Avengers ficlet.
Gratuitous Avengers ficlet of emo and movie fangirling. Quote at the beginning is from New Avengers #25.
"I have a very expensive suit of armor with roller skates. I don't much find the need for movies."
It had been Clint’s idea originally. He’d always been the one most determined to forge them into a happy little family, and he’d kept up his efforts even after splitting off from the main Avengers team and moving to the west coast.
(”Thursday night is movie night, remember? It’ll be just like old times, except that Cap isn’t here, which means we can watch Platoon.”
Tony looked down, away from Clint’s agressively cheerful face and concerned eyes. ‘Just like old times’ was the last thing he needed. “I’ve got to get back to Circuits Maximus. I’ve already been here longer than I was supposed to.” Cly and Morley would be waiting, and Rhodey… probably wouldn’t be, but he’d more than earned that.
“You guys have fun without me,” he added, trying for a smile. Smiling took a lot of energy these days, and he wasn’t sure he pulled it off, but Clint was eager to be convinced.)
Old sci-fi films had always been the best--the ones from the 1950s, with soundtracks full of eerie theremin music and aliens that were really, really obvious metaphors for communism. Hank had always been partial to Them!. Tony personally preferred Earth vs. the Flying Saucers, mostly for the scene where the F-4 Phantom was zapped with an alien death ray and, via the magic of poorly-chosen stock footage, turned into a B-25.
Steve claimed not to like sci-fi, but always turned up anytime they had a Star Wars marathon, and had once--after they'd formed the new team, only months ago, but God, it felt like so much longer--made the mistake of suggesting that they watch the prequels as well. Peter's impassioned explanation of just exactly what kind of blasphemy that would be had lasted nearly fifteen minutes.
(“There are only three Star Wars movies. Three!”
“Peter, the last one came out this-“
“Three!” Peter snapped. “The prequels are completely not Star Wars canon.”
Steve, cut off mid-word, signed in a put-upon way and turned to Tony. “You and Hank must have watched that horrible movie with the giant ants twelve times. Don’t tell me you don’t want to see the rest of Star Wars.”
“… and Hayden Christianson and Natalie Portman have less chemistry than argon and zenon,” Peter went on, “and the dialogue is horrible. I mean, if you think my jokes are bad…”
Sometimes, there were advatanges to being the one who owned the home theater system. “We are not watching Attack of the Clones,” Tony said. “Trust me; it’s a hundred and forty two minutes of your life that you’ll never get back.”
“… and the special effects are way too slick, like watching Final Fantasy, but with less plot…”)
Jan liked romantic comedies--the old ones, with snappy Grant-Hepburn dialogue--and anything with George Cloony in it. And Star Trek, which she maintained was better than Star Wars. If she'd been there for Peter's "damn you, George Lucas," tirade, it would have gone on all night.
Carol had made them all watch Top Gun so many times that Tony could recite half the dialogue, along with Steve's habitual rant about how unprofessional Maverick was.
Jennifer had been unexpectedly fond of romantic fluff, too. Not at all the sort of thing he’d expected She-Hulk to watch, but Jen had always been full of contradictions.
(Clint held the dvd case between two fingers, as if more extensive contact might polute him. “I thought we decided on a no chick flicks rule.”
“No,” Jennifer said, “you decided on a no chick flicks rule. The rest of us have matured beyond the age of twelve.”
“Yeah, but… Pretty Woman? Come on, prostitution is completely degrading to woman. You’re a lawyer. Wouldn’t you rather watch lawyer movies or something?”
“I just spent all day in a courtroom. I don’t need to watch a movie about people spending all day in a courtroom.” Jennifer stretched out a long, muscular, green arm and plucked the dvd case from his grasp. “If you want to watch something else, you can always arm-wrestle me for it.”)
Clint had loved Robin Hood. The old, Errol Flynn version, not the Kevin Costner one, which sucked in two dozen ways that he would cheerfully list for you. The old videotape he'd brought along to every movie night had fallen apart years ago, and he'd never gotten a chance to see it on DVD.
Thor had liked that one, too. He’d liked Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy even more. The theater’s ushers, jaded from a long day of enthusiastic Tolkien fans in cloaks, hadn’t been quite so fond of him. Trying to tell him that he couldn’t bring Mjolnir into the theater had still been a stupid move on their part.
Simon and Vision had both had a thing for noir. The Maltese Falcon, the Big Sleep, Notorious, The Untouchables, L.A. Confidential, and anything else with fedoras in it.
(”I thought film noir only included black and white movies.” Wanda was leaning her head against Simon’s shoulder, one leg curled underneath her in a pose that looked oddly young and vulnerable. She was still in costume, so it also left quite a lot of bare leg visible.
“Technically, maybe, but it’s the spirit of the film that counts.”
“Simon is correct,” Vision said. He was watching Simon and Wanda rather than the screen, and while his red and green features were often difficult to read, Tony had no trouble figuring out his feelings this time. “The cinematography may not be classically noir, but the subject matter and the plot constuction are classic neo-noir. Subterfuge, corruption, betrayal, a beautiful but dangerous woman. And, of course, no happy ending.”
