are you guys ready for some garbage? too quiet? let me just- ARE YOU GUYS READY FOR SOME GARBAGE? CAUSE YOU’RE GONNA GET IT YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
“Don’t lie.” You order, staring down the five-year-old
“I’m not lying, Steve shoved me down the stairs.” Natasha
blinks, her eyes big and doe like as she gazes at you. She’s too innocent.
“Then why aren’t you hurt?” You question and the tiny
redhead doesn’t even hesitate. Her little lying ass.
“Cause it didn’t hurt, I have super healing.” She answers
instantly and you can’t help groaning and collapsing back onto the couch behind
you. Natasha pauses, watching you before she climbs onto your lap and wraps her
arms around your neck.
“I know you were worried about me.” She sighs, pressing a
kiss to your cheek before she’s suddenly distracted by Pietro chasing Peter
across the room.
“Oof!” Peter grunts as he trips, headfirst into the carpet,
and worry fills you. Natasha slips from your arms, cautiously closing in as
Peter sits up dazedly. Pietro laughs at him, only for a strangled scream to
part his lips.
“No! Don’t!” He begs as Natasha shoves his face into the carpet,
her tiny fist raining down on his shoulder over and over again.
“Oh my god!” You snap, scooping her off him and wincing as
she pulls his hair. “Let go.”
“Fine.” She snaps, squirming out of your grip to help Peter
to his feet and pat his head. “He’s all better!”
“No, I’n not!” The little spider kid whines, fat tears
pooling in his eyes and you can see the moment, almost like slow motion, that
Natasha decides to hit him in the face. Mores the pity, you’re to slow and her
shove rains down like a light breeze on a leaf.
“How’re you doing?” Bruce grimaces from behind the glass
sliding door and you scowl at him. Tony appears behind him, a serious
expression on his face.
“I don’t know, I’m stuck with five children with ages
ranging from four to six. I’m doing abso-tootely amazing.” You growl, making
sure to point at the way Steve is clinging to your calf.
“Wanda’s behaving well at least.” Tony points out and your gaze
goes to the little girl colouring in the corner while her brother rampages
around the couch.
“Oh yeah, she’s a real treasure that one, all she’s doing is
colouring everything in red and putting crosses over the eyes.” You huff,
dragging Steve from off your leg and hefting him into your arms instead where
he tucks his head under your chin.
“I’m not sorry.” Tony says, shaking his head at the chaos
you’re surrounded by.
“Well maybe instead of standing there not being sorry you
could work faster and get me the hell out of here.”
“Hey! Hey! For all we know it’s contagious.”
“Screw you guys.”
“Guys! I’ve been in here for seven hours, I’m fine! It’s not
contagious!” You shout, slamming your palm against the glass door fruitlessly.
“I’m hungry!” Steve sobbed, curled into a ball on the couch.
You’d go pet him or something if he didn’t turn away from you every time you
sat next to him with a violent sob. He’s being ridiculous.
So is Natasha though. You’d never have thought the Ah Satan
of her name would apply, until you saw her pinning down Pietro and biting him.
That doesn’t sound so bad, lets clarify, she was biting him with the intent to
eat him. In her words, he wouldn’t shut up and I was hungry and I wanted him to
die cause he wouldn’t shut up.
“We’re sending in Thor with a tray of nine sandwiches. Just
in case.” Tonys voice says over the speakers and you scoff, rolling your eyes
at the half fearful, half amazed look on the gathered childrens faces.
“Eventide, my love.” Thor booms without a care, setting down
the tray and you’re about to burst into complaining when suddenly- another
“God dammit!” You snarl, your fist slamming against the
window as four-year-old Thor starts to sob. “Come here, you little portent. It’s
okay, it’s okay.”
Gently, you rock him in your arms while reaching down and
handing triangles of sandwiches down to hungry fingers.
“Everyone eaten?” You ask the kids around the room, little
chirps answering you with the affirmative.
“I haven’t.” Thor sniffles in your arms and you coo at him,
offering him a triangle of sandwich, which he takes gently.
“You ready to be set down? Go sit with Stevie?” You ask him
gently and he sniffles once more but nods, no more tears falling and you beam.
Setting him on his feet, you watch him bound over to Steve and crash into the
other child, which leads to a wrestling match- obviously.
“I hate you guys.” You call to the roof and tapping sounds
from the door.
“Here. My blood, take it and fix them.” You snarl, dropping
the vials into the envelope and slipping it out the three centimetre door
crack. Not even fair.
“How’re you doing?” Bucky asks from behind the glass and you
groan a weak sound. You’re under six babies, all asleep and clinging to you.
“I’m weak.” You whimper, unable to even lift your hand to
the glass or turn your head too far.
“You look it.” Comes his soft laugh and you hiss a breath as
Wanda stirs before she returns to sleep, her ear to your heart.
“I want to get out of here.” You repeat and he makes a noise
of agreement. You’re surrounded by your teammates who were normal one moment,
and suddenly, children the next. Seriously.
You’d all been watching The Office and then suddenly Pietro
was squalling on the couch, then Wanda suddenly became the weird kid, Natasha
and Steve following in quick succession, then lastly came Peter who had been
sitting beside you. When you’d remained normal, you figured it must have been
something the others ate and you hadn’t. Or you’d eaten it later like the
leftover Chinese from the new place.
