please do the Thor flirting with Amy AU id pay good money just to read that
Apologies to all – I’ve spent four hours in Gatwick airport waiting for a flight which, it turns out, has been cancelled. I was bored in other words (and I haven’t proof-read this or anything, and I wrote it on my phone, so I have no idea if it’s any good).
Assume it happens sometime shortly before Age of Ultron – which lines up with Selina’s eight months as President (somehow).
It was a medal-giving ceremony.
A medal-giving ceremony and a please don’t fuck up New York more than you already have ceremony and get your picture taken with some of the more reluctant congressmen so they’ll vote at least some money into the reconstruction fund. A picture with Captain America was worth at least a five point bump in the polls, which was enough to convince even Roger Furlong.
The Secret Service had freaked the fuck out at the mere prospect of the Avengers coming to the White House, and Ben had had to do some careful negotiations to get them to relax about it, even though she thought they were being ridiculous. Everyone had agreed that Bruce Banner shouldn’t be on the guest list, and the idea that the walls of the building kept Thor from being a danger to the President was kind of crazy.
But the Secret Service did not like being told that Thor could kidnap or kill the President any time he felt like it, and it took a lengthy discussion about who, exactly, was going to tell the Thunder God he couldn’t bring his hammer to the ball, before they saw reason.
The actual photo-op went better than it had any right to – much to everyone’s surprise, it turned out that Selina knew Tony Stark, had dated him (or something) back in the day, and the two of them bantered and set everyone at their ease.
Okay, set most people at their ease. Amy was too busy wondering whether having Iron Man as an ex-husband would be more or less of a political headache than Andrew to relax, but everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves.
Jonah, somehow, had inveigled his way into the plan, and attempted to hit on Black Widow, which… she blinked at him in a way that seemed to imply she would kill him if it wasn’t too much work. Which, on any other man, would have cut the interaction dead, but Jonah, being Jonah, kept blundering on, offering to show her the White House bowling alley, any time she wanted it, eyebrow raise.
Fortunately, the photographer arrived to get the shot and Jonah was so distracted by his attempts to give advice that he left the super-spy alone.
Trying to find a way Selina could pose with the Avengers and not look utterly dwarfed was almost impossible, especially as her heels kept sinking into the grass. (Iron Man suggested they hold her up, like King Kong with Fay Wray, which Amy was not about to allow).
Still, it was all going so well, right up until, after the photo had been taken, Selina turns to Thor and says, “So, this is the hammer my security team was so worried about – what’s it do?”
He smiled and attempted to answer, though Amy got the feeling it was a dumbed down explanation. “Mjolnir is a tool, Lady President, for whatever use is most needful. It can create, it can destroy -“
“It makes you fly,” Iron Man says. “What do you say, Selina, want a ride on Thor’s hammer?”
“Now Tony,” Selina says, “We don’t want to give the Secret Service a stroke.”
“It would be my honour.”
“Yes, yes, of course it would,” Selina says, “But I couldn’t possibly – you should take Amy.”
“Ma’am, I -“
“Don’t get difficult,” Selina says, glaring at her, “I want to see. And don’t you want to be the only Deputy Chief of Staff to fly with an Avenger. That tops being the first woman, I think.”
At this point Captain America interjects to say how honoured he is, and how grateful, to have had a chance to meet the first female President, and Selina preens herself and says of course he is, and Amy hopes like hell that will be the end of it… but she’ll never be that lucky.
Selina has her heart set on seeing Thor fly, for some ungodly fucking reason, and so Amy finds herself hauled up into his arms and flying several thousand feet above the Washington Monument with barely a word of warning.
She is both furious and very, VERY aware that she does not actually want to be let go of, and so she expresses her discontent by swearing loudly and at length, using every word she can think of and several she’s never actually said before. How dare he? Lifting her up like an unruly kitten, hauling her around like he doesn’t even notice her weight, smiling at the shriek she gives when he takes a dive…
When they land, back in the Rose Garden after what feels like the longest five minutes of Amy’s life, she stumbles, almost the moment Thor lets go of her, and if Dan hadn’t been right there she probably would have faceplanted right in front of the entire press corps.
But he is right there, and he puts his hands on her upper arms, holding her up almost, and normally…normally Dan’s fucking toxic, she tries not to be close to him, but right now… he steadies her.
