Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Loki risked his life to save Jane Foster's, he did it under the assumption that it would be the end. He'd have one final moment to redeem himself, and then he would die, and it would be the end.

He did not die, and it was not the end.

After that, he'd planned to stay in Asgard, but these last few months in recovery have been unbearable. So when Thor told him that the Avengers had reunited in search of his scepter, he took his brother up on his offer to help them find it.

“Be careful, brother,” Thor warns him as they step into the elevator of the dreaded Stark Tower (which has apparently been rebranded Avengers Tower in his absence?). “This is your chance to prove yourself, but one wrong move, and you may find yourself back in the dungeon.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “I wouldn't be all too shocked to learn that the dungeons are preferable to life among your friends.”

Thor raises a brow. “You can go home, brother,” he says, and he almost sounds… confused. “You do not have to do this. You understand that.”

Again, Loki just rolls his eyes. No, he doesn't have to do this, but when going “home” is the alternative, it doesn't really feel like he has a choice in the matter. He cannot stay in Asgard. Now that he’s finally left, he's not sure he could ever force himself to go back.

The elevator doors open, and there the Avengers all stand, each not-so-inconspicuously with their weapons on their person – Bruce Banner excluded; he's seemingly unarmed and keeping his distance, standing by the doorway for an easy escape.

Loki doesn’t let it bother him. He hadn't expected a warm welcome. The fact that there are no weapons actively pointed at him right now means that this is already going better than he'd expected.

“Thor,” Tony says curtly. “Loki.”

“Hello, my friends.” Thor is unbothered by the obviously threatening aura of the room they've just entered. “As we discussed, I've brought my brother. He will help us retrieve the scepter.”

Loki nods once, both in agreement with that statement and in greeting to the heroes he once called enemies. As far as they're concerned, he doesn’t expect that title to have changed.

“Well, come on in,” Clint says. “Make yourselves at home. This is going to be so much fun.” The lack of sincerity in his tone couldn't be more obvious.

Still, Thor takes the offer and steps inside, so Loki does the same, albeit far less casually than his brother. He's very aware that he's not welcome here. He has no plans to pretend otherwise.

“I don't suppose you have any leads as to where the scepter is,” Loki says. That sounds like a good place to start.

“Well, not yet,” Tony says, “but we do have some ground rules.”

Loki can't help but roll his eyes, and he gestures for him to continue.

“You listen to us,” Tony begins. “Especially on the field. You do what we say, when–”

“When you say it,” Loki finishes for him, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes once more. “Do you have any rules that are not glaringly obvious?”

Tony narrows his eyes, but he continues, “If you’re the one that finds the scepter, you give it to the first one of us that you see.”

Loki fights the urge to make a sarcastic remark about the obvious lack of trust, not because he’s above mocking the Avengers (obviously) but because he really doesn’t want to drag this conversation out any longer than he has to. He doesn’t even want to be here, so the less time he has to spend with the Avengers, the better.

So instead, he says, “I understand. Is that all? And if so, is there somewhere else that I can go that’s less…” He gestures vaguely to them. “Peopley?”

The Avengers glance between each other, and nobody comes rushing out with any more demands or complaints, so it seems to be going well.

Finally, Tony says, “We have a room set up for you. Do us a favor: stay in it.”

Loki tries really, really hard not to roll his eyes again. He does not succeed this time.

“Do not listen to him,” Thor tells his brother. He pats him on the back–

And Loki cries out in pain, doubling over and instinctively pressing his hands to his abdomen as though trying to hold the pain in before it goes out the other side. Thor quickly pulls his hand away, but the damage is done, and the pain sends shockwaves through his body long after the impact is over.

With the fire burning through his body, he doesn’t even think about how he looks or what the others will think. He squeezes his eyes shut, tensing his every muscle, and he falls to one knee. The way he’s holding his chest only makes it hurt more, but he can’t bring himself to move his hands. He can’t bring himself to move at all.

“It truly cannot hurt that badly,” Thor says, and he sounds more exasperated than sympathetic. The longer it’s taken to heal, the more frequent this has become.

“Thor, I was impaled,” Loki says through gritted teeth. Of course it hurts that badly. It’s a goddamn stab wound.

“Months ago,” Thor reminds him. “I’ve never taken months to heal from your stab wounds.”

“Because I’ve never stabbed a knife through your entire body within an inch of your heart!” And that’s not even to mention the nature of the wound; even a healing stone couldn’t mend him. How Thor is shocked that this wound still hurts, he cannot even fathom.

Thor seems unbothered by that. “When you’re done, I’ll show you to your chambers.”

When you’re done, he says. When you’re done feeling the excruciating pain I just put you through, let’s take a walk! He’s such a selfish, ungrateful nuisance. (Unfortunately, that selfish, ungrateful nuisance is also his best – and only – friend, so he’s kind of stuck with him.)

Loki takes a few deep breaths, willing himself to calm down, to let the pain go, and finally, he pushes himself to his feet. He has to grit his teeth to keep from crying out again, but, in spite of the fiery pain radiating through him, he’s able to stand up.

He makes a point not to look at any of the humans, lest he catch a glimpse of the judgment he knows is going to be on their faces, and instead turns to his brother. “Well?”

“Come.” Thor takes a step, and he gestures for his brother to follow. “I'll show you to your room.”

Chapter Text

“So?” Natasha says. “How're we feeling ‘bout this new arrangement?”

“‘New arrangement’?” Steve repeats, a brow raised. “With how the last few weeks have gone, you’re gonna have to be a little more specific.”

“I was thinking the Loki thing,” Natasha says, though he does make a good point. Even just having the team together is a new arrangement. Hell, she'd say even the two of them together is still fairly new in the grand scheme of things, though sometimes, it really feels like they've known each other their whole lives. “You think we can trust him?”

Steve just looks at her for a few moments.

“Okay, stupid question,” she concedes. Obviously, they cannot trust him. “Do you think we'll be able to work with him, is a better question.” Will he cooperate? Will he listen to them? Will he stab them in the back at the first opportunity?

Steve raises his shoulder in a half-shrug. “I don't know,” he admits. “I just hope Thor knows enough to keep a close eye on him. The last thing we need is for him to get too comfortable and let Loki get away with something.”

Natasha nods in agreement. “I think we're all gonna have to pitch in on the ‘watching Loki’ front. If Thor really just sees him as the guy who risked his life for him…”

“He's not gonna hold the reins very tight,” Steve finishes for her, lips turning downward in a frown.

“I just hope we can keep his hands off the scepter,” Natasha adds. “I don't mind letting him take out some of HYDRA’s people for us, but I don't want him anywhere near that thing.” She's heard Clint's horror stories of his time under the scepter's control. She's seen the aftermath of those panic-inducing nightmares it's caused. The last thing they want is to give him that power back.

“If we're not letting him go off on his own,” Steve says, “we shouldn’t have that problem.”

Natasha cocks an eyebrow. “What, you think one of us could pry the scepter out of his hands?”

Steve pauses to think about that; then, “I really hope Thor is going to take this seriously.”

Natasha huffs. “You and me both,” she says. This is either going to be the best or worst thing they could have done, and they won’t know which until they finally find this scepter. Honestly, if the stakes weren’t so high – letting HYDRA run free with a scepter that can control a person’s thoughts and actions sounds like a very bad idea – they wouldn’t have considered even for a second letting Loki come aboard. But there’s only a chance that Loki will do something bad, and it’s a guarantee that HYDRA will. It’s a risk, but it’s a risk they have to take, even if it’s going to make them all very uncomfortable all the while.

Speaking of uncomfortable…

“Has anyone actually seen Loki since he got here?” she asks him. As far as she knows, it’s been hours of radio silence. She’s not sure how to feel about that.

Steve shakes his head. “Hiding in his room, is my guess.”

“And that doesn’t weird you out?” she asks. “The fact that we have no idea what he’s up to right now?”

“No, not really,” Steve admits. “Thor’s here. He’ll take care of him. That’s the deal, right?”

“Well, yeah, but…” She frowns. She’s just not sure she trusts that. Unless Thor is going to watch his every move… Loki’s the God of Mischief. She can’t imagine it takes much time for him to get into something he shouldn’t.

Steve sighs and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t,” he says.

“Don’t what?”

“You know what.”

Natasha sighs. “Okay, fine,” she says. “I’ll leave him alone.”

“Thank you,” Steve says. He gives her a small smile, and she gives him one in return. He really is cute – by far her favorite new teammate-slash-friend to come out of this whole ‘teaming up to take down Loki and save the world’ thing they got sucked into.

Steve’s gaze drops to his hand on her shoulder, and he quickly takes it back, his face flushing a faint shade of red. She can’t help but smile to herself. Again, cute. They were just making out on a mall escalator a few weeks ago, but he’s too much of a gentleman to touch her shoulder for more than a moment. He really is just adorable.

