(no subject)
occupational hazards (2/?)
rating: pg-13
characters: Toothless, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Thor, Sam Wilson
warnings: none
summary: The people of New York City (Tony Stark aside) take the idea of a dragon fairly well.
chapter 1
seeing is…
immediately after occupational hazards
"I can’t believe it." Tony flicks through the grainy images Clint has sent, thumb hovering to scale up the huge creature that looms over Natasha’s shoulder. "I actually can’t believe it. Is it sad that I’m more willing to believe you and Romanoff set up an elaborate and frankly bewildering con in Sweden than consider that dragons may exist?"
"Norway, and yeah, Stark, it kind of is."
"That was a rhetorical question. Jarvis, do a scan for dragons in the records from that area. If there really were fire-breathing lizards around there, someone must have noticed. And if they were lucky, it was before the ‘stealing virgins and hoarding gold’ point."
"The folklore of Agents Barton and Romanoff’s location is rich in draconian references, sir. It appears the local people believe their Viking ancestors fought such creatures and modern day stories of mysterious occurrences around the islands are not unheard of."
"So basically their version of the Yeti."
"I’d say something like, ‘Only that doesn’t exist,’ but now I’m starting to wonder," Clint drawls over Tony’s earpiece. Stark resizes one of the photos, showing the dragon and Natasha both glancing over at Clint through a flurry of snow.
"Jarvis, prep the suit. There’s something scaly in the fields of Denmark."
"Yes, sir," the AI replies with the hint of a long-suffering air Tony swears he didn’t program in. But Jarvis refrains from correcting the Shakespearean reference as Tony snaps his fingers and headed towards the lab.
Barton’s amused question of “Do you have something against European geography or are you doing this on purpose?” absolutely does not kill the moment.
.
there is an art to flying, title from Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
several weeks after occupational hazards
"You know, I thought there’d be more panicking when people realized there was a dragon in New York," Clint comments, helping himself to more of the baked oatmeal. Natasha glances up at him as she sprinkled brown sugar over her own bowl.
"It’s New York, Clint. After the Chitauri, the kraken, and whatever it was Bruce decided those creatures last month were-"
"We’re going with ‘ghouls’ for now," the scientist puts in over his newspaper.
"-I think it would take more than a single dragon to get them excited. Especially seeing as it’s not setting things on fire." They both glance at the jet-black dragon sprawled out on the balcony, for all intents and purposes completely and blissfully asleep.
"It really puts into perspective how weird our lives are when we’ve basically been adopted by a mythical creature and nobody bats an eye." Grabbing a spoon, the archer leans against the counter and stirred his breakfast as he contemplates the sun-bathing beast.
"We were adopted by another living legend first," Natasha points out, gesturing with her spoon towards the Asgardian lounging on the couch in pajamas with tiny thunderclouds on them. Said legend looks over at them with a grin while on the TV the Road Runner executes another perfect escape.
"Well, they say friends are the family you choose, so." Clint shrugs, snagging the maple syrup. "It’d just be nice to know a little bit more about him than ‘flies, breathes fire, is willing to eat fish delivered in bulk rather than people off the streets’."
"He has better manners than Stark," Natasha offers. The man in question pauses in the act of walking out with the coffee pot cradled protectively in one arm.
"I’m sorry, say what?"
"Put the coffee back, and no one gets hurt," she told him with perfect seriousness.
"It’s my kitchen, Romanoff, which makes this my coffee pot, which means I can do whatever I want with it, and if I want to take it all-"
"You’ll have a mutiny on your hands," Clint finishes, holding up his purple mug.
"Says the man who drinks straight from it if he thinks no one’s watching," Stark throws back, but sets the pot on the counter. "You spend all night fixing the Mark 50 and then tell me I don’t deserve the whole thing, you ungrateful interlopers."
"It’s ready to go?" Bruce asks, looking up over the rim of his glasses with interest.
"Yes, finally, I worked out the last warped batch of titanium from the fabricators. We’re ready to roll. Test flight at noon, chop chop."
"That’s our cue to set up the trampoline," Clint tells Natasha, who hides her smile with a spoonful of oatmeal.
"And the cameras."
