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The Avengers’ visits to Asgard were sporadic at best, but Thor seemed delighted each and every time he could bring his friends home with him. During their first visit, Odin had been such a dick that even Phil couldn’t be bothered to say something in the god’s defense, but since then their visits were of a more peaceful, unimportant nature. Mostly they seemed to attend strange plays, awkward folk festivals, and bizarre tournaments.
That Monday was no exception although one of the activities included was an archery competition. One that Clint had been expressly forbidden from entering and therefore had to enter.
Technically only Phil and Natasha had insisted he refrain from participating, but Steve and Bruce had eventually sided with them. Tony thought they were all being assholes. Thor seemed uncertain as to why it made a difference whether Clint joined in the festivities or refrained.
“If you won, it would only reflect well upon your people,” Thor observed when the others had gone off to check out the Asgardian equivalent of a farmer’s market. “And me, for you are my favorite.”
“There is that,” Clint said. And although he knew better, he asked: “Just out of idle curiosity… What does the winner get?”
Thor grinned. “A kiss from whomever he or she deems worthy as well as The Bow of Thurisaz.”
“The what now?”
“A powerful weapon that allows its wielder to conjure up an unlimited supply of arrows. Magical arrows that eliminate the need for a quiver.”
“Huh.”
“There is time to enter the tourney,” Thor said.
“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t think it would be that big a deal, but I don’t want Phil to break up with me.”
“Over something so insignificant as an archery contest?” Thor shook his head. “I say thee nay for the Son of Coul is merciful and wise and yet… perhaps a cunning disguise is in order?”
Clint raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Go on.”
The Asgardian looked sheepish. “I fear that is the extent of the plan I have devised, Friend Barton.”
“Oh. Well, it’s not a bad plan.”
-
The Warriors Three were eager to help.
Fandral brought out a wide array of outfits from his wardrobe, but none of them left much to the imagination and all of them were skin-tight.
Volstagg brought in a few outfits that no longer fit him exactly thanks to the diet his wife had recently put him on. He also brought a cushion from a chair.
Hogun tended to dress the same from day to day, but he had several hats and helmets that he was more than willing to part with.
Clint ended up with tight leather trousers, some very high-heeled boots that Fandral claimed had simply been left in his chambers by a lady fair, a plain tunic to wear under another very hideous green and orange tunic that seemed more fitting for a hot air balloon than a person, and a purple furry Viking helmet with long, ornate yellow horns.
He had just finished putting the ugly ensemble on when Sif wandered in. She shook her head and disappeared, returning with a wig of blonde and luscious locks.
“Not that it will make a difference,” she said, setting it on Clint’s head with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. “You are still going to look like a fool no matter what, Sir Barton.”
“I rather thought that was the point,” Fandral said, stroking his goatee. “But there does appear to be something missing, doesn’t there?”
Fashion sense, Clint thought.
“Maybe a fake beard would help?” Volstagg suggested.
“Maybe a nose,” Hogan said. “I can go find one for you.”
“A scarf,” Thor decided. “We haven’t the time for nose-finding.”
When he looked at himself in the mirror, Clint couldn’t help thinking he looked like the world’s worst highwayman. He wasn’t sure how he was going to keep a straight face, but it seemed obvious that the Warriors Three would not be able to. Even Hogun was laughing at him.
“Perfect!” Thor managed, bringing a hand to his mouth and coughing. “Now we need a name to complete the look. What about… Wolff Vilhjalmsson?”
Clint shook his head. “I don’t know if I can remember that let alone respond to it.”
“Helmut Hermansen?”
“Too simple.”
“Snorri Tennfjord?”
Clint frowned thoughtfully. “Yeah. I can probably handle that one. It doesn’t sound like something I’d make up anyway.”
-
While he was standing in line waiting for his name to be announced, Clint couldn’t help but be thankful to Thor for thinking of a scarf. Having something over his mouth made it a lot easier to look like he was having a coughing fit instead of laughing at the absurdity of his current situation.
He was aware of his team’s presence even if he was careful not to look out towards the stands. He was pretty sure Thor had done a decent job of coming up with an excuse for his absence. Given how much it would suck to watch people compete without him for the niftiest bow.
The only comment that was directed towards him came from a very tall woman with six braids in her hair who remarked that he had to be related in some way to Volstagg. And he’d grunted something about being a seventh cousin thrice removed.
