MMCF

The Usual Unusual Night for xenokattz

rocaw — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 20:34:07 GMT

Title: The Usual Unusual Night
Author: rocaw
Recipient: xenokattz
Crossover: Iron Man/XO:Wolverine
Characters: Pepper Potts, Remy LeBeau, Victor Creed, Tony Stark
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Author's Notes: For xenokattz! I really hope you like it! =D Prompt: Remy is hired to steal something important from Stark Industries. Pepper gets in the way. Takes place between Iron Man and Iron Man 2 and sometime before Gambit shows up in XO: Wolverine. Many thanks to mwffj for the beta and to comeon_eileen for being awesome! =)

Happy said it was normal to be shaken up. After all, she had worked with Obadiah Stane many years, trusted him, and he had tried to kill them all. Pepper dismissed Happy’s concern and assured him she was all right. However, for some time afterwards, she felt uneasy around people she didn’t know and even people she did. But since there was no way around it, she simply got back to work. Besides, Tony had something big planned in the coming days and it was her job to be ready for anything.

…

Celebrities, photographers, and journalists were among the guests invited to the Stark Industries Complex reopening. After Stane and his Iron Monger destroyed most of the main building, Tony had it rebuilt without the large arc reactor. Instead, in the center of the lobby, stood the Iron Man suit encased in four-inch thick glass.

Most people could care less about the reopening itself. Sure the building was beautiful, energy efficient, and had the look of the latest L.A. hotspot rather than an office building, but no one cared a whole lot about that. Everyone wanted an up-close and personal look at the suit. Pepper was concerned, but Tony was insistent. Happy would personally check every single person that entered the building and due to the thick glass case protecting the suit, no picture could possibly capture all the detail. Besides, he assured her, if there was any problem, he had his other suit nearby.

With little choice in the matter, Pepper bought another ridiculous dress and hoped for the best. She was relieved that two hours in, everything was going rather well. No one fighting in suits of armor, no near-death experiences. The whole thing was running smoothly. She even thought she caught Agent Coulson crack a smile. But that could’ve just been a trick of the light.

In the middle of it all, Tony was busy being Tony, answering questions, posing for pictures, and basically charming everyone within a mile radius. Pepper couldn’t help but watch in amusement.

Then, her phone rang. It was Rhodey. She left the lobby and went up to her office because apparently, Tony didn’t get around to signing two important military contracts. Up the elevator ride, Pepper talked Rhodey out of driving up to the new complex in tanks and forcing Tony to do his job.

…

Like any good thief, Remy LeBeau preferred working alone. It meant one less variable and fewer things that could go wrong. Given that he was a great thief, he hated having a partner, though, partner was too generous, too nice a word. Sabertooth was everything and anything but nice. That one job in Paris and that poor girl’s death were proof enough.

“You’re wasting time, Gambit. You know what happens when you waste time.”

It was Creed in his earpiece.

How he loathed him. Stryker even more. So why was he working for them? He was buying time before he could disappear for good. With Sabertooth so close, Remy’s scent was too fresh. He’d have to escape directly from the Island on a day Creed wasn’t around for any chance of his plan succeeding.

Remy soon reached the floor Stryker suspected the latest item of his desires was located. Bradley and his control of electricity had helped Remy on a job some weeks prior and mentioned Stryker once had a similar hard-on for those meteor rocks he was looking for in Africa a few years back. Remy couldn’t care less, he was simply stalling ‘til the right time.

After checking three rooms and finding nothing, Remy stepped up to the fourth door. He leaned closer and listened. Someone was in there and by the faint light now coming out from the bottom of the door that someone was probably trying to move in on his score.

Silently, he worked the lock and before he opened the door, straightened his jacket and fedora.

A surprised red-head sat behind the desk, phone secured between her ear and shoulder as she typed something into a laptop.

Damn. He was expecting another thief, not a personal assistant. Time for Plan B.

…

“Ms. Potts?” Remy relaxed his shoulders, “Mr. Stark sent for you.”

“Let me call you back,” Pepper spoke into her phone. She logged out of the laptop, but didn’t turn it off. It was the only source of light in the room. The half-moon outside didn’t help at all.

“Mr. Stark sent for me?” she asked. She could have sworn she locked the door.

The young man smiled and nodded.

He looked trustworthy and Pepper wanted to believe him. She really did, but after Obadiah… Her trust in anybody who wasn’t an eccentric billionaire trying to play hero just didn’t exist.

“Where’s Happy?” she asked, trying to keep the suspicion out of her voice.

“He’s waiting downstairs. With the car,” he replied. Of course, he’d done his homework. Like any other job, he studied all the major players involved.

Good answer, Pepper thought. Too good? she wondered. No, she was just being silly. Happy told her he was going have plain-dressed security. Though this boy was certainly not plain. She ignored the thought and stood from the chair. “You’re Chris, right?” she asked.

“Remy,” he replied instantly, which was stupid. Sure, let everybody know who crashed Stark’s reopening and stole from him. One leggy red-head in a slinky golden dress and he forgets who’s supposed to do the charming. Obviously, he’d been on that damn island too long. No more mistakes.

He stepped closer and smiled at her.

There goes that smile again, Pepper thought. She cleared her throat. Tony had mentioned in passing the possibility of moving the party from Stark Industries to Malibu. She had hoped he wouldn’t… And now she felt guilty for doubting the guy staring at her like she was crazy, which she probably was. And he had probably been having fun downstairs until Tony worked his magic and sent him for her.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes, of course,” Pepper replied. She walked around her desk to get her clutch purse, but he beat her to it.

“I can carry this for you.”

Pepper finally smiled at him, “Thank you.”

She was half-way out the door when she glanced back at Remy. His eyes were busy scanning her office and she had that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach again.

Remy noticed her and smiled like they were old friends. It was warm, innocent, with a hint of something else.

She didn’t buy it. After working for Tony so long, she knew all the different tactics and sexy smiles weren’t going to work on her.

“I knew you were up to no good,” she said.

His whole demeanor changed, “Depends on your definition of good, chere.” He went from sweet to almost dangerous, from ready to take orders to ready to give them.

Pepper wondered what to do. If she yelled, no one would hear. What if she called someone downstairs? Remy leaned against her desk then. He opened her clutch and waved her cell phone at her. Okay, calling was out.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I’m only here for one thing.”

Her eyes went wide for a second. Remy shook his head at her.

“Chere,” he laughed, “If that’s what I was after? Trust me, before the night was over, you’d offer,” he winked.

And she thought Tony was full of himself. Why was it always the cute ones?

She didn’t just think that! Okay, focus. He wasn’t there for her… So… if he was trying to hack into the system, he was out of luck. Tony had upgraded the security after Obadiah’s betrayal, but… The laptop and computer weren’t the only things of value in her office. Her heart rate increased. She knew why Remy was there.

“You’re…you’re a thief!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled, even tipped his hat a little. Pepper bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. “That don’t mean I ain’t a gentleman,” he said, “Don’t want no one to get hurt. That includes you. You leave, go downstairs, call whoever you want. Promise I won’t follow. We got a deal?”

Even if she ran full speed there was no way she could get downstairs before the thief disappeared with his prize.

“No,” Pepper said. Yeah, she just crossed the line over to crazy. “I’m not leaving.”

“I’m getting tired of waiting, Gambit.”

Creed. Merde! Time for Plan C.

…

Remy pulled out a deck of cards.

If only Stryker’s pet wasn’t waiting for him, he might have been able to take his time working Ms. Potts. A red-head named Pepper… sure would’ve been fun, too. As it was, he didn’t have the luxury and was going to have to play dirty. Plus, he had to be quick. Otherwise, that goddamn Sabertooth would rush in slicing people open.

Pepper was standing next to her filing cabinet seconds later and Remy hadn’t even seen her move. Could’ve been he was too busy worrying about Creed or maybe she had the makings of a decent enough thief.

“I think you were right before,” she said grabbing the suitcase against the cabinet, “I should leave.”

Remy shuffled his cards and watched her struggle with the suitcase. Seemed it was heavier than she expected.

“Tick tock, Gambit.”

Remy glanced out the window wondering just where Creed was hiding. He turned back to her. “You need a hand with that?” he asked.

Pepper smiled nervously. Why couldn’t it be a tiny flash drive she was trying to sneak out?

“Time’s up, Gambit!”

“Chere, it’s been a pleasure,” Remy winked, “Now, you might wanna take cover.”

Pepper’s eyes were glued to his hand. The tips of his fingers glowed red a split second before he threw the playing card he held at the window.

The window exploded and Pepper ducked behind her desk.

Remy jumped out empty-handed, he wouldn’t have been able to outrun Sabertooth otherwise. Knowing Creed would have to give up killing innocent partiers to catch him, he made a break for it. Stryker sure as hell wouldn’t be too happy if he got away.

…

Tony was in his workshop when Pepper walked in. Her golden dress was torn on one side revealing more of her thigh than he was used to and though her hair wasn’t exactly in disarray, it was messy, for her. She was struggling with a suitcase he recognized instantly and looked on with great curiosity as she barely managed to lift and dump it on the table.

“You know, this — you’re portable briefcase armor — isn’t very portable.”

Tony grinned. He walked over from his stool to Pepper.

“It has wheels,” he said. He pushed a small button on the side to reveal four tiny wheels at one end. “You’re supposed to roll it,” Tony explained, fighting the urge to smile at her annoyed expression.

She took a deep breath. Handsome thieves and exploding windows could have been avoided if only Tony had let her know that tiny, but important, bit of information. Still, she was a professional and refused to yell at her boss. “Perhaps if it were smaller and lighter, Happy or I could carry it around.”

It was easy to see she was upset.

“I can do that. Maybe,” he said, a lazy grin in place. He didn't like when she was upset. He could fix this. “Will that be all, Ms. Potts?”

Suddenly the urge to yell disappeared and Pepper smirked at his use of her usual parting line. “That will be all, Mr. Stark." She left thinking she wasn’t crazy, she was simply doing her job.

Minutes after Pepper left, Tony still smiled at the empty space where she stood.

“Smaller and lighter?” he said to himself, “Yeah...that could work.”

And we are a GO!

ficwize — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 03:18:12 GMT

All stories should be live and accounted for! If for any reason you do not see a fic that should be here (either you wrote one or the one for you is MIA), please let me know ASAP.

Also, I believe I have given everyone posting access again, but if you delete and repost and it goes back into the queue, I will approve it tomorrow.

Thanks to everyone for everything. I really appreciate it. Special thanks to my pinch hitters! You all rock!

Public Display for Cousin Shelley

a_q — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 03:10:43 GMT

Title: Public Display
Author: a_q
Recipient: Cousin Shelley
Fandoms: Iron Man / The Incredible Hulk
Rating: pg
Warnings: none
Author's note: This story is a variation from the story idea suggested in the prompt.

”Do you know there is men shadowing you?”

Pepper sipped her wine and stepped slightly to the left, like she was looking close the details of the sculpture. In same movement she glanced through the gallery's front window. The men were not hard to spot. They were trying very hard to appear inconspicuous. They were dressed in all black, and not in the fashionable sense, but battle gear style. Like a small military maneuver in the middle of the street. Pepper sighed and walked around the display case back to Bruce's side.

