Prompt: 640 Word Limit
Warning: May be kind of squicky in a gross food sort of way.
AN: Sorry I'm posting later than intended. There was a death in the family, and some other rather upsetting personal happenings. Still, I hope you enjoy.
The banquet was in full swing. Representatives from every realm were present, the music was lively, and the guests were... colorful, to say the least. Bruce had tucked himself into a corner, despite Tony's best efforts to the contrary, and was enjoying a quiet, but thoroughly engaging conversation with Dr. Foster. She had fascinating insight into much of Asgard's technology, especially her pet project, the Einstein-Rosen bridge. As the night wore on, other revellers drifted into their corner; many left as quickly as they came, but a few, like Natasha and Clint, settled in to stay. In fact, after they took a seat and began inhaling their food, the little group of stragglers soon became a crowd. Bruce didn't actually notice until Dr. Foster trailed off, watching the two agents along with everyone else.
"What is that?" she asked warily.
Clint shrugged as Natasha slurped down another mouthful.
"I dunno, but it's pretty good I guess."
Dr. Foster cringed as Clint dropped a handful of wriggling somethings into his mouth and swallowed without chewing. Bruce propped his chin on his hand.
"Your dinner's still moving," he commented mildly.
"That's how you know it's fresh," Natasha deadpanned.
"Are you sure you're supposed to be eating that?"
"We actually couldn't read the labels, so we just kind of grabbed something and left. But we've eaten worse, believe me."
Dr. Foster shuddered and excused herself, leaving Bruce to deal with the agents and aliens on his own.
"You sure you're not eating someone's pet?"
"No," Natasha said with a wolfish grin. "But do you see anyone complaining?"
"Fair enough."
They sat in relative silence until a representative from Vanaheim edged forward, plumage ruffled and eyes uncertain.
"You eat okotoukka?"
Clint glanced from the empty plate to the group of spectators and back.
"Yes?"
The Vanir retreated, chattering rapidly to their fellow ambassadors. After consulting for a few moments, they hopped forward, fanning out their crest.
"Your people eat this or only you?"
The trio exchanged glances. Clint lost the unspoken argument and cleared his throat before replying.
"I don't actually know; we don't have this... species on our world. We have something similar, but only a few of our people choose to eat them. Why?"
The Vanir tilted their head and blinked, considering.
"You know what they are, yes?"
"Uh," Clint squinted at the now empty plate before shrugging. "Protein?"
"They are..." the Vanir paused and conferred with their fellows. "We do not know the word in All-Speak. There are many in our realm; they create only problems. But if your people eat, we help each other, yes?"
Natasha smiled politely.
"You said they create problems for your people; what sort, and how did they get to Asgard if they are found on your realm?"
They clicked their tongue, preening as they thought.
"They are many; it is a known problem. They travel with us and eat until we are rid of them."
Natasha frowned faintly.
"They eat- crops? Your clothes?"
The Vanir shook their head.
"They eat our- us, the life-blood, you understand?"
Clint paled and moaned faintly as Bruce straightened with a jolt and Natasha closed her eyes deliberately.
"Just to be clear," Bruce began. "My friends ate your parasites?"
The Vanir whistled in satisfaction.
"Yes, parasites, that is the word."
"Oh my G-d," Clint whispered. "Oh my G-d, does that make us cannibals?"
Natasha grabbed Clint and a fistful of napkins before storming off in the direction of the bathrooms.
Bruce cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry to ask, but would you happen to have more with you?"
The Vanir whistled brightly. "Then you accept our offer?"
"I'm afraid not. I actually need to run some tests on them to make sure my friends don't die."
Bruce sighed as they blanched and started chattering amongst themselves. So much for his vacation.