So, yeah, it's been awhile since we've seen our banished!Odinsons. This summer has not been so fabulous. But (and we'll all cross our fingers and toes here) the climax is coming together in my head, so let's start to bring it on home, shall we?
Wherein SHIELD agents get nervous, Odinsons learn about espresso, and the author indulges in a cliche. (Humor/Drama. PG-13.)
"The preacher's cat is an avaricious cat named Aditya."
"The preacher's cat is an ambidextrous cat named Alejandro."
"The preacher's cat is an auricular cat named Amarion."
"What? 'Auricular'?"
"It's a word."
"I know it's a word. That's not the point. How can a cat be auricular? Does it climb up the ear canal and lick your cochlea?"
"First of all, ew. Second, there's nothing in the rules that says the adjective has to be a plausible characteristic."
"It's implied."
"You used 'azure' four rounds ago."
"That's legit. There's a breed called 'Russian Blue'."
"Yeah, but they're gray. Maybe, like, a little blue tinge or something, but still gray. Azure is sky-colored. You ever seen a sky-colored cat?"
"You ever seen a cat nuzzling an ear drum?"
"No, but that's my point. If you can use 'azure', I can use 'auricular'."
"You're just getting snippy because you know you're going to lose. Again. But I'll give it to you because I'm feeling generous. The preacher's cat is an avuncular cat named Angus."
"'Avuncular'? Are you kidding?"
"You opened the can of worms. Not my fault."
It took some time, but Agents Adele Hakim and James Dion had grown accustomed to desk duty. The amount of medication it took to recover from the Albuquerque incident (which still turned out better than the New Orleans thing) probably had something to do with it; when you're on a whole lot of Vicodin, shuffling paperwork really isn't too bad a life. (Hakim thought she would get away with a crown and wound up with two thousand dollars' worth of bridge work. Thank God for government dental plans.) After the meds wore off the job got a lot more boring, but it was still, the agents agreed, more interesting than surveillance detail of the Puente Antiguo subjects. And less painful.
Whatever was going on in New Mexico, it was officially no longer their problem.
Until Agent Rumlow showed up.
"Remind me why we're traveling two hours out of the village?" says Loki from the back seat, fiddling with the cool-air vent on the vehicle ceiling.
"It's a surprise," replies Darcy Lewis.
"I dislike surprises."
"Trust me, this one's cool. I can't believe it took me so long to think of it. Plus, Thor needs the practice."
Thor tightens his grip on the steering wheel, peering through the window. The van is not so very different from the boats of Asgard, though he'll always prefer a horse. (Or to fly with Mjolnir, but to think of that only brings pangs of yearning and loss.) "If there were a bit less dust," he says to Darcy Lewis, "the path would be clearer."
"Well, that's desert life for you."
The van runs over another 'pothole', and Thor watches graph papers flutter in the rearview mirror. "Hey!" exclaims Jane Foster.
"My apologies."
"Darcy, this had better be worth all the gas money we're spending."
"It will be."
"Okay, seriously, we've had about ten debriefings on what happened at the club," says Dion as Rumlow closes the door to the interview room. "Just read the notes. It's all there. We don't have anything new to tell you."
Rumlow smiles in a way that makes Hakim wish, for just the briefest instinctual moment, that she was armed. That doesn't mean anything, though; you don't wind up the leader of S.T.R.I.K.E. without being a little spooky, especially when settling down into a folding chair on the opposite side of a table in an interrogation room. Intimidating airs don't just turn on and off like a light switch. "This isn't about the Albuquerque incident. Fury is more interested in the details of the subjects' day-to-day lives in Puente Antiguo."
"Those are also documented, sir," says Hakim.
"Extensively," says Dion.
"And we're going to document it again." Rumlow sets a recorder on the table. "Tell me about the subjects' interactions with the people around them. Was it intimidating?"
When they park (with only minimal damage to the neighboring vehicle) and enter the small green building, Thor cannot but sniff the air. Whatever the wenches are cooking smells delicious. "What sort of tavern is this?"
Darcy Lewis grins and spreads her arms wide. "This," she says, "is what is known as a Starbucks."
Jane Foster sits at a table without glancing up from her data, but even Loki looks impressed as he approaches a shelf and picks up a bag labeled Pike Place Roast. "It smells of coffee."
"Oh, it is so much more than coffee."
Thor frowns. "But… is coffee not a sort of gravel?"
"Welcome to life beyond Folgers, young grasshopper."
"'Intimidating' is a strong word," says Hakim cautiously.
"Agent Hakim, don't hedge on this. Like you said, there's plenty of documentation on the Albuquerque incident. You asked them to step back, and they beat the shit out of you." A pause, then Rumlow adds: "After you were caught on your detail."
Like either of them were going to forget that in a hurry.
"What about the scientist and the intern? How did the subjects interact with them?"
Dion crosses his arms — and fights back a wince at the pain in his ribs. Still knitting. "Okay, that we've written up way more than we ever wanted."
"Yeah, some of it got passed around at the main office. Nice stuff. There's bets on about whether you copy and pasted from that Fifty Shades book."
"I'm insulted, sir."
"Deal with it. Fucking and movie watching is one thing. Do the subjects care about these two women?"