”Tony hired some extra security. It has been somewhat embarrassing, because I already had my own and there has been some static in the line of communication, so to speak.”

”What is he so worried about? That you are spending time with me?”

”No, I don't think so.” Pepper said, tapping her fingernail against the glass. She hated lying to his face, but the truth would only hurt his feelings for no reason. It wasn't Bruce's fault that Tony could act like a stupid jerk at times. “It's just... He worries about things, and then he has to act, you know? It is cute, but rather annoying. I'll take care of it.”

Pepper turned and signaled her own bodyguard. She explained the situation quietly and then turned her attention back to Bruce. He had quizzical expression, the same one that he had in front of the art pieces.

”And I suppose that you feel that you don't really need all this protection in the first place? You can take care of yourself.”

“Oh no, I need the protection. You know I can plan and organize anything without breaking a sweat, but in actual hand to hand combat I'm pretty helpless. See? Look at these shoes for one.” Pepper joked, to light the mood. “I could snap an ankle just by taking a brisk step.”

“They are pretty, but not combat boots.”

“Exactly.”

Behind the window, the men in the street were confronted by two stern looking women, who were both wearing cocktail dresses, the suitable clothing for an art gallery opening. The men looked alarmed, but after a few minutes of talking, the women turned back to return inside and the men slunk back to their car. No one else in the gallery seemed to noticed what has happened outside.
Pepper emptied her glass with a quick gulp. She had hoped for a fun evening, not a territory squabble between security. She sighed and placed the empty glass on passing waiters tray.

“Let's go back to the point of our evening. Here, let me show you something.” Pepper touched Bruce's arm to direct him away from the windows and towards the canvas stretched at the far end of the gallery.

The piece filled the whole wall. Pepper stayed back and let Bruce look at the work at his own pace. He didn't say anything for a long time. Other guests walked into the room and everyone fell silent in front of the piece. The hushed conversation returned again outside the show room. Pepper looked at Bruce instead the piece. She had seen it dozens of times. She liked to take people to see it and then observe their reactions. Bruce seemed melancholy though occasionally a rare smile flickered across his face. His watch chirped a warning once, but he didn't even look at it. Then the room was quiet again.

“What do you think?” Pepper finally asked, to break the spell.

“I don't know. It's hard to take all of it in, it's just so... complex. This isn't really my area of expertise, like I said before. Science is more in my ballpark.”

“I have never understood why those two areas are mutually exclusive, art and science. You were thinking something, weren't you? The piece affects you. Your watch made a sound.”

“Yes, that's...yes. What's it called? The piece?”

“Home.”

“Yes, I can see that. It makes you sad and happy at the same time. You think of Tony when you see it, don't you?”

“Why do you say that?” Pepper asked, suddenly curious. “I haven't told that to anyone.”

Bruce just shrugged, like the answer was too obvious. They looked at the piece in silence. Finally Bruce turned away from it and returned back Pepper's side. “Have you shown this to Tony?”

“No. He would want to buy it. I like this piece too much to let it be part of his collection.”

“I thought you were in charge of the Stark Art Collection. The manner the gallery owner scraped and bowed before you, I would say you have some serious influence in these circles.”

“I'm in charge, yes, but its still Tony's collection, even if he doesn't pay attention to it. He just likes to own rare objects, and there is nothing as unique as art works. But he doesn't care about art, not really.”

Pepper said, and smiled to take the edge from her words. It sounded harsh when she said it out loud, even though it was true.

“But you care.”

“Yes.”

“I understand that. Sometimes, I think it is the same with my studies. Everyone wants to have my research, just for the ownership, not really caring about it or its ramifications. So we are the protectors, aren't we?”

“I would like to think that.”

“Are you forcing my girl to think on her night off, Banner? That won't do.”

They turned in unison. Tony was standing behind them, beaming with charm and energy. Pepper knew him, and she could distinguish the showmanship from the truth. His eyes were cold and serious. Bruce straightened and stepped aside in search for open space, unconscious move that spoke volumes. He was getting ready to fight or flee. Pepper noticed that behind Tony's back her bodyguards were also looking at them, ready to intervene if she needed. She shook her head ever so slightly to signal them to stay away, and not to draw attention to them. It was a mute point, because Tony drew attention just by standing there.

“Tony, I didn't know you were coming.” Pepper smiled her brightest smile at him, and leaned in to kiss him lightly. His body language didn't change. “We were just talking about you.”

“Of course you were.” He just said, like it was given that in his absence he was still the topic of the conversation. “I just came by to see if you would like to have a late dinner, and what happened to the security team? You had your hands on that, Banner?”

“No, I did not.” Bruce said, calm and collected. Pepper knew that he could control himself better than anyone, but she still couldn't help but fear for Tony. She always did that, and sometimes she was just tired of that feeling. Maybe because of that her tone was a lot sharper than what she had intended.

“No, I sent them away. You know I'm well covered and I don't need your men, especially not such blatant and embarrassing ones.” Pepper said, and nodded to the two women standing close by, monitoring the exchange with tense expressions. “You don't want to insult women who were hand-picked and trained by Natasha, do you, by marching in some random extras?”

“Yes Tony, you should be careful not to insult the Black Widow.” Bruce added, seemingly innocent comment that immediately made Tony stiffen up with anger. Everyone knew that Natasha had given him a painful lesson about respect just few days ago. Pepper rested her hand on his arm and with skilled move turned him slightly away from Bruce and toward the curious crowd that was milling about behind them. It was always wisest to distract Tony with shiny objects, this time the admiring crowd would do.

“I could actually eat something, so dinner sounds great.” Pepper added, and waved her hand to Bruce as a short good bye. Just like that the potentially disastrous situation was reduced to mundane meet and greet with the gallery goers and to few posed pictures for the press outside.

Later, when they were driving back to home from the restaurant, Pepper's personal phone signaled an incoming message. It was a slightly unfocused picture of the work Home and a text: “Wishing safe journey to home, to woman with her unique combat boots. B.”

Masks for joanne_c

cousinshelley — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 03:10:25 GMT

Title: Masks
Author: cousinshelley
Recipient: joanne_c
Fandoms: X-Men/Spiderman
Rating: Probably a very soft R
Warnings: Mild language, adult situations
A/N: This is set before the first X-Men and before the first Spiderman, assuming that those times mesh up. Scott is a bit younger than in the films, and mutants are a given in the world of Spiderman. It's also set early enough that Erik is still at the school. I don't know if Scott and Jean would have been old enough to teach there at that time, but hey, let's pretend. Thanks to patih and thulemir for reading and making suggestions!

Specific Request: Norman Osborn/Scott Summers (slash or gen), Jean Grey. Scott comes to Norman for some funding help. They discover more in common than they ever expected to, friendship (or more) comes out of it. I'd prefer this set pre-Spiderman movie but that's not essential. I'm completely open to threesome dynamics with Jean as well, or dealing with her in a good way if it goes to slash. (Again, I want this to be about Norman, not the Green Goblin.)

( Masks )

Supergirl for wizefics

cousinshelley — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 02:54:27 GMT

Title: Supergirl
Author: cousinshelley
Recipient: ficwize
Fandoms: X-Men/Wolverine and Kick Ass
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language
A/N: This takes place after the end of both X2 and Kick Ass, and pretends they took place at about the same time. Thanks to patih and thulemir for giving it a read and making suggestions!

Specific request: Wolverine and Hit Girl. Gen please! Or at least no relationship with Hit Girl without aging her significantly! I'd love a story where Wolverine runs face to face with Hit Girl, who makes him recall all the young kids he's trained and wonders if he's crossed the line. Shenanigans welcome.

( Supergirl )

Believe A Mutant Can... (For Handyhunter, by Second Batgirl)

second_batgirl — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 02:54:19 GMT

Title: Believe A Mutant Can...
Author: second_batgirl
Recipient: handyhunter
Fandoms: X-Men/Superman Returns
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Lois Lane wants to do an article on mutants. Jubilee just wants to meet Superman
A/N: Many thanks to likeadeuce and xenokattz for looking this over.

"Isn't that Mr. Summers?" Jubilee said, as she pointed across the crowded streets of Metropolis to single out a man who really did look spectacularly like Scott Summers.

"Don't be silly, Jubilation," Storm said, not even bothering to look where Jubilee was pointing. "You know that isn't possible."

Jubilee rolled her eyes. "I know you'd much rather have Kitty on this mission," she said. "But you're stuck with me, so you might as well listen when I say something. I mean, I am supposed to be a model student, right? And that's why you're showing me off?"

It was only because Kitty (and Rogue, and Bobby, and Colossus, and pretty much everyone else) were either on missions or were preparing for parents' day that Jubilee had been chosen to accompany Storm on a mission to Metropolis. Jubilee had been told that if she ever wanted the chance to make it as an X-Man, she would behave.

"Very well," Storm said, and she turned to look. Her eyes widened. "Cyclops?" she gasped.

Even though they were potentially facing the resurrected undead, Jubilee still allowed herself to feel smug.

"Shouldn't we go over and talk to him?" she asked. "I mean, he could be a vampire or a zombie or have amnesia or be possessed by..." she trailed off, since Storm was again glaring at her. Besides, after everything that had happened with Dr. Grey, jokes about possession were probably not a good idea.

Storm hesitated. "I will call it in," she said finally. "But we have a mission, and one that we must attend." She increased her walking speed. "On time."

Jubilee sighed dramatically, and followed after her. "We have a jet, you know," she pointed out. "And they've got a private plane. We could have flown directly to them."

Storm ignored her, and kept walking towards the Daily Planet.

*

No one at Xavier's School was really sure why Lois Lane had suddenly taken an interest in mutant rights. The Pulitzer Prize winning author was more known for her articles on Superman, or investigating corrupt businessmen. Even though Jubilee really wasn't supposed to be aware of it, she knew that there had been a big debate among the remaining staff on whether or not they should cooperate, for fear that Lois Lane would just use them to make more trouble for mutantkind. Eventually it had been decided that it was way better to work with her than to appear to be hiding something. So they were sending Storm and a student to Metropolis to meet with her.

Jubilee was just hoping that she would get to meet Superman. He was Superman.

Yes, she got that everyone had the point about how it was unfair that he was loved for his powers, while they were hated for theirs. Who really cared? She'd figured out that life was unfair years ago, and she really wanted to meet Superman.

Lois Lane was pretty cool too. At least Jubilee was pretty sure of that - anyone that Superman liked had to be cool.

Jubilee half-listened to Storm ask for directions when they got in the building, but she was too busy scanning around for traces of Superman. He had to be here, everyone knew that he had totally attached himself to the Daily Planet. How could he be so hard to spot?

"Jubilation," Storm said, and Jubilee realized that in her quest to find Superman she had drifted outside of what Storm felt was a reasonable limit. Sighing, she headed towards the elevator. Maybe when they made it into the actual newsroom she would be able to see Superman flying around or something. She bet if she waited long enough Lois Lane would fall out a window for Superman to catch.

*

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Storm was saying, and Jubilee studied Lois with interest. The reporter was younger than she would have thought. But Jubilee could tell right away that she never wanted to get on Lois Lane's bad side.

"Likewise," Lois was saying, as she placed a recorder between them. "There's actually going to be someone else joining us, although not in any official capacity."