"Really, that’s insulting, that’s incredibly rude, I can’t believe I let you people live in my house and drink my coffee." He snags the pot and heads towards the elevators. "Noon, my insulting little cherubs!"
Once he was gone, Clint flips open one of the cabinets and pulls a second pot of coffee out.
"When do you think he’s going to realize that’s decaf?" He asks, and the others smother laughter.
Noon arrives, bringing the Avengers and accompanying dragon to the extended balcony on the penthouse floor. The dragon watches intently as Tony rolls his shoulders, the suit’s pieces clicking with the movement.
"What do you think he’s thinking?" Sam asks, having grabbed his own flight gear for the event. His nod makes it clear which ‘him’ was being referred to.
"I don’t know. But I can tell you," Clint replies, observing the goings-on, "when Tony showed up in Sweden, that… that was a big deal."
"What, our friend over there tried to eat him?"
"Yeah, no, no modern day re-enactments of St. George and Puff the Magic Dragon. No…" Clint trails off, trying to find the right words.
"It was like he saw a ghost," Natasha supplies, coming up to them with her phone in hand.
"Huh. I’d ask how a dragon looks like he’s seen a ghost, but I get the feeling there’s no good answer to that. Maybe he’d never seen a man flying before." Sam stretches, bringing an arm across his chest. "Hey Tony, we going to do this or not?"
"I’m so glad you decided to show up for a flying lesson, let me show you how it’s done." Tony’s faceplate slides shut. "JARVIS?"
"The airspace is clear for the next half-hour, sir."
"Excellent. Let’s see if you can keep up this time around, Wilson."
"Yeah, time to put your money where your mouth is, Stark." The wings of his jetpack snap open in a smooth motion as the two men straighten. Beside them, his pupils narrowing to slits and his whole body stilling, the dragon seems to forget to breathe.
"Rogers?"
The official timekeeper nods and holds up one hand as he stared at his watch.
"On your mark, get set, and… go."
They take off, launching from the balcony to begin the plummet downwards, and behind them the dragon starts and vaults off as well, arrowing after the humans. Before he can reach them, though, they engage their various boosters and angle upwards, heading for the unofficial lap course around the city. The dragon snaps his own wings out, coming to a halt as the two men flash past him; then, with a snort audible from the balcony and a shake of his head, he follows with great beats of his wings.
"You know, there was a time when I probably would have objected to using untested equipment over a city of eight million people," Steve says contemplatively as they watch the three figures twist and weave through skyscrapers.
"Then you met Stark?" Natasha asks, the words laced with her dry wit.
"Then I met New York," he answers, smiling. "Think the dragon will keep up?"
"With all due respect, Cap, it’s a dragon. I’m pretty sure we have no idea what it can do." Clint shrugs a shoulder, then glances up at the Asgardian who has been watching the proceedings, his hammer swinging loosely from his belt in case his assistance is needed. "Any guesses, Thor?"
"I know as much as you," he replies. "But if I were to guess, I would say there are many surprises yet to come. A dragon so old could know, and be capable of, many things."
"Five hundred years is a lot of time." Sliding her phone shut now that the racers are well out of viewing range, Natasha tucks it away. "And I’m going to point out that we need to figure out what his name is, or give him one. Calling him ‘it’, ‘him,’ and ‘dragon’ is going to get old after a while if he decides to stick around."
Before anyone could open their mouths, she continues. “And no, ‘Smaug’ is not an option.”
It would be hard to tell who looked more disappointed, Clint or Steve.
"Falkor?" Bruce suggests. When he has four blank looks turned on him, he chuckles. "You all really aren’t too young to have seen that, just so you know."
"I was busy being frozen in ice. And to be fair, Thor’s not from around here."
"Working for the KGB," Natasha says, shaking her head.
"They didn’t do movie nights in the circus."
"Those all sound like great excuses, but I know what we’re watching on Thursday," the scientist informs them with a smile. "Oh, here they come."
Even with the new improvements, Tony barely beats Sam onto the ‘runway’ by a hair - and both of them have to move to make room for the dragon who lands in style, looking around him with unmistakable happiness.
"Mushu."
