the mpu

MPU Holiday Event #13: “Endure”

“I’m going to die,” Foggy complains, falling onto the couch.  "Literally.  I will shrivel up, transform into a raisin of a man, and all because of Matt’s terrible taste in Christmas music.“

Karen stops trimming the tree to grin at him.  "I think it’s cute.  Like we’re kids again.”

“Kids with horrendous taste!” Foggy shoots back, and she laughs as he presses his face into a throw pillow.  "You know what I hated more than anything as a kid?  And let me be clear, I’m talking about top-tier loathing. Worse than broccoli.“

She sighs.  "The Chipmunk Christmas album?”

“The Chipmunk Christmas album!” he announces, almost like she never answered his question. When she laughs again, fond in all the right ways, Foggy drags his tortured body off the couch and slides up behind her.  Chin on her shoulder, arms around her middle in the bear hug, just like god intended. “You’re not very sympathetic,” he complains, his nose almost in her hair.  "I need sympathy.  Tenderness. A distraction from Alvin, Simon, and Theodore.“

Karen shakes her head. "I’m on tree duty, remember?”

“Yeah, but Matt’s good for it.”

“Matt’s blind. And, more importantly, he’s working on a motion.”  Foggy groans, hiding his face in her neck, and she chuckles.  "Help me with the tree?“

He breathes her in for a second before saying, "You’re a slave driver, you know that?”

She shrugs. “Hey, someone needs to keep you boys in line.

In Which Jennie gets kissed by Wade Wilson because YOLO and there are woefully few Adults

You’re not sure what you’re expecting when you knock on the door to the Rogers-Barnes household, but it is certainly not this.

There’s a sort of frantic energy in the house, as adults are running this way and that, asking each other “Did you grab the keys?” “Yes, Darcy, of course I did, have you seen Ethan?” “I think Loki’s holding him-” “Dot, no, you cannot have ice cream for dinner, I know what Uncle Tony said-” “Bruce, Brucy, please.” “Absolutely not, Tony-”

In front of you is an annoyed, skinny presumably-a-lawyer (because almost all of Steve’s friends are lawyers), holding a very energetic, chubby baby.  He raises an eyebrow at you. “I have never seen you at the DA’s office,” he states, “But I suppose I don’t have everyone who works there memorized.”

You blink at him. “I, uh. Don’t work there. Is Steve or Bucky here…?”

The man’s face suddenly fills with understanding. “Ah. You must be the friend they have obviously forgotten to call.”

Steve is suddenly filling the doorway next to the man, and sometimes you forget how the scrawny kid you met first year of college turned into this dreamboat. “Hey, Jennie. Sorry, meant to call, Loki here volunteered to babysit Ethan here and then Dot and Miles, and in the rush I forgot.”

You smile at him. “Its fine, I understand. I guess I’ll go then-”

“Wait,” the man, Loki, interrupts, “She’s already here, and as I am unexpectedly also watching a little girl on top of a baby, I could use the help.” Loki shoots a glare at one of the other adults, who you doubt even notices.

The house is still in chaos.

Steve looks at you and you nod. “Yeah, sure. I can stay.” She smiles and steps into the house when Steve steps inside.  That’s when you find out you were wrong.

That was not chaos.

This is chaos.

There’s suddenly two – full grown – men trying to hide behind you, one of them yelling something about boring ties and holding onto your left leg while the other holds your shoulders and is trying to duck… something, hopefully nothing that’s being physically thrown at you.  There’s a young girl clinging to your leg and giggling as Bucky – thank god there’s more than one person you know in this room, really – is trying to pry her off and apologizing. The little girl, who you have now guessed is Dot (and by guessed you mean she’s the girl in all of the photos that have ended up flooding your facebook), is asking who your favourite pony is and doing a good job of impersonating an octopus.

You don’t get any warning other than the rushed end of a conversation - “Look, I’ll buy you four weeks of strong coffee if you won’t do it, Wade, please.” “No deal.” – before you’re swept up into a kiss. You push hard against the guy as one of the men behind you calls out:

“Hey, Wade, don’t scare her!”

The man pulls away and holds out his hand for you to shake.

“Hey, I’m Wade, I’d feel sorry about kissing you, but you know, yolo.”

“Wade, you can’t go around kissing random women.”

“Yolo! And you are my yolo brolo, you should totally-”

“No, Wade. Stop.”