Storm nodded serenely, although Jubilee knew her well enough to tell that she was worried that the guy was a SHIELD official or from a hate organization. But she doubted it - Lois Lane liked Superman. "Of course," Storm answered. "As you wish."

Lois looked passed them. "Here he is now," she said, and the three of them rose to greet the newcomer. Jubilee's jaw dropped.

"Cyclops?" she blurted out as he approached, but when he got closer she could see that there were differences. Mainly the lack of glasses, although if he had come back as a zombie he could have lost his powers.

The man paused. "I'm sorry?" he asked.

"Forgive us," Storm said as she extended a hand. "You resemble a friend of ours. We lost him earlier this year."

That was the polite way of putting it, anyway.

"Richard White," the man introduced himself. "I'm Lois's husband."

"It's a pleasure," Storm said, and Jubilee tried not to roll her eyes at the niceties being exchanged.

She vaguely paid attention as Lois began to ask Storm the expected questions, and Storm rattled off the standard answers about the mission of Xavier's School and their mission to promote unity. If Jubilee had known that going on this mission would be like listening to one of Storm's lectures, she probably wouldn't have begged to come. Especially since she hadn't seen Superman yet. Unless Lois's husband was Superman - she was rumored to have been involved with him, after all.

She studied Richard White intently, but the similarity to Cyclops was just way too overwhelming, and there was no way she could picture him as Superman.

"Jubilation," Storm was saying, and Jubilee was forced to pay attention again.

"I'm sorry," she said in as sweet a tone as she could manage, the one that she reserved for getting out of trouble when she knew she deserved it. "I was distracted by Mr. White's appearance, I must have missed the question."

It was probably unfair to let Storm assume why she was studying Richard, but Jubilee had been warned about the consequences of pissing Storm off.

Storm softened. "Ms. Lane was asking about what it was like growing up with powers."

Everything Jubilee knew about Lois Lane meant that she answered the question honestly, even if it might not have been the answer Storm wanted her to give. "It sucked," she said bluntly. "I'm an orphan, so I got bounced around foster homes a lot. Nobody wanted to keep a mutie." She simply stated the facts. "Xavier's was the best thing that ever happened to me. I was pretty much homeless when they found me." She glossed over the fact that she'd been living in a mall, surviving by shoplifting and picking pockets when they'd found her. That probably wouldn't go over well.

"So you're happy there?" Ms. Lane pressed.

"Well, duh," Jubilee answered. "I'm getting to use my powers without anyone beating me up. I'm not going to get kicked out again just because..." she hesitated, but then pressed on," because I have a nightmare and my pops go off. I mean, I could do without having to read a bunch of books by dead white guys, but they make you do that in every school."

"What did you think of the cure?"

Jubilee snorted. "I can understand why some people took it, but I would never. I mean, I'm more than my powers, but my powers are part of me. I like them, and wanting to get rid of them would be like saying that I don't like me. And I happen to like me a lot."

"But you understand why some people took it?"

Jubilee just stared at her. "Having people hate you for what you are gets really tiring," she pointed out. "My mutation is... well, I can pass, you know? Some people can't. Sometimes you just want to be able to look like everyone else, just for a little while. And some people have powers that are harder to control. If I'd had like, scales or something, or if I hurt people by touching them, I might have done it." She was glad that she hadn't had to make that choice.

"That was very insightful, Ms. Lee," Lois said, just a hint of respect in her voice.

"Jubilee," she said firmly. "That's my name." She glanced out the window. "Do you think Superman will be here?" she burst out finally. "I've been in Metropolis for like an hour already, and I haven't seen him yet."

Lois started to laugh. "If you spend enough time in Metropolis, you'll see him eventually."

"Will it help if I throw myself off a building or something?"

Lois winced. "Please don't try that," she said. "He can't be everywhere at once."

"Storm could catch me if he didn't show up," Jubilee pointed out, but from the way Storm was glaring at her, she guessed that she probably couldn't count on it.

"Did you have any more questions?" Storm asked instead.

Lois hesitated. "Actually, I did have an ulterior motive for asking about this. My son has shown some mutant abilities," she said quietly. "He's only five."

"Mutations generally don't occur until puberty," Storm said. "Although there have been a few cases lately of them happening at younger ages. What sort of powers has he shown?"

"Strength, mostly," Lois said. "If anything new has happened, I haven't noticed much."

Jubilee smirked. Of course Superman's child would have super strength. She wondered if he could beat up Wolverine. That would be funny. Of course, if he was Superman's son, then Superman should be able to teach him to use his powers. She looked at Lois again. Maybe Lois didn't realize that she was married to Superman?

Storm nodded. "We would be glad to let your son into our school, when he's a bit older. The youngest we have at the moment is eight years old, I believe. Until then, we can provide tutoring in the safe use of his powers."

"Thank you," Lois said, as she stood up, clearly ending the interview. "I'll be in touch to arrange that."

"Of course," Storm said serenely, gesturing for Jubilee to follow.

They didn't talk very much as they left, and Jubilee wasn't sure exactly what they had accomplished. Lois Lane had a tremendous amount of power available to her, but it didn't sound like even with the knowledge that her son might be a mutant (or an alien, or a mutant alien) that she would immediately rush out to help them.

Still, as Jubilee stepped out onto the street, and watched an entire city pause to watch as Superman flew by overhead, she was willing to believe that maybe people would look at mutants that way one day.

You Get What You Need for ragingpie

joanne_c — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 02:54:06 GMT

Title: You Get What You Need
Author: Joanne/[Bad username: joanne_c]
Recipient: Guen/[Bad username: ragingpie]
Fandoms: Iron Man/Spider-Man
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Takes place between the two Iron Man movies, and after the events of Spider-Man 2.

*********************

Tony slid on his glasses, it was always much more discreet to scope out the room from behind them. Also he had Pepper on his arm, and he didn’t like things to look too sleazy, even if it was probably too late to save his reputation, and it wasn’t like he and Pepper were together. Still. Her back felt warm under his hand as he looked around. There were a lot of models here, and he could see quite a few who he’d already had and didn’t feel inclined to give another ride on the Stark express to. He was grateful that things like Stark express were only in his mind.

With those girls eliminated from the scoping out, Tony turned his attention to a blonde. Who wasn’t really his type, too angular. There was another blonde, but she had the opposite problem, too curvy, which he never thought he’d say about a model, but apparently it was possible. The brunette had possibilities, until he glanced between her legs and saw her dress tighten over an odd looking bulge. Either she wasn’t a completely natural woman, and Tony thought that was just fine, he just wasn’t looking for that tonight, or there was a strap-on there, and Tony didn’t bottom to his one night stands. Of course, technically, that meant he didn’t bottom at all, but he was pretty sure it only applied to one night stands. He figured he’d find out one of these days, but not yet.

The redhead. Now she had possibilities. Just curvy enough, black silk clinging to all those lovely curves, gorgeous skin that Tony wanted to put his mark on. Yes, she’d be perfect. He kissed Pepper’s hand ostentatiously and made his excuses. He even managed not to rush across the floor to her. Instead he made his way slowly, greeting a few of the girls he already knew, and greeting some business acquaintances. He got there, eventually, and oh did he like what he saw. Her skin was even lovelier close up, white and smooth and just made for his tongue and lips to slide over it. Her curves were, too, and he could imagine using her body to give her more pleasure than she’d ever known.

He should probably learn her name first, though. “Hello, I’m Tony Stark,” he said, holding out a hand.

She giggled, and instead of taking his hand, she looked at him with pretty blue eyes, and asked, “Is that like saying ‘Hello, I’m Johnny Cash’? Are you gonna play us Walk The Line or Folsom Prison Blues?”

“Depends, would it get me your name faster?” Tony shot back. “I’d be happy to borrow one of the band’s guitars.”

“I bet you can sing too,” she shook her head. “No, not this time. Mary Jane Watson,” she held out her hand. “My friends call me MJ and that isn’t an invitation to do so.”

Tony liked feisty, he really did, but he had the idea Miss Mary Jane Watson’s feistiness might just get really old, really fast. Still, she was the best possibility in the room. He turned his flirtation sensors on high.

“So tell me about yourself,” Tony said, leading Mary Jane onto the dance floor, and taking her in his arms. She felt warm and soft in his arms, and he leaned down to listen to her answers.

“I grew up in New York, started modeling in college,” she said. “And that’s all you care about, that I’m legal and available, isn’t it?” she asked. “Even if I’m not sure if I’m available.”

“You know,” Tony said, frowning. “I would think you’d know if you were available. I may not be sure, but you’d be the one to know this. Unless you have a boyfriend who’s out of town or something?” he hazarded a guess.

“Actually my boyfriend is right over there,” and she pointed to a photographer – he was holding a camera so Tony did the math - who’d started a conversation with Pepper. Tony wasn’t sure if that was a good idea or not, but the kid didn’t look like much competition for Pepper. He decided, though, that it was time to take Mary Jane out to the terrace and see if she was interested.

At least that was the plan. The kid somehow got between them, and shook his head. “Mr Stark, no. MJ is not available,” he said. “I’m Peter Parker.”

Tony knew he could take the kid – Peter. With one hand tied behind his back. Maybe it was the look in Pepper’s eyes, the imperceptible shake of her head, that stopped him. He smiled broadly. “You have excellent taste in ladies,” he said. “I’m sure you know that this is by my choice,” and he let Mary Jane’s arm go.

He decided not to try and figure out the words Peter muttered, instead offering to buy them both a drink. If it could be called saving face? He didn’t care.

One bottle of Dom Perignon later, and they were all a little looser. Pepper was actually flirting and she didn’t do that much any more, as if afraid that Tony would take it the wrong way. Or, perhaps, the right way. He smiled, watching Mary Jane and Peter holding hands under the table, feeling almost paternal toward them. They were a very sweet couple, and Tony liked them, surprisingly. Enough to ask them to lunch at Stark Industries the next day. He wasn’t sure if he or Pepper looked more surprised at that, but the enthusiasm of their acceptance made Tony and Pepper smile at each other instead.

“You know, Tony, I’d heard you were a model chaser, but I think I’m glad you picked the wrong model to chase,” Peter said as the night drew to an end, after a lot more dancing and talking – he had even taken Pepper onto the floor, and Tony had done the same for Mary Jane.

“I am too,” Tony said. “And now, I bid you goodnight. Not too early tomorrow,” he winked at them as he put his glasses on again and headed out.

Not a one night stand, but a friendship that just might be worth more. Rhodey would be proud of him. If he didn’t think Tony was losing his edge.

If he did, Tony would just have to find a way of proving he wasn’t. A trip in the suit should do it.

Fic: Jubilation Lee: Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D (X-men/Iron Man) for second_batgirl

wabbitseason — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 02:54:00 GMT

Title: Jubilation Lee: Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D
Author: wabbitseason
Recipient: second_batgirl
Fandoms: Iron Man, X-men movies
Words: 1,688 words
Rating: PG
Summary: Nick Fury gets a new intern and she's not at all what he bargained for.
Characters: Nick Fury, Jubilation Lee, Natasha Romanoff
Warnings: None
Author's Note: I was a little fast & loose with the timelines here. This is set during Iron Man 2 and the first two X-men movies have already taken place. The only thing I took from the third movie was McCoy's job.