Needless to say, she really likes Steve. It makes her feel a little bad about what she’s about to do.

~~~

Natasha knocks on the door.

She doesn’t expect to gain much from a knock, but she does it anyway. She’s not trying to start a fight on their first day by barging into his room with no warning. (She’s not necessarily against starting a fight today, but she’s not actively seeking one out, either.)

But, to her surprise, she’s greeted within moments by Loki’s voice saying, “Come in.”

He sounds very… normal. He sounds human. He doesn’t sound like a murderous, manipulative psychopath right now. It’s hard to wrap her head around it.

Natasha opens the door slowly, cautiously, and she’s met with the sight of Loki lying on his stomach in bed, shirtless and showing off his chiseled back and arms like a whore. It only takes her a moment to figure out why: he has a gaping wound through his back, with a few streaks of dried blood running down his side. She grimaces at the sight. And she’d thought her old gunshot wound was bad. That was nothing compared to this.

Loki furrows his brows, a frown on his lips. “You’re not Thor.”

“You noticed that, did you?” she quips.

Loki glances around, like he’s expecting something else, someone else, until he finally accepts that this is all he’s getting. “Can I help you?”

“What’re you doing?” she asks, almost conversationally, but with just enough insincerity for him to understand that this is really nothing short of an interrogation.

“Absolutely nothing,” Loki answers evenly.

“And you’ve been doing absolutely nothing for the last…” She looks down at her watch, as though she doesn’t already know exactly how long it’s been since he arrived. “Four and a half hours?”

“I have,” Loki replies. “Is that a problem?” He raises an eyebrow, a challenge of a sort. He knows what she’s doing, and he’s making it clear that he won’t be intimidated.

“It’s a little weird, yeah.”

“Well, I’ve never exactly been normal.” He flashes her an insincere smile.

She can’t help but roll her eyes. “What happened to your shirt?” She doesn’t really care; she’d just like to see if she can get him flustered. She’d like to get something out of him beyond this confidence that borders on cockiness.

“I took it off,” Loki says, and he doesn’t seem at all bothered by the question. “The leather was irritating my stab wound – the wound I got from selflessly risking my life for our dear friend, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Uh-huh,” she hums monotonously.

“If you’re worried that I’m going to do something evil” – he rolls his eyes at the word – “I’m afraid you’re wasting your time. I am not here to cause problems; I am here to get out of Asgard.”

“And why’s that?” Natasha asks. “It’s gotta be bad if you decided you’d be better off crawling back to us.”

Loki plasters on a fake smile. “Maybe I just missed your presence so very much.”

Natasha rolls her eyes once more.

Loki pushes himself up with a groan until he’s seated with his back against the headboard, and he hikes one knee up as though trying to shield his hands from view as he presses them against his wound. He grimaces, but then his face shifts back to that cocky little smirk he loves so much.

Natasha gestures to him with her chin. “You guys don’t have some sort of magic healing spells in Asgard?” For a wound he’s had for months, it still looks like shit.

“Not for a wound of this kind,” Loki says, whatever that means.

“And you don’t think that’s going to mess you up when you’re trying to get your scepter back?” Natasha asks. “You’re just gonna fight with a hole through your chest?”

“I plan to,” Loki says. With a sarcastic smile, he asks, “Why? Are you worried about me? Afraid I’ll get hurt?”

Natasha huffs. “More like hoping you will.” She doesn’t mean it, if she’s being honest. She doesn’t want to have Loki here. Nobody actually wants him here. But he’s a powerful ally to have, if a concerning one, given his history of stabbing his allies in the back. If he’s going to be here, she’d like him to help. If he finds himself on bedrest, he’ll be a nuisance and nothing more – the worst of both worlds.

Loki’s eyes crinkle in amusement. “I assume you’re here to ensure that I’m not getting up to any mischief?”

“You assume correctly,” Natasha tells him. “So? Any mischievous plans for the evening?” It’s an insincere question, of course. If he has any mischievous plans, they’re certainly not ones he’s going to share ahead of time. But she’ll be interested to hear what his answer is. Maybe he does have a plan, and he lets something slip without meaning to. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

“Not as of yet,” Loki tells her, “but that very well may change in the near future.”

Natasha makes a show of grimacing at that. “Ooh, bad answer,” she says. “Now we’re not gonna be able to leave you alone.” She shrugs, an exaggerated apologetic look on her face. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“‘We’?” Loki repeats, and he raises an eyebrow at the word. “Or you?”

Natasha cocks her head to the side, a silent request for elaboration.

“I will admit, I’m hoping for the latter,” Loki tells her. “I suspect the others won’t be so…” He pauses, lips pursed as he tries to find the word.

“Hmm?” Natasha raises a brow. “So what?”

Loki takes another moment to think; finally, he settles on, “Lighthearted.”

Natasha cracks a smile. She’s not quite sure how to take that, but she will admit, she’s not upset about it. All she says on the matter is, “I guess we’ll see.”

“I guess we will,” Loki agrees, adjourning a faint smile that matches her own.

“See ya later, Lokes,” she says.

“I’m counting on it,” Loki replies.

Natasha steps back and begins to close the door, but just before she latches it, she pauses. “Oh, and Loki?”

“Yes?”

“Stay out of trouble, will you?”

Loki chuckles. “I make no promises about that, Agent Romanoff.”

Natasha shakes her head to herself and shuts the door.

She doesn’t like Loki. She’s not going to pretend that’s changed. But if his whole stay goes like this conversation did…

Well, it might not be as bad as she’d feared.

Chapter Text

The moment Steve got the text that the team’s celebratory pizza had arrived, he’d started on his way to the kitchen. There was a time when he wouldn’t rush for something to eat, but he’s come to realize over the last few weeks that food goes fast in a tower of six superheroes. Thor alone eats enough for a family of five. There have been a few times that people have run late and missed out on the team dinner entirely, and he is not going to be the next victim of Thor's appetite.

He runs into Natasha on the way, and he slows down to match her pace. He’ll gladly spend the walk with his favorite teammate, even if that means it takes a bit longer. It’s not her fault she’s been cursed with such short legs – not everybody gets the miracle serum that adds eight inches, after all.

“Hey,” Steve greets her.

“Hey yourself,” Natasha replies with a grin.

“Any sign of Loki yet?”

“As far as I know, he hasn't left his room since he got here,” Natasha answers. “It sounds like he's pretty content leaving us alone.”

“Well, that's what it sounds like right now,” Steve says. “I don't think we want to get our hopes up this soon, though.”

Natasha sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Yeah, probably not,” she admits.

It grows quiet after that – they've just about covered everything they need to cover on that topic, after all – and Steve wracks his brain for a new topic to discuss. He just wants to keep the conversation going. He likes talking to her. It's become one of his favorite things to do, if he’s being honest – easily the best thing to come out of Loki's attempted world domination, that’s for sure.

Fortunately, Natasha steps in with a new topic of her own. “How're you doing, by the way?” she asks. “After the whole ‘falling hundreds of feet into a lake’ thing?”

Steve huffs in amusement at the nonchalance of that question. “I'm doing fine,” he tells her. “Still a little sore, but, you know, what do you expect after falling hundreds of feet into a lake?”

Natasha cracks a smile at that.

Just to tease her, he adds, “Thanks for checking on me in the hospital, by the way. Really appreciated the support.”

Natasha rolls her eyes playfully. “Well, sorry I decided I'd do more good defending our asses from the entire US government than sitting around a hospital for three days.”

“You should be sorry,” Steve says, and he sniffles for dramatic effect. “It really hurt my feelings.”

Natasha slaps him on the shoulder playfully. “You're ridiculous,” she tells him. “And I did visit you, you know.”

Steve pauses, his brows furrowed. “You did?”

“Mm-hmm,” she hums. “I stayed for a few hours when we brought you in, and I went back a couple of times when I had the chance.” With a teasing smile, she adds, “I promise I didn't just ditch you.”

Steve can't help the smile that creeps up on his face. She did visit him. He'd just assumed that she'd been too wrapped up in other things to check on him, but she wasn’t. Even when she was busy, she still made time to check on him. That's really sweet, actually.

“Speaking of almost drowning in a lake,” Natasha says, which is a very weird segway, “I'm assuming you've got no updates on your buddy.”

Steve shakes his head. “Still looking, but…”

“Nothing yet,” she finishes for him.

“Nothing yet,” he confirms. Bucky’s out there somewhere. He knows that. And he doesn't care how long it takes him: he is going to find him, and he is going to bring him home.

Natasha offers him a sad smile. “We'll find him,” she assures him. “Someday. He can’t hide forever.”

We'll find him, she said. Not just Steve; not just with a little help from Sam. They're all going to find him. Together. They're a team.

If he had to wake up in the 21st century, he's glad he woke up to a world with Natasha Romanoff in it.

They reach the dining room, where the duo wastes no time in grabbing their first slices of pizza. With the number of boxes they have here – and it is a lot of boxes – one would think there'd be no rush to start eating, but no matter how much food they have, Thor will always find a way to finish it.

Tony, Pepper, and Bruce are already seated at the table – they were the ones tasked with bringing all these pizzas back to the compound, after all – so Steve and Natasha join them. He will admit, it’s not really his choice to sit next to Tony, but Natasha sits one seat away from him, so unfortunately, it’s the seat he’s stuck in if he wants to sit with her, and he definitely wants to sit with her.

“Romanoff,” Tony says, a taunting lilt to his voice, “what kind of pizza is that?”

