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"I fold, I got nothing. Dammit Wolfy, why'd you have to go in like that?" Clint set his cards face down, and crossed his arms. "And who let Banner shuffle?" Despite being a super spy and quick with his hands, he was up against some rather tough opponents. He was sure someone was cheating, but it was impossible to tell who.

Everyone at the table was a sneaky little shit.

"C'mon Clint, giving up that fast?" Natasha nudged the archer with her foot. "You've got the sharpest eyes here and you can't even see Stark's bluff?" Natasha knew someone was cheating. She knew who it was though, they weren't even being sneaky about it.

"Me? Oh no, look at Mr. Frozen Face over there. Hasn't moved a muscle," Tony rebuffed. "Well, Cap? Got any threes?" Tony, meanwhile, was blissfully oblivious to the idea that anyone would cheat. The game wasn't for money, and he was just trying to one-up his friends and colleagues with some good old-fashioned card counting and banter.

Getting everyone drunk tended to help with that too.

"Wrong game, Tony," Steve replied, not even looking up from his hand. "Did you have to bring the suit with you? We're in a bar. You're not exactly casual." Steve wasn't really too interested in what the others were doing. He was pretty sure he had a great hand with what cards were on the table, but he wasn't a gambling man. However, he'd learned something about not giving away anything with expressions while playing, so he was doing his best.

"Of course I did," Stark huffed. "I look great in the suit and sunglasses. It's called fashion. You should come to the twenty-first century and try it. Besides…" Tony leaned back and nodded at the person across the table, using a finger to lower his shades. "Space Dog there is hardly stealthy."

Amaterasu sat back in her seat, using a paw to lower her sunglasses to send a glare at Tony. She huffed through her nose, and turned her gaze to her cards, one of her ears flicking the slightest amount.

"Tony, she was invisible when she came," Natasha countered. "I don't think your giant mango costume is close to that level."

Natasha, not even looking, reached out a hand toward Amaterasu. The wolf met it with a meaty smack of her paw, the only two women at the table sharing a moment.

"Hey!" Tony pointed at Natasha, then at Ammy. "You don't get to talk about the mango thing. And don't team up, you're both menaces together." He huffed, and gestured to the space at the table between them. "Barton's between you two for a reason."

"I am?" Clint asked. "I wish someone told me before I saw them swap hands."

Tony's spluttering was interrupted by Thor and Sif, the duo stuck in a perpetual state of embarrassment. The frilly dresses they wore fluttered with each step, and the wolf-ear headbands bounced with their movement. They looked every bit the wolf-girl maids that Amaterasu intended them to.

They'd started to reach for their weapons when she'd hinted about tails. Even without them, they still looked absolutely adorable. If a muscular Viking-like man and woman wearing frilly maid dresses were cute, that is.

Sif was allowed to wear pants underneath; Ammy wasn't a monster.

Just a gremlin.

"Your drinks, as requested," Thor ground out. He and Sif set various alcoholic beverages on the table, glasses, mugs, and various other fancy cups to be added to the, in Thor's opinion, rather unnecessarily large pile. Once the drinks were placed, the two grabbed the edges of their dresses and performed a small dip before leaving, both wincing and red with embarrassment.

All according to Amaterasu's plan.

"Hey, so, weird question," Clint spoke up. "Not trying to step on any toes—or paws—but is this… legal?"

"Forcing people to work against their will? Pretty sure we amended that back in-" A slice of lemon was launched at Stark, bouncing off his forehead and landing in his drink with a splash. "Ah, shit, now the suit's gonna be sticky. Thanks for that, Nat." He grabbed at a stack of napkins, fumbling around with them due to his thick gauntlets, and did his best to wipe off his metal armour.

"Is what legal, Clint?" Steve asked. He still didn't look up from his hand—he held the calm, cool façade of a seasoned professional. That he refused to look away from his hand was definitely not the mark of a worried man. Absolutely not. He was cool as a cucumber. Cold as an ice-cube- Wait, bad example.

"Not the Thor and Sif thing, I'm sure they deserved it," Clint added.

Incredulous and moderately offended protests left the two Asgardians, before Amaterasu turned and stared at them through her glasses, causing them to back down. The duo grumbled, and retreated back behind the bar, Thor and Sif idly cleaning glasses. Bruce Banner watched the duo with no small amount of amusement, though he quickly returned his attention to the wolf that was somehow holding cards with one paw and he wasn't allowed to understand or study how!

