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The window is open; the night is finally quiet enough that if she listens closely, she can hear the sea crashing far below. A faint breeze rustles through, bringing with it the smell of water and growing things; spring has always been her favorite season. She puts her phone away, message sent, curls closer in the chair and lets her eyes close as she relaxes in the silence of her rooms.
She has no idea how long it has been; she senses a presence in the room, and she opens her eyes. He is in the process of pulling a blanket from the bed to tuck around her against the early morning chill. Her voice is sleepy as he brushes his fingers through her hair.
“Didn’t hear you come in,” she says.
“Probably because I came in through the window,” he replies softly, working the blanket around her legs. “My door’s locked from the inside, and I don’t have a key. Decent of Tony to put us both on the ground floor; otherwise it might have been awkward. Thanks for the message, by the way. I was a bit worried when you didn’t come back.”
“Couldn’t handle it,” she tells him a little sheepishly. “Too many people, and though I love them all, it was just an awful lot for one night. I wasn’t the only one, though, right?”
He smooths his fingers along her cheek. “No. Bruce left soon after you did.”
His words have finally caught up with her, and her brow furrows. “Why’s your door locked, anyway?”
“Because Miss Lewis is quite persistent, and I’m not an idiot.” He does his best to stifle a yawn. “Though I might actually be, come to think of it, since I didn’t stop to wonder if you actually want to sleep in the chair. Shall I leave you to it, or would you like me to finish wrapping you up like sushi and toss you onto the bed on my way out?”
“Wrap and toss, please, and can you pull my hood up, if it’s not too much trouble?”
A grin as he lifts her; his arms are strong and lean, and she will never tire of being in them like this. “You mean my hood?” he asks.
“Potato, potato.”
He drops her onto the bed, making sure her head is on the pillow and the blankets are tight, and then he leans down to kiss her good night, or more accurately, good morning. He tastes of scotch and something like bottled lightning, and she wonders exactly what Thor brought with him. He is a little unsteady when he stands again, and she smiles.
“Are you sure you’re okay to get home by yourself?” she says with a slight laugh. “It’s quite a walk to your room. Meters, even. You can stay if you need to.”
“Can’t,” he replies a little brusquely, heading toward the window.
She is a little surprised at the vehemence in his tone. “Why not?”
He looks back, one hand on the window sill and moonlight splashed across his jaw.
“Because you’re perfection,” he says with a slow, sweet smile. “And I’m drunk.”
***
Darcy lay back on her blanket, raising her face to the sun and closing her eyes. “How long does one of these things last, college boy?”
Parker flipped a page of the book he was reading, glancing over at her with a sigh. “Well, as I was telling my fellow doctor a few minutes ago, it’s hard to say. The last one went for over eleven hours. I think Stark capped this one at four because he’s got plans for tonight. I haven’t heard any girly screams in the last little while, though, so we should start seeing them again any time now.”
Jane blew hair from her face as she fiddled with her tablet. “I can’t believe they didn’t let us play.”
“Count yourself lucky,” Parker said, going back to his book. “They’re vicious. I’ve never seen anything like it. We sciency types wouldn’t last ten seconds out there once they really got started.”
“It’s not like we can’t handle ourselves,” Jane went on distractedly, almost as if he hadn’t spoken. “I mean, really. They need to be consistent. I get why the agents are out there, and for good reason, but Doctor Kindle? It doesn’t make sense.”
Parker blinked. “Sorry, what?”
“She’s a scientist like us. Well, kind of. I guess she’s more into the soft sciences these days, but still. I understand Hawkeye and Natasha. They were born to this. She wasn’t, so why isn’t she stuck here with the rest of us mortals?”
Another blink, and Parker’s brow knit. “Uh, because Doctor Kindle’s not mortal?” There was a long silence as both Jane and Darcy stared at him, and Parker cleared his throat. “No offense, but where exactly did they hide you that you managed to miss the whole-”
Darcy surged up from her blanket. “I knew it! I knew I had seen her somewhere before!” She smacked Parker’s bicep with the back of her hand. “It wasn’t a coffee line. It was New York. Remember, Jane? She was in that YouTube video.” She lowered her voice and wiggled her fingers. “The conspiracy theory one about the other Avengers. The ones nobody talks about. Come to think of it, he was in that video, too. A girl doesn’t forget cheekbones like that.” She trailed off vaguely, and Parker rolled his eyes slightly as Darcy resumed her spot, arranging herself on the blanket to maximum visual advantage.
He had only gone back to Aeslin’s first dissertation (stolen from Loki’s bookshelf) for a few minutes when the others began to reappear, trickling back in single file. He marked his spot in the book and sat up gleefully, reaching for his notebook.
“Robot roll call!” he sang out. “Everyone still alive?”
Sam flopped onto the bench next to him with an audible groan and took the water Steve handed him.
Parker grinned. “So that’s a solid maybe?”
“Ask me again in a minute,” Sam replied, draining the bottle rapidly. He then pulled himself up and went over to the cooler in search of another drink.
“All right,” Parker said, tapping a pencil on his notebook. “You all know the drill. If you don’t let me play, you’ve got to let me live vicariously through you. How’d it go? First one out?”
“Bruce,” Steve offered, throwing back his second Gatorade in as many minutes. “Well, sort of. He shot himself in the leg and claims it was an accident, but if you’re going to believe that, I’ve got a bridge back home I can sell you. Loki was generous enough to perform a coup de grace.”
Bruce spoke up from where he sat on the grass, shirt covered in luminous gold paint. “Excuse me. Excuse me. Five shots at close range and three more as he stepped over my dead body on the way to his next victim is not a mercy killing.” He glared at Loki, who gave him an innocent look. “It was clearly motivated by revenge.”