Natasha gives him a weird look. “Hawaiian? Why?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s my question, too,” Tony says. “You’re eating pineapple on pizza?”

Natasha scoffs. “What’s wrong with pineapple on pizza?”

“What isn’t wrong with pineapple on pizza?”

Natasha nudges Steve with her elbow. “You like pineapple on pizza, right?”

Steve hesitates. “I mean, I’ve never had it, so I can’t…”

Natasha holds her pizza out to him. “Try it.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously! Eat my pizza and tell Tony how good it is!”

Steve shakes his head to himself, but when Natasha sticks the pizza in front of his mouth, he rolls his eyes and takes a bite. (He has to admit, eating a piece of pizza out of Natasha’s hand is kind of giving him butterflies right now, but for the sake of his mental wellbeing, he’s going to ignore that.)

He knows from the moment he puts that pizza in his mouth that he will never eat another bite of Hawaiian pizza again, but he forces himself to swallow it without making a face, and after a thoughtful hum, he says, “Yeah, it’s not bad,” like the liar that he is. (Is this a stupid thing to lie about? Maybe. Could he bring himself to side with Tony over Natasha on anything ever? Absolutely not.)

Thor’s voice can be heard down the hall, faint enough that it’s difficult to make out what he’s saying but still loud enough that it’s unmistakably him. He must have met up with Clint on the way over. It makes sense; all roads lead to the kitchen, after all, especially when there’s pizza around.

But then he hears the other voice, and it’s not Clint.

It’s Loki.

He's eating dinner with them.

Steve's not even sure the thought of it had crossed his mind. He'd been convinced that the god would do anything in his power to avoid them – or, if the situation arose, to taunt them or to mess with them – and yet, he's here, just coming to eat with them as though he's a part of their team.

Steve grimaces and glances at Natasha, but if she hears Loki down the hall, she doesn’t show it. She’s still munching on her pizza like it’s the only thing in the world that matters. He glances at Tony, who looks back at him warily. At least they’re on the same page – a rare feat, really.

Thor and Loki step into the room, and while Thor goes straight to the pizza boxes, Loki pauses in the doorway, eyes scanning the faces of those who beat him here. Any thoughts he may have about this arrangement are carefully sealed away behind his pointedly unreadable expression, and he follows his brother over to the array of different pizzas.

Thor explains each type of pizza to his brother, and, in the process, loads his plate up with one… two… three… four… five slices of various flavors – and this is just his first round. Loki is more selective, and, after a few moments of deliberation, he chooses a single slice of pepperoni pizza and follows his brother to the table.

Thor gestures to the three open seats. “Where would you like to sit?”

Loki rolls his eyes at the question. “I assume I’ll have to sit next to an Avenger regardless of where I sit?”

“It would seem so,” Thor says.

Loki looks over his options – the seat next to Bruce, the seat next to Natasha, and the seat between two empty seats that will soon become the seat next to Clint – and Steve waits for him to choose the last of the three, if only to have a few moments of relief before his other seat neighbor appears. He wouldn’t even be too surprised if he sat next to Bruce, just because he’s the least antagonistic of the group.

But no.

Loki puts his plate down next to Natasha instead.

Thor, of course, takes the seat on the other side of him, and nobody seems to give these seating choices any thought, excluding Natasha’s raised eyebrow as she watches them take their spots.

Steve prepares for the worst – not that he really knows what ‘the worst’ is when Loki’s (supposedly) not here to cause any problems – but the worst does not come. Loki takes a bite of his pizza, and, when it becomes clear that he’s just going to sit here and have dinner with them, everybody else resumes their meals, too.

Once Loki’s had his first few bites, Thor asks, “Did you like it?”

Loki waves him off while he finishes chewing.

“I told you it was good,” Thor reminds him. “Midgard has some of the best food in the Nine Realms – just wait until you’ve eaten their candy.”

Loki swallows his pizza, then says, “It’s better than I expected; I will concede that much, at least.”

“Better than prison food, I’m sure,” Thor adds teasingly.

Loki rolls his eyes. “A live rat would taste better than the food in the dungeon.”

Steve makes a face and puts his pizza down. He’s going to need a minute after that visual before he starts eating again.

“Well, rest assured,” Thor says, “you will never again have to crave the taste of a living rat.”

“Thank you, Thor,” Loki says monotonously. “That means so much.”

Thor flashes him a smile, and then turns his attention to his own dinner, the slices stacked carelessly on his plate as if they were the leaning tower of pizza.

They eat in silence for a minute or so, a rather uncommon occurrence since they all started living together the other week. There’s always something to talk about. And he supposes that’s not untrue today; the problem is that this something is sitting at the table with them.

Loki leans over toward Natasha and says, quietly but still very much audible in the otherwise silent room, “You weren’t joking when you said you wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Hey, don’t pin this one on me,” Natasha says. “I had no idea you were eating with us until you showed up.”

Loki pauses, then looks over at his brother. “That is not what I was told.”

Thor shrugs, a carefree smile on his lips. “Oh well. You’re here.”

Loki rolls his eyes and shakes his head to himself.

Steve glances between him, his brother, and Natasha, as though just looking at them is going to make this situation make sense. Needless to say, it does not explain itself.

Clint shows up then, holding his phone between his shoulder and ear, and he heads straight for the pizza without sparing so much as a glance at the others. As he pulls out a piece of pizza, he says to his phone, “Alright, I’ll be there – scepter-hunt permitting.” He plops the pizza on his plate and turns around, making his way to the table with the others. “Yeah, you–”

He cuts himself off when he sees Loki sitting there – and in what was doubtlessly supposed to be his seat, too; he and Steve usually get to share custody of Nat for both meals and mission reports. He pauses, then says into his phone, “I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.” He ends the call and shoots Loki a dirty look (not that the god notices; he’s already turned his attention back to his food).

He takes the last remaining seat between Thor and Bruce, about as far away from Natasha as he can get, and a part of Steve feels bad enough that he wants to offer up his own seat. Unfortunately for Clint, there’s another part of Steve that is overjoyed to be sitting next to his favorite person born after 1945, and that part wins out.

“Alright, place your bets,” Tony says. “How many slices of pizza are we going to have left over?”

“None,” Natasha says immediately.

“At least a full pizza,” Clint says. “Probably closer to two or three pizzas, even.”

Natasha scoffs. “What? No way!”

Clint scoffs, too. “Look at how many pizzas they got!”

“Look at how many super people we have!” She gestures between Steve, Thor, and Loki to prove her point.

“I’m leaning toward Nat’s end,” Tony says. “I think we’re gonna finish it tonight – by midnight, at least. Anything we have ‘left over’ is gonna be gone before tomorrow.”

“I don’t think we’re capable of having leftovers,” Steve says. At least with Thor around – and especially if Loki’s appetite is anything like his brother’s.

“With this many pizzas?” Clint shakes his head. “We’re gonna have leftovers.”

Pepper looks between them all, incredulous. “How much pizza do you guys eat?”

“More than we should,” Tony answers.

Natasha hums in agreement as she finishes her bite of pizza. “He’s not wrong.”

“Do you want leftovers?” Thor asks. “I can leave some if you'd like me to.”

Tony waves that off. “Eat as much pizza as your heart desires. We can always get more.”

Thor beams, and Loki rolls his eyes.

That’s the beginning of the usual friendly chatter amongst the team. It’s like all they were missing was Clint’s presence. (That was not the case. It was quiet because Loki’s here. They’re going to pretend, for their peace of mind, that that’s not the case.)

With the others’ voices to cover his own, Steve nudges Natasha’s arm and whispers to her, “What was Loki talking about?” He suspects he knows the answer. He just wants to hear her say it – or, really, he wants to hear her say that he’s wrong; that she didn’t go seek him out after they both agreed that was a bad idea; that Loki wasn’t referencing some conversation they had in secret since he arrived.

Natasha shrugs nonchalantly – too nonchalantly, as cliché as that may sound.

Steve narrows his eyes. He knows. And now she knows that he knows; he can see the moment she realizes it.

She deflates at that, but at least she answers honestly: “It was creeping me out that nobody’d seen him for hours, so I went to see if he was still in his room. No big deal.”

Steve sighs. “Nat, what did we say about that?”

“I don’t remember,” she says, and her usual air of teasing creeps back up into her voice. “Did ‘you’re not my dad’ make an appearance at all?”

Steve rolls his eyes goodnaturedly. “Nat, come on.”

“I didn’t go to provoke him or anything,” she says. “I just wanted to see what was going on – which was a grand total of nothing, by the way. He’s very boring.”

“I can hear you,” Loki deadpans.

Natasha looks over at him, a shit-eating grin on her lips. “I know.”

Loki shakes his head to himself, but as he takes a bite of his pizza, Steve swears he sees a look of amusement on his face, and he scowls at that. Loki’s not supposed to be amused by this. Steve is supposed to be amused by this. She’s doing this for his amusement (and her own, of course), not Loki’s.

Directing her words to Steve once more, she says, “And look, I survived! Didn’t get murdered at all. You did all that worrying for nothing.”

“I wasn’t worried you were going to get murdered,” Steve says. She would have had to be really annoying to get Loki to murder her on his first day of freedom, and though he has no doubt that she’d be capable of it, he certainly didn’t expect it.

“Oh, don’t let Loki hear you say that,” Natasha says teasingly. “He’ll take it as a compliment – or maybe an insult; jury’s still out.”