'Magic' wasn't a real answer. He was gonna get to the bottom of that wolf soon—in the sciencey way, of course. Not whatever weird shenanigans Loki and Thor got up to in their recorded history. Banner wasn't so sure why everyone thought he was weird—Loki had done far worse things than just becoming a giant green smash machine. Like the time he turned into a horse and-

"I mean with Wolfy here," Clint specified. "Normal dogs—wolves—would have died after a few drinks, let alone forty-two. Yet she's still here. But also… Is she, you know…" Clint fumbled for words. "Does the twenty-one rule apply to other species?"

…

Tony lowered his shades again, and raised a brow. Natasha smirked but said nothing. Steve peered up over his cards, looking at the archer for a brief moment. Amaterasu lowered her shades as well, huffed through her nose, then turned her attention back to her cards.

"Did you just ask if Space Dog is legal?" Tony asked.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Thor decided now would be a good time to chip in. "Fandral certainly thought so-" A sharp look from Amaterasu cut him off. As did the sharp elbow in the side from Sif. "Right, sorry, silence. My apologies."

Amaterasu narrowed her eyes.

"My apologies, your Wolfess-ness," Thor amended.

"Wolves reach sexual maturity and full size at around one to three years, give or take," Natasha spoke up. She pushed several of her poker chips forward, and cast a glance at Tony. "Call, by the way."

"That's a weird thing to know off the top of your head, Romanoff," Stark added. "And why did you have to specify sexual? Do we need to check your browser history?" He glanced down at the table, and pushed some of his chips forward. "How old are ya, Laika? You look like a big dog to me." He leaned forward and squinted at the wolf. "You know, I think I'm seeing a little grey around your muzzle. Better be careful, old lady. Who wants to bet on hip dysplasia doing her in?"

One moment Tony was leaning forward, smug as ever. The next, his drink burst into flames, the entire contents evaporating in an instant and causing a plume of smoke to wash over his face. He coughed and pulled away, tugging the sunglasses off his face. This just left him looking like a reverse-raccoon—face smudged in soot and rings around his eyes perfectly clean.

Amaterasu's low, growling and huffing laughter was added to by Clint and Natasha, the former pulling out his phone to snap a quick photo of the billionaire. Even Steve managed to crack the slightest smile, before returning to cold neutrality.

"Son of a bi-" Tony glanced at Amaterasu. "Nothing." His gaze shifted to Clint once more, who looked far too pleased with himself. "Nice shot, Barton. You should take up a career in photography—you're hopeless shooting anything else."

"Stark take your damn turn," Natasha kicked him beneath the table, a metallic clang ringing out.

"… You just tried to kick my balls. You know you need to pay extra for that." Tony glanced down at his cards again, and pushed several chips forward as well.

"I'm gonna tell Pepper you said that," Natasha hummed.

"… I retract my former statement." Stark turned to face Steve, who was still staring at his cards. "Come on, Frosty, we're not going to wait for you to thaw again." Tony then turned to point at Amaterasu, wagging his finger. "Don't think I've forgotten about you either. Spill the beans, Space Dog."

Steve, without a word, pushed his remaining chips in. Granted, it wasn't many, but considering the losing streak he'd been on, this seemed to be a last-ditch attempt from the poor guy.

"Awuff," Amaterasu replied to Tony. She cast her gaze over her shoulder, peering over her sunglasses to look at Sif.

"… She says she's been alive here for a few months at most," Sif translated.

"Arf."

"She also said she's been alive for one-thousand three-hundred years, give or take a few decades."

…

"Alright, so, in dog years she's either barely one, or she's over nine-thousand. We just need to stay over twenty-one. I like these odds." Tony laughed and sat back in his seat.

Everyone other than Sif and Thor—and Steve who seemed to be unable to look away from the cards in his hand—looked… not stunned. More like an odd weary acceptance. It wasn't exactly a surprising answer to come from the Goddess of the Sun. They've grown used to the outlandishness. At this point, if Amaterasu started to behave like a normal wolf, they'd be more worried than if she broke out into spontaneous combustion and tap-dancing. At the same time. One or the other by themselves wasn't unlikely.