"Why is there a teenage girl in my office?" Nick Fury burst out of his office, slamming the double doors behind him. The imposing S.H.I.E.L.D. director looked part annoyed and part terrified. "Anyone?"

"Summer program," Natasha Romanoff looked up from her briefing report on Stark Industries. "Professor Xavier arranged internships for all of his older students, including your new assistant, Jubilation Lee."

"I don't need a new assistant," Fury scowled. "Why didn't he send her to McCoy in Mutant Affairs?" Fury didn't like surprises in his day. A teenage girl popping bubblegum in his office definitely rated as surprises in his book. "Why me? Why couldn't they match her with Coulson or you?"

"Coulson has his hands full with the incident in New Mexico," Natasha closed her file. "As for me, maybe I didn't strike them as overly maternal?"

"Considering your chosen code name, I suppose that's true," Fury offered a sigh. "I suppose I can find something for her to do here." He continued. "What's the latest development on Stark?"

"As bad we thought," Natasha said. "Before he left for New Mexico, Agent Coulson recommended setting up a full time shadow to monitor Stark. He's become more erratic than predicted."

"Already?" Fury frowned. "That's worrying." His lone eye closed long enough for him to make a quick decision. "If anyone's going to get close to Stark, it'll have to be someone he doesn't know already, someone that can catch his eye... how do you feel about office work, Agent Romanoff?"

"Is this going to be one of those learning experiences, sir?" Natasha asked dubiously.

"They can't all be glamorous high flying missions, Romanoff," Fury said. "You knew that when you switched sides."

"Remember that when you're talking to the girl," Natasha offered. "We could use a few mutant contacts at S.H.I.E.L.D. We can't always count on the Xavier's good graces. Good luck."

"Same to you, Agent Romanoff," Fury watched her leave. Then he turned back in the direction of his office, contemplating the prospect of bonding with a teenage mutant. What could he learn from a girl that played Rock Band and read vampire novels?

###

Retreating inside his office, Nick Fury found Jubilation Lee still waiting in his office. The Chinese-American teenager hadn't moved from her seat at all, popping bubblegum at irregular intervals and looking less than thrilled with the whole ordeal. At first, Fury thought she was simply a bored teenager, forced into this internship by a well-meaning teacher, but Fury was used to reading people. Her attitude changed the minute Fury entered the room, alert and attentive. She was used to taking instruction and orders. Her eyes were wary at the sidearm he dropped into his desk drawer, like she'd seen the wrong end of gun before, too. Her fingers crackled twice before she reined herself in. Fury had always thought mutants were wild and untamed, but this one had been taught control. She looked and acted like a normal teenager, until she wasn't one. She might make a decent spy. No one would ever look past her casual demeanor.

"I apologize for keeping you waiting, Miss Lee," Fury began, "but no one informed me you'd be starting today."

"No bother," she grinned. "So where do you want me to start? Do you need coffee?"

"I do have a secretary for that," Fury said mildly.

"She must not do a very good job," Jubilee wrinkled her nose at the dust accumulated on the top of his file cabinets. "Those file folders don't look like they've been touched in years."

"I've meant to have them organized," Fury looked contrite, "but if you're really determined to be useful around here..."

"That's what I'm here for," Jubilee said. "Do you want them filed by their last name? Or maybe by their code name?" Suddenly she looked nervous. "Is that stuff classified? Should I be seeing this?"

"None of this material, no," Fury was surprised she knew to ask that question. "Most of that material has been digitized already. They're just archival copies I haven't had put away. They go in that series of file cabinets." He pointed to a set of beaten up steel file cabinets. "Last name is fine, Jubilation."

"Jubilee," she said. "Everyone calls me that at school, even the teachers."

Watching her work, Fury asked mildly. "How is Charles?"

"He's good, he..." Jubilee stopped sorting files to stare in awe at Fury. Her wide-eyed expression reminded him that she was indeed just a teenager under all that confidence and bravado. "You know Dr. Xavier?"

Fury laughed, "You'll find I know a lot of people, Jubilee."

"I guess you would," Jubilee said. "It's just... I've never met anyone outside that knew him, someone that wasn't a mutant or..."

"Someone that didn't wanted to hurt mutants?" Fury asked. Jubilee nodded. "I wish I had known about Stryker's attack beforehand. If I could have stopped that..."

"No one could have prevented that," Jubilee said. "That's what Mr. Summers told us. If they want to get to us, they will."

"You kids grow up fast, don't you?" Fury observed.

"You have to," Jubilee snapped. "That's the way it works for most of us. The lucky ones are found early. Dr. Xavier would come into their homes and convince the parents they had this gifted student only he could teach. The rest of us… get by somehow."

Fury leaned back in his chair, absorbing this new information. He knew about Xavier's school in theory. He'd even followed all the reports after the Stryker attack. But he hadn't considered what it meant. These mutants were used to living in fear, wondering who was going to attack them next. Fury punched up his file on the attack on his computer. His intelligence team had gone over what remained of Stryker's data. The descriptions of the attack on the school had turned his battle hardened stomach.

"Does S.H.I.E.L.D. have a file on me?" Jubilee asked suddenly. "The Professor said there was a list of known mutants..."

"Senator Kelly didn't get his intelligence from us," Fury said. Even if they maintained such a list, he would have fought releasing it to someone like Senator Kelly.

"But you're government," Jubilee said. "You spooks know everything."

"I was never even able to confirm that list existed, Jubilee. For all we know, Kelly had a dummy file and a few scraps of information. He wouldn't be the first one in Washington to try that trick."

"But Stryker knew where to find us," Jubilee said.

"You think I'd give Stryker information I wouldn't give a US Senator?" Fury asked mildly. "We're S.H.I.E.L.D., Jubilee, we don't follow the same rules everyone else does." He explained patiently. "Technically, yes, we're a government agency, but let's just say we work under own mandates." He added. "And no, we don't know everything. That's why I have agents all over the place gathering information for me." He frowned. "Surely you knew this when you knew this when you asked for this internship?"

Jubilee shook her head. "Not really." All of the files were now completely arranged in a set of three piles. "The natural history museum was only taking college kids..." She rolled her eyes. "And Mr. McCoy's pretty popular so he had a waiting list. And Mr. Summers didn't like the idea of me interning with Mr. Logan..."

"Don't you have a family to go home to?" Fury asked. Jubilee shook her head. "What did you want out of this internship?"

Jubilee shrugged. "I don't know. I... I didn't give it much thought."

"Why'd you choose the museum?" Fury asked.

"Professor Xavier said the best way to combat fear is through education," Jubilee said. "If humans knew what mutants were really like, they wouldn't be so quick to hunt us." She explained. "We went on stupid field trip to the museum before the attack. They had this totally bogus exhibit on evolution and mutation, filled with misshapen heads and bodies, all the horror stories people tell about mutants." Her hands started crackling, causing some of the dust from the file cabinets to scurry away in fright. She closed her fists in frustration. "Sorry about that, I can usually control them better..."

Jubilee clenched her fists, "I've seen the kids come in every year, y'know, escaping from everything. Some of them have no idea what's wrong with them. Some of them are in complete denial about being mutants. They didn't really have a mutant social worker or crisis center..."

Fury started laughing.

"What's so funny?" Jubilee demanded.

"I'm sorry, Jubilee, I didn't mean to laugh at you," Fury smiled, "but you really didn't realize what you were doing, did you?" Jubilee shook her head. "You thought you were picking those places at random?" She nodded. "You picked all of them because you wanted to help, Jubilee. You wanted to do the same thing we're trying to here at S.H.I.E.L.D – save the world."

"Really?" Jubilee grinned.

"I know it doesn't seem that way in this grungy old office of mine," Fury shrugged, "but S.H.I.E.L.D. does try to make a difference for everyone. Yes, we do track people with extraordinary powers, but not just mutants." Jubilee looked properly wide-eyed at this idea. "I'll make you a deal," Fury said. "You finish your internship here and if you're interested, I'll see if there's a place for you here." Jubilee seemed pleased by this prospect.

Then Fury turned, seeing his computer screen. His lone eye caught an old file photo showing several young mutants thought taken hostage during the Stryker attack, including Jubilee. No wonder she was wary of anyone working for the government. Jubilee had a tough fight on her hands. People trusted Iron Man because Tony Stark was normal, no special super powers. But they feared a cheerful girl like Jubilee because of a few sparklers coming out of her hands. There was something wrong with that equation.

Fortunately Jubilee hadn't noticed his sudden lack of conversation. She was babbling as she put away the files. "Do I have to wear one of those uniforms? 'Cause black is not my color..."

A Girl's Gotta Do

xenokattz — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 02:53:51 GMT

TITLE: A Girl's Gotta Do...
RECIPIENT: likeadeuce
MOVIES: Daredevil/Iron Man 2
REQUEST: Daredevil/Black Widow -- Boxing, a missing document, perfume. Shippy preferred, but sexual tension, matching of wits is also awesome. Feel free to use comics canon or ignore it -- I'm only vaguely familiar with their comics verse history.
SUMMARY: Sometimes, Natasha Romanov hated her job. And sometimes, it's most... satisfying. Also featuring Tony Stark because he's an attention hog.
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 1900

=^o.O^=
Sometimes, Natasha Romanov hated her job.

"Normally, I'd be all over your super-secret and down-and-dirty, Natalisha, but we're really scraping the barrel here." Tony studied the dark stains on the boxing ring's ropes. "What's that? Do I want to know what that is? Pretty sure whatever it is, I'd have to get my iron on."

Natasha ignored him, as was her habit these days. Watch what he did, watch the expressions on his face but never listen to the actual words coming out of his mouth. She was almost to the point of hearing "wah wah wah" every time he opened his fap. A few more weeks ought to do it. She dropped her bag in the middle of a bench. Two fantastically beat up men flanked either side. They leered at her; she ignored them as well. Out came her gloves, mouth guard and hand tape. She already wore her boxing kit under the sweater and pants.

Stark sidled up beside her. "Uh, Nat, this might not be the best place to do a striptease. I'd have your back, of course, but you seem to take offense every time I try to do the honourable thing so I'd rather this not get awkward."

She pulled off her pants. Stark winced but kept staring at her ass. Typical. The sweater went into the bag as well. Then came an unusual piece of boxing equipment: a perfumed oil in a pinkie-sized vial. When she uncapped it, the scent barely registered outside arm's length: persimmon, honey and the barest dash sandalwood. She dotted the back of her knees once and put it away.

"Perfume to the knees?" Stark said. "I know perfumes and I know women and perfume behind the knees on women is a neon welcome sign if you know what I mean which I'm sure you do because you're the big bad secret agent lady."

"Tony."

"Yes, dear?"

"Shut up."

"I love it when you order me around. Did you bring the gimp mask, too?"

Natasha quickly taped up her wrists. Her sparring partner had entered, his threadbare sweatsuit belying his fighting prowess. Her heart rate increased and she had to take a few deep breaths to calm down. No doubt he'd hear that and she didn't want to give him any advantages.

"So I was thinking, after you're all sweaty, hot and bothered, I can help you cool down. I've been told I give excellent massages." Gingerly, Stark kicked aside another boxer's clothes off the bench. "We can use something other than horse liniment, of course."