This time, the slight smile on Loki’s face is unmistakable, and he swiftly covers it with his pizza, even before he’s ready to take another bite. Natasha glances his way, like she’s checking how he’s reacting to that – which is ridiculous because this conversation may be about him, but it’s not with him – and she smirks when she sees the god’s amusement.

“Nat, you’re killing me,” Steve tells her.

Natasha flashes him a smile. “Thank you. I try.”

Steve shakes his head to himself. She’s ridiculous – and he loves that. He loves her humor; he loves her smile; he loves her self-assuredness. He loves everything about her, really.

… He just doesn’t particularly want to share those parts of her with Loki.

Chapter Text

Loki has officially survived one night in Avengers Tower.

It was an awful night. He slept for maybe four hours, and the majority of that time consisted of nightmares, because he has had a really shitty few years and his brain will not let him forget it.

But he survived his first night in Avengers Tower nonetheless, and he revels in that. One night down, many more to go.

He retraced the steps to the kitchen in his head a dozen times at dinner, and a dozen times more once he returned to his room, just in case he forgot where he was going. So when he wakes up for the eighth time since the sun set the night before, he finally decides to give up and go get breakfast. (And, for the record, he does not understand why Thor dragged him out to dinner the night before. He hadn’t necessarily believed that the Avengers wanted him there, but to hear that he hadn’t even discussed it with them was a bit irritating.)

Unfortunately, because his luck is as it is, there’s already someone in the kitchen when he arrives: Natasha Romanoff, munching on a bowl of grapes while she scrolls through her phone.

Loki debates the merits of leaving and pretending he was never here, but, really, if it’s just Natasha here… Well, she’s not quite as obnoxious as the others are – and she can be rather entertaining when she tries to be. He’ll stay for now; he’ll leave if anybody else comes in.

So instead, he greets her with a playfully annoyed, “Are you destined to be the only human I see in this tower?”

Natasha looks up from her phone, and he swears he sees the hint of a smile on her lips. “If you’re lucky,” is her only response, her tone as playful as his own. “Looking for something to eat?”

“Is there any other reason I’d be in the kitchen?” Loki counters.

“‘Cause you missed me, of course.” She flashes him a teasing smile, and he rolls his eyes goodnaturedly. “At least you’re wearing a shirt this time.”

Loki glances down at his Asgardian clothing – and he must admit, leather is not the best material to wear with a stab wound through the abdomen. “I’m sure you’re dreadfully disappointed about that.”

“Oh, yeah, so disappointed,” she says sarcastically. She changes the subject, rather lightheartedly, and says, “Let me know if you need any help finding something to eat. I’m assuming gods eat very different breakfasts than we do on Earth.”

“I assume the same,” Loki says. “What does Thor like to eat for breakfast, do you know?”

Natasha huffs a laugh and makes her way to the pantry. “Oh, yeah, I know what he likes for breakfast.” She digs around for a few moments, then emerges with a small cubic blue box, which she holds out to him. “Pop Tarts.”

Loki furrows his brows and takes the box from him. He turns it around in his hands, looking over it curiously. Cookies and cream, it reads. Thor’s told him good things about cookies, and he doesn’t dislike creams, so that sounds interesting.

He looks over at Natasha. “Is it good? Am I going to regret this?”

Natasha just shrugs, a smirk on her lips that he can't quite read.

He can't deny that he really is curious about Thor's go-to breakfast, so he pulls out one of the silver-wrapped packages and sets the box on the counter. He rips the foil open, and in his hands are two of the dryest, most unappealing atrocities he's ever seen in his life. His face scrunches in disgust. This is what Thor eats for breakfast on Midgard?

Natasha chuckles. “You look ecstatic.”

He looks over at her. “Is this really what Thor eats for breakfast?” Is this a joke? Is she just messing with him? This can’t actually be what Thor likes to eat. Can it?

“It sure is,” Natasha says. “I guess his girlfriend gave him one once? But he loves ‘em.”

Loki looks down at his poptarts distastefully. Well, if Thor likes them… He takes one out of the pack, turns it over in his hand as he tries to force himself to get used to the gross dryness, and then rather reluctantly takes a bite.

He doesn’t hate it. He’d like to start there. It isn’t the worst thing he’s ever had in his life. But it tastes just as dry as it looks, and even the cream in the middle – its only redeeming quality – isn’t enough to cover that.

“So?” Natasha prompts. “Is it the best thing you’ve ever eaten?”

“It wouldn’t even rank in the top hundred,” Loki replies.

“I take it you’re not gonna eat it, then?”

“Ideally, no, but I suppose that would depend on what other options you have for me to try,” Loki answers. “I assume there is something else in this building I could eat for breakfast?” He’d even just eat fruit like she is if it’s the only other option. He’d like something with some more substance, but he’s not sure he can afford to be picky.

“Oh, yeah, there’s tons of stuff,” Natasha says. “Want me to make eggs?”

Loki scoffs. “You have eggs, and yet you started with poptarts?” In what world would he rather eat poptarts than eggs for breakfast?

Natasha shrugs. “I just wanted to know if obsessing over Pop-Tarts was a god thing or just a Thor thing,” she says. “So, eggs? I’m thinkin’ scrambled.”

“I can make my own scrambled eggs,” Loki tells her. He may not habitually make his own food – he’s a prince, after all; he’s always had servants for that – but after a thousand years, one would hope he would know how to make something as simple as scrambled eggs.

“Yeah, but if I make them, I have an excuse to eat some,” Natasha says, “and scrambled eggs sound so much better than grapes right now.”

Loki chuckles and waves her on. “Then by all means, please, make some scrambled eggs.”

Natasha gets up to do just that, so Loki heads over to the table. He doesn’t sit – he’d feel strange, sitting while she makes his breakfast right in front of him – but he does lean against it while he munches on the grapes she left behind.

“So,” Natasha says, rather conversationally given whom she’s speaking to, “how’s Earth treating you so far?”

“Arguably better than it did the last time,” Loki says – though it’s certainly hard to compare attempted world domination with the peace and quiet of having his own bedroom where he can stare at the ceiling for hours. “Certainly better than Asgard, though that doesn’t take much.”

“Yeah? How come?” She looks over her shoulder at him. “Thor said they took you out of prison after you got stabbed, right? Shouldn’t you have been living the high life these last few months?”

Loki thinks back to the last few months, and all the awkward conversations he’s had with Odin and the hiding behind pillars from the Warriors Three and the general air of discomfort that every Asgardian seems to have in his presence. He’s not sure he’d call that ‘the high life.’

All he says to that is, “Not quite,” before swiftly changing the subject. “And I’ve had far fewer weapons pointed at me than I’d expected. That has been a nice surprise.”

“Well, lucky for you,” Natasha says, “Thor’s been singing your praises these last few weeks, so you have a little bit of trust from us right now.”

“I suppose I’ll have to thank him, then,” Loki says. “I rather enjoy not being threatened with every move.” This may be going too far with the non-friendship they have going on that he’s sure could fracture with one wrong movement, but then, he’s never claimed to make smart decisions, so he adds, almost flirtatiously, “And I’ve certainly enjoyed our conversations, Agent Romanoff.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but the smile on her lips says she’s not nearly as annoyed as she may be letting on. Dare he even say, she looks… flattered? Not flustered, of course; it would take a lot more than that to fluster the Black Widow. But flattered? That might not be wrong.

Instead of acknowledging that aloud, though, Natasha says, “I don’t suppose you came up with any magical solutions to finding your scepter overnight.”

“Unfortunately not,” Loki says. “I suspect finding the scepter will be your responsibility, given that you were the ones who lost it; retrieving the scepter will be mine.”

“I don’t think the team’s gonna agree on that one,” Natasha says, turning back to the stove. “You’re more than welcome to beat up some bad guys for us, but you should probably leave the scepter to us.”

Loki huffs. “What, you don’t trust me?” he asks teasingly.

“Damn, how’d you figure that one out?”

Loki chuckles. “I can’t fault you for that,” he says, “but I assure you, I have no plans to use the scepter again. It was useful for a short time in a very specific situation, but not so much anymore.”

“Sounds like something someone who wants the scepter would say,” Natasha remarks.

“Maybe it is,” Loki says, a smirk playing on his lips. “And what do you plan to do about that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

This is a ridiculous conversation, and he knows that. It’s so ridiculous, he’d hardly even call it a conversation at all. Nothing is really being said. But it’s so lighthearted, so unserious, that he can’t help but smile to himself – only because she can’t see it.

This isn’t what he’d expected when he agreed to come to Earth, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying this. At least where Natasha’s involved, this whole experience isn’t that bad.

Chapter Text

Loki’s been living in the compound for about a week when they get their first lead on the scepter.

The rest of the team is still a bit skeptical about bringing Loki along, though they all reluctantly admit that they did agree to it, as Thor incessantly reminds them. Natasha has no such problem. She’s seen enough of the guy over the last week or so to know that he’s probably not going to be an issue. And, most importantly, Thor is sticking with him the whole time. If Loki tries to pull something, there’s a bigger, stronger god right beside him to knock some sense into him.

The god squad heads in first, drawing the HYDRA soldiers’ fire while the rest of the Avengers prepare to take their own roles. Sam takes flight; Clint whips out his bow from afar; Tony lowers his helmet. And it’s go-time.

