Posts tagged Fic
Posts tagged Fic
((The fifth and final chapter of the paint ball battle. 8) ))
The one occupant of Tony Stark’s Super Secret Speakeasy didn’t even look up as Phil slipped through the door. “Hello, sir,” Harris said from behind the bar. There was a sign around his neck that said, ‘I am a hostage please don’t shoot me.’ “Drink?”
“Are you tending bar? Really?” Phil asked, ambling across the room. “Hello, Tony.”
There was no reply, and Harris’ eyes flicked towards the ceiling, a half-hearted roll of his eyes. “I got bored with standing around and being a hostage, so I figured I could make myself useful,” Harris said. “He knows you’re in here, Tony.”
“You are the worst minion ever,” Tony told Harris, stepping out from behind the kitchen door. His suit jacket was gone, his tie loose, and he had a crystal tumbler of something that looked like scotch in his hand. He appeared to be unarmed, but a paint-ball pistol lay, gleaming and silver, on top of the bar. “I see your suit survived, Agent.”
“This is my backup suit,” Phil said. “Bruce killed me.” He took a seat at the bar with a sigh. “Or re-killed me. That’s two for six, for the team.”
“Really?” Tony leaned back against the bar. One dark eyebrow arched as he took a sip of the liquor. “I have trouble imagining that Clint and Romanov haven’t-”
“Not during this particular exercise,” Phil said. He considered the bar. “Tom Collins?”
“A fine choice,” Harris said, reaching for a bottle of gin.
“Reports are rolling in. There were six ‘paint bombs’ in all, though it appears that the ones sent off-site contained something closer to a powder than paint. Easier clean up, for the most part.” Hill didn’t look up from her tablet. “Stark will have to do some work to smooth feathers when this is over, but the damage is minimal.”
Fury gave a snort, staring out the window at the city below. “He’s not the only one.” He leaned forward, bracing one hand against the window. “We having any luck pinning down how he’s controlling the armors?”
“He cleared out most of our active duty tech support staff,” Hill said. “The few that escaped the original attacks are working on triangulating his location, but the suits appear to be part of a closed circuit system. Which could mean that Stark, or even Jarvis, is controlling them all remotely, or it could mean-”
“That he’s in one.” Fury reached up, rubbing hard at the bridge of his nose. “Take them all out.”
“He’s made no move towards this level again,” she pointed out.
“Rules are, he’s gotta get my name plate in order to win.” Fury turned away from the window, reaching a hand out as he crossed the office. Hill handed over the tablet as he stalked by. “He’ll come. Right now, he’s playing. Let’s make that painful for him.”
Fury collapsed into his chair. “And move with the contingency plan.”
The beat of a pause before Hill said, “Yes, sir,” was almost nonexistent. Anyone who wasn’t intimately familiar with her wouldn’t have noticed it at all.
Phil knew her very, very well.
“Take a pistol,” Clint said. “We need shooters.”
“That’s a really bad idea,” Darcy told him. “Honestly. I am the usually the first one to be eager for action, Barton, you know this. But honestly. Bad idea.”
“Oh, think I’m not aware of that?” Clint asked, and he pointed across the range. “Get a rifle, Andy Oakley, you can actually shoot.”
Drew snapped a salute, his eyes dancing. “I do so love shooting things,” he chirped, before bouncing away, humming.
“Was that ‘Can’t Get a Man With a Gun?’” Darcy asked Shawn.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, it was.”
“Somehow not surprised.”
((Parts 1-3 are included in the file on AO3, and all previous parts are included on my fic page.))
“Dinner time, short persons!”
Phil looked up from the massive jigsaw puzzle that he and DJ were working on. It was a fantastic thing, with hundreds of pieces, and he wasn’t sure how DJ had coaxed him into helping with it. But they’d made a lot of progress, the huge pile of pieces spread out and sorted by color and shape. They’d even managed to assemble a good portion of the interior, but Phil realized he had no idea how long they’d been working at it.