By this point, Bucky has managed to pull Dot off your leg and finish dressing his husband.

“Alright, everyone, we need to go! We’ll be late to the fundraiser.”

Soon all of the adults are filing out the door and into cars. The three kids are showered in kisses and hugs, and there are mentions of Fairy Godfathers and “Don’t listen to a word Loki says, okay?” “Tony-“ more ponies before, finally, Steve and Bucky give their daughter a tight hug and leave, closing the door behind them.

Loki lets out a soft sigh, still holding the tiny baby, who is very interested in Loki’s hair and chewing on the ends of it. Dot is now sitting with the eldest kid, a quiet boy named Miles, watching My Little Pony on a tablet.

“We’ll have about half an hour before she gets bored,” Loki states, moving the baby so he’s drooling on the Michigan U sweater. “Then it’ll be worse than it was when they were all here.”


A thought occurs to me:

Please, if you will, picture Assistant District Attorney Clint Barton when he encounters his first case of “distracted driving – playing the pokemon game.”

He squints at the copy of the ticket (a digital scan that perfectly captures the officer’s chicken-scratch handwriting), confused. He tilts his head left and right, not necessarily because he’s not heard of this new Pokemon bullshit (of course he’s heard about it, Wade posts daily Facebook updates about his latest catches, Tony and Miles keep competing to find the rare ones), but because people don’t actually play while driving. Right? ‘Cause he’s not exactly a saint in the driver’s seat, either, but playing a location-based game in traffic’s gotta be the dumbest

He says all this at lunch, of course, and Tony laughs hard enough that he almost hurts himself.  “How else am I supposed to clean out all the Pokestops in the neighborhood?” he demands, raising his hands when Bruce shoots him a dirty look. “Not with the kids in the car. Miles already declared that a party foul.”

“Please tell me that’s not the only reason,” Natasha mutters.

Tony waves her off, and Clint just stares at him. Except gaping over at Tony’s side of the table means noticing the way Bucky and Steve keep avoiding his eyes. He groans. “Not you! You’re supposed to be the voices of reason!”

Steve pinks up immediately. “We’re not proud of it,” he defends. “We just grew up on Pokemon, you know?”

“Gotta catch ‘em all,” Bucky agrees. The way he says it, it sounds like the end of a prayer.

Clint rubs a hand over his face. “It’s like we’re in some fucked-up alternate reality where I’m the only mature adult in the bunch,” he mutters.

Natasha pats his leg. “Don’t worry,” she soothes. “The next season of House of Cards will drop soon. Give you something to watch in the car.”

Everybody’s heads snap up in creepy unison, and Clint sighs.

He hates everything. 

Oh God I just had the cutest thought just now

I know in the MPU, Loki can be a real dick(like in any universe it seems) but I just thought that whenever the Thorling is born, Loki going to spoil that kid rotten.

Like, I can just see him showing up almost every weekend after Jane and Thor take the little Thorling home(because IDK if Loki lives near or far from Thor) and just showing up with new toys, clothes and diapers every time he comes over, just to help out Thor and Jane.

Which, Jane tells Darcy and Peggy how helpful Loki has been around the house and helping her take care of the baby with Thor and Darcy doesn’t believe it and demands some sort of proof of Loki doing anything not slimy.

(Okay, she REALLY just wants to know if Loki wears anything besides a suit outside of court and his office because he’s one of those people she can’t see in jeans and T-shirt.

Coulson, Maria and Fury? Yes that’s somewhat believable. But Loki? NO.)

In Which Loki and Jen do not really get along and Tony knows that that picture will go well on the wall


Also, not a lawyer. Don’t even /know/ any lawyers. So. >.> I'mprettysurewhatLokisaysisokaybecausehesaysthathe'sonlyaccusednotactuallyguiltybutidkandLokimayormaynotbetryingtoshowoffsoyeah))

Dot obviously adored Miles. And Ponies.

And drawing pictures.

Miles and Ponies and drawing pictures.

Also, tantrums.

Big, big tantrums.

Especially come bedtime.


It was about three in the morning when Bruce Banner and Tony Stark returned to pick up Miles.

You, Ethan, and Dot, however, were much too asleep to notice.

Someone, probably Bruce, had covered you all with a throw blanket, Dot snuggled close to your side and Ethan comfortably settled in your arms.  A Repunzel story book had been placed on the arm rest of the couch you were all dozing on.