Natasha and Steve are tasked with sneaking in together. She likes that plan very much. It’s always nice to have a partner; it’s even nicer when that partner is twice her size and has a vibranium shield on his person at all times.

Natasha holds her gun firmly in her hands as she stands against the wall, with Steve on her side. Why she’s in the front when he has the vibranium shield, she’s not sure, but she takes that in stride. She peers around the corner, then quickly steps back to her hidden hallway.

She glances over at Steve and holds up two fingers. He nods once in return. She suspects they share the same plan: he takes one, she takes the other. It’s about as easy as it can get.

After a silent countdown, they both round the corner, guns held in front of them. Natasha shoots off a shot at the soldier on the left; Steve shoots off a shot at the soldier on the right. They both go down before they’ve even processed what’s going on. The heroes share a fist-bump, and then they continue on their way.

They’ve nearly reached the two soldiers on the ground when Natasha realizes that one is still holding a gun, and that gun is now pointed right at them. Before Natasha can think to act, Steve throws his shield, and it not only knocks the gun out of the soldier’s hand, but then makes its way right back to Steve.

Natasha scoffs. “How do you do that?” she whispers, incredulous.

Steve shrugs. “Lots of practice,” he says.

She shakes her head to herself. She can do a lot of impressive things, but she can’t do anything like that.

As they walk past, Natasha swoops in and grabs their guns, which she unloads and then slides across the floor toward the door.

“Roof’s clear,” Clint’s voice says in her ear.

That’s a good sign. It means Clint and Sam are one step closer to joining the party inside.

Steve gestures for Natasha to stand back, then looks around the next corner. It must be clear, because he gestures for her to follow. They find themselves in a dark corridor, and while Steve takes the lead, Natasha takes up her role in the back, glancing behind herself every few seconds to make sure nobody is sneaking up on them.

“Heading in now,” Tony’s voice says. He’s taking a different route. It’s not their problem, so she tunes it out.

It’s a long corridor, she’s starting to realize. She keeps expecting to walk past a room – why would they need a corridor this long if it’s not connecting a bunch of rooms? – but it doesn’t happen. It’s starting to get weird.

The hallway branches off in two different directions, and once again, Steve gestures for her to stand against the wall while he makes sure the coast is clear. He’s barely craned his neck out past the end of the wall when the shooting starts, and he hides himself behind the wall once more, his shield held up instinctively.

“How many?” Natasha whispers.

“A lot,” Steve whispers back.

Natasha nods once and readies her gun. At least she’s not doing this alone.

The next ninety seconds are very chaotic – so much so that she’s honestly not sure she really knows what’s happening. She knows she’s shooting. She knows she’s punching. She knows she uses some half-dead guy as a human shield at one point until Steve can take out the guy that’s trying to kill her. Overall, it’s a bit of a mess.

They’re still mid-fight when Loki’s voice comes through the comms.

“Am I allowed to kill people?” he asks. “Thor says I am, but I don’t know that I believe it.”

Natasha laughs in spite of herself. It’s a fair question, she supposes, but she wouldn’t have expected him to actually take the time to ask it.

Steve looks over at her, and the judgment on his face is impossible to miss. Instead of acknowledging it, she shoots off a shot at the HYDRA soldier closest to him – if he’s not going to pay attention, she will – and then says into the comm, jokingly condescending in her answer, “As long as you promise to only kill the bad guys.”

“A fair compromise,” Loki says. “Thank you, Agent Romanoff.”

Natasha bites her lip as though it can hold back her smile. The guy’s not even here and he’s still brightening her day. If someone had told her when Thor first floated this idea by them that she’d end up liking having Loki around, she would have called them crazy. It’s funny how things change.

The fight resumes, and thoughts of Loki fade away as she focuses on what really matters: staying alive. She’s moving so fast, so focused on her direct surroundings, that she hardly even registers what’s happening in the rest of the room. All the grunts and groans and gunshots blur into the background, and all she’s focused on is keeping herself alive – and keeping an ear out for Steve, just in case he needs a hand.

They’re just finishing up taking out HYDRA’s henchmen in this room when one of them says into their comm, “They’re in the back. They’re–”

Natasha catches sight of which of the soldiers it is, and she shoots him in the leg. While he’s busy screaming like a baby over a simple gunshot wound, Steve swoops in and snatches the comm from his ear, crushing it between his fingers.

Natasha looks up at him. “You think we’re gonna have to deal with a round two, or…?”

“I’m hoping the others take ‘em out before they can find us,” Steve says.

“I hope so, too.” Not that she can’t handle another fight, but she’d like to avoid it if she can. There are gods and metal-suited men out there that can do that for her.

With this fight done, Natasha and Steve continue on their walk. They lapse into silence once more, though it probably isn’t necessary. Every HYDRA soldier in this base knows they’re here, and now, thanks to that soldier, they know what direction they’re coming from. They’re not exactly stealthy right now.

They walk for what feels like a very long time, but she’s learned from the hundreds of missions she’s taken in her lifetime that more often than not, it just feels like a long time because it’s so stressful; because every bit of every moment is studied and evaluated thoroughly. It feels like they’re nearing an hour; in reality, she imagines it’s only been minutes.

It’s dark here more often than it’s not. That’s probably for the best. They’re looking for a glowing scepter; finding it in the dark is probably easier than finding it in the light. But as they enter hall after hall, check room after room, it’s nowhere to be seen.

And then there’s a gunshot from behind them.

They missed, whoever it is that shot it, and she thanks whatever higher power there may be for that. It gives Steve time to grab her by the waist and pull her in, and he holds the shield up in front of them both. Natasha ducks her head instinctively, but she’s very much aware that she’s exposed like this. Her legs are easy targets right now. Hiding isn’t going to do it. She’s going to have to fight.

Natasha sticks her head out from behind the shield and raises her weapon, and she wastes no time in firing off a shot. It seems Steve had the same idea, because he’s hit with two bullets at once, and he’s down in an instant.

Natasha looks up at Steve, who looks back down at her and flashes her a grin. They make such a good team.

Unfortunately, their celebration is short-lived, because where that one HYDRA soldier stood, a fuckton more appear in his place. She’s not sure what annoys her more: that there’s this many HYDRA soldiers here, or that there’s this many here and they all decided to come after her and Steve instead of the other five people here.

Steve shoves Natasha backward, holding his shield up in front of them, and she gets the hint immediately: they can’t do this here. They need a wall to hide behind, at the very least. She backs up to the last corner they rounded, and Steve stays no more than a half-foot in front of her as he does the same, protecting them both with his shield.

Natasha puts a finger to her ear. “Uh, guys? Could use a little help over here.”

“Working on it,” is Tony’s strained reply.

So it’s just the two of them, then. This is going to be fun.

Steve and Natasha both stand with their backs to the wall, and Natasha takes a few deep, calming breaths. They don’t do a whole lot to calm her down, but it was worth a try. The two share a look, and then a nod, and then it’s time.

Steve steps out from behind the wall, his shield held up in front of him in one hand as he raises his gun in the other. Natasha doesn’t have a shield, but she stays behind the wall as much as she can while she shoots off shot after shot. She prides herself on her aim, but from this distance, with this much going on at once, she’s not doing nearly as well as she would have liked – and Steve is having about as much luck as she is.

Natasha steps back behind the wall to take a breather. She needs to do better. She can’t let herself get overwhelmed. She can’t let herself get distracted. She’s here to take out HYDRA’s base and as many of their men as she can in the process. And unfortunately, she’s not sure she can do that from this distance.

She looks over at Steve. “I’m moving in.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks.

“I’m sure,” she says.

Steve glances over at her, only for a moment before he turns his gaze back to the guns firing at him. He gestures with his head for her to come closer, and she does, ducking past the weapons firing at them until she’s mostly hidden behind Steve’s shield.

She has a thought then – possibly a stupid thought, but a thought nonetheless – and she opts to share it with him largely for her own amusement. “How many of ‘em do you think you could take out by throwing your shield?”

Steve huffs a laugh. “That depends. Does the shield have to come back to me after?”

“Mm, probably should.” She fires off another shot.

Steve ponders that for a few moments. “Four.”

Natasha scoffs. “Only four?”

“If it has to come back to me at the end? Yes, only four – and, honestly, I don’t think ‘only’ is a fair descriptor!”

Natasha shakes her head to herself, amused. “Well, go ahead, then. Hit your four.”

“You’re willing to give up the shield for a minute?” Steve asks, a bit cautiously, and for good reason.

“I think we have to,” Natasha says. “We’re not making a whole lot of progress here.”

Steve takes another look at their surroundings, and it’s clear on his face that he agrees. So he holds the shield flat, winds up, and throws it at the enemies.

He hits five people, but only three go down. That’s close enough, in her mind.

While they’re all processing that shield that just flew right through them, Natasha takes advantage of their distraction. She runs up and grabs the first HYDRA soldier she reaches, and she holds him in front of her, blocking the other soldiers from shooting her. Needless to say, he doesn’t like that. He tries to shoot her, but she grabs the barrel of his gun before he can, and she manages to twist that out of his hand. It falls to the floor, and she kicks it behind herself.

