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The Ride of The Valkyrie (and Her Stupid, Lame, Not Very Good Friends)

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The idea had been said in jest, at first. A passing comment during drunken revelry, nothing to be taken seriously. It would be dumb to follow through.

But then again, dumb seemed to follow them like a bad smell nowadays.

By the time they were sober and hangovers had lessened somewhat (or as sober as The Valkyrie could possibly get) it was too late. Plans had, apparently, been made.

“When… when did we borrow a car? Why did we borrow a car? And why do I still let myself get roped into this stuff with you guys?” Bruce, bless his heart, was still coming to terms with the matter at hand. Glasses askew and hunched over a chipped mug of very potent coffee, he ran his fingers through the nest of hair he’d woken up with. Because apparently, he’d fallen asleep on the stairs. Ouch.

Thor was not faring much better, but his usual optimism saved him from having a similar Bruce-like spiral. He was sat with the scientist at the circular table in the middle of their kitchen, with his chair facing the wrong way so the back was supporting his front. His eye patch was both upside-down and hot pink.

“It could be fun!” He tested, “And it’s not as if we haven’t traveled together before. We had fun on The Ark, right, Val?”

A muffled grunt came from the woman currently half-way stuffed inside the fridge. A few loud clinks and curse words later, The Valkyrie emerged, a bottle of beer in one hand, an egg in the other. A phone number was scrawled in black marker across one cheek - the name of some random maiden was smudged underneath, as if it were some unfortunate bruise. Or maybe it was just a bruise. She was an antagonistic drunk.

“We had as much fun as a ship full of beaten and bereft survivors could have, given the destruction of their entire planet and subsequent losses.”

Thor’s grin didn’t falter, but his remaining eye twitched. “We can bond. It’ll be a team-building exercise, how about that?”

“I thought we already disbanded the team. Why team build when we don’t have a team? That makes no sense.”

“You make no sense!”

“You take that back right now, Your Majesty, or I’ll -”

“Or you’ll what?” Thor was smug.

Valkyrie considered her options, quickly dismissing the beer as too important to be used as a weapon. She threw the egg. Thor wasn’t smug anymore.

An amused snort drew attention to the figure lying on the floor, because of course Loki was on the floor. His legs were, for some reason, propped up against the wall so he was at a 90 degree angle. “You’ve got yolk in your eye, brother.”

“I’ll get yolk in your eye.” Thor grumbled.

“What?”

“Shut up, Loki. All I’m saying is it would be nice to get away for a while, especially with my two best friends and little brother -”

“You just told me to shut up, you don’t get to -”

“Shut UP, Loki.” A pause. “Said with love.”

“You’re the worst. And no, it wouldn’t be nice, because first of all - and I mean no disrespect - travelling in a confined space across many miles with you three is my worst nightmare.”

Bruce frowned, despite the fact that his face was pressed against the table. “How is that not disrespectful?”

“Children say dumb things when they can’t handle their liquor.” Called The Valkyrie, once again in the fridge.

“Uh. Are you drinking again? It’s ten in the morning.”

“It’s Happy Hour somewhere in the galaxy, Brucie Boy.” She pulled out a replacement egg, its intended use unknown to three out of four inhabitants. “And besides. If we’re going to do this, I refuse to do it sober.”

Thor lifted his head from the sink excitedly, a broad grin across his face. “So you’ll come? Great!” A slimy piece of egg shell, missed in his attempts at cleaning it off, glooped from his face and onto the floor. He looked at it in dismay. “Aw.”

“Gross. And, sure, I’ll go. You’ll need at least one brain cell to keep you all alive.”

Bruce’s frown twisted further into the table. “I have seven PhD’s,” he insisted halfheartedly.

“It doesn’t matter how many D’s any of us have,” Thor smiled, and ugh, it’s too early for him to be so chipper, “what matters is that the Drunk Revengers have already planned this trip, and it would be rude to let them down.”

Loki, still on the floor, picked absentmindedly at his fingernails with a dagger. “Convincing a drunk farmer to lend us the oldest, smelliest car on the planet so we can go on an impromptu road trip in a moment of alcohol-induced adventurousness does not count as “planning”. It would be stupid and chaotic and would lead to all sorts of disastrous situations.”

“So you’ll do it, brother?”

“Of course.”

“I guess it’s settled then,” Val drawled, “A trip away, just the four of us.”

At this, Bruce finally raised his head off the table, giving her a perplexed look. “Do I not get a say in this?”

The Valkyrie grinned at him, cracked her egg on her beer bottle, and made direct eye-contact as she tipped her head back and swallowed the entire thing raw.

Bruce didn’t have the energy to gag, even as Loki sat bolt upright with a horrified cry and Thor’s face crumpled in disgust, so he settled for saying “That’s a no, then,” and miserably returning his face to its original position against the table.

“Why… why would you do that. Why. You can’t do that on the road trip. King’s orders.”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll be the king of this road trip, Your Majesty.”

“The oaf-king of Asgard, a scrawny human and his vicious green alter-ego, a booze-hag Valkyrie, and a magic megalomaniac. What could possibly go wrong?” Loki posed the question with a quirk of his head and a sardonic Cheshire grin. Prick. The Valkyrie simply belched in response.

Bruce closed his eyes against an oncoming headache.

This was going to be one long fucking trip.