The temptation to glance at his team mates grew as his name was announced and he walked out to join the others on the field. He carefully glanced over. Most of them seemed to be some combination of bored and speculative. Outside of Thor and Tony who were laughing at something. Tony waved at him and Clint looked away, groaning inwardly. Great. Thor had totally told him and it was only a matter of time before Stark told everyone else.
Soon all the names had been called and they were given a target to aim for. With each round, the distance away increased as the size of the target diminished. Clint made no effort to hold back, and it wasn’t long before he’d won.
The look on Odin’s face was priceless as Clint sauntered over to the dais. Frigga seemed to be on the verge of hysterical giggles. Loki, who had been allowed out of the tower he was being kept in so that he might attend the sporting event, seemed so pleased that Clint almost wished he’d just sat this one out. Almost. The only one who seemed to believe his disguise was anything approaching plausible was Balder, another brother of Thor’s that someone had recently dug up. Clint was pretty sure the guy hailed from Dullsvilleheim.
Odin sighed, addressing the archer but also the crowd. “Sir Barton, as amusing as this is, there was no need for a disguise. However, as you have brought much needed mirth to my queen and my sons, I will allow you to keep your prizes. Here is the Bow of Thurisaz. Now choose your partner and claim your kiss.”
Clint was happy to accept the bow, but he’d forgotten about the having to kiss someone while looking like a rejected muppet. And he was pretty sure no one in Asgard understood what an IOU was. “Might I hold onto said kiss for safekeeping? I mean, I’ll definitely use it but I look a bit—”
“No,” Odin said. “You must use it now or forfeit the bow.”
“Um. All right then.” He tucked the bow under his arm and wandered over to where the Avengers were.
Phil was pinching the bridge of his nose while everyone else including Natasha was trying to get their giggling under control.
“Apparently I get a kiss,” Clint said, pulling down the scarf. “So lay one on me for verily I am victorious.”
Phil crossed his arms. “No.”
“Come on, boss.”
“I will seriously end you if you try to kiss me while looking like that.”
“You don’t love me for my winning personality?” Clint asked.
Natasha grinned at Phil. “I’m sure that deep down Agent Coulson is all a-quiver with anticipation.”
“What’s not to like about being Robin-Hood-winked?” Tony asked.
“I don’t know, you two. Agent Coulson certainly doesn’t seem to be a very merry man,” Bruce added, gently returning a high five when Tony insisted that he not be left hanging.
“You’re all severely deranged,” Steve murmured, but he was grinning too.
“I could take some of this off,” Clint offered with a cheerful wink. “Assuming I’d still get a kiss?”
Phil considered this. His arms remained crossed. “Take most of it off, and I’ll see how I feel.”
Clint handed the Bow of Thurisaz to Thor. Then he happily took off the additional layers, the belt keeping the cushion in place, the helmet, and the wing. Which left him with in a pretty tight tunic and leather pants. And uncomfortable boots, but that was all right.
Phil looked him over. Then he shrugged, jumping down from the stand. “Well, you won so I guess I have no choice.”
“You love me,” Clint said before claiming his kiss.
It was a good one was kisses went. Maybe a little embarrassing given the sheer number of people watching them. Not that he was ashamed, but usually their kisses were a bit more private. When they were in public and feeling the need for a display of affection, their kisses tended to be fairly G-rated. This kiss was not and Clint had a feeling it was some sort of petty form of payback for not listening. He figured that was fine since that just meant Phil deepened the kiss, adding his tongue to the mix and that Clint ended up trying not to moan. Clint also had no real issues with Phil groping at his backside in a rather possessive way even when the kiss ended. He just couldn’t help coloring slightly as his team made amused sounds of approval.
“I tolerate you,” Phil said with a smirk. “There’s a slight difference.”
Clint was trying his best to look a little less beet red. “But you tolerate out of love, right?”
“Or something else a little less sentimental. You look good in leather.”
“I think you mean that certain parts of me do.”
“Could be, but in my defense… They’re all parts I like.”
“I think it should be out of love,” Clint insisted, taking his bow back from Thor. “I’m very lovable if incredibly misguided.”
“That’s true,” Phil admitted. “Very well. It’s out of love.”
“Thank you,” Clint said.
Tony cleared his throat. “As touching as this is, it seems to me that Barton is also a lot of trouble. Shouldn’t you do a better job keeping him on the straight and arrow?”
Phil gave Tony a disappointed look as Steve groaned loudly.
Clint patted Phil’s shoulder. Then he grinned at Tony. “So, Thor… How does this bow with a limitless supply of magical arrows work?”