She tries to fire at the others, but her human shield is still unhappy with this arrangement, and he grabs her by the neck, digging his nails into her skin. She groans and brings her knee up between his legs, though from his angle, she probably hits his coccyx more than his genitals. Still, his grip loosens, and she pulls his hands off of her.

She kicks her foot into the back of his knee, and he goes down in an instant. It’s smooth sailing from there. She grabs his neck in her elbow, cutting off his airflow, and she stomps on his calf to make sure he can’t try to get away. She puts her gun to the side of his head…

Actually, she doesn’t want to risk getting blood on her clothes. She throws him to the ground and executes him from there. It’s much cleaner this way.

She looks up, ready to find her next target, but instead, all she sees is the gun pointed right for her.

She doesn’t have time to move.

She doesn’t even have time to think.

He’s already pulled the trigger.

… And then she’s lying on the floor.

Not only that, but someone’s on top of her. She wasn’t expecting that.

Her first thought is that it must be Steve, but she he yells her name, it’s from too far away. It’s not Steve that threw her out of the way. So who…?

“Ow.”

It’s Loki’s (rather deadpan, given the situation) voice that comes from above her, and as he moves off of her, she can finally make him out. With a groan, he climbs to his knees – still blocking her from the enemies, she notices – and presses his hand over his abdomen. She furrows her brows. What…?

“You need to be more careful, Agent Romanoff,” he says, and the lightheartedness in his voice quells any worries she may have. It couldn’t have been too bad if he’s still in such a carefree mood.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Natasha tells him, a playful smile on her lips.

Loki gives her a smile of his own before he climbs to his feet. He groans again at the movement, his face contorted in pain, and he turns to face HYDRA’s soldiers. As he marches toward them, he shoots off a burst of his magic, and that alone takes one soldier down. Someone fires off a shot, and it’s encircled in green wisps before it falls to the ground.

He reaches the first soldier in his path, and he grabs him by the neck, snapping it with one hand before he throws the body to the ground. By now, all the gunshots are aimed toward him, and they all bounce right off of him like it’s nothing. A knife materializes in his hand, and he uses it to slice across the throat of the nearest HYDRA soldier. The next, he grants only a brief stab to the chest before he throws them aside. One soldier makes the mistake of trying to attack him, and Loki grabs his gun, fires it straight through his skull, and throws both the weapon and the corpse aside like it’s nothing.

By this point, Natasha is pretty content just sitting on the ground and letting him take care of this. She could blame it on the pain of Loki throwing her to the ground so carelessly, but in reality, she just sees no need to fight when he’s able to handle it so swiftly himself. Even Steve has paused where he stands, shield held up in front of him with no real force as he just watches Loki take out soldier after soldier. Why are they even here? Why don’t they just send Thor and Loki to do this alone?

Because Loki has everything else handled, Steve heads over to Natasha, kneeling down in front of her and protecting them with his shield, as if anybody is trying to kill them and not the god that’s tearing them apart like they’re nothing.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.’’ She lets her head fall forward, stretching her neck, and rolls it to the sides a few times. “Remind me to wear long sleeves and long pants tomorrow so nobody can see all my scrapes and bruises, will you?”

Steve chuckles. “Hey, if you’re getting out of this with just scrapes and bruises, I’d say you’re doing pretty well.”

Natasha offers him a small smile, and he returns it with one of her own. This probably could have gone better, but he’s not wrong in reminding her that it certainly could have gone worse.

And then it grows quiet – not just between them, but throughout the entire room. Loki groans, and there’s a soft thump before the silence resumes.

Natasha pops her head up over Steve’s shield to find Loki sitting on the other side of the room, and though it’s difficult to make out his features from this distance in the dark, she’s pretty sure she sees his hand pressed against his chest again, just like it was after he pushed her out of the gun’s way. That doesn’t bode well.

“Loki?” she says cautiously, climbing to her feet. “You okay over there?”

“Fine.” His voice is strained, and it’s followed by yet another quiet groan that serves as a reminder that he’s lying through his teeth, just in case she wasn’t aware of that.

Natasha frowns and jogs over to him, stepping over all the dead bodies (and holy shit, this is a lot of dead bodies) until she reaches him. She kneels down beside him, and, despite the very obvious pain he’s in, he offers her a smile. She has to admit, that’s kind of cute. He’s kind of cute.

“Don’t tell me you took a bullet for me,” she says, a playfully condescending tone to her voice.

Loki huffs a halfhearted laugh. “Does it count if it bounced right off?”

Oh.

Right.

Duh.

“Well, someone got you good,” she says, looking pointedly at the hand he has pressed against his chest.

Loki shakes his head. “I suppose the healers in Asgard had a point when they suggested I rest until my wound healed.”

“Ooh.” Natasha’s face scrunches in discomfort. She should have guessed that was what was going on. If a simple clap on the back when he arrived was enough to send him to the floor, she can’t even imagine how much it hurt when he literally threw himself onto her. (Is it weird that the thought is kind of giving her butterflies?) “Are you gonna be okay?”

“I will be,” he says. “I just…” He shifts on the floor, and he grimaces once more. “I need a moment.”

“Take as many moments as you need,” she says. “Trust me, after this, you’ve earned it.”

Chapter Text

They didn't find the scepter, but they did take out another HYDRA base (and Loki got hurt in the process), so it feels like a success to Steve.

That's probably a mean thing to celebrate, but, in his defense, Loki is fine. He's obviously in pain, but he is fine. And, more importantly than that, he is a pest. So if Steve wants to find a little enjoyment in the fact that he got hurt, he's going to.

They're on the quinjet now, heading back to the tower to recuperate. Steve, for one, cannot wait to go take a shower – and then maybe crash on the couch with Natasha and watch a movie or something. They still have to finish their Star Wars marathon, after all. Maybe he'll get lucky and everyone else will be too tired to join. It's not that he minds having, say, Clint around for their movie nights, but he really does like spending the night alone with Natasha.

This is another thing that annoyed him about Loki today. He was all ready to go in and have his little mission time with Natasha, and then Loki burst in. Yes, he saved the day, and yes, Steve is reluctantly grateful for it, but it also meant they had to keep him around for the rest of the mission, which really put a damper on the mood.

Actually, that's not necessarily true. Having Loki around put a damper on his mood. Natasha seemed completely fine with it. Hell, she's been laughing and joking with him the same way she does with Steve.

Is this just who she is, then? She's just always this lighthearted, this playful? Steve had started to think it was because of him; that she acts this way towards him specifically. He'd started to think that there was something there between them, but maybe…

But there has to be. The way she kissed him on the escalator the other week… That was more than a ploy to hide from HYDRA men. There was something there between them, a spark of a sort. He knows that.

He just isn't quite confident enough about it to make a move of his own.

He will, eventually. Once he knows for certain that his feelings are reciprocated, he's going to make a move. He's just not there yet. He's not ready yet.

He's fought a lot of battles in his life. He's punched Hitler in the face more times than he can count. He nearly died steering a ship into the ocean to save the lives of hundreds. That kind of thing doesn't scare him. It never scared him. But women? That scares him.

Steve leans against the wall of the ship, conveniently next to a seat that Natasha could very well sit in. When Clint's around, it's less likely that she'll sit with him instead, but he's okay with that. The two of them have known each other for years. They're best friends, and anyone with half a brain could see how much they mean to each other. He understands that, and he respects it.

But instead of sitting with Steve or Clint, she leans against the wall next to Loki, and he most certainly does not respect that.

Unfortunately, he can't really do anything about it, so he just watches with a scowl. (Clint does the same thing, so he doesn't have to feel bad about it.)

“How're you doing?” she asks him.

Loki shrugs from his seat in the back of the jet. “Like I've been stabbed again – which, fortunately, is not the case.”

She pushes herself off from against the wall and takes a step toward him. “Here, let me look.”

Loki cracks a smile at that. “Agent Romanoff, are you asking me to take off my shirt again?”

Steve raises a brow. Again?

Natasha rolls her eyes, but the smile on her face says she's not nearly as annoyed at his playfulness as Steve is. “Just shut up and let me look, will you?”

Loki's overtaken by a green glow, and when it fades, the only thing that's changed is that his shirt is folded up in his lap. He didn't even take the overcoat-cape thing off – and he adjusts it carefully so that he remains as covered as he can be with his wound still showing.

Steve grimaces at the sight. He'd obviously been aware that Loki had been stabbed. It was a pretty important part of the sob story Thor told them to convince them to let Loki come back to help. But this is the first he's actually seen it, and it looks bad.

Even from the other side of the ship, he can see the muscle and the tissue inside of him that he really shouldn't be able to see. The wound is a fresh, bright red, with blood not only pooling in the bottom but dripping out all down his abdomen, too.

Loki looks down at himself with a frown. “Hmm.”

Natasha snorts. “Did you just magic your shirt off?”

