Chapter 116: Breakfast for a God
The morning sun cut through the dusty windows of the Puente Antiguo diner, illuminating two booths that had been pushed together and were still severely over capacity.
Two booths had been pushed together to fit Thor, Jane, Darcy, Erik, Ethan, Gwen, Natasha, and Coulson. Tony had stolen a chair from another table and planted himself at the end, while Coulson's untouched breakfast sat beside his tablet.
Thor wrapped his massive hand around a fragile ceramic coffee mug, drained the last drop, and carefully set it down on the formica table.
Ethan watched the restrained movement from across the booth and gave a short nod. "Progress," Ethan said.
"Midgardian cups remain needlessly fragile," Thor muttered, staring at the handle as if expecting it to shatter anyway.
Tony Stark leaned over a tiny cup of coffee he had bullied the waitress into calling espresso, completely ignoring the tension of the previous night. "So, about this Uru," Tony started. "Do you guys respect Earth patent law, or is it open-source? Also, indoor plumbing. Tell me Asgard isn't just golden outhouses."
Thor frowned, looking Tony up and down. "Why is a man capable of building a flying metal shell so obsessed with toilets?"
Further down the table, Darcy rested her chin on her hands, staring openly at the fallen prince. "Are all Asgardians built like you, or did you eat the rest of them?" she asked.
"Focus, Darcy," Jane interrupted, pulling out a notepad and sliding it across the table. "Thor, the Bifrost. You said it functions as an Einstein-Rosen bridge?"
Thor looked down at the rough diagram Jane had drawn.
"Your bridge is not wrong," he said carefully. "But you draw it as though the worlds sit still."
Jane immediately turned the notepad back toward herself. "They don't?"
"Nothing in the Nine Realms is still."
Tony leaned across the table to inspect the drawing. "She's modeling fixed endpoints. If your transport system compensates for movement between both locations—"
"It is not my transport system," Thor interrupted. "It belongs to Asgard."
"That is the least useful correction you could have made."
Erik rubbed a hand over his face. "It's eight in the morning."
Darcy stole a strip of bacon from his plate. "Time is meaningless when you're having breakfast with aliens."
Before Thor could answer Jane, Gwen leaned forward. This time, she refused to sit quietly while everyone discussed a world she barely understood.
"What kind of warriors live in the other realms?" she asked.
Natasha didn't look up from her black coffee. "Which of those realms has both the ability and the motive to attack Earth?" she asked.
Thor paused, his blue eyes shifting toward the redhead. He recognized the question of a soldier measuring an unfamiliar battlefield.
"There are many who would test Midgard's defenses if they believed it unguarded," Thor answered. His voice had lost its earlier humor.
Beneath the table, Natasha flexed her still-tender fingers. The thread she had forced into existence at the warehouse had left the skin beneath her bandages raw. Ethan caught the slight flinch.
"When do I learn to use the thread without burning my own hands?" Natasha asked quietly.
"Tonight," Ethan answered.
The crowded booth made privacy impossible. Gwen looked over immediately. "I think I'll attend that lesson."
Natasha offered a faint, self-assured smile. "I expected no less."
The bell above the diner door jingled. Maria Hill walked in. Fury had sent her to relieve Coulson in New Mexico so he could return to the Arctic operation once the handover was complete.
Hill walked toward the crowded table, took in the fallen god, the sorcerer, the billionaire, the exposed spy, and Gwen in one quick sweep, then stopped beside Coulson. Fury had clearly briefed her well. Nothing on her face moved.
"Just so we're clear on the current chain of command, who exactly is in charge here?" she asked.
Coulson pointed to himself. Tony pointed to Ethan. Thor pointed upward.
Hill let out a slow, measured breath. "Right. This is going to be a long week."
Hill placed a slim black folder beside Coulson's tablet.
"I'm relieving you after the handover," she told him. "Your Arctic team narrowed the bomber's likely crash corridor sometime before dawn. Fury wants you back on that search."
Coulson glanced at the folder. "How narrow?"
"A few hundred square miles instead of half the Arctic."
"I'll take it," Coulson said.
Hill turned toward Ethan. "Director said you have authority over mystical threats. The agents, the perimeter, and the equipment are still mine."
Ethan took a slow drink of coffee. "You rehearsed that on the flight."
"I had time."
Tony leaned toward Thor. "I like her."
"She has spoken only threats," Thor replied.
"Exactly."
Hill's gaze shifted to Natasha's bandaged hands.
"Your Rushman cover lasted less time than Fury expected."
Natasha lifted her coffee. "Fury's expectations were optimistic."
"Are you still assigned to Williams?"
"That discussion hasn't happened yet."
Hill looked from Natasha to Ethan, then to Gwen watching both of them.
"I'm sure it will be completely professional."
Gwen coughed into her drink. Ethan chose not to answer.
A waitress walked by their section, struggling to balance a heavy stack of bus tubs and dirty dishes. Thor immediately stood up, taking the heavy plastic bins from her hands and setting them on the counter with ease.
"May I have another coffee, please?" Thor asked her politely.
Miles away, inside the secured crater, Mjolnir gave the faintest vibration against the fused earth.
Tony's phone pinged with an alert from the scanning rig he had left beside the crater.
"That's new," Tony muttered, opening the reading.
Ethan felt Mjolnir's enchantment stir and glanced toward the diner window. The hammer was nowhere near ready to return, but it had noticed him.
Thor returned to the table with his fresh coffee and carefully lowered himself into the booth.
Ethan looked at the unbroken mug in his hand.
"Two improvements in one morning."
Thor took a long drink. "Do not become insufferable, sorcerer."
Tony looked up from the strange reading on his phone.
"Too late."
Beneath the table, Natasha flexed her bandaged fingers again.
Tonight, she would learn whether she could call the thread without burning herself.
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