Tony raised his hand. “Could also be pent-up frustration.”
That earned him a look from Loki. “Oh, what would you know about it?”
Stark gestured deliberately to his own tank top; paint almost completely hid the original color, and the gold had splattered up onto his shoulders and neck. “Gee. I wonder.”
“Eight ribs,” retorted Loki, tossing his empty bottle into the collection box and pointing an accusing finger at Banner. “You cracked eight of my ribs on that helicarrier, and you -” the finger moved to Tony, “shot the woman I love. I think my actions are more than justified.”
Parker glanced up to see Darcy’s brows go up, and she looked at Natasha, who ignored her, attention on the discussion between Loki and Stark.
“She started it,” Stark groused, glaring at Aeslin, whose side and back were liberally doused with bright yellow paint; she stopped rummaging through the beverage cooler long enough to casually scratch her yellow-speckled jaw with a middle finger, then resumed searching. Darcy’s eyes immediately went from Natasha to Aeslin, brows almost disappearing into her hairline, and then she looked at Loki.
“Oh, hold on now-” she began, but Loki cut her off, still talking to Stark.
“Well, then I finished it. You would have bled out from the leg wound she gave you anyway. I was just easing your passage.”
Tony glanced down at the purple blotch that covered most of his thigh. “Granted. But she did take out my best friend, and she wasn’t supposed to be shooting at either of us. We had an agreement.”
“Her, though?” Darcy’s voice was a little plaintive. “I thought she-”
“I told you we were just friends,” Banner replied. “Remember?”
“Yeah, but-”
“It’s involved.” Banner patted her arm. “Don’t worry. Lots of people miss it, and by lots I mean ‘basically everyone’. It's kind of a thing. Don’t feel bad.”
“So,” Parker said, making notes in his book. “Banner was first, then Rhodes?”
“Nope.” Rhodes spoke up from his spot next to Banner. “Ace got me later, after it all went to hell. Thor went after Bruce, though he did get a glancing shot off Rogers before he went.”
Parker looked over at Thor. “Dude. God of Thunder goes out second to an assisted suicide? What gives, man?”
Thor wiped at the orange paint streaking from his hair and down his cheek with an embarrassed grin.“The terrain was unfamiliar, as were the weapons. Also, I was unable to use my powers.”
“Nobody can use powers, Thunderpants,” Stark broke in. “That’s the point.”
“Okay.” Parker continued to scribble. “How?”
“Long range headshot.” Clint raised his fingers. “Easy peasy.”
“Hold on. I guarantee not one of you was wearing protective gear. Aren’t headshots illegal?” Parker’s brow knit.
“Not with the stuff we use,” Tony said, popping the lid off a bottle. “High grade SI tech. More bang, less pain. I mean, still stings like a mother, but not as dangerous. Safety third, remember?”
“Good to know.” Parker made another note. “Who was next?”
Natasha stretched out her legs, crossing them at the ankle with a smug look at the hot pink paint dripping from Barton’s close-cropped hair.
“Clint,” she replied. “Long range headshot.” She mimicked Barton’s motions. “Easy peasy.”
“Wait a second. If it was supposed to be everyone versus Clint,” Parker checked his list, “why the hell were the rest of you still playing?”
“Rules changed,” Sam shrugged. “Just like they always do, though I will say it devolved faster than usual this time.”
“Now wait just a damn minute,” Clint said, staring at Parker. “You knew? You knew it was me against the world the whole time, and you didn’t even warn me?”
Parker gave him a wide, charming grin, and Barton glared, tapping the table between them. “Next round of Munchkin? You’re mine, little girl. Mine.”
“Bring it, old man. I ain’t scared of you.” Another scribble. “Who was next?”
“Rhodes,” said Aeslin, “and then I think Nat went out. Well, she and Steve both.”
A glance at Natasha, and then at Steve; both were covered from brows to toes in almost every color of paint imaginable. “And what happened to you two? Blast wave from an exploding unicorn?”
“Natasha happened,” Rogers said. “She set off a grenade cache. Finished us both off at once.”
Clint looked up. “There was a grenade cache?”
“Not after she was done with it.”
“I was given an assignment,” Natasha said coolly. “One that I completed even after being shot in the gut by America’s Sweetheart, by the way. Just thought I’d throw that in there.”
“About that,” Steve said. “Do I get to know why now? You were too busy being dramatic before, and what did yelling ‘wolverines’ at the top of your lungs have to do with anything?”
“Eclairs, Steven. I was promised eclairs in exchange for removing you from the playing field, and I can’t believe we haven’t made you watch Red Dawn yet. I mean, not the remake. You’re excused from that one; it’s not as good as the original. Before you ask, I’m still not going to reveal my current handler. You should know better than that by now.”
Parker was jotting down rapid notes. “Then?”
“Kindle,” Sam said, “and then Stark, and damn, am I glad I’m not the one who took her out, because justified or not, son, that takedown was brutal.” He raised his bottle of water in salute to Loki, who merely regarded him evenly.
“Okay.” Parker did a rapid count, then looked between Loki and Sam. “Who actually came out on top? You’re both looking pretty clean.”
In response, Loki unzipped his jacket, where the shirt beneath was soaked in green paint, with swirls of other colors thrown in almost as an afterthought.
“There were two grenade caches,” he said, glaring at Sam. “But then, you knew that all along, didn’t you?”
A languid, knowing smile broke across the paratrooper’s face as he finished sending a text. “Maybe.” He tucked his phone away as he turned to Natasha. “And I’m happy to report that your eclairs will be delivered within the hour, Miss Romanoff, along with my compliments on a job very well done.”