“I'm sorry,” Loki says with playful sarcasm, “were you hoping for a show?”

“Oh, shut up,” Natasha says, and though she rolls her eyes, she can't fight back the amused smile on her lips.

Steve scowls. This is almost painful to watch. He's the bad guy. He is the original bad guy. He is the bad guy for which the Avengers were formed. They're supposed to tolerate him; they're not supposed to befriend him. If Loki feels comfortable flirting with her – and that's what this is, he's fairly sure – then she's doing something wrong.

Natasha crouches down in front of the god, and she pushes his overcoat-cape thing (seriously, what does one call that?) to the side for a better look.

“Are you sure you did not get stabbed again?” Thor asks his brother. “I don't remember it looking quite this bad last time I saw it.”

“Yes, Thor, I think I would know if I was stabbed again,” Loki deadpans.

Natasha snickers at that.

Steve tries not to let it annoy him that she finds Loki's remarks amusing. He does not succeed.

Natasha glances back at the others. “Do we have any gauze? Or even paper towels? Just something to…?”

Bruce, who has spent this entire mission sitting in the quinjet because he obviously doesn’t fight, pushes himself to his feet. “I got it.”

As Bruce goes to collect whatever first aid stuff he’s going to get, Natasha turns her attention back to Loki. Steve glances at the others, and though Clint looks equally as irritated by this as he feels, Tony and Thor seem rather ambivalent about the whole thing. Thor, he can understand. He sees Loki very differently than the rest of them do. But Tony? Loki threw the guy out a window not even two years ago. This should be bothering him, too.

“Does it bleed like this a lot?” Natasha asks the god. “I mean, for a wound that’s months old…”

“Only when I selflessly throw myself on top of my teammate to save her life with no regard for my own wellbeing,” Loki answers with a cheeky grin.

Natasha shakes her head to herself, amused. “What a gentleman,” she jokes.

“Not only a gentleman,” Loki says. “A prince, too.” He tosses her a playful wink, and she huffs a laugh.

Steve clenches his jaw. If there was any doubt in his mind that Loki was flirting, it’s sure as hell not there anymore. He cannot believe this. Loki tries to take over the world, comes back to help fix the mess that he started, and has the audacity to flirt with Natasha while he does it! This is absurd.

Bruce returns with a bin full of first aid stuff, which he brings over to Natasha and Loki. “I can do the dressing, if you want.”

Loki shakes his head. “I don’t think this warrants a dressing of any kind. If I could just have something to wipe up the blood–”

“Loki, this is an infection waiting to happen,” Bruce interrupts. “You need something to cover it – something sterile; not just a shirt and a prayer.”

“It’s really not that–”

“Loki, you’re killing me,” Natasha deadpans. “Let him take care of it.”

Loki makes a show of rolling his eyes, but he gestures for Bruce to go ahead.

“Thank you,” Natasha says indignantly.

So Bruce sets about cleaning the wound up. He wipes off the big blobs of blood first, clearing them off with some gauze. When that goes well, Natasha stands up, like she’s done babying him for the time being – and, honestly, it’s about time.

Unfortunately, Bruce makes the mistake of touching Loki’s wound next, and he throws his head back and hisses in pain. Suddenly, Natasha is no longer done babying him, and she rests a hand on Loki’s shoulder. Loki looks up at her, and she offers him a small, encouraging smile.

“Sorry,” Bruce mumbles awkwardly. “I’m not trying to hurt you. It’s just…”

“I know,” Loki says through gritted teeth. “Either hurry up or stop.”

It seems Bruce picks the first option, because he takes another piece of gauze and dabs the blood away from the wound, a little quicker than before, a little less gently, and Loki cries out in pain. He balls his hands into fists by his side, so tight that Steve half-expects his fingers to literally pierce through his skin.

Bruce flinches, and the blood-soaked gauze in his hand falls to the floor. He’s not the only one who flinches, though; even Natasha does the same, quickly pulling her hand off of his shoulder and taking a step away. If that’s what it takes to get her to stop cozying up to Loki, he’s okay with it.

“Loki?” Thor says cautiously, slowly standing up from his seat and taking a step toward him.

Loki’s overtaken by the same green light as before, and his shirt reappears on his body, as does his irritated scowl. “That’s enough,” he growls. “I will deal with it at the tower.”

“Okay,” Bruce says quickly, and he picks up the gauze and takes a very quick few steps away. “Okay, that’s fine. You can – you do what you have to do.”

Loki’s expression softens, and he says, more gently than before, “Thank you for trying to help.”

Bruce gives him an awkward smile in return.

Natasha takes another step toward the god so she can bump her shoulder against his. “You okay?”

“I will be,” Loki says. “I simply prefer to proceed on my own terms.”

“I can’t blame you for that,” Natasha says. “Anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

Loki offers her an uncharacteristically soft smile. “Thank you, Agent Romanoff. I appreciate that.”

Steve just rolls his eyes. He’s so shameless, it’s actually embarrassing. He cannot wait for this to be over.

Chapter Text

Natasha’s having a nice evening. She had a nice shower, and then a nice bath because she wasn’t going to take a bath while she was still covered in dirt and grime and other people’s blood, and now she’s eating an ice cream sundae because she has earned a good dessert today.

Steve pops into the kitchen as she’s eating, and she greets him with a smile. She loves having Steve around. He’s just so… him. He’s basically the picture-perfect example of the ideal best friend. He’s selfless, he’s fun, he’s a bit clueless at times in the cutest way possible. She thought it was nice having him as a teammate for the occasional SHIELD mission, but having him as a housemate has proved to be much more fun over these last couple of weeks.

“What’re you up to?” Steve asks her.

“Eatin’ some ice cream,” she replies. “You?”

“Watching you eat some ice cream,” he answers.

Natasha huffs a laugh. “I mean, you’re not lying,” she agrees. “Want to join the ice cream party?”

Steve cocks an eyebrow, amused. “I don’t know if I’d call this a party.”

“It’ll be a party if you join me,” Natasha says with a smirk.

Steve chuckles and heads to the freezer, and Natasha celebrates silently to herself. She knew that was going to work. Flirting with him always works. (And it’s fun, and it frequently ends with him becoming flustered and adorable and she will never get sick of it.)

Steve scoops himself a bowl of ice cream, tops it off with some whipped cream and Hershey’s chocolate sauce, and takes a seat at the counter by her side. She’s mid-bite when he sits down, so she offers him a smile with her spoon still in her mouth, and he smiles back with the cutest little sparkle in his eyes. He really is just a cute guy.

Kinda sucks that the whole ‘making out with him on an escalator’ thing didn’t lead up to anything.

But hey, can’t fault a girl for trying. If they’re destined to just be flirty friends for the rest of their lives, she’s okay with that, too.

As they’re eating, Steve asks, “How’re you doing? After, you know…”

“Almost getting shot?” she finishes for him. “Not bad, all things considered.” She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little rattled at the time – and she would say that; she sure as hell wouldn’t admit that she was – but it wouldn’t have been the first time she’d been shot, and she’s sure it wouldn’t have been the last. It’s just a part of the business.

“That’s good,” Steve says, and he has another spoonful of ice cream, so she does the same.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, but it’s a comfortable silence. She actually really enjoys it. She gets to sit here with one of her favorite people and one of her favorite desserts. There aren’t very many better ways to wind down from an intense mission than this.

“Oh, hey,” Steve says, “I was thinking of watching a movie tonight. You want to join? We could watch the next Star Wars?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says with a shrug. She sees no reason not to. She doesn’t have a whole lot to do tonight. She glances at the clock – it’s almost seven, apparently – and asks, “How’s eight o’clock sound?”

“That’s fine,” Steve says. “Or we can watch it when we finish eating, if you want.”

Natasha shakes her head. “I want to check on Loki first. He’s been suspiciously MIA since we got back. I want to make sure he’s okay.” It was saving her ass that got him hurt, after all. Paying him a visit is the least she can do.

There’s something about Steve’s demeanor that shifts when she says that, and she fights the urge to roll her eyes. She knows that Steve doesn’t like the guy. She knows that none of them like the guy; she gets the same shit from Clint, too, whenever she mentions his name. But she doesn’t have a problem with him, and it’s really not their place to make a problem out of it.

“Well, I’ll be there at eight, then,” Steve says, and it’s like he doesn’t even try to pretend this doesn’t make him uncomfortable. It’s a bit ridiculous. “If you decide you want to start earlier, just let me know.”

“Will do,” she says – and there really is a good chance that will happen. She doesn’t expect to spend a full hour in Loki’s room. She’d just rather air on the side of caution. If she told him 7:30 and showed up at 7:45 because she was hanging out with Loki, she can only imagine his annoyance.

It grows quiet again, and this time, it’s a little less comfortable. She’s not sure if the air between them has actually changed, or if she just feels like it has because she can very easily tell how much the guy hates Loki and it’s just making her feel weird right now.

Eventually, Steve asks, “Are we going to invite anyone else to watch with us, or…?”

Natasha can tell that there’s a right answer to this, but that’s okay, because it’s the answer she’d choose, anyway. “I don’t know; I’m kind of thinking it could be just us.”

Steve smiles at that, and just like that, her discomfort dissipates. They have their moments sometimes – usually during a mission, or, apparently, where Loki’s concerned – but it’s never anything serious. It’s never anything they can’t fix, and a lighthearted smile is really all it takes.

“Who’s on popcorn duty and who’s on hot chocolate duty?” Natasha asks him. They are the two staples of a mid-winter movie night, after all.