It was this picture that graced wall next to that very couch and had a place in Thor’s office, a week later.

Around three thirty, Ethan woke and started to fuss, and that’s what eventually woke you. You yawned and gently rocked Ethan before picking up the sleepy Dot and getting her into her proper bed.

And that was when Ethan started to full out cry.

Loki was by your side in an instant, throwing you a dirty look - and excuse you, it wasn’t your fault that A BABY was crying - and taking the baby. Ethan kept crying, but was soon given a bottle, and ate hungrily.

“You can return to your place on the couch,” Loki comments, “I’ll stay with Ethan; I was working on a case anyway.”

It’s then that you notice the bags under his eyes. He obviously hadn’t gone to sleep yet. Maybe that’s why he was so grouchy.

“I’m awake now, I can hold him, if you’re busy.”

Loki frowns, but holds out the baby. You take him, and rock him gently. He’s already falling asleep again.  Loki returns to the table, where papers are scattered everywhere.  They’re colour-coded and look official and important.

You sit down at the table, holding the now-sleeping baby. “So… How do you know everyone?”

“Through the annoying, blonde one.”

“… The one who was clinging to my shoulders?”

“No, the one with too many muscles and long hair; the father of the baby you’re holding.”

“Oh. Are you guys college buddies, or…?”

Loki gives you a withering look.

“If you insist on being near me, the least you could do is be quiet so I can work on my job.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. “Ah, because making sure that petty thieves get their thirty days in jail requires so much prep time.”

“Actually, my client has been accused of murder. So it does require a lot of ‘prep time’.” Loki glares at you again. “So please, shut up.”

It’s two hours of silence before Thor and Jane come back to pick up Ethan, and Loki leaves.


In Which Wade Wilson and Clint Barton like awful bars and Loki is actually a 5 year old

((Loki loveeeeeeeeeeeeees his little nephew.))

You were sitting in a booth.

The pizza looked way too greasy and disgusting.

Wade Wilson was talking about how he no longer wanted Natasha Romanoff’s red headed babies. Or maybe he did, but not exclusively.

Clint Barton was informing him that he was not about to take pictures of anyone in the bathroom, let alone Natasha.

You had no idea what you were doing here.

Tony had suggested to Clint that he take her with him on his ‘weekly Wade Wilson is insane dates’, and so here you were.

You poked at the cheese pizza dubiously.


The knock on your door surprised you, but not as much as the person standing there.

“I have a taser,” you threaten Loki, even though it’s all the way back in your bedroom.

Loki just raises an eyebrow. “Or you could just punch me again.”

You glare, and he holds his hands up. “I did not come here to argue,” he continues, and a nasty look passes over his face, “Just to inform you that I will not be pushing charges.”

You stare at him, confused. “… You won’t be?”

Loki shakes his head and sighs. “No. I have been told that 'Pressing charges against a woman as innocent as Jen would be a stain upon everyone’s honor.’” He does air-quotes.

“And that actually convinced you?” you ask, suspicious.

Loki chuckles. “Of course not. Thor’s wife threatened to stop letting me babysit.”

A surprised laugh forces it’s way out of you. “Oh. Well. God forbid you aren’t forced to babysit.”

Loki gives a wry smile. “Indeed.”


Happy Anniversary, Bruce & Tony!

This morning, Sara e-mailed me to point out that today–December 16, 2013–is Tony and Bruce’s one-year wedding anniversary in the MPU. I spent the entire day grinning to myself like a total idiot, because I freaking love these boys. It made an extremely long day completely better. (And yes, I am a horrible writer for forgetting, but life’s been crazy lately.)

In honor of this big day, I’ve written some little anniversary drabbles. They’re nothing special–except they celebrate these wonderful, lovely, broken goobers who somehow fell in love (and started a family, all by accident).


Tony buys Bruce an anniversary gift every month.

He disguises them as random acts of kindness—appearing ten minutes before lunch with a giant container of Indian food, adding a new plant to his window sill, sending Miles to Ganke’s for the night and then dragging him to a movie—but Bruce knows better. Because each time, when Tony’s eyes linger a little longer or he smiles a little brighter, Bruce suddenly remembers what day it is.

Tony never acknowledges the importance of the sixteenth beyond the gift.