Natasha let out a weary breath and pulled on her gloves.

"Unless you like horse liniment. I'm no prude. Neigh, baby, neigh." Finally deciding the bench was safe to sit on, Stark slid into her line of sight. "Are you going to beat those missing documents out of your contact?"

"Not exactly."

"Fury likes you the best. He never lets me beat missing documents out of people. It's always 'Get in line, Stark' and 'Shut up, Stark' and 'I don't want to risk my men; go be cannon fodder, Stark.' I don't think I'm his favourite."

"Oh Tony." Natasha put both gloved hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye, willing all her sincerity in the gaze. "It's not him, it's you."

Stark blinked. "You know, that's what I always suspected."

She entered the ring, stretching out her neck and arms. Her partner knocked a few experimental jabs into the air and quickly jogged the stiffness out of his legs before shrugging off his hooded sweatshirt. Strands of his auburn hair stuck in whorls on his forehead.

"Hey." She leaned on the top rope.

He snagged the lower one. "Hey yourself."

She pulled his shades off. Even though she knew he saw absolutely nothing through those gorgeous brown eyes, she leaned a little bit more and tilted her head flirtatiously to one side. He didn't let her down. Reaching up, he combed his fingers through her ponytail.

"Ready for me?" he asked.

"Always."

"Hello!" Stark stuck his head between them. "I'm Natalie's boss, Tony. How are you, person who... is visually impaired and... Natalie, can we have a word 'cause I'm having serious doubts about your good sense at the moment--"

"You wanted documents," said Natasha. "I'm going to get them."

"Yes but you may have a distinct advantage."

Their contact stuck his hand out Tony shook it out of habit and maybe a little bit of shock. "Trust me, I wouldn't have it any other time. I'm Matt. Nat's told me all about you."

"Lies all lies, except the tripod thing. There's even a website, completely unendorsed but what can you do."

Matt grinned. Natasha killed the urge to throw him on the ground right now and drape herself all over him. Damn that grin. "You're in our way, Tony."

Stark handed Matt a business card. "My lawyers, in case you need to know who to contact for the injury lawsuit."

"I am a lawyer, Mr. Stark," Matt said as he pulled himself up through the ropes and onto the ring.

"In that case, keep the business card in case you want to join the firm."

"I like having the ability--"

Natasha swung out with a left hook. Matt bent back, twisted around on a crouch and swung his leg straight up to kick at her kidneys. She blocked it by crossing her arms and they both pushed away.

"--to pick and choose my clients."

He surged upward with his right fist then immediately rebounded with a knee strike-shin kick combination that had Natasha reeling back to block. She caught his foot at the last minute, twisted; he flew with the twist, trying to snag her ribs along the way. She fell into the same twist, throwing an elbow at his thigh as she went down.

He grunted, his nostrils flaring.

She grinned.

"I like your perfume," he said.

"Oh?"

Matt sniffed the air. "Oh yeah. Very subtle. You have it dabbed--" He dropped down and swiped at her legs. Natasha cartwheeled out of the way, landing behind him to hand-edged blow to the neck. He caught her hand and flipped her over his head but she managed to throw a knee between his shoulders on her way up. He let out a strangled noise and caught her leg. "-- just behind your knees."

She slid her free leg slowly down his chest, keeping her foot pointed in ballet-perfection before flicking it heel-first against his jaw. She heard his teeth clack and laughed as she rolled away. "I thought you'd appreciate the subtlety."

"I love subtlety."

"I know. Kii-yaah!" Natasha leapt up, hands aimed for a dive shot. He tried to block her but the force of her descent threw him back.

She jumped again, this time delivering half a dozen quick kicks at his forearms before landing in a squat and punching his lower stomach. He swiped the punch away with a swing of his right arm immediately following by a similar swing of his left which sent her reeling. She kept on rolling, away from his stomps which shook ring all the way to the ropes. He stomped to her left; she rolled away only to be met with his right foot. Trapped. She bent up to a near back-flip so her legs wrapped around his waist from behind. She locked her ankles and rolled forward. He slammed on his back.

Matt spun to catch her in a leg-lock. Pinned, Natasha aimed hits at pressure points on his stomach and sides but he gritted his teeth, refusing to let go. She'd have to pull the big guns. Using a foot for leverage, she pushed his hips up and around so that their positions were reversed. They both faced the floor but she was on top and had three out of four limbs free. Wriggling up his body, she hooked his arm with one leg and yanked it up farther than the joint would allow. In response, he tightened his legs around her neck. Her vision started to go hazy. She pulled harder on his arm and used her other leg to push his head away, straining the tendons even further. Somewhere in the background, Tony was either yelling for a time out or taking bets.

Natasha turned her head to one side and nipped at Matt's bare ankle. She felt a shudder go through him. For a split second, he only had ninety percent of his concentration on the fight. That was enough. She went limp; his legs loosened ever so slightly, allowing her to slide out from between his thighs. One stomach twist, an easy transfer of the arm-lock to a kick at the temple then a series of quick jabs at his kidneys and she finally finished the fight off by grabbing a hank of his gorgeous hair and slamming his face on the floor.

Panting yet gleeful, Natasha stood up. Matt rolled painfully to his back, one arm cradled on his chest.

"What was that?"

"A variation on jujitsu," she answered.

"I sincerely doubt ankle-licking is a jujitsu move."

"That's why it's a variation."

His "injured" arm jerked out and pulled her down. Laughing, she controlled her fall to his side. "You are a bad, bad woman."

"Thank you. I guess this means I get those documents now."

"Documents, documents." Matt tapped his chin. "Y'know, you knocked me so hard on my head, I can barely remember what you're talking about."

"You don't remember at all?"

He shrugged. "Search me."

"Don't mind if I do." Natasha pulled her glove ties off with her teeth. Matt didn't turn his head her way but his expression told her he knew exactly what his double-entendre invited.

"Ooooooookay, kids, this is where we start charging pay-per-view fees." Tony stepped into the ring. "Yeah, these guys look just about ready to come... out of their shells. To protect the fair lady. Or. Something. I need a water. Can you get me a water, Natalisha Rushmanovakoff?"

Annoyed, Natasha sat up then changed her mind and decided to sit right on Matt's stomach. He held her in place with his hands on his thighs, still gloved. "I don't know, Mr. Stark. Our primary objective was to secure some missing documents from Mr. Murdock here who has yet to produce them as discussed."

"I do apologize, Miss... Rushman, is it? I may have left it in my office. I can be quite forgetful at times." Matt shook his head, his self-deprecation completely unapologetic. "If you wouldn't mind joining me there after dinner, I'm sure I can satisfy your needs."

"Hmmm." Natasha rolled her hips.

Both Matt and Tony groaned.

"I am... so sorry I don't sleep with my assistants," said Tony.

"I'm Pepper's assistant," Natasha corrected.

"Oh. Ethical dilemma solved. Hurray everyone!"

Natasha ignored him. Again. Because now she just enjoyed it. "I'd love to see your office after dinner, Mr. Murdock."

"Great." His tone softened. "It's lovely to see you again, Nat."

"Likewise, Matt." She squeezed her thighs just a bit, just enough to see his nostrils flare as her perfume wafted up to him and his Adam's apple bob in anticipation. Sometimes, Natasha Romanov loved her job.

Common Cause for a_q

likeadeuce — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 02:53:42 GMT

Title: Common Cause
Rating: PG-13
Author: likeadeuce aka Karabair
Written for a_q in marvel_crossing
Prompt: Female characters & a team-up
Fandom: X-Men movieverse/Iron Man movieverse
Characters: Raven Darkholme (Mystique), Natasha Romanova (Black Widow)
Word count: 1,305
Disclaimer: These characters belong to FOX and Marvel and God knows who else, but certainly not me.
A/N: We don't really know anything about movie-Natasha's background, yet, so I've invented one loosely based on the comics. God knows if any of these assumptions will turn out to be true.

Raven Darkholme is a blonde, now, an ash-blonde with curls so pale and perfect that everyone at the gala will look at the stylish woman seated at the end of the bar and assume she has availed herself of the best colorist in Manhattan. No one's hair should be that perfect.

Natasha knows better. Natasha knows the woman called Mystique, knows she requires no assistance beyond the shaping force of her own imagination to make herself appear however she desires.

Yet aside from the hair, once as sleek and black as her namesake, Raven has come to this party at the headquarters of Stark East looking remarkably like, well, herself.

No, Natasha mentally corrects. She merely resembles the last version of Mystique that I saw. Which is something else all together. Something that can't possibly be a coincidence. Natasha is all too familiar with the technique of hiding in plain sight, but that assumes the people you are hiding from are stupid or careless. Mystique knows better than to assume Natasha Romanova is either of these things. So.

She wants me to do this, Natasha realizes. She's demanding that I approach her, and if I were a different sort of woman, I might be tempted to say, forget it. Not this time. Looking around the room, she estimates that there might be a hundred nefarious schemes in the making. Nobody at a Stark Industries gala is entirely innocent. She could call Coulson, get him to put someone else on this. Natasha Romanova isn't the only agent of SHIELD. She's not even the only one undercover in this ballroom. Leave this one to Clay Quartermaine, the ace analyst currently disguising himself as a particularly incompetent cocktail waiter.

Natasha looks at Clay, then looks at Mystique. The blonde gives a ghostly smile that might be directed at Natasha or at something a few feet to her left and over her shoulder.

Natasha walks to the bar.

She stands in front of a stool, two down from Mystique, orders a vodka martini, then waits for it, wishing with great intensity for the days you could smoke inside in this city. Because if now were then, she could simply have struck up a conversation by asking for a light.

Also because she would really like a cigarette.

She stands silently for a moment, studying Mystique's shape in the mirror. The drink comes. Natasha swallows, sets the glass on the bar and, without turning her head, says, in a single breath, "I find few things more soothing to the soul than watching the sun set over the Danube."

The phrase sounded more elegant in Russian, the way she first learned it, but speaking another language here would attract the attention she was trying to avoid.

In any case, Mystique doesn't have to think long about her reply. "Except for the seagulls. The flight of the seagulls reminds me of my girlhood in Avignon." She reaches over, lifts Natasha's glass, and drains it. "How many monkeys do you suppose the OSS and the KGB had slaving over typewriters to invent those contact phrases?"

"It made more sense, I suppose, when we were meant to be looking at the Danube. And it was the NKVD, then, as you know." Natasha glances around, but the party noise absorbs their sound. She looks back at Mystique. "We didn't have the KGB until after the war. Bratislava was 1943."

"Oh, I remember it well, my girl. The Germans wore grey. You wore . . .red, I believe." Mystique's eyes travel up the other woman's body, and Natasha almost regrets the form-fitting crimson sheath she chose for the evening. It's not her nature to regret drawing anyone's gaze -- if she intends to hide, she hides to perfection, but if she intends to be seen, she will be seen. Knowing the golden flash that hides behind Raven's dark eyes, though -- knowing that, it is impossible not to feel them delving in to her. "I must say my dear," Mystique continues. "You look exactly the same."

"That's funny. Because every time I see you, you look different."