“In that case, I don’t think I’ll stick around.” She pulled away from Simon and stood, exiting in a swirl of red fabric.)
Wanda… hadn't been a movie person.
Steve liked old Ginger Rogers/Fred Astaire musicals, and Casablanca, and any and all costume dramas, but oddly enough, not war movies.
Tony was starting to understand why. He didn't have time for movies anymore these days, but if he sat down to watch one, it wouldn't have fighting in it. Nothing that reminded him of the way things were nowadays. And nothing that reminded him of the way things weren't anymore, either.
He didn’t have time for it.
(”Oklahoma?” Tony asked skeptically. He knew the faceplate hid his expression, but Cap seemed to pick up on his raised eyebrows anyway.
Cap grinned a little shyly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, I know. I suppose it’s a little nostalgic of me, but I saw it in it’s first run on Broadway back during the war. Bucky spent the entire time complaining because he’d wanted to go see the rockettes. It was the only time we ever got any stateside leave.”
He looked much younger when he smiled like that. “Musicals aren’t really my thing,” Tony told him, “but next time they do a revival, I bet Tony Stark could scare you up a couple of tickets.” It still felt strange, speaking about himself in the third person, as if Tony Stark and Iron Man were two completely separate entities. In a way, though, they were.
“Thanks, Iron Man, but you can’t ask your boss to-“
Tony held up red gauntlets, forstalling the rest of Cap’s protest. “Hey, if he objects, I’ll get him to take it out of my paycheck.”
“Well, in that case, partner, I’d be happy to accept.” Cap looked down at the videocasset in his hand, then back up at ‘Iron Man.’ “As long as you made sure to tell Tony Stark thanks for me.”
He laid just the tiniest amount of stress on the name, and those bright blue eyes were supiciously amused-looking. Underneath his metal breastplate, Tony’s heart skipped a beat.)
He didn’t have time for memories, either.
* * *
*For those with as little of a life as I: where the flashbacks fit in Marvel timeline.
Flashback one, Clint & Tony: Between Iron Man v1 194 and 195 (1980s)
Flashback two, Tony, Steve, & Spidey: New Avengers
Flashback three, Clint & Jennifer: late Avengers v3 after Clint returned and before they went to Britain.
Flashback four, Wanda, Simon & Vision: Early Avengers v3, somewhere between #14 and #20.
Final Flashback, Steve & Tony: Old school Avengers, back in the 60s
"I have a very expensive suit of armor with roller skates. I don't much find the need for movies."
It had been Clint’s idea originally. He’d always been the one most determined to forge them into a happy little family, and he’d kept up his efforts even after splitting off from the main Avengers team and moving to the west coast.
(”Thursday night is movie night, remember? It’ll be just like old times, except that Cap isn’t here, which means we can watch Platoon.”
Tony looked down, away from Clint’s agressively cheerful face and concerned eyes. ‘Just like old times’ was the last thing he needed. “I’ve got to get back to Circuits Maximus. I’ve already been here longer than I was supposed to.” Cly and Morley would be waiting, and Rhodey… probably wouldn’t be, but he’d more than earned that.
“You guys have fun without me,” he added, trying for a smile. Smiling took a lot of energy these days, and he wasn’t sure he pulled it off, but Clint was eager to be convinced.)
Old sci-fi films had always been the best--the ones from the 1950s, with soundtracks full of eerie theremin music and aliens that were really, really obvious metaphors for communism. Hank had always been partial to Them!. Tony personally preferred Earth vs. the Flying Saucers, mostly for the scene where the F-4 Phantom was zapped with an alien death ray and, via the magic of poorly-chosen stock footage, turned into a B-25.
Steve claimed not to like sci-fi, but always turned up anytime they had a Star Wars marathon, and had once--after they'd formed the new team, only months ago, but God, it felt like so much longer--made the mistake of suggesting that they watch the prequels as well. Peter's impassioned explanation of just exactly what kind of blasphemy that would be had lasted nearly fifteen minutes.
(“There are only three Star Wars movies. Three!”
“Peter, the last one came out this-“
“Three!” Peter snapped. “The prequels are completely not Star Wars canon.”
Steve, cut off mid-word, signed in a put-upon way and turned to Tony. “You and Hank must have watched that horrible movie with the giant ants twelve times. Don’t tell me you don’t want to see the rest of Star Wars.”
“… and Hayden Christianson and Natalie Portman have less chemistry than argon and zenon,” Peter went on, “and the dialogue is horrible. I mean, if you think my jokes are bad…”
Sometimes, there were advatanges to being the one who owned the home theater system. “We are not watching Attack of the Clones,” Tony said. “Trust me; it’s a hundred and forty two minutes of your life that you’ll never get back.”
