy. "I never took you for the theatrical type, Captain," he admitted, the barest hint of a smile on his voice.
"Not my idea," he barely heard Steve mumble in response, and couldn't help but let his smile show at Steve's blush.
Later, when everyone else had went to bed, Jormungand asked him about his performance as the 'Star Spangled Man with a Plan.'
"When I was given the super-soldier serum, I thought they'd finally let me fight. Instead, they put me in a costume and trained me to dance to their tune, selling war bonds to help support the actual heroes—our country's soldiers." Steve paused, his fingers drumming against the table. "When my little routine was taken to a place with actual soldiers, I realized just how big of a joke it all was. After that, I decided if nobody would give me a chance, I'd just show them what I could do." He gave a humorless laugh. "After all this time, though, I'm still surprised that people take me seriously—especially with the costume."
"That costume," Jormungand said after a beat of silence. "Practically oozes patriotism." He gave Steve a coy smile. "It's a bit much, but I do love a man in uniform,"
Steve snorted. "Please don't," he muttered, smiling briefly. "I know you're just kidding, but still, just . . . don't."
"As you wish," said Jormungand, rising from his chair. "I suppose I should retire for the evening. Have a restful night, Captain Rogers."
"Night," said Steve, still blushing slightly at Jormungand's teasing.
Before Jormungand left, he added, "For what it's worth, I believe that much like my uncle is worthy of Mjolnir, only you are worthy of what your costume represents—I can imagine no other as Captain America, and it would be an honor to fight alongside you."
Several minutes after Loki's son left the room, Steve noticed something small and gold laying on the table. He picked it up and turned it over in his fingers—sometime during their conversation, Jormungand had taken out his earring and placed it on the table.
'Well, he can't be asleep yet; I'll just run this up to his room real quick,' Steve thought, getting up from the chair and heading towards the elevator.
Jormungand had a room on the same floor as Erika and Tony, his room two doors down from his sister's.
Steve tapped lightly on the door. "Jormungand? You still awake?"
The super-soldier serum had given him heightened senses, so he could hear things other people couldn't. That was why he could hear a barely-there groan, as if someone were in pain.
Steve knocked again. "Jormungand?"
No response.
Loki's son also had exceptional hearing, so the fact that he hadn't yet responded worried Steve.
The door lock released with a click and Steve hurried into the room, heading straight towards the distressed noises. Not even knocking, he opened the main bedroom door and stepped inside. "Jormungand, are you . . . ."
Steve's brain short-circuited, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe.
Jormungand's hair fell freely and clung to him in sweaty clumps. He was on the bed, on his knees, stroking an impressive erection and panting for breath, his head bowed, his eyes squeezed shut, his skin flushed pinker than Steve had ever seen it.
Steve's eyebrows shot up to his hairline and he felt his face heating up.
"Um . . ."
Jormungand's head jerked up and his eyes snapped open. He stared at Steve for half a second before letting out a small, strangled yelp, and in a flash of green light he had vanished from the room.
Steve just stood there, still trying to process what he had just seen. His brain came back online when an extremely loud "WHAT THE FUCK, JOR!?" sounded a few doors down, and he almost forgot to leave Jormungand's earring behind in his haste to get out of that room.
He completely understood why Erika couldn't look her brother in the eye for a few days.
"I feel like I should apologize," Jormungand began as he came into the main living room where Erika sat on the couch.
Erika looked up from painting her nails. "Huh?"
Jormungand gestured helplessly with his hands. "I feel like I should apologize for . . . . the other night."
Erika looked confused for a second, but then it cleared. "Ohhh. Oh, dude, don't even worry about it—you're not the first guy I've seen naked, and you probably won't be the last."
Jormungand blinked. "You have not been able to look me in the eye for three days."
Erika waved him off, careful not to flick nail polish everywhere. "Well, yeah, if Fenrir just suddenly popped up in your room with a stiffie, wouldn't you freak out a little?"
" . . . . actually, once in our youth—"
"No! Nu uh, keep your weird childhood stories to yourself!" Erika demanded. "The point is, I'm over it, and I accept your apology," she said with a note of finality in her voice. After a few moments, she added, "So, who the hell caught you jerking off, anyway? And don't say 'no one,' cuz you wouldn't have poofed into my room if someone hadn't caught you with your pants down."
Jormungand's face reddened and Erika laughed when he muttered a very faint 'Steven Rogers.'
"I thought you'd wanna show him what you got," she laughed, hardly believing she was even having this conversation with her brother, of all people. "Never took you for the shy type."
"I wanted to seduce the man, not scar him for life. To see what he did must have permanently damaged his image of me," Jormungand sighed.
Erika snorted. "You're hundreds, if not thousands of years old, and you're a healthy, mature adult male—jerking off is normal, and you didn't open his eyes to a terrible new thing. Hell, I bet you a two pound bar of Ghirardelli chocolate that even America's golden boy has jerked off before." She continued painting her nails, not even looking up. "Just do me a favor, okay?"
Jormungand's head tilted "What would you have me do?"
"The next time you feel like beating your meat to the thought of Captain America, please, please make sure your door is locked."
Jormungand couldn't help but chuckle, his face going slightly red. "As you wish," he promised.
Tony was feeling better than he had in a while, so he decided to use that time productively.
"Hey, Bruce, wanna do some science?" he asked his Science Bro, who was scrolling through a starkpad.
"Hmm?" Bruce looked up. "Oh, um, sure. Let me just finish up, I'll meet you down in the labs."
Tony clapped his hands together. "That's what I like to hear, big guy! Jarvis, boot up the equipment—the Science Bros are back in business!" He left the room in a flurry, already making plans in his head.
A few minutes later, A red-faced Steve walked into the room and sat down heavily next to Bruce, rubbing his hand over his face.
Bruce put down his Starkpad. "Everything okay, Steve?" he asked.
Steve looked at Bruce and nodded slightly, still covering the lower half of his face.
"You sure?" Bruce asked.
Steve nodded again. "Yeah, just . . . thinking about a few things."
Bruce looked hesitant to leave his friend, but he took Steve's word that he was okay. "Alright. Um, me and Tony are gonna be down in the lab, if you need us." He stood up and patted Steve on the shoulder, then left the room.
Steve groaned and buried his face in his hands.
I wanted to seduce the man, not scar him for life.
Steve hadn't meant to eavesdrop; he really hadn't. He'd just heard voices while he was in the doorway and he'd just . . . . froze.
Jormungand had been trying to seduce him this whole damn time, and Steve had been too blinded by the norms of his time to realize it. In his time, men hadn't gone around seducing men—it just wasn't done!
Steve thought back to every interaction he and Jormungand had shared since that first morning they'd shared coffee, and now it was painfully obvious to Steve that Jormungand had been flirting.
'You flirted right back," a small voice inside his head whispered.
"I was being polite," Steve muttered out-loud.
Why him? Out of everyone in the Tower, why pick the completely heterosexual man to try and win over?
"Maybe you're not as straight as you though," That voice whispered again, accompanied with a vision of Jormungand kneeling with his hand wrapped round his—
Steve's jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists. "I'm not gay," he muttered, closing his eyes. "I am not gay."
He wasn't.
Was he?
A/N: I had this written a while ago, but never got around to posting it. We got busy moving to the new house, then for the last few months I've been getting used to living in Thornton.
Just curious—would anyone be interested in a Star Trek reboot fic with TOS Spirk grandbabies?