#nanosmutmo

"You know, I'm always really glad they have each other." Sam sat himself down at the pec deck machine, looking over at Sharon from across their home gym.

"Me, too," Sharon replied as she stepped up onto the treadmill, "It's not like there are a lot of kids besides Astrid who can relate to both their parents being Avengers."

"Right, and she's such a sweet kid," Sam said, "Thor and Carol do a great job with her."

"Their friendship is really cute, too," Sharon remarked with a nod and a smile, "When I went up to check on them, they were pretending to be Valkyries."

Sam chuckled. "Well, Maggie already has the flying horse for it," he noted.

"Not in this apartment, though," Sharon said, her fingers hovering over the display console in front of her, "You ready for a great workout, babe?"

"I'm ready for a good one," Sam teased, "Great ones are for when it's Carol and Thor's turn to--"

The rest of Sam's sentence was drowned out by the sound of an almighty crash which sounded like it was coming from above the ceiling. Sharon locked eyes with her husband before the two of them ran to the door, hurrying through the hallway to the foot of the stairs.

"Maggie? Astrid?" Sharon called out. Though she was pretty convinced she hadn't heard broken glass or anyone screaming, the sound had been quite disconcerting to hear from right below her daughter's bedroom.

"We're fine!" Maggie's voice called out, "Astrid was trying to defeat the evil Yon-Rogg."

"I defeated Maggie's bed instead," Astrid's voice explained, "Don't worry, I'll put it back!"

"But everyone's OK, right?" Sam wanted to confirm.

"Everyone except Freddie," Astrid declared.

From Chimerrobang’s Nanosmutmo Challenge • Earth 202 • Thor Odinson & Carol Danvers • Fluff

"...do you not know that in the service, one must always choose the lesser of two weevils?" Carol, snuggled up against Thor, laughed along with the characters in the movie, sharing their delight in the pun. Thor chuckled lightly along, but found himself distracted by the way Carol's eyes crinkled at the corners as she laughed. The way the light of the screen reflected in the rich brown of her eyes. Even the way she'd hastily swept her hair back off her face earlier as they'd made guacamole together, it now tied back in a ponytail, drew his gaze, all of a sudden.

It didn't take her long to notice he was no longer watching the movie, and she leant back against his arm, the better to look up at him quizzically. "Not your kind of movie?" Her hand came up to ruffle the scruff of his beard.

"Actually, the movie is excellent." Thor said this with conviction as he smiled down at her. Bending to kiss her, he laughed. "It's just that you are more enchanting than any movie could hope to be." Carol laughed, and waited, knowing he wouldn't be finished. "Your eyes are warmer than all the fires of Muspelheim," he continued, moving them both on the couch the better to kiss her as he spoke, his eyes alight with both mischief and genuine delight. "Your lips are more appealing---" He was cut off as Carol, giggling, tried to kiss him. But, grinning, Thor placed one large hand on her shoulder, holding her away from him. "Your lips are more appealing," he repeated firmly, "than all the treasures of the Aesir,"

"Hey!" Carol complained, trying to squirm free from his grip, "let me up, you big Asgardian brute..!"

Thor only laughed, and kissed her cheek with a wink. "Your strength is even greater---" Carol laughed at this one as her power burst to life and she rolled them both off the couch, this time pinning Thor beneath her, her hands on each of his wrists. She barked a laugh of triumph as he finished. "---than that of the mighty Thor." He laughed as she tried to kiss him again, and with a speed that seemed impossible for someone of his size, yet perhaps not when she considered how much of his nature was lightning, he dodged her kiss and used that momentum to flip her onto her back once more. "Your form is more supple and inviting," this last word he grunted slightly as Carol struggled mightily, the both of them laughing, "than the branches of the worlds tree."

Holding both of her wrists in his large hand this time, he made a show of pondering his next compliment, finger tapping his lip. "Hm," he began, the corners of his mouth curving upward as he eyed her. "Your breasts," he laughed, releasing her hands as he lowered himself over her, "are as elk storming through a frozen river," and at this oft-repeated phrase they both collapsed into peals of laughter.

"Nobody else could make that work, you know," Carol chuckled as she finally managed to pull his lips to hers.