But with Thors entrance and sudden infantification, you’d
realized you were destined to be the only adult left.
“This makes no sense.” You mutter, glaring at the lounge
room. Anything that might have been the cause, chemical or magical in origin,
likely was trashed with the rest of the room. It didn’t stand a chance against
four bored kids. To reiterate, little Wanda is such a weirdo. “I might also
have to break up with Thor after this.”
“I’ll never forget today and what a terror he is as a child,
and every time I’ll look at his face, I’ll see that.” You point to the tiny
cherubic face of what was once your boyfriend. “Also, in this moment, I’m a
literal cradle robber.”
“Disgusting.” Bucky snickers, and you sigh, your head
thunking against the glass. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s no ones fault, as far as we know.” You mumble, your
thumb rubbing circles over tiny Steves back.
“A cure!” Tony announces, waking all the kids at once and
starting up six sobbing screams, in unison.
“If I don’t have it in my hand in two seconds, I’ll murder
you.” You mouth to him through the cacophony and he swallows hard, pressing the
button and letting the door slide open.
“Here.” He croaks, handing you the tiny bottle and you drag
him through the doorway, waving at Bucky to shut the door.
“You’re coming in, you’ve been exposed too much.” You smirk,
shoving him down onto the couch and herding the utterly depressed children up
next to him. “Show me your tongues, sweethearts.”
As they stick their tongues out, you drop two drops of the
liquid on their tongues, per the instructions, and then throw yourself against
the opposite couch.
Steve is the first to come around, bursting into his regular
size and promptly falling asleep. Then Natasha, who follows suit, then almost
as one the rest are regular sized and asleep. Even Tony, who was a child for
three seconds, is out like a light.
“What was it?”
“A mix of the Chinese food and the subtle radiation we’re
all exposed to.”
“So anyone could turn into a baby at any moment, all their
“No, no, the radiation we’re
“Wait what?” You blink, frowning at Bruce as Tony makes
quiet whining noises in the background. When the lot of them had reawaken, they
were all struck by a nasty hangover.
“In the work we do, and where we live, and the equipment we
use, as well as any cellular modifications in our bodies, we’re constantly
surrounded by low level radiation. It’s set higher than what a regular person
would take in, and it’s more dangerous as the type changes with where we are or
what we’re doing. What it is also, is unavoidable. This is the task we’ve
undertaken and it’s too late for us now anyways.” Bruce shrugs, picking up the
chart beside him and examining it once more.
“Wow.” You exhale, moving dazedly from the room and heading
back to your own. “Then why was I-”
“I’ve noted it before but it never seemed important, but your powers make your body like lead in the fact that radiation just sheers off of it. I can’t explain it, and never felt the need to since it hadn’t affected you or the others in any way. I can look into it if-”
“No, no, don’t worry.” You laugh, eyeing your skin curiously but shrugging it off. What’s the point in learning more? Even lead can be melted down, just like death comes for everyone.
“My heart, could you but lay a cool towel upon my brow?”
Thor whines, huddled under your blankets and for a moment you’re struck by
differing images- tiny Thor huddled under your blanket who you want to break up
with, and regular Thor from a month ago, sick and adorably loving.
“Sure.” You gulp, moving to the bathroom and breathing in
deeply, only to choke. “Did you throw up in here?”
“Mayhaps.” He groans weakly and you groan. Flicking on the
fan, you shut the door behind yourself and clamber onto the bed beside your
golden haired god.
“There.” Setting the towel over his forehead, you can’t help
yourself from running your thumb over his jaw, and smiling when he ducks his
chin and presses his lips to the pad of the digit. “We should talk.”
“You wish to break up with me now?” Thor whines, blinking
pathetic and oceanic blue eyes up at you. “Could you not wait?”
“It might make it worse to wait.”
“You’re my heart.” Thor says, the words like a sledgehammer.
Rude, unfair, inexcusable. He can’t throw around terms of affection like that
when you’re trying to end things.
Your lips part to counter with something, anything, but
there’s nothing you can say to that. Responding the same would be the opposite
of breaking up and calling him a liar would just be rude, and of course a
falsity. You know he’s not lying; he does love you.
“Mayhaps, my love, we could…” Thor trails off, sitting up
with his eyes darting around the room nervously. You can see him searching for
a solution for a problem you haven’t even told him about.
“I keep seeing the little kid you, Thor, and I can’t… Touch
you or kiss you when I keep seeing a four-year-old.”
“Blast it all.” He snaps, “Damn it all Helheim and the lesser
“I know right.” You agree softly, letting his giant hand
capture yours on the blankets. You stare at the two hands, yours smaller and
softer than his, at the war scars that scatter both of your skin, your knuckles
both scarred beyond repair.
“With time this may pass, I will wait.” Thor promises and
your shoulders sag. He’s being a real jerk now.
“I can’t promise I will.” You counter, slipping from off the
bed and pulling your hand from his. You’re glad that he lets you go, and you’re
glad when you return hours later that he is gone and all his stuff has