"No," three voices chorus, and the debate rolls on.
rating: pg-13
characters: Toothless, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Thor, Sam Wilson
warnings: none
summary: The people of New York City (Tony Stark aside) take the idea of a dragon fairly well.
chapter 1
seeing is…
immediately after occupational hazards
"I can’t believe it." Tony flicks through the grainy images Clint has sent, thumb hovering to scale up the huge creature that looms over Natasha’s shoulder. "I actually can’t believe it. Is it sad that I’m more willing to believe you and Romanoff set up an elaborate and frankly bewildering con in Sweden than consider that dragons may exist?"
"Norway, and yeah, Stark, it kind of is."
"That was a rhetorical question. Jarvis, do a scan for dragons in the records from that area. If there really were fire-breathing lizards around there, someone must have noticed. And if they were lucky, it was before the ‘stealing virgins and hoarding gold’ point."
"The folklore of Agents Barton and Romanoff’s location is rich in draconian references, sir. It appears the local people believe their Viking ancestors fought such creatures and modern day stories of mysterious occurrences around the islands are not unheard of."
"So basically their version of the Yeti."
"I’d say something like, ‘Only that doesn’t exist,’ but now I’m starting to wonder," Clint drawls over Tony’s earpiece. Stark resizes one of the photos, showing the dragon and Natasha both glancing over at Clint through a flurry of snow.
"Jarvis, prep the suit. There’s something scaly in the fields of Denmark."
"Yes, sir," the AI replies with the hint of a long-suffering air Tony swears he didn’t program in. But Jarvis refrains from correcting the Shakespearean reference as Tony snaps his fingers and headed towards the lab.
Barton’s amused question of “Do you have something against European geography or are you doing this on purpose?” absolutely does not kill the moment.
.
there is an art to flying, title from Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
several weeks after occupational hazards
"You know, I thought there’d be more panicking when people realized there was a dragon in New York," Clint comments, helping himself to more of the baked oatmeal. Natasha glances up at him as she sprinkled brown sugar over her own bowl.
"It’s New York, Clint. After the Chitauri, the kraken, and whatever it was Bruce decided those creatures last month were-"
"We’re going with ‘ghouls’ for now," the scientist puts in over his newspaper.
"-I think it would take more than a single dragon to get them excited. Especially seeing as it’s not setting things on fire." They both glance at the jet-black dragon sprawled out on the balcony, for all intents and purposes completely and blissfully asleep.
"It really puts into perspective how weird our lives are when we’ve basically been adopted by a mythical creature and nobody bats an eye." Grabbing a spoon, the archer leans against the counter and stirred his breakfast as he contemplates the sun-bathing beast.
"We were adopted by another living legend first," Natasha points out, gesturing with her spoon towards the Asgardian lounging on the couch in pajamas with tiny thunderclouds on them. Said legend looks over at them with a grin while on the TV the Road Runner executes another perfect escape.
"Well, they say friends are the family you choose, so." Clint shrugs, snagging the maple syrup. "It’d just be nice to know a little bit more about him than ‘flies, breathes fire, is willing to eat fish delivered in bulk rather than people off the streets’."
"He has better manners than Stark," Natasha offers. The man in question pauses in the act of walking out with the coffee pot cradled protectively in one arm.
"I’m sorry, say what?"
"Put the coffee back, and no one gets hurt," she told him with perfect seriousness.
"It’s my kitchen, Romanoff, which makes this my coffee pot, which means I can do whatever I want with it, and if I want to take it all-"
"You’ll have a mutiny on your hands," Clint finishes, holding up his purple mug.
"Says the man who drinks straight from it if he thinks no one’s watching," Stark throws back, but sets the pot on the counter. "You spend all night fixing the Mark 50 and then tell me I don’t deserve the whole thing, you ungrateful interlopers."
"It’s ready to go?" Bruce asks, looking up over the rim of his glasses with interest.
"Yes, finally, I worked out the last warped batch of titanium from the fabricators. We’re ready to roll. Test flight at noon, chop chop."
"That’s our cue to set up the trampoline," Clint tells Natasha, who hides her smile with a spoonful of oatmeal.
"And the cameras."
