BrokenUnicorn

"Stark, what the fuck is he doing here?" Clint growled, arrow already notched and aimed at Loki's forehead, whose eyes were wide with fear. Tony dropped the knife, moving round the table to push in front of him. Clint lowered his bow slightly, but his face remained royally pissed off. Natasha appeared behind him, hand flying to her gun. Her eyes swept the room, locking on the God of Mischief, who had left his seat and crouched, shaking, in the corner of the kitchenette that was furthest from the assassins. The black widow holstered her gun, approaching the God with unexpected hesitancy. Tony watched, tense, ready to jump to Loki's aid if nece

1: Fear The windows shook as thunder rattled the tower. The wind howled and the sky was dark, clouds a deep grey as the storm brewed between them. Tony sighed as thunder rolled again, resigning himself to not getting any work done this afternoon. If the thunder were Thor's doing, he would've sent the guy to Yoga or something to calm down, or off to smash some shit with the Hulk, but Thor was away in Asgard, visiting his mother for the first time in a few months. Loki had been forbidden from travelling, having only recently recovered from a severe injury, gained during a fight with Doctor Doom, and it was to find the sulking God that Tony was

"Brother! We must find the ruffians and show them the meaning of honor!" The eight year old Thor bellowed, storming across the courtyard. "Honor! Honor! Honor!" The tiny five year old Loki parroted after him, trotting along the cobblestones. His fingers sparked with tiny green sparks, magical aptitude already showing at such a young age. They reached the Throne room, and began pushing at the door, making very little progress, small as they were, even together. The guard by the door smirked to himself. These boys. How Odin handled them, he didn't know. Slyly, arm barely outstretched from their usual position, he pushed at the door with one

Steve left the diner feeling happier than he had in a long time. He had been wandering through a new part of town, when he had found this old diner with a little old lady, Delia, who ran it. He'd settled in a booth, nostalgia washing over him as he thought of the Diner he frequented in Brooklyn , back before the serum made him a super soldier. He had been reading the menu, quietly wondering why he didn't go out to eat by himself more often, when Delia had come to take his order and promptly dropped her notepad, gushing about how she remembered watching one of the Captain America shows when she was younger. Steve had signed a napkin for her, a