Poll results: 1st - Avri, 10 votes / 2nd - Lexi, 8 votes / 3rd - Tori, 6 votes / 4th - Dani and Teddi, 3 votes each / 5th - Roxi, 2 votes

Every time you see a (*) check the end note; it's British slang and the meaning is written there. You might know some of these words, but for those of you don't, I leave you with its respective meaning at the end note.

(Trip is 24, Lance is 21, Grant is 20, Leo is 18, Jemma is 18), Skye is 16, Avalyn is 10 and Liam & Juliet are 3.

Gibraltar, British Overseas Territory, Mediterranean Sea

No matter where Lance and his unit were stationed, they had a routine after special ops: footy and bitters, which meant a soccer match between them and then some beers (or the way around, depending on their mood). After having aided the FFAA (Spanish Armed Forces) with a hostage situation of a whole train in Madrid, the Special Forces corps headed back to the RAF station in Gibraltar. In the following morning, they'd be going back to the UK after six months of being stationed in Gibraltar. The unit never knew how long it'd be until they'd be called to report to duty again, but Lance was planning on going to his flat in New York. He usually spent most of his time at his apartment in London so that he could be closer to Jemma who was getting her second PhD, this one in chemistry (Lance never failed to be impressed by Jemma and Leo's intelligence; he was 21 and finished high school, Jemma was getting a second PhD and Leo was already a graduated engineer, and had already applied for SHIELD Academy – they were both 18).

"Oi!" Kyle, one of Lance's unit members, clapped him on his back, "Knock up*, mate." When Lance looked at him, disgusted expression on his face, Kyle grimaced, "All right?"

"Oh, c'mon, Hunter," Casey – another member of Lance's unit – stopped the soccer ball under his foot and shouted, "are you in for footy or not?"

Lance stopped running and leaned back on his haunches, elbows resting on his knees, "'m zonked out*."

"You're jus' shitfaced*, mate."

"I think 'm feelin' dicky*," Lance said, which caused the other guys of his unit to have a laugh. "Oh, belt up*, y' wankers*," he got to his feet and heard his back bones cracking as he stretched. "'m not kiddin'."

"Stop pissin' 'round*," Jeremy – the doctor who was part of his squadron – crossed the field to have a close look at Lance. "He looks a tad off colour*."

"Then he shou'd go to the barracks," Casey said.

"'lright, 'kay, 'm goin'. Win the match, lads," he clapped his teammates' shoulders, "and nut* 'em hard."

Casey grabbed Lance's track top and threw it at him, "Jus' go, laddie. An' don't honk* on the way, 'lright?"

Lance scuffed along the way to the barracks, dragging his sluggishly body, track top thrown over his shoulder. He felt tired and his chest ached; Lance really wished he hadn't gotten the flu. Giving his line of work, not even getting a cold was appreciated. The path to the barracks seemed never ending and Lance felt his body getting heavier with each step, but he eventually managed to get to his room. However, as soon as he flipped the switch on and lighted the room, he flinched and smacked back against the door.

"Apologies," the blonde spoke, "did not mean to startle you."

"What are you – how did you even get in my room?"

"How I got in does not matter right now. We have more urgent matters to discuss right now."

Lance walked in, taking a closer look at the woman. She looked familiar… "Have we met before? You look familiar."

"I'm Amora, Lorelei's sister and we are here -"

"We?" Lance looked around; there was no sign of Lorelei.

"Yes," Amora glanced at the small human form sleeping in Lance's bed, "we."

Lance's eyes followed Amora's. He saw a small child, lying down in his bed, nodding off. She was wearing flat sandals with slender laces that strapped around her legs, and a dress made out two layered fabrics, one was light green, the other one was slightly darker. The light-colored cloth composed the dress itself, practical and loose, without intricate designs sewn into the dress, and the darker fabric was a draped bodice. Her hair was of a light auburn color, slightly wavy.

"How – how old is this child?"

"In Midgardian years, Avri should be almost six years old."

"Six…" he rubbed the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. "Is this child -"

"Yes," Amora answered, unfazed. "Avri is your daughter and that is why we are here. I need you to listen to me attentively."

Lance sighed, hands resting on the sides of his hips, "Alright, tell me."