"Really, that’s insulting, that’s incredibly rude, I can’t believe I let you people live in my house and drink my coffee." He snags the pot and heads towards the elevators. "Noon, my insulting little cherubs!"
Once he was gone, Clint flips open one of the cabinets and pulls a second pot of coffee out.
"When do you think he’s going to realize that’s decaf?" He asks, and the others smother laughter.
Noon arrives, bringing the Avengers and accompanying dragon to the extended balcony on the penthouse floor. The dragon watches intently as Tony rolls his shoulders, the suit’s pieces clicking with the movement.
"What do you think he’s thinking?" Sam asks, having grabbed his own flight gear for the event. His nod makes it clear which ‘him’ was being referred to.
"I don’t know. But I can tell you," Clint replies, observing the goings-on, "when Tony showed up in Sweden, that… that was a big deal."
"What, our friend over there tried to eat him?"
"Yeah, no, no modern day re-enactments of St. George and Puff the Magic Dragon. No…" Clint trails off, trying to find the right words.
"It was like he saw a ghost," Natasha supplies, coming up to them with her phone in hand.
"Huh. I’d ask how a dragon looks like he’s seen a ghost, but I get the feeling there’s no good answer to that. Maybe he’d never seen a man flying before." Sam stretches, bringing an arm across his chest. "Hey Tony, we going to do this or not?"
"I’m so glad you decided to show up for a flying lesson, let me show you how it’s done." Tony’s faceplate slides shut. "JARVIS?"
"The airspace is clear for the next half-hour, sir."
"Excellent. Let’s see if you can keep up this time around, Wilson."
"Yeah, time to put your money where your mouth is, Stark." The wings of his jetpack snap open in a smooth motion as the two men straighten. Beside them, his pupils narrowing to slits and his whole body stilling, the dragon seems to forget to breathe.
"Rogers?"
The official timekeeper nods and holds up one hand as he stared at his watch.
"On your mark, get set, and… go."
They take off, launching from the balcony to begin the plummet downwards, and behind them the dragon starts and vaults off as well, arrowing after the humans. Before he can reach them, though, they engage their various boosters and angle upwards, heading for the unofficial lap course around the city. The dragon snaps his own wings out, coming to a halt as the two men flash past him; then, with a snort audible from the balcony and a shake of his head, he follows with great beats of his wings.
"You know, there was a time when I probably would have objected to using untested equipment over a city of eight million people," Steve says contemplatively as they watch the three figures twist and weave through skyscrapers.
"Then you met Stark?" Natasha asks, the words laced with her dry wit.
"Then I met New York," he answers, smiling. "Think the dragon will keep up?"
"With all due respect, Cap, it’s a dragon. I’m pretty sure we have no idea what it can do." Clint shrugs a shoulder, then glances up at the Asgardian who has been watching the proceedings, his hammer swinging loosely from his belt in case his assistance is needed. "Any guesses, Thor?"
"I know as much as you," he replies. "But if I were to guess, I would say there are many surprises yet to come. A dragon so old could know, and be capable of, many things."
"Five hundred years is a lot of time." Sliding her phone shut now that the racers are well out of viewing range, Natasha tucks it away. "And I’m going to point out that we need to figure out what his name is, or give him one. Calling him ‘it’, ‘him,’ and ‘dragon’ is going to get old after a while if he decides to stick around."
Before anyone could open their mouths, she continues. “And no, ‘Smaug’ is not an option.”
It would be hard to tell who looked more disappointed, Clint or Steve.
"Falkor?" Bruce suggests. When he has four blank looks turned on him, he chuckles. "You all really aren’t too young to have seen that, just so you know."
"I was busy being frozen in ice. And to be fair, Thor’s not from around here."
"Working for the KGB," Natasha says, shaking her head.
"They didn’t do movie nights in the circus."
"Those all sound like great excuses, but I know what we’re watching on Thursday," the scientist informs them with a smile. "Oh, here they come."
Even with the new improvements, Tony barely beats Sam onto the ‘runway’ by a hair - and both of them have to move to make room for the dragon who lands in style, looking around him with unmistakable happiness.
"Mushu."
"No," three voices chorus, and the debate rolls on.