In a way, though, the actions are louder than a thousand words.

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Happy birthday, Kate Bishop!

And did I mention that Monday (December 15) was Kate Bishop’s MPU birthday? No, I did not, because I am the literal worst at everything. But it was, and as is tradition, I must commemorate this day with a (belated) ficlet!


Tommy tosses her one of the leftover sodas from the snack table (but only after his guard-slash-babysitter confiscates it right out of his pocket). “Happy birthday,” he says. “Next year, I’ll buy you flowers.”

“He won’t buy you flowers,” the guard assures her.

“You don’t know that,” Tommy returns, and the guard rolls his eyes.

It’s only after she cracks open the Pepsi and helps herself to a swig that she realizes the rest of the group is staring at her. “What?” she asks, wiping her mouth.

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Captain Fluffybritches Makes a Friend (And So Does Sam Wilson)

Remember how I promised to post an adorable fic I wrote about when Sam and Riley met Steve and Bucky? Yeah, I almost forgot about it.


Lucky for you, I remembered.

A couple years back—a lifetime ago, really, in the days where he slept like a caveman and waited for letters from home (not home the place but home the person)—Sam overheard one of the guys talking about how, sometimes, little kids are drawn to broken people. “Well, kids and dogs,” the guy’d joked, and Sam’d grit his teeth to keep from reaching over and punching the laughter right out of him.

Broken people, he’d scrawled in a letter a couple days later, the sand beating against the roof like the world’s most persistent hail. Who the fuck says that, huh? Who the fuck thinks we’re not all coming out of this broken?

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Happy Birthday, Miles!

I almost forgot arguably the most important birthday in the MPU. Thank goodness I remembered! Anyway, March 22, 2016 will be Miles’s sixteenth birthday. And because my MPU headcanon is now and always shall be that the high school years are tough on Miles, well, this story reflects that. Meaning: feels. Many feels. Arguably all the feels? We’ll see.

With all that in mind: happy birthday, Miles!

On his sixteenth birthday, Miles wakes up and stares at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, exactly the same as every other morning.  Even when he stretches, his body sort of reassembling after being balled up under the covers, he feels unremarkable.  Same height, same speed, same brain full of the same crap (assignments, projects, his stupid text conversation with the girl he sort of likes).  Sixteen feels like fifteen and fourteen, and he drags himself into the bathroom before Amy and her eight thousand hair ribbons claim it.

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MPU Holiday Event #1: “Hope”

“Your handwriting is, like, literally terrible,” Wade grumbles, squinting at their shopping list.  "Is that a Q in the middle of that word?  Seriously, did you write this with your left hand while entertaining yourself with the other?  Because while I’d never complain about the accompanying mental images, I—"

A soccer mom with at least ten Bath and Body Works bags slams into Wade, interrupting his completely justified rant.  Not that he judges soccer moms on the regular—they pretty much run the world—but really, who needs that many three-wick candles?

(Not counting that one autumn-scented candle that reminds him of freshly fallen leaves on a crisp October morning, of course.  He’s not an animal.)

“That’s a B, and you need reading glasses,” Nate says suddenly, his mouth dangerously close to Wade’s ear.  Wade whips around to glare at him, but just like always, his pretty much favorite person smiles.  "She wants a soccer ball, three very specific books, and an Easy Bake Oven. Not hard.“

"Unless you married a guy who writes in some kind of Cyrillic-hieroglyphic hybrid,” Wade retorts.  "Then, it just looks like hot garbage.“

Nate snorts and shakes his head right up to the point that Wade wads the list into a ball and tosses it in the nearest trash can.  Well, technically, he misses, but the general principle still stands.  "I don't—”

“Your daughter provided a list to her mother,” Wade explains, recovering his trash, “who fracked and strip-mined it until you can’t even grow soybeans on the land. And soybeans are exceptionally hardy.”  He frowns. “At least, I think.”

Nate raises his sexiest and most skeptical eyebrow.  "And your solution is to throw out the list?“

Wade grins.  "No, my solution is to—”  He digs into his coat pocket dramatically.  Three pockets later, he whips out a bright green sheet of Keroppi-branded paper.  "—shop from the real list!“

His definitely superior half studies him for a couple seconds before he smiles.  Not, like, a smirking, smug smile.  A genuine, face-warming, I knew I married you for a good reason smile.  "You’re about to be Hope’s favorite,” he says.