Judging by the way that his stomach growled when he caught the scent of the bowls on Tony’s tray, it had been a while.
DJ rolled over onto his back, his folded up legs going with him. His hands went up in the air, and his fingers made grabby motions in mid-air. Tony rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, bracing his tray on one hip. “Sit up like a civilized person, you monkey.”
Whining, DJ rolled back into a sitting position, his hands still out. He gave Tony a pleading look. Tony ruffled his hair with one battered hand. “He needs to eat. You okay with him taking a break?” he asked Phil.
“Sure,” Phil said, and DJ grinned at him. He bounced up and grabbed Phil’s sleeve, tugging him towards the child sized table at the base of the tree.
((Moving on! Parts 1-3 are included in the AO3 chapter, a link to part 4 can be found on my fic page. Who saw this one coming? 8) ))
“I need to not have a tower full of children,” Tony said, the words strained. His eyes cut around the room. “If any of the rest of you decide to pull this crap, I will personally have you evicted. One. One child is enough. Almost too much. One child is a lot. I like the one we have. I think that’s enough.”
Doctor Stephen Strange gave him a look. “I imagine so.” He had his hands up and to his sides as he walked through the workshop. Light leaked from his fingers, a faint glow that swirled through the air around him as he moved. “How is he?”
“You mean, other than nine fucking years old?” Clint asked. He folded his arms over his chest, leaning his shoulders back against the wall. “Wonderful.”
The first half of “Rescue Missions and Mistaken Identities” is up now that “Stories Told with Silence” is finished.
I should have the next piece done before AB next week. Wish me luck!
The first part of “Phil Coulson totally is not a prostitute but Clint Barton thinks he is” is now up on AO3.
As previously stated, this piece is locked to registered users. You need to be logged into AO3 in order to access it. If you are not, it will not permit you to view the work. Signing up for an account is free and easy, just request an invitation, they’re going out in a day or so now. I do have two invitations, if anyone needs one.
Thanks, guys! and Happy (late) Birthday to Kara, because this is her fault!
Thank you for your patience, one and all! The final chapter of Stories Told With Silence is posted and this particular story is complete. There is a bit about Clint talking about being the adult survivor of physical child abuse. If that is something you are not comfortable with, please skip Clint’s ‘home interview.’ You’ll see it coming.
I’ve updated “Phil Coulson Wasn’t Grown in a Lab” for those who do not like to read fic on Tumblr. 8)
((Haven’t given up, I promise. I am bad at timely things. Previous chapters can be found linked here: My Fic Page This will be updated on AO3 in the next few days))
Bruce wasn’t sure why he stopped. He didn’t know why the girl caught his eye. It was probably because she looked so out of place in the high tech, high shine lobby of Stark Tower. And because she didn’t seem to be aware of just how out of place she was. Bruce felt his steps slow, his body coming to a gradual halt, halfway across the lobby floor, the coffee he’d gone out looking for held up halfway to his mouth.
The girl was gangly and awkward, even from this distance, long legs and long arms, but she hadn’t figured out what to do with them. Her face was mostly hidden by a battered bucket hat, and her feet were propped up on a battered, army surplus backpack that looked like it weighed as much as she did. Her bright turquise Converse canvas shoes clashed with the pink and orange socks that showed above the folded over tops.
As Bruce watched, she lifted up her head, peeking out from under the brim of her hat. Her glasses matched her shoes, narrow rectangles that framed her eyes. She stopped texting on her phone and held it up. She made a face at the phone’s display, sticking her lower jaw out so her teeth poked out from below her upper lip, and crossing her eyes. Giggling, she scrunched back down, her long black jacket rucked up around her hips on the chair.
The word “COULSON” was stenciled in neat letters on the side of the backpack.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Newest chapter of “Stories Told With Silence” is now up. ALL the good now. Promise. If you were holding off on reading the last chapter because of the sad, you can now move on. 8)
Because the Team is on the job. 8)
((someone requested some more minions. Sorry it took me so long to produce something. Slight warning for Drew and Darcy for making fun of each other in the way only truly good friends can, but a little bit of teasing about bisexuals on Drew’s part, and he gets slapped down, as rightly he should. 8) ))
Darcy took a deep breath. “Dreeeeeeeeeeeew,” she whined.