“… and the special effects are way too slick, like watching Final Fantasy, but with less plot…”)
Jan liked romantic comedies--the old ones, with snappy Grant-Hepburn dialogue--and anything with George Cloony in it. And Star Trek, which she maintained was better than Star Wars. If she'd been there for Peter's "damn you, George Lucas," tirade, it would have gone on all night.
Carol had made them all watch Top Gun so many times that Tony could recite half the dialogue, along with Steve's habitual rant about how unprofessional Maverick was.
Jennifer had been unexpectedly fond of romantic fluff, too. Not at all the sort of thing he’d expected She-Hulk to watch, but Jen had always been full of contradictions.
(Clint held the dvd case between two fingers, as if more extensive contact might polute him. “I thought we decided on a no chick flicks rule.”
“No,” Jennifer said, “you decided on a no chick flicks rule. The rest of us have matured beyond the age of twelve.”
“Yeah, but… Pretty Woman? Come on, prostitution is completely degrading to woman. You’re a lawyer. Wouldn’t you rather watch lawyer movies or something?”
“I just spent all day in a courtroom. I don’t need to watch a movie about people spending all day in a courtroom.” Jennifer stretched out a long, muscular, green arm and plucked the dvd case from his grasp. “If you want to watch something else, you can always arm-wrestle me for it.”)
Clint had loved Robin Hood. The old, Errol Flynn version, not the Kevin Costner one, which sucked in two dozen ways that he would cheerfully list for you. The old videotape he'd brought along to every movie night had fallen apart years ago, and he'd never gotten a chance to see it on DVD.
Thor had liked that one, too. He’d liked Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy even more. The theater’s ushers, jaded from a long day of enthusiastic Tolkien fans in cloaks, hadn’t been quite so fond of him. Trying to tell him that he couldn’t bring Mjolnir into the theater had still been a stupid move on their part.
Simon and Vision had both had a thing for noir. The Maltese Falcon, the Big Sleep, Notorious, The Untouchables, L.A. Confidential, and anything else with fedoras in it.
(”I thought film noir only included black and white movies.” Wanda was leaning her head against Simon’s shoulder, one leg curled underneath her in a pose that looked oddly young and vulnerable. She was still in costume, so it also left quite a lot of bare leg visible.
“Technically, maybe, but it’s the spirit of the film that counts.”
“Simon is correct,” Vision said. He was watching Simon and Wanda rather than the screen, and while his red and green features were often difficult to read, Tony had no trouble figuring out his feelings this time. “The cinematography may not be classically noir, but the subject matter and the plot constuction are classic neo-noir. Subterfuge, corruption, betrayal, a beautiful but dangerous woman. And, of course, no happy ending.”
“In that case, I don’t think I’ll stick around.” She pulled away from Simon and stood, exiting in a swirl of red fabric.)
Wanda… hadn't been a movie person.
Steve liked old Ginger Rogers/Fred Astaire musicals, and Casablanca, and any and all costume dramas, but oddly enough, not war movies.
Tony was starting to understand why. He didn't have time for movies anymore these days, but if he sat down to watch one, it wouldn't have fighting in it. Nothing that reminded him of the way things were nowadays. And nothing that reminded him of the way things weren't anymore, either.
He didn’t have time for it.
(”Oklahoma?” Tony asked skeptically. He knew the faceplate hid his expression, but Cap seemed to pick up on his raised eyebrows anyway.
Cap grinned a little shyly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, I know. I suppose it’s a little nostalgic of me, but I saw it in it’s first run on Broadway back during the war. Bucky spent the entire time complaining because he’d wanted to go see the rockettes. It was the only time we ever got any stateside leave.”
He looked much younger when he smiled like that. “Musicals aren’t really my thing,” Tony told him, “but next time they do a revival, I bet Tony Stark could scare you up a couple of tickets.” It still felt strange, speaking about himself in the third person, as if Tony Stark and Iron Man were two completely separate entities. In a way, though, they were.
“Thanks, Iron Man, but you can’t ask your boss to-“
Tony held up red gauntlets, forstalling the rest of Cap’s protest. “Hey, if he objects, I’ll get him to take it out of my paycheck.”
“Well, in that case, partner, I’d be happy to accept.” Cap looked down at the videocasset in his hand, then back up at ‘Iron Man.’ “As long as you made sure to tell Tony Stark thanks for me.”
He laid just the tiniest amount of stress on the name, and those bright blue eyes were supiciously amused-looking. Underneath his metal breastplate, Tony’s heart skipped a beat.)
He didn’t have time for memories, either.
* * *
*For those with as little of a life as I: where the flashbacks fit in Marvel timeline.
Flashback one, Clint & Tony: Between Iron Man v1 194 and 195 (1980s)
Flashback two, Tony, Steve, & Spidey: New Avengers
Flashback three, Clint & Jennifer: late Avengers v3 after Clint returned and before they went to Britain.
Flashback four, Wanda, Simon & Vision: Early Avengers v3, somewhere between #14 and #20.
Final Flashback, Steve & Tony: Old school Avengers, back in the 60s