“About to be?” Wade scoffs, linking his arm through Nate’s.  "Oh, my sweet summer child, you’re so behind on the times.“

MPU Holiday Event #4: “Wait”

“What about next weekend?” Kate asks, scrolling through her phone.  "Dad and Heather wanna try family dinner on Sunday, which means I’m definitely free.“

America shakes her head. "Can’t.  The moms scheduled some kinda new-age feelings shit, and I’m trying this thing where I’m not a total asshole to them.”  Billy hides his grin in Teddy’s shoulder, and she whips around to glare at him.  "Listen, we blacked out all of your holiday for you, chico, so don't—"

Billy raises his hands. “I’m not judging,” he says, and Kate raises her eyebrows.  "I’m not!  I just like how hard she works to sound pissed when she’s obviously not.“

Eli frowns.  "Are you suggesting that she’s well-adjusted or something?”

Teddy snorts, but Billy just shrugs.  "Maybe better-adjusted?  Or at least not a marauding ball of rage and—"

America pings her balled-up napkin off his head, and the table erupts into laughter.  Well, most the table, because Cassie despite everything else, Cassie clings desperately to her patented Serious Face.  "If we don’t finally schedule Friends-mas—"

“Never approved that name,” Teddy mutters.

Cassie glowers at him. “—we will miss each other all December, and I am not missing you all December.  Okay?”

America and Eli both open their mouths to argue, but Kate shoots them sharp looks.  Killer looks, because nobody messes with Cassie’s Serious Face and lives to tell the tale.  

Across the table, Teddy covers Billy’s mouth with his hand.  "Friends-mas,“ he says reverently, and Cassie smiles.

Happy birthday, Hope!

How could I forget the birthday of one of our favorite MPU children? Hint: I could not! Just because I spent the day angsting about story pacing doesn’t mean that Hope won’t get her day in the sun. Or, rather, her day for Wade to have feelings, because somehow, the story of Hope’s eleventh birthday sort of … spiraled out of my control.

“Wait, wait, hang on,” Wade says, catching Hope’s hands.  “Distracted almost-parent zoned out for a second.  I need you to start over.”

Hope huffs at him and rolls her eyes, seventeen years of attitude in eleven years of body as usual, and starts signing at him all over again.  They’re out at the mall for their usual almost-dad, almost-daughter birthday shopping spree—the one day of the year where Hope’s allowed to request any single item under fifty-three dollars and Wade will not refuse (except if it’s fifty-three dollars of lottery tickets, because ten-year-olds do not need gambling addictions)—and everything in the world’s distracting, today.  Or maybe Hope’s the distracting bit, with her jaunty new haircut (thanks, Nadine) and her hip new young adult outfit (thanks, Nadine) and her earrings (thanks—actually, wait, Nate might’ve okayed the earrings, Wade’s not sure), because instead of a scrawny little kid, she looks like a budding almost-teenager.

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MPU Holiday Event #7: “Anticipate”

“Seriously?” Tommy complains.  "Our assignment’s really—"

“Writing down something good about this time of year, yes.”  He groans, a creature of pure disdain, and Jessica Jones raises her eyebrows at him. “You want a one-way ticket back to child-sized solitary?  Because I won’t hesitate to write you one.  I’ll be the conductor on the misery polar express.”

Across the circle, Kate and America whip their heads up.  Like sharks sensing blood in the water, Jessica realizes, and she jabs her pen in their direction.  "You can join him.  I love the smell of revoked diversions roasting on an open fire.“

The girls exchange glances, but they keep their mouths shut.

"The holidays suck, sometimes,” Jessica continues as she passes out the rest of the pens. “You’re reminded of loss, stuck with family you hate, whatever, and on top of that, you’re blasted with good cheer from every angle. Hard to deal with a shriveled black heart when every third song is Mariah Carey.”

Teddy frowns. “What’s wrong with Mariah Carey?”

Eli raises his eyebrows. “You got twenty minutes?”

Jessica ignores Teddy’s offended grunt to grin.  "We’ll spend the next couple weeks working through the hard parts of the holidays, but tonight?  One thing you’re looking forward to.  Besides the new year,“ she adds, tossing a glance over at Nathaniel.

He wrinkles his nose. "Spoil sport.”

“Always,” she retorts.  "Now, write.“