sam_storyteller: (Alternate Universe)
sam_storyteller ([personal profile] sam_storyteller) wrote2016-01-15 11:45 am

Promptfest Short Fics

Title: Promptfest Short Fics
Rating: Teen
Summary: Several short fics written for a promptfest, primarily Avengers but also in White Collar, Discworld, and a number of AUs.
Notes: This was meant to be a "five sentence" prompt fest -- someone sends me a sentence, I write the next five. It got a little out of hand.
Warnings: None.

Also available at AO3.

***

Prompt from Anon: "Sit still," Sam insisted, swatting the back of Steve's head.

"Sorry," Steve muttered, stilling in the movie theatre seat. He stopped fidgeting for a good five minutes, but then he started restlessly moving again, leg jerking, shoulders twitching.

"Seriously," Sam said, turning to him, but he timed it poorly enough that Steve was feigning a yawn-and-stretch right as he turned. Steve's arm settled over his shoulders casually, but Steve's face looked utterly guilty.

"Oh," Sam said, startled. "Okay."




Prompt from disastermychild: Steve knew that it was hopeless, but he's always been one to buck the odds no matter what.

He stared down at the mess in front of him, hands on his hips. There had perhaps been some tactical errors, but he felt this was still a battle he could win.

"Okay," he said to the Avengers crowded on the other side of the table. "I can fix this, but I need to know something first."

He picked up the uncooked but by now oddly-colored goose by its neck and held it up, inspecting it. "Who let Tony volunteer to cook Christmas dinner?"




Prompt from Anon: "In hindsight, drowning himself in alcohol and large breasted blonde women was probably not the brightest idea he had ever had." It's a Steve/Tony fic

On the other hand, it appeared to have worked, so, well done him.

"You think I didn't notice what you were doing, but I had an idea," Steve said, letting go of his shoulders and leaning back enough that Tony could breathe. The kiss had been a little...asphyxiational.

"How'd you guess?" Tony asked.

"Tony, do you really not notice that I can see you when you stare at my pecs?" Steve asked, and dove back in before Tony could do more than draw breath for a second round.




Prompt from cjk1701: "In all fairness, it had been a rather good idea to begin with."

It was just that Avengers were larger-than-life and any idea originating with them tended to get out of hand very quickly.

"I thought I was just commissioning a portrait from you," Tony said as he adjusted his posture on the stool, helmet settled on his knees, armor whirring into position. The other Avengers, surrounding him, struck various dramatic poses.

"Well, it snowballed after Clint wanted to be in it -- "

"Photobomb it," Clint said.

"You can't photobomb an oil painting," Tony pointed out.

"Well apparently I DID, so I guess I CAN," Clint replied. Hulk, sitting behind Tony, rumbled a laugh; Natasha almost fell off his shoulder, and Sam tried not to change position as he grinned, wings spread wide. Steve snapped more reference photos from different angles.

"It'll be a nice mural when it's done," Steve said. "And I can still do one just of you if you really want, Tony."

"Okay, but I demand to be nude," Tony said.

"I am definitely photobombing that one," Clint declared.




Prompt from hopenight: Sam Wilson could name twenty better things to do with his time then bail Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, and Clint Barton out of jail with Tony Stark's money.

On the other hand, it wasn't his own money, and Tony had given him a Black AmEx with which to pay, which meant after this he was going to buy himself an extremely nice dinner. And anyway it was his week on Avengers Disaster Control, so it was only fair.

The three men weren't even in the drunk tank; Clint was joking with two homicide detectives and Steve appeared to be demonstrating how many beat cops he could pick up to a group of very impressed-looking off-duty dispatch operators.

"Big misunderstanding," Bucky said, when Sam gave him a Look.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. See, the neo-Nazis thought they were going to be able to stand on the steps of a synagogue and deny the Holocaust, and Steve misunderstood them as wanting to be punched in the face," Bucky said. "Being fair, Clint and I totally also misunderstood them."

"Should I bring up free speech, or..."

"Hate speech!" Steve called. "Free speech doesn't protect hate speech!"

"You know he's thinking of going to law school," Bucky said solemnly.

"Maybe I should leave him here," Sam said.

"Sorry, buddy, it's all or nothing. You got Tony's credit card? We'll buy you dinner on it," Bucky said, taking the card and heading for the Sergeant's desk. "Come on, Steve, time to have a post-Nazi-punchin' feast!"




