“Worthy,” to Mjolnir, was a non-species specific trait.

That was great when Steve could lift Thor’s hammer in the heat of battle so that he or his team mates could live to fight another day, but was annoying as fuck when every other dog in New York City prance off with it in their jaws. 

The first time it had happened, it was a chocolate lab, who’d been sniffing around the the remains of Steve’s sandwich at the park, spied Mjolnir lying peacefully by Thor’s side, and decided to investigate. Thor had exclaimed loudly and at length when the dog had closed its jaws around the handle and lifted. Then everybody had started exclaiming loudly and at length when – motivated by the excitement of a new game – the dog had broken into a run back for its owner on the other side of the park.

“Oh shit,” Steve had said, and immediately booked it, seeing horrifying visions of the Avengers issuing an apology for accidentally crushing a civilian because they’d been playing fetch with a mythical weapon. 

To complete the farce of the day, he’d closed the last distance between himself, the dog, Mjolnir, and the pretty brown-haired woman who was his owner by sliding into home. 

Him lying on top of a total stranger, clutching a giant hammer, with a dog nosing enthusiastically at his backside, ended up splashed over every news source in America. Correction: in the world. Natasha had texted to say “lol just saw your boob faceplant on a news report in dprk good job buddy." 

Thor had been appropriately apologetic and surprised, saying he had no idea what Mjolnir had seen in the warrior beast, but that it must have had a noble spirit indeed. Tony just laughed until he made himself sick.

His comeuppance came just weeks later, when at a Maria Stark Foundation event for service docs, a puppy about to enter training fell in love with Mjolnir and tried to bring it to his handler. Thor, having remembered he was a prince of realms, had put on a tuxedo and tied back his golden hair, and Jane was – understandably – keeping him pretty busy by staring at his dreamy eyes or groping him outrageously where not too many children could see. The hammer had been left on the Avengers’ table.

Tony, from his vantage point making a series of exceptionally charming opening remarks on the stage, had seen a disaster in progress, yelled, "FUCK,” into the hot mic, whipped on his Hulkbuster armor, and thrown himself between the hammer and the handler. He ended up dented and bruised for his trouble, with a baby golden lab making whining noises and cowering away from him. 

“What the fuck,” Tony had yelled, when Thor had rushed over after he’d removed Jane’s hand from his man breast to move the hammer off of the creaking chestplates of his latest Iron Man suit. “Like what the fuck!”

“Maybe all dogs are noble and worthy of Mjolnir,” Bruce had guessed later, watching Clint and Natasha troll each other in increasingly childish ways to try and move the hammer some more. Again. At this point, they’d introduced physics and were trying to create a lever with some experimental industrial art Pepper had bought for the tower. 

“So just keep it away from dogs,” Natasha said, watching Clint dripping sweat and purple-faced with exertion, swearing at Mjolnir and straining his massive arms on the metal rebar to no avail.

Easier said than done, even for Natasha, when she found herself dogsitting Lucky at the tower two months later and had to explain to Stark what she’d done to shatter his Italian marble bathroom. 

“I told him to drop it,” she said, shrugging. “He did.”

Tony clawed at his goatee. “You – Pepper is already furious about the industrial art thing.”

“When we stopped messing with it, we left it in okay condition – you’re the one who got bored and tried to make a robot out of it,” Nat retorted without remorse.


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East Coast Gazette has a terrible editorial focus and tends to use a lot of ALL CAPS but TOTALLY NOT BECAUSE OF HARRY POTTER. Stories in progress as well as snapshots will be listed in the "box full of snapshots" below, website archive for stories and assorted tomfoolery is glitterati.

recs (on del.icio.us)


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