"Understandable, wouldn't you say? After almost seventy years, I would think you --" Mystique's fingers, cold from the martini glass, run over Natasha's hand, and she has to steel herself against the shiver. "-- were the one with the unusual situation. How do you like working for Mr. Stark?" .

Natasha stiffens. "Mr. Stark knows my history."

"All of it?"

"You think you know all of it?" Natasha snaps.

"Now, darling. You assume I come here to blackmail you."

"I assume you want me to see you. This isn't your normal approach. I expect you to spend half the night making me think you're someone else, then reveal yourself at the moment of maximum dramatic effect." Natasha picks up the glass, and only remembers after she's started to drink that Mystique has emptied it. She tilts it up, anyway, determined to get something for her trouble, and the tiniest tickle of vermouth is slipping over her tongue as Mystique says, impassively and without a trace of bitterness or irony. . .

"I'm cured."

There is only a little bit of drink to choke on, but vermouth is strong. Only a good deal of practice -- seventy years of near-constant practice -- allows Natasha to keep some semblance of her cool. "Bullshit," she says softly.

"That is, indeed, one word for it. They shot me with one of their --" and now all the venom slips into two words -- "cure weapons."

Natasha drops her voice even lower. "SHIELD didn't approve of that."

"Your inter-agency rivalries," Mystique says, "They break my heart. I'm sure you all wanted the evil mutants for yourselves."

"I mean this!" Natasha feels her cool façade crack a little more, but she manages to lower her voice, and say, "Medical research is not military technology. This should not have been done to you. Not like that." She looks down and Mystique's eyes follow her. They are both looking now at where Natasha has unconsciously been rubbing her own arm.

There were a lot of needles, when she was in the program.

"I've always wondered," Mystique muses, "what is happening to you. Your body hasn't aged in seventy years. Will it all catch up to you at once, or --?"

"We're not the same," Natasha says, too quickly. "I have no love for what the Soviets did to me, but --"

"But if you fall over tomorrow it will have been a good life. I understand."

Natasha isn't sure that is what she meant, not at all, so she repeats the thought she has already completed. "We're not the same. We're the opposite."

"Perhaps," says Mystique. "But in this case we have a common cause." She stands up and raises a small clutch purse. "That SHIELD communicator around your neck has been in close contact with a device of my own. It's been transferring a file to your inbox. When I am out of this building, the file will decrypt. It contains specs to a facility on Long Island that is conducting unauthorized experiments on mutant children who were given the cure by their parents. Or, more often, the state institutions responsible for placing them in foster homes. The details are not pleasant. Mr. Stark, I think, has a soft spot for young people. Innocents. And you, well --" She starts to walk away. "Don't try to follow me or the files will self-destruct. And don't bother having your friend Mr. Quartermaine arrest me. I've had a full presidential pardon, and I worked very hard for that."

"Wait," Natasha calls after her. "It's your information. Don't you want to be part of this?"

"No, darling," Mystique says, with a soft sad smile. "Not anymore."

END

FIC: Five Reasons Why (We Don't Mention the Elephant in the Room), Daredevil/Iron Man 2 crossover

tartanshell — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 02:53:35 GMT

Title: Five Reasons Why (We Don't Mention the Elephant in the Room)
Author: tartanshell
Recipient: wabbitseason
Fandoms: Daredevil/Iron Man 2
Characters/pairing: Matt Murdock (Daredevil)/Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 3368
Notes: Pinch-hit written for the prompt, What's a beautiful ex-Russian spy doing in Hell's Kitchen? wabbitseason, I hope you like it!

July in the Kitchen, and it's sweltering, even at a quarter to ten on a Sunday morning. The window's open, letting in air thick with the scent of tar melting into cracks on sidewalks, nearby roofs. Outside, there's sticky ice cream residue on hot pavement, a kid walking by with a freshly-bathed dog and a cherry popsicle. Sweat everywhere; salt on the breeze and baby powder deodorant. Foggy's wearing Old Spice and a clean cotton t-shirt, sitting with his feet propped companionably on Matt's coffee table.

Newsprint rustles. "Seven-letter word for 'nocturnal scavenger?'" he asks.

Matt does a quick mental letter count, sprawled at the other end of the couch with one arm draped across the back cushions. "Raccoon?"

"Nah, that'd give us gibberish for four across," Foggy says. "I'd say 'starving lawyers,' but that doesn't fit, either. Speaking of, how was the cheese?"

It's hard not to smile, but he manages it. Barely. "The cheese was good. We made caprese salad. I like a good, fresh mozzarella."

"So do I, but I object very strongly to being paid with cheese. The barter system died out for a reason, Matt, and--"

"You know," he says, because he can't help it, "we could start a movement. Bring it back. Sort of a utopia hippie commune thing. We get paid in cheese and sports equipment; turn around and see about paying our utilities with legal services, salsa lessons, maybe sexual favors here and there..."

Foggy snorts. "The sick part is, some electric company employee, somewhere, probably would comp your bill if you paid with sex."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't, for electricity." Matt wrinkles his nose. "I've got standards. And don't use the lights. Heat, maybe. Or the water bill. Food..."

"Hell, you could have sex with Mr. Amir for cheese and cut out the lawyering altogether."

"He's not my type," Matt says. "And I don't like cheese that much."

"Good thing he doesn't pay with sushi, then," Foggy mutters, and clears his throat. He shifts, dry paper-sound as the Sunday Times falls slack in his hand, and turns to Matt. "So, speaking of sex. Natasha's back in town?"

It's not really a question, seeing as he arrived just as she was on her way out to get breakfast half an hour ago. But Foggy and Natasha have a complicated relationship ('strained' would be another way of putting it), and Matt isn't entirely surprised that Foggy's not-a-question tone toes the line of maybe-a-little-disapproval. Given that it's not a question, he doesn't dignify it with an answer.

"I don't get it," Foggy continues, undeterred. "I mean, she's got to be one of the most beautiful women in the world. What's she doing in Hell's Kitchen?"

One of Matt's eyebrows lifts, almost of its own accord, and Foggy sighs. "Besides doing you, apparently. Didn't you say she had business here?"

"I--well." Business, yes, but nothing he can tell Foggy about. "Yeah, in the City. She's only in the Kitchen because she's staying with me."

"Which I also don't get, by the way."

They've had variations on this conversation for years, but Natasha hasn't visited in awhile. They're about due. "Oh?"

"Come on," Foggy says, his shoulders shhhking softly against the couch upholstery as he straightens, "you've known her for, what, six years? Seven?"

He doesn't need to count. "Eight, actually."

"Eight years, Matt. Which makes this the longest relationship you've ever had."

Matt closes his eyes, with a fleeting wish, for the first time in a long time, with Foggy, in his own house, that he'd grabbed his dark glasses when getting dressed. "During which time she and I have been together maybe a grand total of two months. Maybe."

"Which still makes this the longest relationship you've ever had."

"So?"

"Two words, Matt: Marry. Her. If you've found a woman you can manage to be with for eight freaking years, then for the love of God, don't let her get away. Even if it is Natasha. Because you know sooner or later, she is going to get away, and to be honest--and selfish, here, for a minute--I don't want to be the guy left picking things up when she does." He's quiet a minute, then breathes a laugh. "If nothing else, do it for the beautiful redheaded children the two of you could have, you know?"

"It's not like that." The response is automatic, but that doesn't make it any less honest than it is now, or was eight years ago. "If--when--things change, there'll be nothing to pick up. She's not--"

In love with me. The type of girl you marry. Interested in that anyway. Elektra. There are a number of good ways to finish that sentence, all of them true, but the best one strangles him, and he trails off, shaking his head. "It's just not like that," he mutters again, before looking up, grateful, when the door opens. Saved by the bagels.

"Breakfast," Natasha announces, dropping the paper sack in Matt's lap. She sets coffee on the table before depositing herself onto Foggy's lap, his startled exclamation almost lost beneath the crinkle of pages. "Mmm, good-looking," she purrs, laughter bubbling beneath the put-on throaty sex. "Give me a proper hello."

She doesn't mean for it to be casually cruel, no more than a cat does playing with a mouse because it moves. It's only her nature, and Foggy's issues aren't her fault. Still, it's part of the problem, and Matt winces inwardly even as he laughs. "Making a move on my girlfriend, counselor?"

"I'll leave the maneaters to you," Foggy replies, dull heat in both his face and his pants, voice strained dignity trying for light. "But I'll take the coffee she brought."

"And a bagel. I got lox and cream cheese, and capers if you want them." Her lips smack against Foggy's cheek before she rises, maneuvering in the narrow space between them to spread the contents of the bag across the tabletop. No doubt giving Foggy a lovely--and intentional--view of her fantastic ass in the process. The bagels smell warm and fresh, thick and yeasty, with the back-of-the-tongue smooth fish scent, too, and the spicy bite of capers. Matt inhales deeply, suddenly starving.

Foggy's stomach growls, but he shifts, pushing toward the edge of the couch, tense and ready to stand. "I should really--"

"I bought you a bagel, Franklin, and a coffee with cream no sugar, the way you like it. Stay," Natasha says, dropping the bombshell sex kitten and relaxing into herself again. As much herself as she ever is. "Stay; eat a bagel; talk to us. And I will not eat you."

Not today, Matt thinks, fishing for a bagel. But someday, she is going to push too far. Someday, this whole thing is going to explode. Unless it doesn't, and they have a great two or three days, a week maybe, every ten months, year and a half. Because it is like that. Two or three days, or so. Every now and then.

A plastic knife scrapes against a little tub of cream cheese, and the caper smell intensifies when Foggy opens them. "So, okay," he says. "We were on fourteen down. Seven-letter word for 'nocturnal scavenger.'"

"Opossum," Natasha replies, without missing a beat. She perches on the back of the couch, strong coffee in one hand and on her breath. "And, let's see...fifty-eight down is Malamute, seventy is lapis lazuli, seventeen: David Duchovny. And then thirty-four across is Topeka, and that one, there, that is Boeing..."

By the time she finishes, Foggy's very still like he's not sure whether he wants to kill her or worship her, and Matt's pretty sure that smugness smells like black coffee and sandalwood perfume, and tastes like the bagel he's eating. It's a good morning, exactly like this.

***

It's later, cooler summer Sunday evening, the pulse of the city slowing, not quite late enough for leather. Matt stands on the roof in his civvies, worn jeans and a t-shirt and loafers, the portable grill cooling behind him, burning off the last of a smoky hamburger smell. They had burgers for dinner, more of the fresh homemade mozzarella and farmer's market tomatoes.

Natasha comes out, sandaled feet quiet. She's pulled one of his shirts on over her silk camisole; blending her scent with his as the fibers warm against her skin. There's sharp and malt, too, and he holds his hand out for her to press the cold bottle into his palm.

She swallows; makes a tch! noise. "You buy shit for beer."

It's what his dad drank, but he's pretty sure she knows this. Knows, and says it anyway, because it is true. His dad drank shit beer, and he drinks shit beer, because it smells right. He tilts the bottle and swallows, and it's really more about the cold and wet than the taste, anyway. "Snob."

"Mm, you say that like it's a bad thing," she says, and the tiniest of breezes telegraphs her shrug. "What can I say? I have good taste."