"I did not know my sister had had a child. She abandoned Avri with warriors at Asgard who raised her the best they knew. I encountered Lorelei much later, when she revealed to me about this child. I told the All Father about the recently learned truth and, of course, had to tell him about Avri's paternity. After some examination, it was revealed that your Midgardian genes won over my sister's Asgardian nature, meaning Avri is absolutely human, just like you. The All Father made his decision: either Avri is expelled from Asgard and lives here in Midgard with you, or she will be trained to be a warrior. I do not think that a child this young should start mastering the art of fighting, especially when she has no inherited Asgardian characteristics."

"So you're asking me to keep her?"

"I'm asking you to consider it," Amora said. "If you do not want to look after your daughter, I will take her back to Asgard. I just thought it would be acceptable to let you know that you have a daughter, and to let you decide on something as important as this event of Avri's life. I only ask you to be quick in your decision; Heimdall cannot keep the Bifrost Bridge open for too long."

"Well, you'll have to gimme time. I'm deciding for the life of a person, not a dog," he sighed even more thoroughly. "Gimme a couple days -"

"You have approximately two minutes to -"

"What?" Lance's voice came out louder and desperate as he scratched his head.

Avri stirred with Lance's shout and lazily opened her hazel eyes, looking at him. Lance looked back at her, upon hearing the bed sheets rustling, and found that beautiful child looking at him. He immediately fell for her, but that wasn't enough to help him making a decision.

"I need your decision."

"I can't keep her. This will be a huge shock for her, being at a different place, with people she doesn't know."

"I have explained this whole situation to Avri before coming here. The only thing you need to think is if you want to keep her or not," Amora pressed on, anxiously looking out the window.

"I, uh," Lance looked at Avri; the way she was gazing him was making him hopelessly melt, "I'll keep her."

Amora didn't say anything else. She bid her farewells to Avri, wished Lance good luck and then walked outside. A bright light came down from the sky and suddenly she was gone. Lance threw a glance back at his bed, to make sure he wasn't dreaming or hallucinating. Avri was still lying down on his bed, eyes wide opened.

"Hi there, love," Lance greeted, squatting next to his bed, offering a smile. "Sorry for this awkward bit. Do you know who I am?"

Avri grinned sleepily and limply raised her hand to touch Lance's cheek, "Father."

"Yeah, 'pparently I am your father. How are you? Are you hungry, sleepy?"

"Sleepy."

"Alright, how 'bout we change your clothes so that you can sleep mor' comfortable?"

"'kay."

"Okay then," Lance walked to his small wardrobe while Avri sat at the edge of the bed.

"Do you live here?" she asked.

"Uhm, not really. You know, me and my mates," he rummaged through his drawers and got a white T-shirt, "we serve in a squadron called Special Air Service. We are stationed in different places, sometimes for a short time, other times for a long time. Tomorrow morning we're goin' back to London, where I have a flat. That is where I live most of the time."

"What do you do? Are you a warrior?"

"I'm a pilot," he explained, kneeling in front of Avri, taking off her sandals. "I fly fighter aircrafts and I fight the bad guys."

"So you're kind of like a warrior."

Lance smiled as he picked her up under her arms and put her down on her feet on the floor, "If you want to see it like that, yeah, I'm kinda like a warrior. Arms up," he asked, so that he could tug the dress over her head. "I don't have anything else for you to dress, so I guess one of my t-shirts will suffice."

Avri was practically swimming inside his T-shirt, but at least she was far more comfortable. And she looked happy with the new garments, grinning as she looked down at herself.

"Sure you're not hungry?"

"Yeah," Avri answered, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

"Ok, you're just really sleepy," he pulled back the bed sheets and once Avri had crawled into bed, he covered her with them. "I'll get ya anothe' blanket," Lance said, walking to the wardrobe again. "Night's here are a tad parky*."

Lance lied the blanket over Avri and found it adorable the way she snuggled to it.

"Can you stay till I sleep?" Avri whispered.

"Scared of the dark?" he asked, getting a nod as an answer. Lance sat on the floor by the bedside and held her tiny hand, "I'm here with ya, no reason to be scared, 'lright?"

"Okay," her voice came out small, but she trusted him, closing her eyes.