Prompt from screaming-towards-apotheosis: "This is not what it looks like," Clint said as he tried to hold onto the wriggling goat.

"It looks like there's livestock in my tower," Tony said, sliding the sunglasses down his nose. "Why is there livestock in my tower?"

"Someone was giving away free goats," Clint replied.

"This is New York, not Amish country, and I don't think even the Amish just give goats away."

"He was the last one and he was cold and tiny and filthy! Speaking of, don't look in your bathroom," Clint said.

"Did you bathe your pet goat in my bathtub?"

"No," Clint said, but he nodded yes.

Tony rubbed his forehead. "Is this goat for eating or because you're desperate for anything that will love you to love you?"

Clint stared up at him.

"Desperation, right. Well, I'll go see about installing some kind of...paddock."

"We don't pay him enough," Clint said to Natasha, as Tony wandered off, muttering.

"We don't pay him at all, we just call him Mom, speaking of desperation," Natasha said. "Let's name it Captain Feta."

this fanfic was continued by fellow tumblrian twangcat here.




Prompt from ellonwheelz: "If we live through this, it could be fun. if we don't live through this, for once, it'll be YOUR fault."

Steve turned to Tony. "How is this my fault?"

"Well, it's not mine!" Tony said, throwing his hands up. "When I go to science fiction conventions it's as an honored guest."

Steve pulled his Storm Trooper helmet on and cocked it. "This'll be a lot more fun!"

"Says you," Tony replied sourly, pulling the Spider-man cowl down over his face. "I'm already feeling a draft."




Prompt from iphysnikephoros: Natasha sprinted around the corner and flattened herself against the wall, eyes dancing with laughter.

"ROMANOFF!" Steve roared from down the hallway. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY UNIFORM?"

"SHOULDN'T HAVE SAID I LOOKED SO GOOD IN MY CATSUIT!" she yelled back, careful not to give her position away.

Steve stomped down the hallway, uniform (such as it was) hanging off his huge frame. She'd cut the trousers down to hot pants and removed the midriff from his shirt; she really felt it was only fair. After all, she knew he hadn't really meant to come off like a jerk, that he was just terribly socially awkward around women, but this would repay him for saying what she had about her uniform.

"Hey, Cap," Tony said, intercepting him with a sidelong wink for Natasha. "Nice catsuit."

"I didn't mean it, Natasha!" Steve said forlornly. "I mean, I didn't mean it like THAT."

"You know she won't be happy until you're seen in public like that," Tony said. "Come on, let's go spar somewhere highly visible, I'm sure she'll forgive you sooner or later."




Prompt from kshandra: "I don't know about this, English..."

"Nonsense," Peggy said, adjusting her necktie slightly. "Men's clothing is so convenient," she added, patting the pockets on her trousers, "if rather slim in the hips."

"What if someone makes you?" Angie asked, beautifully made up and in her best dress.

"Then I shall shoot them if they try anything. Look at how this coat hides my revolver," Peggy said delightedly. Angie chewed her lip.

Peggy leaned in and kissed her gently. "I'd like to take my best girl out on the town," she said. "And if I have to wear trousers and tuck my hair up, so be it. Besides, I quite like this look for me. Come along, darling, your man for the evening is waiting on you."

Angie's face softened. "Well, when you put it like that," she said, and put her hand on Peggy's extended elbow. "Show me a good time, fella."




Prompt from Anon: There was a reason why Steve had turned off his Twitter notifications; it usually took someone (several someones) texting him to realise that he had become a trending topic again.

"What've I done this time?" he asked Sam, when he arrived in the kitchen on an urgent "social media" related summons.

"Is this your butt?" Sam asked, holding up his phone. Steve squinted at it.

"Yes, that's me, I think, I wore that jogging this morning. Why?" he asked.

"And is this," Sam asked, zooming the picture in, "a tattoo of which I was unaware?"

Steve blushed crimson. The little falcon just above his hip on the left had been a spur of the moment decision, something he thought he might surprise Sam with, but between travel and a couple of battles there hadn't really been any...any naked time in a while.

Sam slapped his butt. Steve jumped, the barely-healed tattoo stinging.

"Oh my god," Sam said, covering his eyes with one hand. "It is your tattoo. You have a tattoo of a falcon on your ass."