Maggie Carter Wilson often thought that she was very lucky. She had grown up in a high-rise apartment that covered two floors, of which the second consisted of nothing but her room, an outside hallway and two large terraces. Her parents had always been insistent that she be allowed her privacy, which especially in her teens was something she had become thankful for in and of itself, but it came with the added bonus of many fond memories of sitting out on a terrace with them and looking up at the stars. She knew they also liked to enjoy the view sometimes by themselves, and so wasn’t surprised when she slipped out of her room late at night to hear their voices coming from outside. She had intended to head downstairs for a snack before bed, but a few words caught her attention and she peered out of the glass doors to see her mama and dad snuggled up under a blanket.

“I’m not saying tomorrow, necessarily,” she heard Sharon’s voice say, “I’m just saying maybe I’m getting there.”

“Well, we did always say that we’d only do this for as long as it made sense, right?” Sam replied, “Can’t be superheroes forever.”

“We have been Captain America and Agent 13 for a long time.”

“Don’t worry.” Maggie’s father’s voice was gentle and teasing. “This doesn’t mean we have to move to the suburbs.”

“Oh, thank God.” Sharon chuckled. “I probably wouldn’t mind moving to Louisiana, though. Not now, but maybe after Maggie’s gone to college. We could get a place near the beach.”

This one is dedicated to my dear friend @chimerrobang <3

Bucky was, by now, well aware of the disadvantages of having a mind as scrambled as his had been. One of them was having only a vague recollection of important dates - his own birthday he knew because it was part of historical records, but everything else had either become foggy or been lost completely in over 70 years. There was a milestone in his life that was far more recent, however, and that was one he wanted to make sure he'd never forget. He'd carefully written down the date in the notebook Steve had given him, and, a few days beforehand, made sure to plan out how he was going to celebrate it. The end result wasn't anything extravagant, but then again, he thought he and his wife had earned their right not to do very much.

"James?" There was a hint of amusement in Natasha's voice, and he could picture her expression even before he turned around. Her smile was slightly turned up at one corner, and he remembered yet again just how incredibly lucky he was to have her in his life.

"Breakfast's almost ready," he told her, then smiled himself as he saw her fiddling with the contents of the small vase he'd set out on the table. "You like them?" he asked.

"Did you make these?" Natasha questioned, her grin only growing.

"Well, the first one's supposed to be paper, so..." Bucky shrugged as he sat down across from her, his eyes meeting hers. He'd actually found it quite relaxing to spend his time making a small flower bouquet out of colored paper, though he'd had to do it at Sam and Sharon's place to avoid being discovered. Working with his hands on something so delicate wasn't commonplace for him, and the entire time he'd been thinking about the life he had now, one that he had never even allowed himself to dream of until comparatively recently.

"Happy anniversary, Ms Barnes," he said, and Natasha chuckled. He hadn't expected her to take his last name at all, but she'd wanted to, joking that she loved how much it made her sound like a regular person who shopped at ALDI.

It wasn't any kind of special occasion, as far as Sharon was aware. It wasn't anyone's birthday, there wasn't any exceptional news to celebrate, and it wasn't anywhere near an anniversary. She and Sam had eaten dinner together, as they did most days, and Sam had put on a record to play quietly in the background as he often did. They talked a little bit about work and a lot about their friends, and when they were finished eating, Sam asked her if she wanted to dance.

Her aunt Peggy had taught her many things, of which one was that she would never regret having danced, and Sharon was certain in particular that she would never regret dancing with Sam. It was a slow Etta James song and he held her close, his left hand holding hers and his right steady on her back, while she brought her own hand to rest on his shoulder. Their noses were brushing against each other as she lifted her head just a fraction, her gaze soft and a smile forming slowly on her lips. They hadn't exchanged a word since they'd gotten up to dance but she soon realized Sam was smiling, too, his smile just as warm as she felt inside.

Sharon always tried her best to be realistic; the one time she had allowed herself to idealize someone too much, it hadn't worked out well for her. That was why she and Sam were renting an apartment instead of having bought one, after all. They had their own bank accounts, they each paid for half of everything, and, in theory, if they needed to get out, it would be relatively straightforward to do so.

"I'm on my way in." Sharon was balancing a plate of crudités on one hand as she spoke softly into her comms, a winning smile plastered on her face for any of the party guests who happened to walk by her. "No sign of the target," she declared. It was then that she spotted someone else in the distance by the bar and, though her smile didn't change, it became genuine. "Nice suit, Sam."

"Well, thank you. Maybe they'll let me keep it," Sam's voice came back through her earpiece, "I can take my wife somewhere really fancy for dinner."

"I think she'd like that," Sharon replied, "Although, if you play your cards right, in that suit you might not make it to dinner."

"You know everyone else can hear you, right?" Bucky's voice was far less smooth than Sam's had been, although Sharon thought she could detect the slightest hint of amusement.

