Avengers Fic: The Best of Life and Asgard, Pt. 3
((Warning: This story will contain sexual situations involving individuals under the influence of alcohol, and thus are not capable of full informed consent. All sexual situations will involve established partners who would likely be getting it on with or without the alcohol, but please use caution with respect to your own comfort level. Also, this story will be very silly. I need silly right now.
The first parts can be found here: http://scifigrl47.tumblr.com/post/39391191226/avengers-fic-the-best-of-life-and-asgard-pt-1 and http://scifigrl47.tumblr.com/post/41659478814/avengers-fic-the-best-of-life-and-asgard-pt-2 ))
“That was unpleasant,” Tony said.
“Aye,” Sif said, the word flat. “That it was.” She shifted, hefting a sleeping Jane a little higher on her back. Jane snored against Sif’s hair, her arms draped limply over Sif’s shoulders. Most of her skirt was gone, and Darcy was balancing one of Jane’s shoes on her head, but Sif had convinced Natasha to stop juggling her throwing knives, so that was a plus. Darcy was wearing a tablecloth like a toga, and was carrying a loaf of bread in her arms, cradling it like a baby. Sif looked at Darcy. “Where are your rooms?”
“Please,” Darcy said, her nose in the air. Jane’s shoe fell off her head, and Natasha snagged it out of mid-air. She almost fell over doing it, but no one else seemed to notice. “I don’t put out on the first date.”
“'Tis fine,” Sif said, her eyes dancing. “As this is not a date.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “Ooooooh,” she said after a second. “OOOOOH! Great! This way.” She bounced off, and laughing, Sif carried Jane after her. Natasha swayed after them, and managed not to run into any walls. More than that, she managed to look sexy while barely keeping herself upright.
“I think I need a shower,” Clint said. He held up his hands, considering them. His blinking white eyes were stark against his soot-covered face. “I think maybe I should do that.”
“You look like an nineteenth century chimney sweep,” Tony said, trying not to wince at the jet black footprints Clint was leaving on his rugs. “You don’t need a shower. You need a fire hose.” Clint sneezed, and that was unpleasant. “Or a waterfall. Do me a favor, try not to touch anything.”
Clint nodded. Took one step forward, and tripped over the end table. Soot went in all directions.