"Welcome to Starbucks," says the wench in black-and-green. "Would you like to try a Mocha Cookie Crumble Frappuccino today?"
Thor glances at Darcy Lewis. "Yup, he'll take one of those," she says without asking for further clarification, and Thor thanks the heavens once more that he and his brother were blessed with the good fortune to meet someone so wise. "Venti, extra shot, and extra crumble on top. And I'll have an iced hazelnut macchiato, venti, also extra shot, extra pump of caramel. Oh, and whipped cream. It's okay that it's on ice, I don't care, the whipped cream is awesome. Yo, Jane, what do you want?"
"Something with lots of caffeine," Jane Foster calls from their table. "No sugar."
"Cool. She'll take a doppio Americano. Not too much water. I know this is all a pain in the ass, but we're awesome tippers, I swear. Well, I am anyway, and I've got the cash."
The Starbucks wench is writing furiously across paper mugs. "And for you, sir?"
"Coffee," says Loki.
"Define 'care'." Dion is pretty damn sure he knows what Rumlow means, and he doesn't like it. Rumlow's the guy who gets called in when things are going south. He and Hakim spent two months on this detail, and while the subjects should have a few broken ribs and lost teeth themselves, that doesn't mean the people around them deserve the kind of mess S.T.R.I.K.E. tend to leave behind.
Rumlow taps a finger against the table. Twice. "Don't dance around, agents. Fury's given me a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it."
"Yes," says Hakim. Something feels strange here, but her instincts have been off since she left the field, and she's been with S.H.I.E.L.D. since the day she graduated from the academy. "The subjects care about the scientist and the intern."
"And each other."
"Yes, sir."
"And would the subjects be dangerous should the women be—"
"What?" interrupts Dion. "Threatened?"
"Questioned," says Rumlow.
Questioned, coming from his mouth, sounds even worse than threatened.
"Yes," says Hakim. "Very dangerous. More than you realize."
"They're still human, Agent Hakim."
"Depends on who you ask. Sir."
"And would you like a light roast, a medium roast, or a dark roast, sir? Today's dark is the Sumatra, and it's particularly good."
Loki blinks. "Coffee," he repeats.
"Let's go with the medium roast, then. And would that be a tall, grande, or venti?"
"None. I want coffee."
"Yes, sir, but I need a size."
"Enough to fill the mug."
"…venti it is. Would you like room for cream and sugar?"
"Are you incapable of understanding a simple order, you insignificant—"
Darcy Lewis leans around the opposite end of the bar and gives Thor a meaningful look; Thor, understanding perfectly, takes Loki by the arm and steers him away. "I'm certain the wench comprehends your request, brother," he says soothingly.
"I doubt that very much. Why have we traveled such a great distance for a beverage we can create in the laboratory kitchen?"
"A question better posed elsewhere." Thor pushes Loki in Jane Foster's direction without a single regret. A consort's role (among many) is to pacify the sour moods of her lover. Let her manage his brother during one of his poor humors.
And sure enough, the moment Loki sits down he begins to voice his complaints, in what appears to be great detail. Jane Foster only pats his arm with one hand and continues to make notes with the other — but Loki seems mollified by this, and then he is reading over her shoulder, making comments, and the vigorous discussion that follows indicates his stresses are forgotten.
Thor finds their relationship to be a bit mystifying, but if his brother is content, he will defend it to any and all who would raise opposition.
Darcy, meanwhile, has dropped several bills of currency into a glass bowl. "Sorry about that," she tells the Starbucks wench.
"We get it a lot," the wench replies.
"By the way, throw a shot in his, too."
"And the rest of the Puente Antiguo residents?" asks Rumlow. "Are the subjects on good terms with them?"
Dion and Hakim glance at each other.
"We must bring these to the women Fernanda and Isabella." Thor clears a shelf of bagged beans into a small basket. "Their establishments will greatly benefit."
"Yeah, okay, that's going to be outside of our price range." Darcy Lewis takes the basket from him. "We'll get a couple, though. We kind of owe them a lot of favors. And yes, Jane, this one's on me. My mom wired me some cash."
"That's nice," says Jane Foster, not noticing as Loki reaches for — and finishes — her Americano. "Is my spectrum analyzer in the back of the van?"
Thor can't stop bouncing on the balls of his feet. The frozen coffee beverage ought to be brought to the battlefield; he feels as if he could run across the whole of Nornheim without pausing even to breathe. Midgard can truly be astounding. "Brother," he says, "how long has it been since we sparred?"
Loki's fingers are beating a frantic rhythm against the tabletop. "Too long," he replies.
"The lot, then?"
"Indeed."
As they head outside to fight for what Thor expects will be at least two hours, he hears Darcy Lewis say: "I knew this would be cool."
In the end, Dion and Hakim answer Rumlow's questions in full. They're all agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. What they have to do isn't always pretty, but it still has to be done. They're the good guys.
But something doesn't feel right.
At the end of the day, hours after Rumlow has left, Dion says: "Do you think Coulson been briefed about this?"
"It's his assignment."
"Yeah, but… do you think he knows?"
Hakim's already reaching for the phone. "Let's find out," she says.