In innocence, perhaps, she hears Thor as Tony what an overgrown frat boy jizzsack doped up on steroid juice is, and realised that he heard EVERYTHING she said. Dan hears it too, and says, “Didn’t enjoy getting the chance to fly, I take it?”
She shudders, just a little, and shakes her head. “Don’t ever let her do that to me again. Jesus, he’s so big.”
Dan looks irritated, and even more so when Thor approaches them, wearing a guilty expression and carrying one of Amy’s shoes which she’d dropped when they took off unexpectedly.
“Miss Brookheimer,” he says, and sinks to his knees (meaning his head is roughly level with her chest). “My apologies, I did not realise…I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
He’s so sincere, it’s terrifying, and when he takes her ankle in his hand, lifting it so he can slide her shoe back on, Amy has no idea what to say. “I don’t know why Earth women wear these,” he says, pricking his finger with the point of his heel, “They’re not convenient for battle – even Lady Sif would struggle to use a blade on her foot – and you’re all so tiny anyway…”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I get it, I’m short, I’m pocket-sized, I could be a life size hobbit, Jesus fucking Christ you nearly kill me and even then what, feel the need to remind me that I’m little?”
“Amy, sweetie,” Gary says, “Maybe don’t start a fight with an Avenger?”
Her phone rings, thank fuck, giving her an excuse to get out of there…though of course, since she’s walking on grass, she’s denied the opportunity of storming away, and has to pick her way carefully back to her office.
After eviscerating a couple of the junior campaign staff she feels a lot better, and by the time she’s brushed her hair out and changed into her gown, she almost feels ready for human contact. (Asgardian contact she’s not so sure about).
Fortunately, she’s not expected to do anything at the dinner (it’s not a state dinner, because of protocol and rules and the Avengers technically not being a state) and so she sits with Dan and Mike and Sue, eating rubbery chicken and trying not to make eye contact with that asshole Fisk who’s been angling for a formal introduction to the President. No way they’re getting tricked into endorsing him before he’s even been vetted.
Sue and Black Widow really hit it off apparently which…Amy should have been able to predict. Dan gets twitchy when she asks Amy what flying with Thor was like, and even more so when Amy acknowledges that yes, he does have really great arms (it doesn’t make a difference, but she still noticed).
They all start making jokes when Thor approaches their table, and Amy barely has time to tell them to shut up before he’s asking her to dance.
She can’t exactly say no, and so she winds up on the dance floor, where Selina is dancing with Captain America and Doyle is dancing with Black Widow, and hoping that no one will notice her. Of course, given her dance partner, that’s unlikely.
They talk, politely, about the rebuilding efforts in New York and the Avengers role in international security (well, she talks about it, Thor seems at best disinterested), and then, when the song is over, he touches her face very gently and says, “You are so fierce. I only meant… I was impressed.”
She doesn’t really know what to say to that, and it must show, because Thor bows (actually fucking bows), kisses her hand and leaves her there.
If Amy was still capable of bursting into embarrassed giggles, she would, but as is…she makes her way, slowly, back to her table.
She’d been planning to down a glass of champagne or something, but Dan’s there, and he’s clearly too wound up to leave her alone.
“So,” he says, “You just had to copy Selina.”
“Have to be her little clone in everything, don’t you? She fucks an Avenger, you fuck an -“
“No,” she says, irritated with him, “I was fucking polite, you might want to try it sometime.”
“Since was does polite involve eye-fucking?”
“I was not -“
“There was practically a puddle on the floor.”
“Dan, it’s not my fault you can’t tell the difference between dancing and -“
“Don’t be so fucking ridiculous.”
“What? We had a dance, he said something nice…what exactly do you think is going on?”
He looks at her, furious but sputtering, not able to say why, and then a moment later his hands are on her face, and he’s pulling her towards him, and when he kisses her it’s like something clicks in Amy’s head, and it all makes sense.
Dan doesn’t let up, and kisses her for long enough that they start to attract notice, aged politicians murmuring disapprovingly at them.
She really doesn’t care. His tuxedo is soft under her fingers, and his hand is firm on the back of her neck, and she wants to press herself closer to him.
They stop, eventually, because they have to, though Dan keeps touching her, his fingers tracing patterns over her shoulders, setting her nerves on fire as he goes.
“Shit,” she breathes out, and he grins. He pushes his face close to hers, so his
mouth is right by her ear, and says, “Coming home with me?”
“Fuck you,” she says, smiling, and knows he understands.