"Hip, technically," Steve said.

"Technically you better let me take you to bed right now so I can ignore the twitter gossip," Sam replied pointedly.

"Well, I think I've pretty much proven I'm all yours," Steve pointed out.




Prompt from Chromatographic: "Where did all these scarves come from?" Tony demanded, looking around the room.

"Jan van Dyne," Pepper said, trying on a particularly large and vividly-decorated one. "The fashion designer? The Avengers saved her life last week during the thing with the -- grr, rowr," she said, making claw-shapes with her fingers.

"Ohh, those things, those were brutal. I know Jan, a little, she's nice. Did she say...why scarves?" Tony asked, picking up a sheer silk one. "Sexy, I'm taking this one."

"You can't, they're for Steve," Pepper told him.

"Why Steve?"

"She said his neck looked cold," Pepper said with a grin.

Tony beamed. "Ah, young love. Well, as courting gifts go it's strange, but -- "

"Hey, look at all the scarves!" Steve said, walking into the living room. "I could use a scarf! Can I have one?"

Pepper gave Tony a look. He returned it, still beaming.

"You absolutely can, Steve," Pepper said. "Here you go, take this one. It has a business card attached..."




Prompt from Anon: I don't know if this counts, but the story behind the Avengers' favourite Christmas ornaments? I got Anon's other ask apologizing for this prompt and offering an actual First Sentence, but I really liked this prompt better so I'm doing it instead :D

Clint and Natasha share everything in a way that would be creepy, so Tony claims, if it didn't seem so organic. The ornament is a pysanky egg, which Natasha every year points out is really not a Christmas thing but which Clint gave her the first year she was with SHIELD and Clint insists on hanging in the most prominent possible place on the tree. Steve draws endless studies of it, fascinated by its geometry.

It's not like any of Steve's belongings really survived, not his personal stuff, and he never had a tree anyway, but it turns out Bucky's family got some of his effects, and Bucky's little sister's granddaughter popped up at Stark Tower one day with a shoebox full of Christmas ornaments. Steve just about broke down, but he told her they were her family's now, their heirlooms, and all he wanted was the wooden soldier his parents had brought with them from Ireland. It hangs in his window the rest of the year.

Thor really gets into Christmas, like, really into, in a way that nobody expected an alien from another dimension to get into. The tree groans with all the ornaments he buys, his favorites being the really creepy naked Santas that the local craft market sells as novelties. They have like twelve of them. For PR photos, Pepper has her assistant very carefully wrap each one in a festive piece of red cloth to obscure the fact that the Avengers Christmas tree is covered in naked old men.

Bruce doesn't really care about Christmas one way or another, but Hulk shows up after a battle one time carefully cradling the tiniest, daintiest glass snowflake in one giant hand. Nobody knows where it came from, but Hulk wouldn't change back until Tony solemnly promised to hang it on the tree.

Tony isn't into Christmas but it's a pretty important time of year for big business, so for him it's a commercial concern, and it's not like he has anything against it, he just never really celebrated it. Besides, all that family stuff is for people who, you know, have families. Rhodey's usually deployed somewhere, and until she started dating him Pepper was an employee who should get a day off because he's not a Scrooge, thanks.

But then he comes in from his last meeting on Christmas eve and there's the tree all lit up and dangling with weird Russian things and fragile wooden ornaments and creepy naked Santas and with a spotlight on Hulk's glass snowflake because Bruce gets upset if he can't find it, and everyone's sitting around getting drunk on eggnog and Irish coffee, and that's okay, that's pretty nice. In typical Tony Stark fashion, he's just going to claim the whole tree from now on.




Prompt from lexrhetoricae: Neal Caffrey did not mean to open a bookstore that catered to paroled ex-cons; it just sort of *happened*.

"Most of them used to be Mozzie's; he has the most extensive library of crime in the Western Hemisphere. Possibly the world, if you don't count that one weirdo in Siberia," Neal said. "He asked me to sell them."

"So this whole side," Peter said, waving an arm at the southern end of the shop, "is how to commit any crime you can think of, and this whole side," he continued, waving at the northern end of the shop, "is how to get a job and live a sane and moral life after a felony conviction."

"Yeah, that end's all me, Mozzie doesn't acknowledge it exists," Neal said, a trifle sadly.

