#avenger's tower

Chapter 1: Lucky Lexicon & Papa's Pop Tarts

Tiny little feet pace in tiny little circles. Dalia sighs and returns to her coloring project. She scribbles and scrubs a heavy blue across the horizon of her paper until her tummy roars to announce its vacancy.

“Uncah Tonyyyyy…” She looks over to the genius billionaire, who’s bent over a glowing hologram. “Is Daddy on the way home yet?”

“No, Dollie. I told you he’ll get here when he gets here.” 

“But I’m hungry!”

“JARVIS, what do we have to eat for the little stinker?” He snaps his fingers and the hologram scatters.

“Currently, you’ve got an array of fruits and berries… ” Dalia zones out until one very important word tantalizes her taste buds. “ ...Pop Tarts–”

“I want Pop Tarts!” Dalia raves, rushing over and reaching up for her favorite uncle.

Tony frowns as he pulls her into his arms. “Hold on, sweetness. JARVIS, is it the last box?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Sweetheart, we might want to hold off on the Pop Tarts for now. Your dad loves eating them after a mission…and he eats a lot.”

“He’d let me have some.” Dalia says matter-of-factly. “I’m his little princess!”

Tony chuckles and sets her on his hip to whip out his phone for a Pop Tart order. It’s more likely that Thor will return before the order arrives, but Dalia might wait longer with the anticipation that more are on the way.

“I tell you what, little princess. If you can wait ten more minutes and your dad isn’t back, I’ll let you have a Pop Tart. Sound good?” 

Dalia’s young face contorts as she considers his compromise, and then she wiggles one foot. “Fine. But you gotta pinky swear!”

Tony smiles and links his pinky with hers. “Scout’s honor, kiddo. Now, go play and wait for your daddy.”

Nine minutes pass when the door opens. 

Thor’s lumbering figure doesn’t even make it all the way through the threshold before Dalia tackles into his sturdy legs.

“Daddy, you’re back! Can I have some Pop Tarts?”

Thor’s laughter rumbles through the Tower.

“There’s only one box left, so we were trying to wait for you to come back before we let her lay waste to the remaining population.” Tony teases. “Although you made it here a minute before reinforcements arrived.”

 “Ah, then that means we still have the final box to share.” His tickling stubble brushes Dalia’s cheek as he lifts her into his arms. “That’s my girl! Let’s go finish off what’s left together.”

“Yeah!” Dalia pumps her fist. “Then I can grow big and strong like you, Daddy! And I’ll fight off the big bad guys!”

“That you will, my little warrior.”

Thor digs out the familiar blue box and juggles Dalia in one arm while he rips open the crinkly packaging of their favorite snack. In seconds, sugar frosting and strawberry jelly dots Dalia’s face.

Once she sighs with a full belly, Thor grabs a paper towel to wipe her face, drawing squeals from her chest as he swirls the napkin around and then pinches her cheeks. 

“Your turn!” Dalia takes the napkin, being much more serious and delicate in her attempts. “There’s so many crumbs in your beard, Daddy. Your face is sullied!”

“Sullied, huh? Who taught you such big words?” He guides her hands to get the final remains.

“Uncah Lucky. We did painting before he had to go. He said I sullied my shirt. He said that means dirty!” She finishes cleaning and then squirms out of his arms to throw away the trash. “He’s real smart! He says I can be smart just like him, too.”

Thor smiles, ready to encourage her, before a thoughtful look comes over his face. Dalia’s lips turn into a frown.

“I can be smart, too, can’t I, Daddy?”

And suddenly Thor’s arms toss Dalia into the air as he laughs, catches her, and then hugs her close. 

“Of course you can, my love. But I don’t want you to be as strong as me, or as smart as Loki.  I want you to be as strong or as smart as yourself . If you end up smarter or stronger, it'll just be an added bonus. But, don’t look to us for comparison.”

“Well, why not?”

“Your dear old dad has learned a thing or two,” He chuckles, weaving his fingers through Dalia’s hair. “If you compare yourself to others, you might find that you’re growing into someone entirely different than yourself.”

“Oh.” She looks out the window as they walk towards the living area. “Well…I guess that's okay. But I still wanna be strong and smart!”

“With a determination like yours, I know you will be.”

With a quick instruction to JARVIS, the call is connected and transfers to the large screen opposite my bed.