It's funny, how he can hear it sometimes, in her voice. Her English is flawless, neutral, and she can do better Brooklyn and Long Island accents than Foggy at his best. She speaks perfect French, and Italian, and German, and Japanese, and he's been with her when she's convincingly been Parisian Babette--a persona named after Foggy's Toyota, incidentally--and when she's been Joan from the Midwest and even once, here in the Kitchen, when she spent a weekend fooling everyone as his cousin Peggy Murdock from Cork.

Of course she's good. She's the best. It's what she does, and you don't get to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. field agent--or Russian spy--without being one hell of an actress. But it's what's underneath that that interests him. What's beneath Natasha Romanoff: Black Widow, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, martial arts expert, wildcat in bed. He can hear it sometimes in her voice, when she's only Natasha, when she's with him. Like faraway creaking hinges on old doors, a minor key violin, the smallest, faintest echo of her mother tongue. It's twilight nearing full dark, he thinks, and he can hear it tonight, a little.

"I know where she is," she says, out of nowhere, as he takes another drink. He doesn't choke, barely.

"Oh?" he asks. Surely it has been long enough that it shouldn't hurt this much. His guts shouldn't clench this much every time he thinks of her in Japan, or wherever she is now. Doing whatever it is that she's doing. Someone--it might have been Natasha; he doesn't remember--told him awhile ago that her costume is red. Of course it is. Someday, he'll be able to breathe when he thinks of her. To not feel like he's drowning choking dying, maybe.

Natasha steps closer. Speaks softer. "Do you want me to tell you where?"

He needs space. Air. He walks to the edge of the roof and, very precisely, finds the ledge with the bottom of the bottle. Glass scrapes against the brick, and his other hand follows the sound, palm skating against the rough hard solidness of it. The stone's still warm, deep inside, from the sun.

She follows, because it's not in her nature to back off, shut up, pull punches, wear kid gloves. "Do you want me to kill her for you?" she asks, same neutral conversational tone. Her pulse accelerates, though. She prefers this option.

Matt leaves the bottle on the ledge and buries his face in his hands. Her forehead, a moment later, is warm between his shoulder blades, through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Her arms slide around his middle, fingers lacing together at the waistband of his jeans.

A minute of this, and he can breathe again. Lets his hands fall, one of them covering hers. He brushes her knuckles with his thumb. "Sorry," he says. "I--"

"You are still very fucked up about her. I know." She squeezes him, hard and brief, before stepping back. "Come. It's dark enough. Let's go hurt someone."

He wants to protest that it's not like that.

***

Later still, they're on some bar roof six blocks over, and his ribs hurt like a sonofabitch. His cheek, too, because he was off his game tonight and didn't duck fast enough. There's blood drying on her knuckles, and the faintest trace of it fresh on her breath. Split lip, he's assuming. There's not enough for it to be a knocked-out tooth, and she'd never be so careless. She's still wired, more than he is, and while he's leaning back against a vent, recovering, she's pacing, making little quick bird-movements with her hands. She stops and lights a cigarette, not bothering to offer even a cursory apology. He doesn't expect one. Right now, she's more Widow than woman.

"You didn't say," she says suddenly. "Do you want me to kill her?"

"Christ, Natasha."

"What?" All innocence, and if he weren't fairly certain that she could kick his ass, the mood she's in, he'd be tempted to hit her. "All I asked is what you want."

"I want you to stay, this time," he says. "Stay with me, and we'll figure this out. We can start with a week in bed, and order in every meal. Or go to Paris, or something. And after that, we can really do this. You can get a day job for cover, and every night can be like this." His lips quirk. "We can even think about the redheaded kids Foggy thinks we should have. Send them to Catholic school and take them to the Park. Let Foggy babysit on the weekends. That's what I want."

"Fuck you, Matthew," she says, hard and blood-tinged on a puff of smoke. "No, you don't."

He sighs, letting his head fall back against the metal. The mask is hot, tonight. And no, he doesn't. Isn't sure if he said it just to hurt her. "I could."

"You know better," she says, quieter. "And, I don't want to be a mother. I don't want your domestic bliss, morning coffee and a crossword, Central Park on the weekends. I am not that woman."

Neither is she, anymore. And never will be, on the wrong side and across the world.

"We could figure something out," he says, and almost wants to. "You know we could make something work."

Natasha grinds out the stub of her cigarette with her heel. "I want a hot shower," she announces. "And another drink, and an aspirin, and for you to fuck me. Hard. Let's go."

***

It's his third year of law school, his second year being Daredevil. He told S.H.I.E.L.D., politely but firmly, that he wasn't interested three weeks ago. It's evening in November, and he's sitting at his carrel in the law library with a stale sandwich and taped class notes when the Black Widow saunters in, reeking of soft black leather, expensive shampoo, and sandalwood perfume. And she's turned on.

She smells amazing.

The thick Braille volume on his desk thumps deafeningly when she pushes it to the floor, slithering between the edge of the desk and his chair in order to straddle his lap. His hands twitch at the sensory overload, and it's all he can do not to slide them up her thighs, where the leather has to be tight as a second skin.

"What are you--" he manages, torn between outrage and being more aroused than he's ever been in his life.

She leans close, and he remembers her scent from the meeting with Fury, but God, not like this. That was in costume on a rooftop at midnight when they practically ambushed him. Not like this, surrounding him and molten heat pressed up against him and almost drunk from her hair in his face. "We know who you are, Matthew Murdock," she says, throaty whisper, lips moving against his ear. Younger voice than he would've thought. "I know who you are. Come play with me."

The only safe response is anger, and he shoves, hard. "The fuck-- How dare you-- Here?"

But the Widow only laughs, sliding back to sit on the desk with liquid grace. "Redhead temper, I see. There's no one here. It's late. Put your books away and change, and come play with me. You know you want to."

He shakes his head. "I don't know what you're thinking, but I'm not--"

"You are. You are going to change into your leather, and then you are going to come and dance with me. And then we are going to shower, and fuck, and then we'll order a pizza, and you will tell me how a blind law student does what you do. Because I've seen you fight, and you fight beautifully. And then, Matthew Murdock, if all goes well, we will do it again."

There are a million things he could say, to that, but the one that comes out is, "How do you know I don't have a girlfriend?"

"It's ten o'clock on a Friday night, and you're in the library with plans to go out and fight crime until you're exhausted. I know this life, Matthew. You don't have a girlfriend, and you probably never will."

She's beautiful, and he's lonely here with his books and notes and sandwich, and she smells incredible. And she's right. He could keep fighting this, but instead, he surrenders. Lets his guard down and looks up and smiles. "It's Matt, actually. And it sounds like I've got you."

"For tonight."

***

One of the most beautiful and deadly women in the world is in his shower, and he loves her. She inhabits his home, and his life, as comfortably as she wears her black leather, like a second skin. She's one of his best friends.

And it's not enough.

The fall of water stops, and Matt stretches sore muscles, rolling into the cool spot where she slept last night. It'd be good of him to get up, throw some pants on, start a pot of coffee for her and tea for him, but the scent of her shampoo on the pillow is enough to get him aroused again, and it just feels too good to move.

The bathroom door opens, letting out steam and warmth. There's rain drumming staccato on the bedroom window, enough to get a broken silhouette sense of her standing there, one hand on the doorjamb and the other on her hip.

"Morning," Matt murmurs, and then stops, wrinkling his nose. "Clinique and Ivory soap, and a new dress. With cheap shoes, by your standards. Joan from Kansas again?"

She laughs. "Natalie Rushman, actually. Starting my new job today. You'll love it."

"Yeah?" He rolls onto his side, up on one elbow, intrigued. "And what business does oh-so-very-clearly-harmless Natalie have in Manhattan? Or is that classified?"

"I said you'll love it, didn't I? I'm working for Stark Industries."

"That's not so ba--"

"For Tony Stark himself. I'm his new assistant."

It's a good thing he didn't make that tea, or he'd be dealing with it going up his nose. "Oh, God." There's a lot he could say, including, 'Please don't sleep with the billionaire playboy who may or may not be Iron Man,' but instead, he just shakes his head. "Do yourself a favor, and don't tell Foggy. He'd never stop asking you for an in with Stark."

"Which you don't want."

"He can pay plenty of lawyers to get him off the hook for DUIs and trashing hotel rooms. Just not me."

"He does seem like a dick," she agrees, and bends to brush a kiss against his cheek, leaving waxy lipstick behind. He bets anything it's red. "Wish me luck?"

He sits up, at that. Tilts his face toward her. "You're not coming back?"

"Love you," she says, already halfway out the door. He smiles a little. Lifts a hand.

"You, too, Natasha."

He does. Truly, deeply, lastingly. It's just not enough. Not like that.

The front door closes, and he falls back on the pillow that smells just like her. It's early on a Monday, and he's got time to listen to the rain.

FIC: An Honorable Man for roguecatwoman

ficwize — Tue, 14 Sep 2010 02:51:44 GMT

Title: An Honorable Man
Fandom: X-men Movieverse/Iron Man Movieverse
Pairing: None
Prompt: Written for rocaw for marvel_crossing.
Warnings: None other than obvious spoilers.
Rating: Gen
Summary: Rhodes has had an unusual day.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: Thanks to second_batgirl for the beta!

As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.

***************

An Honorable Man

Marvel Crossing: Status Update Again

ficwize — Thu, 09 Sep 2010 02:04:49 GMT

Thanks to the volunteers for pinch hits. The MIA fic has gone out and none of you that responded to double check that it wasn't you was the cause of my angst.

Thanks again!

I hope to go live by the end of the week.

Marvel Crossing: Status

ficwize — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 01:43:51 GMT

I am missing 1 fic. The person writing it has gone MIA, so if you see this post - and you KNOW who you are - at least have the decency to tell me that you're dropping out or post to the queue.

Otherwise, is anyone available to pinch hit a very quick turn around?

I will do my best otherwise, but it'll be a few days. Real life is not kind this week. If someone can pinch hit, we'll go live as soon as the last fic is in.

I'm screening comments.

Pinch Hitters

ficwize — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 14:10:47 GMT

I could really use one more pinch hitter. Is anyone willing?

Otherwise, all stories should be posted within the week and with any luck, we'll go live at the beginning of next week!

Status

ficwize — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 00:48:25 GMT

So far, I still have three stories outstanding and am in DESPERATE need for two pinch hitters.

Please? People, if you have to wait for me to write them all, this won't open for a long time. I'm just saying...

Posting

ficwize — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 19:38:11 GMT

For anyone who has had issues posting to the queue, I think I've got it figured out. I'm still missing a few stories - please, PLEASE, let me know if you're still planning to post a fic if you signed up!

Thanks.

Reminders! Deadline Approaches!

ficwize — Sat, 14 Aug 2010 23:25:28 GMT

The deadline to turn in fics is Sunday the 15th (tomorrow)! Please post directly to the community. All posts should now be locked and I will open the queue when everyone has a fic.

Please make sure your headers include the following:

Title:
Author:
Recipient:
Fandoms:
Rating:
Warnings: (If you choose not to warn, please state that you are choosing not to warn. Oherwise, please include warnings for any major triggers. I trust your judgment.)
A/N:

In the header, please include the title of your fic and your recipient (MOST AWESOME FIC EVER for Recipient).