"Cut them some slack. They're literally in their honeymoon phase," Natasha's definitely amused voice followed swiftly afterwards, "Sharon, he just stepped out of his car."

"I'll make sure I'm by the door," Sharon told her. Crudités still in hand, she wove her way past a grand piano as she crossed the floor, stopping to serve the occasional person but keeping her eye on the main entrance. Sam had left the bar by then and was approaching the door from the other side, drink in hand. He caught her eye for just a fraction of a second and she gave him the smallest of nods.

"Come on, Baby. Don't make me pull the dad card before you're even born."

Sharon let out a laugh, which unfortunately didn't do much to help the feeling of a tiny foot lodged somewhere beneath her ribs. She'd been sitting on the couch reading a book in discomfort when Sam had come home, greeting her with a kiss and soon afterwards a question as to whether she needed anything. She'd informed him she was fine but after she'd joked about her predicament, he had sat down next to her and taken it upon himself to convince their unborn child to move.

"This feels like a crash course in parenting," Sharon mused, shaking her head to indicate their baby still hadn't budged, "How to convince a child to do something when you can't explain why."

"You have a point. Maybe I'm being too harsh on them," Sam said, and left a gentle kiss on the stretchy fabric of Sharon's maternity pants. "Listen, I remember seeing your foot on the last scan and it was real cute," he told her stomach, his voice softer this time, "But not when it's poking at your mama's internal organs."

"It was a very cute foot," Sharon conceded, smiling at her husband despite the fact that her baby's foot had decided to dig in a little deeper.

"I could sing?" Sam offered hopefully.

From Chimerrobang’s Nanosmutmo Challenge • Earth 202 • Thor Odinson & Carol Danvers •

Thor had put down his hammer. This was not unusual or concerning for the god of thunder, exactly; the HYDRA goons he'd been cleaning up had managed to capture an old Midgardian woman, and he'd just as soon drop the hammer, where it was safe, and let the fools think they'd caught him than risk the old lady's health. Plus, he didn't work alone.

He waited where he'd been bid, offering the old woman a reassuring nod, and watched as the super-soldiers (he assumed) attempted in vain to lift Mjölnir. He clasped one wrist with his other hand and turned his eyes to the sky, which had grown slightly brighter.

Things moved rather quickly after that as Carol, gleaming like a star, burst through the skylight of the abandoned warehouse (if Midgard could cut down on incidences of abandoned warehouses, Thor thought, they might suffer a lot less crime) and immediately despatched the man restraining the old woman with a tightly-focused photon blast. Looking at her feet, she saw the hammer resting on the dusty floor. One eyebrow raised, she locked eyes with Thor as she easily picked it up.

Thor normally found it hard to look away from her, but once she picked up Mjölnir, it was as though his eyes were glued to her. Wearing a broad grin, Carol's eyes glowed a stunning mix of gold and blue-white, and she laughed. "So that's what this feels like," she said, raising the hammer and casually shooting a bolt of lightning that cracked and roared directly at the HYDRA warrior that had 'held' Thor, the raging electricity passing harmlessly through its associated god. Thunder so close the warehouse shook with it, so close it beat in Thor's chest like the beating of his own heart, rolled overhead.

"Neat," she grinned. Thor was silent, though his mouth opened as though to speak, and closed again. Suddenly, his heart was racing, his own eyes lit with that same white-blue, and it had nothing to do with the skirmish.

Straightening her crochet shawl, the old woman chuckled, strangely unbothered. "I'll see myself out," she said in her quavering voice, "I think you two aren't done here."

Carol watched her slow, ponderous exit through the space, bemusement writ plainly on her face, then turned back to Thor. Thor, who still wore that slightly dazed expression. She tilted her head to one side. "You all right, big guy?"

It took him a moment to answer, then he gave himself a little shake. "Yes," he said, his voice a little strained. He cleared his throat. "Yes. Very good."

She swung Mjölnir once by its wrist strap, marvelling at how well balanced it was, and grinning as it made that singular singing sound as it returned to her hand in place of that of her lover's. She held it out to him, still grinning, and made a small surprised sound as he - moving with a swiftness that seemed unnatural for his size, and maybe it was - crossed the room to kiss her, wrapping his large arms around her. "Hold on to it for a bit," he breathed between kisses, and Carol laughed.

"Thor, are you asking me to--" she paused for comedic effect, but also because Thor was trailing hot, lingering kisses along her throat-- "hold your hammer?"