“Is everything okay?” Steve and Natasha are in Belarus for the next two weeks on a mission, and we usually don’t get calls aside from the scheduled reports unless something is wrong.

I’m met with Steve’s reassuring smile. “Everything’s just fine. Tony missed our check-in, so I figured you were the next person we were likely to get ahold of.”

I roll my eyes. Of course he did. “Yeah, Tony’s in Morocco with Pepper for ‘business relations’”. I draw air quotes around the words, Steve and I are equally aware that ‘business’ isn’t the only form of relations that will be happening on the trip.

“Lovely,” a voice drawls from off-camera.

I grin, knowing the voice to be Nat’s. “Proof of life, please.”

With a wide smile, she plops onto the couch next to Steve, clutching various file folders. “Hi, Y/n, how’s home?”

I glare pointedly at Steve. “Boring, of course. I’ve been here for five months, can’t I go out with you guys soon?”

As usual, Steve waves away my protests. “You know the rules — eight months of training before you get to fieldwork. It’s the same for all the new recruits, don’t feel too bad about it.”

I fix him with a glare. “Did you have to wait eight months?”

He blushes slightly, looking away from the webcam. “That’s different.”

“Mhm, sure it is,” I joke, before collecting my own notebook from the safe. “Okay, what’ve you got?”

Natasha takes over, recounting the locations they’ve been scouting and the intel they’ve gathered so far. “We think we’ve identified the organizations’s number two — we’re just waiting for confirmation from a few sources. We’ve got SHIELD agents ready to—”

A tall figure walks down the hallway, the smell of buttery popcorn wafting through my open door.

“Hey, hey, where ya going,” I question, craning my head to follow Loki’s movements.

He pauses, then turns slowly on his heel, facing me with a raised eyebrow. “My bedroom.”

I purse my lips, pointedly eyeing the large bowl in his hands. “With all that popcorn? Just for you?”

He sighs, looking at me with a completely apathetic expression. “Yes, not that it’s any of your business.”

I make a face, quickly producing the key card I hold — the one that allows him access to parts of the tower outside the living quarters. “Actually, I’m on Loki-duty, so it is my business.”

He rolls his eyes dramatically, fixing me with a stare that lacks the bite it would’ve had a few months ago. When he speaks, his voice drips with sarcasm. “Forgive me, I did not realize I required permission to pop Midgardian corn. Next time, I shall certainly ask.”

He walks away.

I should leave him alone, but the smell of the popcorn is too good and the hate for cooking is too strong. So, I call after him. “Wait, can I have some?”

He backs up, placing himself once again in the doorway to my bedroom.

“No.” There’s a faint note of glee in his eyes, much to my annoyance.

I sport an indignant expression, first towards him, then to the bemused Nat and Steve, then back to him. “Come on, didn’t they teach you in Asgardian kindergarten that sharing is caring?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Yes, but that value operates on the assumption that I care, which I, in fact, do not.”

Rude!

I pout, feigning weakness. “But I hate cooking so much and I haven’t eaten in days!”

Loki continues to look unimpressed. “I saw you cook eggs this morning.”

I glance down at my duvet, trying to look pitiful as I trail a finger over the subtle patterns. “Yeah, but I burned them a little and they weren’t very good…”

There’s a pause, then an exaggerated sigh, and then the bed dips beside me.

I beam, immediately dropping my hand into the offered bowl. “Wow, you’re so nice, thank you!”

Loki only huffs and refuses to look at me, holding quite a rigid posture from his spot on the mattress.

Happily munching on perfectly-popped popcorn, I turn back to my conversation with Nat and Steve, who wear looks equal parts confused and amused.

“As I was saying,” Nat teases, then resumes her mission report.

About ten minutes later, the glass bowl is shoved into my arms, and I glance at Loki in surprise. He stands elegantly, looking quite annoyingly like the prince he is, and begins to stalk from the room.

“Since I prepared the food, you can clean the bowl. And,” he pauses in the doorway.“I shall instruct you in the basics of cooking so that I will never have to share my food again.”

Giggling at the disdain in his voice, I let him go, excited for the entertainment my upcoming education is sure to provide.

I turn back to Nat and Steve. “Alright guys, what are the odds His Highness is a terrible teacher?”

Our bets are aptly placed.