"Right, right, of course." Barton rubbed at his face. "Magic and gods and stuff. How could I forget?" He slowly pulled his hands down, stretching his face a little, giving a sigh that could have knocked down a straw house. "I'm about three shots too sober for this." Barton stood up, placed his cards down, and wandered over to the bar. He planned on harassing Thor for more drinks, and doing his best to discuss something mundane and normal with Banner. Maybe bowling? Or the weather? Taking bets on what the next world-ending threat would be? Those were normal things to talk to your coworker about—as normal as he could get these days, anyway.

Amaterasu laughed under her breath again, tail wagging through the slot in the chair she'd managed to wriggle herself onto. She set her cards down on the table, proud of herself. She'd gotten two pairs, and felt she wasn't doing half bad for a game she learned thirty minutes ago. That, or she was hilariously overconfident due to the amount of liquor she'd consumed. Both worked for her, she was having a blast.

"Ha! Nice try, Space Dog." Tony laid his cards in front of him, a grin on his face. "A straight. Your 'magic' can't do card counting. Barton! C'mere, take another photo. We'll call it Poker Sympathy."

"Steve? You wanna show your cards, big guy?" Natasha asked, a playful lilt to her voice. She peered over her own cards, drawing attention to the Super Soldier.

"Uh… I think I win?" Steve tossed his two cards down, glancing at the shocked reactions of the others at the table. "This is good, right?"

An Ace, King, Queen, Jack, and a ten. All in Spades. Royal Flush.

Amaterasu reeled back, jaw dropped, and tilted so far backward that her chair tipped over, causing her to sprawl out onto the floor, knocking over the stack of thick mugs that had been sitting beside her.

"How the fu- what did you do?" Tony grabbed at the cards and started poking and prodding at them, squinting, pulling his sunglasses down so they dangled by his chin. "I'm taking these back to the Tower and I'm gonna have Jarvis analyse them. There is no way. Pull up your sleeves you crafty old bastard."

"Oh, damn. Well, congrats Steve." Natasha smirked behind her cards. "You almost had me beat." She tossed down her cards and crossed her arms, sitting back smugly.

"Natasha, control your Russian need for Vodka. You are far too drunk. In what world-"

Tony looked at the cards.

"Why do you have five cards!?"

"Five of a Kind," Natasha replied, stating the obvious. Clearly there was nothing wrong with that statement and Natasha was the epitome of sportsman—and woman—like conduct. She didn't cheat. No, she merely won outside the box.

And the rules.

"Wha- That's not- You can't-" Tony pointed at the table, then at her cards again. "That's not a thing!"

"Oh no, it is. See? Right there on the table." Natasha pointed at the cards. "One, two, three, four, five. I think you need glasses, Tony."

Unfortunately, as Tony went to palm his face, he seemed to have forgotten that he was wearing his suit. The Iron Man suit. The one made of metal alloys and could take hits from Thor without instantly shattering. The one that took a tank round about thirty-seven iterations ago. That suit.

Metal met face.

His sunglasses split in half on impact, and the momentum carried through, his hard head meeting even harder metal. Stark reeled back from the impact, which caused something rather peculiar to happen. When someone is wearing a suit of metal armour, no matter how light it's meant to be, it's still too heavy for a standard wooden bar chair—those tend to break under heavier set people without a several billion dollar mango attached to their bodies.

The back legs of the chair gave out, and Tony fell to the ground, hitting the floor with a metallic clang not unlike a hammer on an anvil. The wooden legs of the chair bounced around, the force on them causing one to bounce off the wall behind Tony, and then tumble back toward him, falling on his face with a dull thunk.

"Odin's beard," Thor cursed under his breath, before shouting, "We have to clean that!"

The two Asgardians looked upon the scene in no small amount of horror. Amaterasu was splayed out on the ground, all four limbs in different directions. She was covered in various glass mugs and other drinking utensils. She still didn't seem to be over her shock of Steve's Royal Flush. That, or she was so drunk she forgot how to move her face.

It was probably the second one.

This was only the first hour of their eight-hour bargain.

And they were paying for it all!

No, using deities, wolves, and various assorted creatures who decided that Chaos Theory was more of a suggestion than a rule of reality was a poor idea. All they'd wanted to do was one up the other and show off who'd acquired the better wolf. It was a simple, easy plan.

Now Thor and Sif were dressed as two wolf-girl maids on Midgard.

Thor had been so certain that Karma was not a real deity. Now he wasn't so sure.