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The Precise Art of Balancing Work and Play

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Summary: Avengers team gen, in which Willow Stark spearheads an effort to teach Buffy Rogers all about life after WWII. BtVS/Avengers fusion crossover, where the Scooby Gang exists in the MCU in the roles of the Avengers.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Marvel Universe > AvengerstinywhitehatsFR1311,1940487320 Feb 1320 Feb 13Yes
Fusion crossover/AU written for my Trope Bingo challenge on Dreamwidth, for the "fusion" square on my card. This story is set in a universe that is virtually identical to the MCU, with the exception that all of the major players have been replaced by BtVS characters (i.e. Tony Stark/Ironman has been replaced with Willow Stark/Ironwoman).

Disclaimer: None of the characters or other nouns mentioned in this unofficial fanwork belong to me. Instead, they belong to Joss Whedon and Stan Lee and Mutant Enemy and Marvel and Disney and so on and so forth.


The Precise Art of Balancing Work and Play

“If their communication system is offline, why are they still flying?” Elizabeth “Buffy” Rogers, the Woman out of Time (once known as The One Girl in All the World), asked, staring at Willow Stark’s oversized television screen in complete bafflement.


“Buffy, either stop talking or go make more popcorn!” Willow commanded, sprawled out across an entire couch and Dr. Oz Banner, whom she refused to admit that she was actually dating.


“Do it yourself, Tinhead,” Buffy shot back easily, staring in rapt fascination at the movie screen. She had pretty much adjusted to the 21st century, but she was still endlessly shocked by these new special effects. This movie was considered old, but, even without color, its effects still blew The Wizard of Oz right out of the water, that was for sure. “I’m learning.”


“C’mon, Captain,” Willow cajoled. “Do your duty to the country. Go learn microwave safety!”


Buffy grabbed the popcorn bowl and tossed it at Willow, forgetting her own strength and throwing it much harder than anticipated.


“Easy Cap,” Faith growled, reaching up to pluck the bowl out of the air with ease. “You don’t want Willow exploding any more of the Tupperware.” She ignored Willow’s cry of offense and stood up. “I’ll do it. I hate this movie anyways.”


Faith strode out of the room clutching the empty bowl and muttering something about “fucking Cold War” propaganda. Buffy wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it, and then she remembered that Faith was Russian (even though she was pretty sure that Faith hated almost everything about her homeland). Buffy made a note to self: don’t bring up the Cold War in polite company. It makes people uncomfortable.


“Lets all just calm down, okay?” Oz asked, rubbing his hand against Willow’s calf. “This is the best part.”


Everybody settled back into their seats and returned their attention to the screen, but after a few minutes of concentration, Buffy burst out, “This is ridiculous! How is he riding the flying...thing? That’s a bomb, right? That’s what bombs look like now?”


“Bomb, yeah. And suspend your disbelief,” Oz advised, smiling faintly at the look of strained concentration on her face. “It’s a joke.”


“Well, I don’t get it,” Buffy pouted, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling. She was thinking about changing her mind. Modern cinema was odd, and re-watching The Wizard of Oz really was a viable choice. She was also willing to watch any of the works of Charlie Chaplain. He was a real entertainer.


“The whole movie’s a joke, Cap,” Angel explained from his seat on the couch he’d been sharing with Faith, finally looking up from the arrows he’d been counting and recounting all film. “It’s a parody of the Cold War.”


“Right,” Buffy nodded, looking pleased again now that the film made more sense. “I know all about parodies.”


“Good. Now, shh!” Willow hissed, turning back to the screen.


Faith returned with the popcorn and, miraculously, there were no more interruptions until the end credits rolled. Oz gently picked up Willow’s feet and stood up from the sleek grey couch, then walked over to the Avengers Tower’s formidable entertainment center and removed Dr. Strangelove from the DVD player.

“So, what did you learn?” Willow asked excitedly. “Also, keep in mind that the world did not actually end. That part was fictional.”


“That the Cold War was bad, and somehow Nazis were involved,” Buffy responded dutifully, brow crinkling in confusion at the last item on her list.


“Good enough. Next movie! And, oh! My pick! Now,” Willow grinned, joining Oz by the DVD library. “I’m thinking Star Trek. But, do you think we should go with Shatner, Stewart, or Pine?”


“Whoa! Hold on, Robogirl,” Faith snorted, raising a hand in the universal “stop” gesture. “Want to ease up on the geek-out a little?”


“Not really,” Willow shrugged, turning back to Oz. “I’d say rule out Stewart and go for a Kirk.”


“Seems fair,” Oz shrugged and slipped a couple of disks back into the shelf. “No Kirk and Picard team-up bonanza either, I’m guessing.”


“Okay, for the record,” Faith snarled, “I’m choosing the movie next time we play Fun with Pop Culture.”


“Okay, okay,” Willow sighed, slipping a DVD into the player and rejoining Oz on the couch, leaning into him and sprawling towards the other side of the sofa.


“There’s a situation!” Agent Dawn Hill called as the opening credits began to roll, storming into the room with a vaguely irritated look on her face.


“Really?” Angel perked up, looking more excited than he had all afternoon.


“The Wrecking Crew is causing a disturbance, mayhem is presently ensuing,” Hill relayed, cell phone held to her ear. “Times Square. There’re already 8 casualties, no deaths.”


“Excellent. Let’s go,” Angel smiled, rising to his feet in one motion and slinging his quiver over his back.


“There’s a helicopter prepped and ready up on the helipad, so hurry,” Hill continued, snapping her phone shut with a click. “Your orders are to capture, not kill. SHIELD has reason to believe this is just part of something bigger.”


Immediately, Buffy began to jog towards her room, calling over her shoulder, “Let’s suit up, team!”


“Roger that,” Willow grinned, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. “Wesley? My armor?”


“Your Mark 35 armor is ready and waiting, Ma’am,” Wesley’s voice echoed hollowly through the tower as Buffy, Faith, and Angel raced off to suit up. “It’s on the helipad, and will launch when you activate the tracking bracelets.”


“Alright. Thanks Wesley!” Willow shouted as she grabbed Oz’s hand and tugged him into the roof access elevator. “You’ve got your unstable molecule suit on, right?”


“Never leave home without it. I’d hate for another accident like last time.”


“I dunno,” Willow teased as they waited for the elevator doors to slide open. “Watching you run around the Village naked wasn’t the worst part of my day.”


Oz rolled his eyes as they stepped onto the helipad, joined quickly by Angel, Faith, and Buffy.


“Jarvis, activate!” Willow called as Buffy slung her shield over her shoulder and Angel jumped into the cockpit.


“Right away, ma’am,” echoed from Willow’s armor control interface, and, within seconds, she was suited up and ready to go, climbing into the helicopter behind the rest of her team. Angel grabbed the controls and started the helicopter as Faith grabbed shotgun and Willow, Oz, and Buffy maneuvered themselves into seats, and the helicopter lifted off the ground.


“Let’s kick some ass!” Faith crowed, and then, with a whir of propellers, they were gone. There was a city that needed saving and they were just the ones to save it. After all, they really were Earth’s mightiest heroes. They had a job to do.

fin.

The End

You have reached the end of "The Precise Art of Balancing Work and Play". This story is complete.

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