Lance felt sick again. Fear swallowed him once Avri closed her eyes closed and looked so peaceful, falling asleep. What did he know about taking care of children? Yes, he had been around some growing up, not only at the orphanage, but then at the Coulson's, but this was this child. This was his daughter. It was a different kind of responsibility. Lance was mentally chastising himself for having said that he'd look after Avri. He wasn't thinking about how he was a novice at being a father because he knew that every new dad feels unfit. Rather, he was concerned because that child, like any other, needed a parent who'd care and look after her. Lance felt so bad for Avri already, thinking of how he'd fail at being a dad and how that little girl, who had nothing to blame, would suffer because of it.

But then again, she was his daughter, and Lance knew how much it hurt to be abandoned. His mother died giving birth, he didn't know who his father was, and his aunt didn't look after him. Avri had been abandoned by Lorelei, her aunt Amora didn't look after her, and he decided right then and there that he wouldn't be the one who'd abandon her. His brain hadn't yet processed the idea of being a father, but he didn't think it'd be that hard. He'd have to quit the SAS, because it'd be impossible for him to maintain that lifestyle with Avri now. (Coulson had been insisting on the idea of him joining SHIELD for so long…) For now, though, he was going to enjoy his deserved six weeks of paid vacation to figure things out.

As for his mental preparation, he found himself ready to be the coolest father ever. Because, who better to raise a child than a man-child himself? Sure, he would be mature and responsible when the occasions required, but other than that, he just wanted to be for Avri what Coulson had been to him: understanding, caring and cool. (Because Phil Coulson was cool, but no one ever told him that, fearing that it would inflate his ego). Lance could already imagine how it'd be to teach that child, who had no understanding of pop culture, about the things he loved. He could already imagine her in a Liverpool T-shirt, watching a soccer game with him, or the two of them doing air guitar while listening to rock tracks.

"I don't know the first thing about being a father but I'll learn. Every day. And I hope that you're patient with me. I'll try my best, that's for sure, and I won't walk away from you. You won't have the same childhood I had when nobody wanted me till I was adopted. You'll always have me. This thing of being a father is new to me and my brain hasn't yet processed it, but I love you already. And I'll do my best every day to be the best father I can because you expect nothing else but that from me. This is my newest obligation, being a father, and that's not because I pity you for having no one else, but because you are a living part of me and you only hope that I do my part and be a good father to you," he chuckled quietly, rubbing slow circles in the back of Avri's hand. "I already know you're gonna be a pretty great daughter. I mean, I am your dad, that already makes you awesome."

Lance awoke up listening to tiny feet pitter-pattering in the room. His eyes fluttered open and he found Avri standing on the tips of her toes, arms resting over the window sill, looking outside. He let out a quiet moan as he stretched his body; he was sore from having fallen asleep sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wall.

"You're awake already, love."

Avri looked back and smiled, "Good morning, father."

"G' morning," he got to his feet and walked to her, stooping by her side, his arm looping around her waist. "How did ya sleep?"

"Good," she said, and then confessed barely on a whisper, "but I'm a bit hungry now."

Lance chuckled, "Ok, then let's get dress and head to the Mess hall. Breakfast here isn't the tastiest but it's good 'nough."

"And then we're leaving to London?"

"Yes," Lance told her, surprised that she had actually listened to him the past night. "And for that I'll need your help packing up my stuff."

"Alright," Avri agreed without hesitation.

He sat at the edge of the bed and beckoned Avri to approach him, to help her slip into her dress again, "And when we're in London, we're gonna have to buy ya new clothes. Oh, and I'll have to introduce you to the family. They're gonna like ya, fo' sure."

"When are we meeting them?"

"Actually," Lance reached for his phone and quickly scrolled through some of his photos, showing one to Avri, "these are them." He began introducing everyone as he pointed, "These are my adoptive parents, Phil and Melinda, and these are all my siblings. This one is Trip, that's Leo, Skye, this one is Jemma, she's British like me, and this one is Grant. These three over here are the biological children of Phil and Melinda. This is Avalyn, we call her AJ, and the little ones are twins, Liam and Juliet. I know it's a lot of people to learn about so quickly," he admitted, putting away his phone and returning to his original task, "but once you meet 'em, it's easier."

"They're my family too, right?"