"So I'm just gonna hang out on this end and hit my end-of-month arrest quota," Peter said, cheerfully wandering into the How To Crime section.




Prompt from Elucreh: "My god, Natasha," Neal said into the stunned silence. "I didn't know you could actually kill men with your thighs."

"He's not dead, he's just sleeping really soundly," she said, as Neal wound up the zipline and began unpacking the lockpicks. "Besides, he's a Nazi."

"Why is it always Nazis," Neal sighed. "I suppose if I'm going to rob people it might as well be Nazis, but it just seems like a very niche occupation."

"Relax, you're stealing for the government, that's practically a mitzvah," she said.

"Don't remind me. If you make me an Avenger I might cry," Neal said, and got to work picking Hydra's best locks.

Continued with this prompt from Anon: "It's Nazi gold. Even people like me draw a line at Nazis."

Steve glanced at Natasha, eyebrow raised. "You know, I assumed 'even you' would draw the line at Nazis, yes."

"I like to maintain an air of moral ambiguity," she said loftily, unzipping the bag while Neal Caffrey, somewhat overawed at being in the presence of Steve Rogers, fidgeted nervously nearby.

"We were supposed to be liberating some paintings but there was all this gold," Neal blurted.

"Huh." Steve picked up one of the blocks of gold and turned it over, examining it. "Well, it looks like a couple of Jewish aid organizations and some local Synagogues are going to have a very nice Purim indeed."




Prompt from Anon: The Watch were determined to give Vimes an uninterrupted Hogswatchnight with Young Sam and Sybil...

They'd had a quiet word with the Thieves' guild, who were taking care of unlicensed thieving for the night, and the Assassins' guild, who with three swift murders had ensured no troublemaking would take place. They'd even spoken to the Wizards to make sure they weren't planning any mystical magical doodahism, as Colon put it.

It meant a quiet night for the Watch, too, which was nice; they were just settling in with cocoa in the watch house when there was a knock on the door.

When Carrot opened it, his jaw dropped; the Commander was stood there with Young Sam on one arm, Sybil behind him dressed in a very voluminous Hogfather costume.

"PRESENTS," Young Sam said, throwing both his arms in the air. Vimes gave Carrot a long-suffering look as Sybil began distributing gifts to the officers.

"We meant to give you a nice night off," Carrot said.

"Well, Sybil bought little things for everyone," Vimes sighed. "And Young Sam was restless when I didn't come down to the watch house..."

"Chip off the old block, sir," Carrot said loyally, and Vimes, watching his son crash into furniture while wearing a Watchman's helmet, nodded forlornly.




Prompt from dignitywhatdignity: (From the Ironsides verse) For all Tony had been through, she had never in her life felt survivor's guilt until she saw how bad Agent's sister's morning sickness was.

"Is there something I can do?" she asked, wringing her hands as faint noises came from the bathroom.

"It's fine, Antonia, I swear," Joan said with a smile, emerging.

"Yes well, little Justice Patriot Billionaire will owe you a lot when he emerges," Tony declared.

"I promise you, he's going to have to apologize for the actual birth more than the morning sickness," Joan replied. "Just do me one favor."

"Anything," Tony said, clasping her hands in what she felt was an unusually sisterly show of solidarity.

"Do not name your child Justice Patriot Billionaire," Joan said firmly.




Prompt from Levynite: "So Carlos, what else is in your bag of tricks?"

"Well, there's all kinds of tests I can run," Carlos said thoughtfully, staring up at the ceiling, currently clad only in a lab coat and part of a sheet. "Temperature sensation, response to electrical stimulation -- it sounds painful but it's actually really fun," he said, when Cecil gave him a deeply alarmed look. "I could test fertility on each and see if there's any difference, though there really shouldn't be..."

"Or," Cecil said, as if having a brilliant idea, "OR, we could do what we just did, again, but after we've had a snack and cuddled."

Carlos grinned at him. "That works too. Sometimes science has to wait until you've had a snack."




Prompt from frenchroast007: (from the Lovelace verse) "Tony, your owl is trapped inside the stocking."

"I KNOW THAT!" Tony yelled from the other room. "IT'S HER PUNISHMENT."

"For what?" Steve asked, investigating Lovelace's legs, which were sticking out of the top of the Christmas stocking.