Drew gave her a look. “That is not working to your advantage. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Don’t care.” She leaned forward, bracing her folded arms on the table. “You don’t understand. I am losing my mind. I cannot take another night of sitting around with those people.”
Everyone stared at her. Harris cleared his throat. “By, ‘those people’ you are referring to, you know, the Avengers?”
“You know what?” Darcy told him. “You know what? The mystique of super heroes? It kinda wears off once you see them wandering around in their underwear.”
Shawn cleared his throat. “Uh, which ones? In particular?” Drew choked on a snicker, and Shawn flushed. “What? It’s a legit question!”
“Was it Tony?” Drew asked. Darcy gave him a look. “I wanna know!”
“Drew, anyone with an internet connection and the ability to turn off Google Safe Search can see Tony Stark in his underwear,” Harris said.
“Have you checked this out for yourself?” Darcy asked him. “Do you know this from personal experience?”
“No.” Harris sipped his milk. “Not at all.”
((I wanted to write the minions. I missed the minions. So, enjoy part two of “SHIELD’s Supervillain Response Team” and Tony Stark’s rather over reaction to that concept.))
“This job is worth it for no other reason than this cafeteria. I am not kidding. I would do unreasonable things for this organization if the agreed to continue feeding me.” Drew hunched over his bowl of miso soup, his eyes at half mast, his cheeks flushed. “Unreasonable, possibly illegal things.”
Darcy settled into her chair, setting her tray down in front of her. “We all have our breaking point,” she said. “And yours is pathetically low.”
“Says the woman who flirts with the sushi chef to get the good stuff,” Drew said. He moved his chair to the side, giving Shawn space to set his own tray down. Shawn was always late to lunch, and usually had a file folder or two under his arm. Today, he was balancing his lunch on top of a couple of binders, and it took effort for him to get everything onto the table without losing half of his soup.
“I work with what I have.” Darcy separated her chopsticks with a snap. “And what I have is fantastic.”
“What am I doing here?” Harris asked. He seemed uninterested in the answer; his focus was entirely on his sandwich. “Actually, I was here first. What are all of you doing here?”
“You, sir, are the token straight person at this table,” Drew said. He grinned at Harris. “We have to keep one around or the establishment will figure out our cunning plan.”
“We have a cunning plan?” Shawn asked. He was happily dumping chili oil into his bowl of noodles. “When do I get to find out what it is?”
“Never. You’ll break under questioning.”
((Thanks for your kindness and patience, guys! Because I’m being super slow on a bunch of things, please enjoy the first part of Tony Stark vs. the rest of his team and the forces of SHIELD. I think we all know who’s going to win this one. Trigger warnings for mentions of guns and bombs, albeit ones loaded with paintball loads only. 8) ))
“I would like to once again register my objections to this,” Phil Coulson said to the room at large. He let his eyes play off of every person in the room. “I do not think you’re taking this with the proper amount of seriousness, and amusing ourselves by poking a beehive with a fully loaded and malfunctioning rifle is a very poor choice. The BEST thing that will happen in this situation is that we end up running through the city screaming, ‘bees, bees, so many bees.’ The worst thing that will happen is the rifle will go off and we’ll end up losing a hand. Or an arm.”
He paused. “Or a head.”
Director Nick Fury gave Phil a pitying look. “It’s an exercise, Phil.”
“It’s madness, sir.”
“SHIELD,” Natasha said, “often has trouble telling the difference.”
“Wait, in this analogy, am I the rifle, or the bees nest?” Tony asked, arching an eyebrow. He looked bored. It was a rather thin facade. Phil knew just what that muscle jumping beside his eye meant, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. To any of it.
Tony Stark was in a seriously bad mood.
The second chapter of “Stories Told With Silence” aka Dummy is a Real Boy! is now up on AO3.