"Yeah, of course. They're your folks too now. You're gonna love 'em and they gonna love ya too. A'right, all dressed. Up we go," he said as he grabbed Avri under the arms and lifted her into the air with a little toss. She giggled when she realized that she was airborne, before being safely caught in Lance's arms on the way back down, "let's have breakfast."

Lance guided Avri ahead of him, serving breakfast for the two of them as they walked along the serving line. Carrying both trays, Lance looked for his comrades and signaled with his head for Avri to follow him. He put down the servings of food and pulled out the chair for the little girl.

"Who's she?" Ray managed to ask in spite of the fact that his mouth was full with food.

"She's - uh – she's my daughter," he explained. His mates raised their brows, incredulous, but Lance's attention was on Avri, "I need to talk with our Air Commodore. Can you stay here with m' mates? I'll be right back."

Avri nodded and focused on eating. Lance ran the few steps to his superiors' table, providing a salute as he faced them.

"At ease," Air Commodore Wen told him. "Do you wish anything from me, Hunter?"

"A word, please."

Wen nodded and got up, escorting Lance to a quieter corner of the mess hall, "What is it? Something wrong?"

"We're flying back to England today and I was wondering if there's an extra seat in the jet? I – uh – kinda have to take my dau – daughter."

"Your daughter?" Even Wen was surprised.

"Only learnt about her yesterday. She spent the night at the barracks and since we're going back home…"

"How old is she?"

"Five-ish."

Wen furrowed his brows, "You were what, fifteen when –"

"Yeah. It's a long story. Anyway, any chance she can come with us today?"

"I think we can arrange something."

"Thank you, Sir."

"That's her?" Commander Wen asked, looking at Avri downing her breakfast.

Lance looked back, "Yeah, that's her."

"I hope she'll make a man out of you," he added before returning to his seat.

"She's already making a man out of me," he commented to himself, a small smile blooming in his lips.

After breakfast, everyone returned to the living quarters to pack their belongings and put on their uniforms. Avri helped Lance packing as she promised, and he couldn't deny that he loved the way his daughter looked at him in complete awe once she saw him wearing his Flight Lieutenant uniform.

Walking hand in hand, Lance and Avri crossed the runway, heading to one of the military aircrafts. The sound of the jets was deafening, but if Lance was used to it, Avri was not. She pulled a face, looking around, utterly confused at the intense movement of people and planes, and kept on scratching her ears with her free hand.

Lance strapped the duffel bag across his chest and let go of Avri's hand to tell her, "Clamp your ears, love."

Avri did as she was told, and Lance then placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her to their aircraft. They entered the cargo hold, and Lance promptly strapped Avri. The remaining members of Lance's unit took a seat and waited for the aircraft to take off. As they were gaining more and more altitude, Avri got crankier. Her ears popped, she was scared because that was her first flight (traveling through the Bifrost was totally different), and so she started to cry. Lance immediately unstrapped her from her seat and pulled her to his lap.

"What's the matter, love?"

She didn't say a word, holding onto the lapel of Lance's jacket.

"Here, chew it," Harold offered her a gum in her mouth. "It helps with the ear popping."

After looking up at her father, who nodded, Avri opened her mouth and accepted the gum. It obviously didn't ease her pain right away, but she felt a lot safer in her father's arms.

"Let's get down to business, to defeat the Huns," Casey began singing, which caused all eyes to fall on him. "Did they send me daughters when I asked for sons?"

Their drill sergeant used to refer to their unity as a bunch of little girls running around with rifles. He teased them so much to be brave and strong soldiers that he made them sing Mulan's song as they exercised. All the recruits in Lance's unit knew the lyrics of the song by heart.

"You're the saddest bunch I ever met!" Fred continued. "But you can bet, before we're through, Mister I'll make a man out of you."

It didn't take much for the highly trained special force unit turn into a choir of young men singing a song from an animated movie. Lance trotted his legs as he sang along. Avri was smiling, so they had fulfilled their goal.

*British slang:

Knock up – awake up

Zonked out – exhausted

Shitfaced - drunk

Dicky – sick

Belt up – shut up

Wanker(s) – jerk(s)

Pissing around – making fun

Off colour – pale and ill

Nut – head butt

Honk – throw up

Parky - cold