Bravery
Title: Bravery
Fandom: Marvel Comics
Characters: Anya Corazon, Lynn, Amun
Prompt: 87. Courage
Rating: PG
Summary: "It’s what this is all about, right?"
Author's Notes: So, am I the only one who remembers when Arana had her own series, and wasn’t just Ms. Marvel’s sidekick?
"Why did I agree to do this?" Anya asked, scowling at the dance floor as she leaned against the wall. Lynn sighed the sigh of the Tragically Misunderstood and launched into an explaination the importance of Prom that Anya didn’t listen to. She was too busy keeping herself from pointing out that while it was okay for a guy to go stag, a girl doing it was just sad.
It was 8th Grade all over again.
Lynn was in the middle of her lecture when a weedy looking boy in an ill fitting tux approached, introduced himself as someone in Lynn’s history class, and asked her to dance.
Life, Anya decided at that moment, was so very, very unfair. She was pretty, and a super-hero, and she was standing against the wall at her Prom with no date and no one to complain to.
Amun (she’d never be able to think of him as Jon, even if they were at school) was standing beside her before she could blink. "Dull, isn’t it."
"What do you want?" she hissed. "What are you even doing here?"
"There are certain people within my clan," he said dryly, "who think that my skill at blending in amongst other people is less than adequate. So I am to attend this function in order to better understand my so called peer group."
Anya almost laughed as a look that was practically woebegone flashed across the young assassin’s face. Amun tugged at the collar of his shirt, scowling. "This is ridiculous," he finished.
Had it been anyone else, Anya would have thought it was cute. But this was Amun, evil assassin for hire, minion of the Wasps.
Okay, yes, he’d totally saved her ass with the whole Jade thing. But was still evil, and not cute or hot at all.
"Do you want to dance?" Amun asked.
"You’re kidding, right?"
"No, I’m blending." He gestured to the dance floor. "It’s what this is all about, right?"
"Technically," Anya conceded. "Why ask me?"
"You know who I am. I know who you are. You won’t… cling." He made a face and shuddered dramatically. "I’m not allowed to leave until I dance with someone."
"Then ask someone else. I’m sure lots of girls would dance with you."
"Don’t you want to dance?"
Anya blinked. It sounded like he was teasing her. "Theoretically."
"So dance with me." Amun smirked. "You’re not scared, are you?"
"Of you? You wish." Anya grabbed Amun’s arm and lead him out into the dance floor.
Fandom: Marvel Comics
Characters: Anya Corazon, Lynn, Amun
Prompt: 87. Courage
Rating: PG
Summary: "It’s what this is all about, right?"
Author's Notes: So, am I the only one who remembers when Arana had her own series, and wasn’t just Ms. Marvel’s sidekick?
"Why did I agree to do this?" Anya asked, scowling at the dance floor as she leaned against the wall. Lynn sighed the sigh of the Tragically Misunderstood and launched into an explaination the importance of Prom that Anya didn’t listen to. She was too busy keeping herself from pointing out that while it was okay for a guy to go stag, a girl doing it was just sad.
It was 8th Grade all over again.
Lynn was in the middle of her lecture when a weedy looking boy in an ill fitting tux approached, introduced himself as someone in Lynn’s history class, and asked her to dance.
Life, Anya decided at that moment, was so very, very unfair. She was pretty, and a super-hero, and she was standing against the wall at her Prom with no date and no one to complain to.
Amun (she’d never be able to think of him as Jon, even if they were at school) was standing beside her before she could blink. "Dull, isn’t it."
"What do you want?" she hissed. "What are you even doing here?"
"There are certain people within my clan," he said dryly, "who think that my skill at blending in amongst other people is less than adequate. So I am to attend this function in order to better understand my so called peer group."
Anya almost laughed as a look that was practically woebegone flashed across the young assassin’s face. Amun tugged at the collar of his shirt, scowling. "This is ridiculous," he finished.
Had it been anyone else, Anya would have thought it was cute. But this was Amun, evil assassin for hire, minion of the Wasps.
Okay, yes, he’d totally saved her ass with the whole Jade thing. But was still evil, and not cute or hot at all.
"Do you want to dance?" Amun asked.
"You’re kidding, right?"
"No, I’m blending." He gestured to the dance floor. "It’s what this is all about, right?"
"Technically," Anya conceded. "Why ask me?"
"You know who I am. I know who you are. You won’t… cling." He made a face and shuddered dramatically. "I’m not allowed to leave until I dance with someone."
"Then ask someone else. I’m sure lots of girls would dance with you."
"Don’t you want to dance?"
Anya blinked. It sounded like he was teasing her. "Theoretically."
"So dance with me." Amun smirked. "You’re not scared, are you?"
"Of you? You wish." Anya grabbed Amun’s arm and lead him out into the dance floor.