"TRYING TO GET INTO A STOCKING," Tony yelled, emerging with a pair of scissors. "Stand back, I have to cut her out and she's going to be pissed."

"How long did you leave her in the stocking?" Steve asked, appalled.

"Long enough for her to get pissed," Tony said, carefully cutting the stocking open. Lovelace burst free with a scream, dove for Tony's shirt, and used it to climb up to his shoulder, where she began a long, loud harangue over him leaving her in the stocking.

Steve didn't tease him about it, but he did take a picture, and Pepper declared later that the photo of Tony, scissors in one hand and shredded stocking in the other, looking berated while Lovelace screamed at him, was the best Christmas card they'd ever sent out.




Prompt from Anon: (from the Lovelace verse) "Tony, I get the owl, I even get the potoo. What I don't get is the dragon."

"The potoo's not mine," Tony said, and Rhodey rolled his eyes. "What! That's Clint's. And the dragon is Pepper's."

"Why does Pepper need a baby dragon?" Rhodey said, bending to study the little beast in the terrarium. "It's cute and all, but..."

"Watch," Tony said, and picked up the dragon. He held it out to Lovelace, who screamed bloody murder and took off for the other side of the room. "Pepper needs some kind of Lovelace repellent for when she's meeting with important people."

"And having a tiny lizard on her person is less weird than an owl?"

"She keeps it in a pocket. Some of the, you know, the older shareholders, they think it's a brooch," Tony said.

"This is some fucked up ecosystem shit you have going on here, you realize that," Rhodey said.

"Do you want an owl, Fluffy? I can get you one cheap," Tony replied.

This is Pepper's dragon.




Prompt from indigospersonalblog: (from the Mint in Box verse) "You know, I really thought Tony was joking about the whole Avengers: The Game thing."

"I never joke, I always fully commit to everything I say, and yet nobody ever believes me," Tony announced, setting out the game board. "Now get over here with the infant and help me child-test this thing."

"You realize this game says, on the box which you designed, 'For ages 6 and up'," Coulson pointed out, balancing Jack on his hip. "Jack is not age six, or up."

"I made the game pieces too big to be choking hazards," Tony said. "Just give him Cap to gnaw on. Here you go," he said, offering Jack the Cap figurine, which Jack obligingly stuck in his mouth. "There's a digital version too, for the hipsters who like to play board games on computers."

"I'm sure in fifteen years Jack will enjoy that," Coulson said gravely.

"Dibs on Secret Agent!" Clint said, sliding into one of the chairs and excitedly studying all the little game figurines. "He has all the best powers."

"Yes, babysitting and project management, great superpowers," Coulson said, sitting down.

"See, the thing is, if you have the Secret Agent figurine, all the other figurines have an extra power they wouldn't otherwise have," Clint explained.

Coulson looked up at Tony, who looked away and fiddled with the Iron Man figurine until the head accidentally popped off.

"Okay," he said finally. "Deal me in, Clint, let's see if we can break the game."




Prompt from antonomasia09: (From the Foodieverse) Tony found Bruce in a hole-in-the-wall creperie in France, cooking on a hot plate obviously stole from a lab.

"This is the best crepe I've ever eaten," Tony said, leaning on the dutch door that led into the kitchen, really more of a closet with a sink. "What did you do to it, who are you?"

"Bruce Banner. It's the chemical composition of the butter, I make it myself," Bruce said, and then peered at him. "Don't you make pizza?" he asked.

"Did. Not anymore. Tony Stark, I want another crepe, and you're American, so clearly you should come home to America with me and make crepes for me, personally, and for my restaurant," Tony said, and then winced. "Sorry, good food makes me talk a lot. Are you into molecular gastronomy at all?"

Bruce waved a hand at his closet kitchen. "I can't afford to be into molecular gastronomy at all."

"Not a problem, I'm rich off the backs of a lot of really munchy stoners. You sound like you do science."

"I can do science," Bruce said warily.

"I want you to come do science on food with me," Tony said, offering his business card. It said FREELANCE FOODIE on it, and Bruce smiled a little.

"I'll think it over," he said. "Most people don't like to work with me, I have kind of a temper."

"Do you yell at people?"

"Mostly at food."

"Bruce," Tony said with a wide smile. "Come with me and I promise you'll never use hotplates again, unless you're using them ironically."

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