Just Relax

Loki stood in the rain with the Avengers, holding the hand of a sobbing toddler. Loki doesn't look at Sasha, not wanting to be pulled in by her wide, dark eyes—instead he looks ahead at the tiny headstone, the cause of the child's uncontrollable tears. Here lies Franklin. Franklin was the turtle that Clint had won for Sasha at a fair six months ago after she had begged her uncle most of the night. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, he thinks to himself with a scowl.

It had died last night after it pissed off the cat that all of the residents of Stark Tower claimed. Now the poor pet was six feet under and the cat was eating tuna inside out of the rain. Lucky little beast. Sasha turns to her father, holding up her arms in the universal sign of wanting to be picked up. Tony quickly obliges, holding the four-year-old to him tightly with his cheek resting atop her head. "It'll be okay, squirt," Clint tells her softly, taking his niece from Tony and walking back inside, promising to spend the rest of the day with her doing whatever she wanted.

They all relax on the large couch in the sitting room, Sasha snuggled between Steve and Loki while all of them watched Scooby Doo and the Reluctant Werewolf for the billionth time that month. Slowly Sasha's tears began to turn into laughter, saying lines in unison with the cartoon characters; her favorite being "Not the hunchbunch!" which made everyone else's mood turn cheerier. As much as Loki hated to admit it, seeing the child happy made him happy as well.