*********************

Pinch Hits:

I have need of some pinch hitters. PLEASE let me know if you're interested and able to write a pinch hit for me. I'd really appreciate it.

Drop Outs

A few of you have asked about extensions until Monday. Take them. But if I don't have fics by Monday, or an email swearing that a fic will be up by Tuesday, there will be a pinch hit sent out. Go ahead and post your fic if you finish it and consider your recipient a very lucky individual!

Check In and Pinch Hits

ficwize — Mon, 02 Aug 2010 02:24:54 GMT

Hi guys!

There is still time to get those fics done and in - remember the deadline has been moved to August 15.

However if you know that you won't get a fic turned in already, please comment here and let me know so I can find a pinch hitter.

Also, I know of one fic that will need a pinch hit, so if anyone would like to volunteer, please drop me a note in the comments (which are screned) and let me know what movies you're willing to write.

Thanks!

Extended Deadline

ficwize — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 15:15:47 GMT

A few people have asked about pushing the deadline out a week, making fics due Aug. 15, which means they'll go live on the 21st.

I have no objections to this if no one else does.

If this will cause anyone any problems, let me know, please.

Otherwise, I'll go ahead and extend the deadline a week.

Thanks!

Marvel Crossing: Assignments Are Out!

ficwize — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 20:25:18 GMT

I have sent assignments out. If you have a problem with your assignment, please let me know ASAP. You can drop a message here (screened) or send me an email at bewize @ yahoo . com.

I know that I extended sign ups, but everything else seems to be on course, so at this point, I have no intention of extending the deadlines. Please let me know if you think you'll need more time and I can reconsider.

Sign Ups: June 14-25
Assignments Out: First week in July
Fics Due: August 6
Pinch Hits: August 7-15
Ficathon Goes Live: August 16

Happy Ficcing!

Announcement: Sign Ups Extended

ficwize — Thu, 24 Jun 2010 22:29:30 GMT

Hey guys, we've got 9 people signed up and I'm going to extend sign ups so that you can all go and lure other writers here to play. :)

I'd hate for people to miss the deadline because they actually *miss* it.

Thanks!

Sign Ups Are Open!

ficwize — Sun, 13 Jun 2010 15:04:01 GMT

Hi folks! I’m your moderator, ficwize. You can contact me at bewize @ yahoo . com (no spaces!). I'm still looking for a second mod, so if anyone is interested, please let me know! I'd really appreciate someone who is tech savvy enough to do things like… update the tags!

General Info

To sign up, you'll make four requests. For each one, you'll request a crossover of up to three movies or characters from various movies, or a pairing and a specific request or scenario. Your writer will pick one of your requests to write a story about. We ask that you keep your prompts vague enough to allow your writer to have fun, but don’t be afraid to ask for what you want, either.

This year, one of your requests may be crossing a Marvel movie with a non-Marvel-but-still-comic-book movie. (Batman: The Dark Knight/Iron Man, Kick Ass/Wolverine: Origins, etc.). It is important to note that this request will NOT be used to match you with your author. It is a wild card request and will be treated as such! For now, if the movie you'd like to use as your non-Marvel movie has a comic attached to it, it is a valid choice. If you do not want a non-Marvel crossover, you may request a fourth Marvel crossover instead.

You'll also list at least at least three movies (preferably five) that you are willing to write. Please do not list X-1,2,3 or Spidey 1,2,3 and think that you’re meeting the guidelines. You must pick at least two franchises (X-men, Spiderman, Hulk, Iron Man, etc.) to include, although more is better. (Keep in mind that the source material is only a few hours of commitment to absorb, too. So, stretch out, if need be!)

In addition to the movies, you may name characters, pairings or scenarios that you will not write. This is very important! If you are not willing to write Rhodey from Iron Man, then you need to make sure that you say that! If you don’t, and you receive a request asking for Rhodey, that will be YOUR problem, not mine. (Please don’t make it mine. You won’t like me if your problem becomes mine.) Likewise with slash, teacher/student, incest, etc. Be as specific as you need to be!

Finally, if you are willing to write comics characters that aren’t in the movie, please give me an indication of who that would be.

I reserve the right to beg you to change as need be, but I won’t force the issue. Last year, given the nature of the requests, I did end up with one person who was nearly impossible to match. So, please keep in mind that the more varied your requests, and the more generous your offers, the more fun this will be for me. *ahem*

All stories must be at least 1000 words.

Eligible Marvel Movies

X-men; X-2; X-3

Wolverine: Origins (This does not count as part of the X-men franchise for purposes of your requests. In other words, you may ask for Wolverine/X-men, provided that you are asking for some aspects to crossover. Wolverine and the X movies will not count as two separate franchises when it comes to what you are willing to write.)

Spiderman; Spiderman II; Spiderman III

Hulk; The Incredible Hulk

The Punisher; Punisher: War Zone

Daredevil

Elektra

Fantastic Four; Fantastic Four: The Rise of the Silver Surfer

Iron Man; Iron Man 2

Ghost Rider

Blade; Blade II; Blade Trinity

Important Dates

Sign Ups: June 14-25
Assignments Out: First week in July
Fics Due: August 6
Pinch Hits: August 7-15
Ficathon Goes Live: August 16

Please Note: Depending on how many people sign up, I may change how the submissions are done. At this moment, I anticipate stories going into a moderated queue and being released when everyone has a story. I will make a final decision after the sign ups close, but this is the most likely way I will handle it.

FAQ

Can I request the same movies, characters or pairings in all three of my requests?

Yes, but I would prefer it if you would request at least three distinct franchises over all to make it easier to place you. If you don’t, it may make it very difficult to place your requests with the authors.

I only read/write one franchise! Can I still sign up?

No, sorry. If you’re only willing to write one franchise (e.g. X-men, X-2, X-3), then this is not the ficathon for you. But that doesn't mean that requests like "What Magneto thought of the events of Iron Man." aren't allowed. So, creative crossing is encouraged!

I only write one character/pairing! Can I still sign up?

No. Sorry. The requirement of being willing to write at least two franchises (and hopefully more) means that I cannot promise to match you with your character of choice.

Can I request or offer to write 'any'?

Yes, but "any" means any. Please do not request or offer to write "any" unless you will really be happy with whatever you get.

Can I request movieverse events of as of yet unreleased Marvel movies?

Not yet. I'm as excited as anyone about the upcoming Captain America, Thor and Avengers movies, but this would make it impossible to match. So we are all going to practice a little patience.

Can I request movieverse versions of comicsverse characters?

Yes, but only one of your requests can involve a comicsverse character who has not yet appeared in the movieverse, because those requests are harder to match. If you're willing to write comicsverse characters, please say so in your sign-up.

Can I request crossovers?

Of course! Just remember, only one of your four requests may include a non-Marvel comic movie.

What should I do if I still have questions?

Please ask any questions about the rules or the sign-up process in comments to this post, and I'll answer them as soon as possible. I'll be making another post later explaining how to post your stories, so please hold off on questions about how to post.

HOW TO SIGN UP

Leave a comment here with the following information:

Author name:
LJ name:
Email address:

Movies to be crossed:
Character/pairing request 1:
Specific request:

Movies to be crossed:
Character/pairing request 2:
Specific request:

Movies to be crossed:
Character/pairing request 3:
Specific request:

Movies to be crossed:
Character/pairing request 4:
Specific request:

At least three movies you are willing to write about (from at least two different franchises):

Any non-Marvel comics movies you'd be willing to write:

Any comicsverse characters or pairings you are willing to write (imported into the movieverse):

Anything you will not write: [ETA note: You won't be matched on any characters who DON'T appear in the movies, unless you specifically say you can write them. So there's no need to list characters you won't write unless they appear in the movies and you feel very very strongly about not writing them!]

Example sign-up:

Author name: Wizefics
LJ name: ficwize
Email address: bewize @ yahoo . com

Movies to be crossed: X-men (any)/Iron Man/The Incredible Hulk
Character/pairing request: Hank McCoy, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner
Specific request: I’d love to see these three characters interact as they all end up joining the Avengers. Perhaps a mission where they all participate. I’d prefer gen, but am not opposed to background relationships.

Movies to be crossed: X-2/Wolverine: Origins/ Iron Man
Character/pairing request: Stryker, Nick Fury
Specific request: Both characters work on special projects within the military. Do they know each other? Do they get along? Fury doesn’t seem to expend much energy on the “mutant problem” – what does he think of Stryker’s work?

Movies to be crossed: X-2/Daredevil
Character/pairing request: Scott Summers/Matt Murdock
Specific request: They both know what it is like to be a superhero with a disability. Discuss.

Movies to be crossed: Batman/Iron Man
Character/pairing request: Bruce Wayne/Tony Stark
Specific request: Only when their respective companies come into conflict do they really start to take notice of each other. Then they can't stop.

At least three movies you are willing to write about (from at least two different franchises): X-men (all), Iron Man, Spiderman 1 and 2, Fantastic Four, Daredevil, The Incredible Hulk, Wolverine: Origins

Any non-Marvel comics movies you'd be willing to write: Batman, The Dark Knight, Watchmen, Kick Ass, Terminator (1-4)

Any comicsverse characters or pairings you are willing to write (imported into the movieverse): Any character from Astonishing X-men, Captain America, Bucky Rogers, any character from the Avengers

Anything you will not write: Teacher/student, non-con, slash, Colossus from the X-men, Betty from The Incredible Hulk, character death

Thanks to the xmmficathon for providing a format for the rules, which I stole and tweaked.

Please leave your sign-ups or any questions in the comments!

Non Marvel Crossover Options and Co-Mod Search

ficwize — Tue, 08 Jun 2010 19:43:29 GMT

Hi folks!

I've been pondering the non-Marvel crossover option and have come to a decision about it.

I will be allowing ONE non-Marvel movie crossover request, but the crossover must be with another Comic Book movie. The whole point of this ficathon is that all the source material was supposed to easily consumable. That way, if anyone gets a request for a crossover involving a movie they've not seen, it's only a 2ish hour commitment!

I would be curious to hear suggestions for non-Marvel comics movies to be allowed. (Think Batman, Dark Knight, Watchmen, Kick Ass.)

Lastly, if anyone is willing to volunteer as co-Mod, I'm interested! Please let me know. :)

Tentative Schedule

ficwize — Tue, 11 May 2010 04:48:17 GMT

Okay! Enough people seemed interested that we will indeed be having the marvel_crossing ficathon again this year!

I am tentatively scheduling as follows:

Sign Ups: June 14-25
Assignments Out: First week in July
Fics Due: August 6
Pinch Hits: August 7-15
Ficathon Goes Live: August 16

For my own sanity, I'm going to change a tiny bit of what goes on behind the scenes. Mainly, if your fic isn't into me on the 6th of August, a pinch hit will go out. I do not care if *I* am the author who's late - PINCH HIT.

Last year's delays stressed me out. I think this will work better.

Also, since last year had the bizarre happening where someone sent me a draft, but never bothered to post, fics will go into a queue on the 6th, which I will open on the 16.

I have tried to work around schedules - especially if people have told me that they plan to participate and that they have conflicts, but this is about the best I can do.

DATES ARE STILL SUBJECT TO CHANGE. But they probably won't by much...

If you have any MAJOR problems with this, please let me know. :)