“I’ll take hot chocolate,” Steve says. “I’ll leave buttering the popcorn to the professional.”

Natasha grins. “Good choice.”

Chapter Text

Natasha knocks on the door to Loki’s room, then takes a step back.

There’s no answer.

She steps back up and knocks again, then steps back once more.

Again, there’s no answer.

She furrows her brows, and, one last time, she steps up to the door and knocks. She doesn’t step away this time, turning her head so her ear is next to the wood so she can listen for any sign that he’s actually in there somewhere.

She doesn’t hear anything.

Not until Loki whips open the door, and she finds herself standing no more than a few inches away from Loki in all of his shirtless, dripping-wet glory. Logically, she knows she should step back to keep a respectable distance between them, but she’s so taken aback, she just finds herself staring straight at his six-pack that just happens to be at about eye-level. (Damn him for being so tall, as if he’s not hot enough already.)

“What?” he demands as he flings the door open.

Natasha looks up at his face – where she should have been looking all along – just in time to see his irritated expression soften.

“My apologies,” he says, and he really does sound a little guilty. “I'd thought you were Thor.”

“You always say that,” Natasha remarks, a bit teasingly. “What, Thor’s the only one who's supposed to check on you?”

Loki furrows his brows. “Well, yes,” he says, and he sounds confused that she'd even imply otherwise. “He usually is. Your two visits have been the only exception.”

Natasha frowns. She's not surprised, exactly, but it does kind of suck to hear that literally every single person in this building except for his brother is essentially ignoring him.

Loki folds his arms together, not-so-subtly covering his stomach (and abs, much to her disappointment) with his forearms, but leaving his stab wound open to air in a way that’s very hard not to notice.

She gestures to it with her head. “That’s looking a little better.” It’s not dripping in blood anymore, at least, though it seems it never did get covered the way Bruce said it should.

“Is it?” Loki asks. “It doesn’t feel like it.” He offers her an awkward smile to accompany his half-assed attempt at a joke.

“Oh, I believe it,” she says. She’s had a lot of different wounds in her life, but none nearly as bad as that one. She can’t even imagine how it feels to literally have a hole through his body.

Loki glances down the hall, then asks, “Would you like to come in? Standing in the doorway without a shirt is a bit…”

Hot, she finishes in her head. It’s hot, is what it is.

But out loud, all she says is, “Yeah, sure.”

Loki steps back to let her into his room, and he closes the door behind him. Somehow, this is even more hot. Loki is standing in front of her with no shirt on while they’re alone in his room. Take out the stab wound, and it sounds like the start to a porno.

“You know,” Natasha says to him, “Thor doesn’t mind walking around without a shirt on – as he reminds us incessantly.”

Loki huffs at that. “Yes, well, loathe as I am to compliment my brother, he does have a much better physique than I.”

Natasha stares pointedly at his abs, which are, rather unfortunately, still hidden behind his arms. “You’re shitting me.”

Loki furrows his brows. “No?”

“You are built like a god,” Natasha tells him. “Literally. You have nothing to be self-conscious about, I promise you.”

Loki gives her a weird look. “Thank you?” he says uncertainly. “I appreciate that, but I’m not…” He looks down at himself awkwardly. “If you’d like me to put a shirt on, I will; I only took it off because it was aggravating my wound.”

“Yeah, I figured that was the case,” Natasha tells him. “Is it just the leather that bugs you? I’m sure we could find you a t-shirt, if you want. It might be easier on you.”

Loki ponders that for a moment. “That might help,” he agrees. “I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

Natasha just looks at him for a few seconds; then, “You know, you’re shockingly polite when you’re not trying to take over the world.”

Loki huffs a laugh. “Yes, well, I was raised a prince,” he says. “And, perhaps more importantly, it gave no indication of if or when I was going to trick someone. The element of surprise is the best part of mischief-making, after all.”

“Should I be keeping my eyes open for some mischief-making, then?” she asks.

Loki shakes his head. “No, as of right now, my goal is more so to float by without drawing any attention to myself until the scepter is found. Pissing off your friends would certainly not help with that.”

“Fair enough,” she says. She can see the reasoning behind that. “Then what?”

Loki pauses. “I’m sorry?”

“What're you gonna do once we find the scepter?” she asks. “Are you gonna stay here? Or head back to Asgard? Or a secret third thing?”

Loki frowns as he ponders that, and, after a pause, he says, “Well, I suppose that will depend on my father and my brother.” With a small, joking smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, he adds, “I am still a treasonous bastard. I imagine my standing has not changed so much in recent weeks that I can expect to be a free man once this is done.”

“You think your dad's gonna send you back to the dungeon?” Natasha asks.

“Well, he would have to repair it first,” Loki says.

Natasha raises an eyebrow. That's… interesting.

“But no, I don’t think so,” Loki says. “I don’t know. In all honesty, I'm simply hoping it takes many months to find the scepter, and that Asgard will feel like an entirely different place by the time I return.”

Natasha snorts. “It's really that bad?”

“You can't even imagine,” Loki replies. “Or maybe you can; if I am choosing to spend my time in this ‘Avengers Tower,’ you must have an idea how dreadfully painful my other options are.”

“You make a good point,” Natasha concedes. She will admit, one of her first thoughts when Thor suggested this arrangement was that it was going to be absolutely miserable for Loki. She's pleased to see that she seems to have been wrong: at least in her presence, he doesn’t seem all too upset. Now she knows why, apparently: this just sucks less than the alternatives. “Is there any chance you might stick around when this is over? On Earth, I mean?”

Loki huffs a laugh. “I don't think so,” he says. “Even if I were allowed, there is very little that is less appealing to me than having my brother peering over my shoulder at all times.”

Natasha leans against the wall behind her, crossing her arms over her chest and making herself comfortable. She's beginning to suspect she'll be here for a while, and has absolutely no complaints about that.

“Yeah, what’s going on with you and Thor?” she asks.

Loki furrows his brows. “I'm not sure what you mean.”

Well, now she's just confused. “You guys seem so… not buddy-buddy.” Which might be their normal; it's not like she knew them before their big falling out. “And you sounded like you were gonna murder me when you opened the door and thought I was him.”

“Oh.” Loki shakes his head, a vague air of exasperation overtaking him. “He has just been very… overbearing.”

She nods slowly. That's fair, she supposes. “Is he always like this?”

“Only recently.”

“Recently as in after you tried to take over the world, or recently as in after you got stabbed trying to save his life?”

Loki huffs a sarcastic laugh. “Certainly not the first one,” he says, and there's a bitter edge to his tone as he speaks. “In all the time I was in prison, I never once saw him. When I tell you this is a new development, I mean it is a new development.”

Natasha frowns. That's… shitty. She's almost not sure she believes it. There is no way that Thor “I will defend my brother's honor even while I help SHIELD put an end to his evil schemes” Odinson decided to just ditch Loki in the dungeon for a year and a half. That's just… not him. Right?

Loki sighs. “I'm sorry,” he says. “You didn't come here to be burdened with my family drama.”

“Hey, I love drama,” Natasha tells him – probably a poor attempt at making him feel better, but at least it's the truth. She is nothing if not a fan of listening to the shit going down in other people's lives. More sincerely, she asks, “Did anybody visit you? They didn't just leave you there, did they?”

Loki lets out a long breath. “There was one person, but she's…” He shakes his head solemnly. “She’s in Valhalla now.”

Natasha furrows her brows. “Valhalla?”

“It's another of the Nine Realms,” Loki explains, and he very pointedly avoids meeting her eye as he does. “It's where the souls of Asgardians go when they die in battle.”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

So she's not just gone; she's dead. No wonder he wants to stay out of Asgard. The only person who really cared about him up there is dead, and, given that he's their prince, she's sure everybody in Asgard knows it. She can only imagine how awkward it must be when everybody knows that you're not only disgraced royalty, but disgraced royalty whose girlfriend just died.

Girlfriend, right? She has to assume this is about a girlfriend. It sounds like a girlfriend situation.

With a half-assed smile, Loki adds, “Not the fun, lighthearted drama you'd hoped for, I'm sure.”

“No, not really,” she admits. “I'm sorry, that's…” She shakes her head helplessly. “That's awful. I didn't realize…”

“I know,” he says. “And it's not something I'm all too eager to talk about, so if we could change the subject, I would appreciate that.”

“Yeah, no, I get it,” Natasha says quickly. “We can talk about something else. Just name a subject.”

Chapter Text

It's 8:03 at night, and Natasha is nowhere to be found.

Steve frowns, crossing his arms as he looks around the empty kitchen. She's never late for movie night. It's not as though they've had a lot of them, but for the few that they've had, she's always, always been early. What is going on?

Is she still with Loki? There's no way that's the case. She went up to check on him almost an hour ago. Unless the god is physically holding her prisoner in his room, there’s no way that's where she is right now. There is no possible way she’s spent almost an hour in his room.

God, he really hopes that’s not where she is.

He sits down at the table, propping his head up on his hand. This sucks. He was really looking forward to this movie night. And he’s sure it will still happen, and he’s sure he’ll still enjoy it – more for Natasha’s presence than the movie itself – but still, right now, he’s not enjoying himself.

It’s not even so much that she’s late that’s bothering him. It’s only been a few minutes. He can’t hold that against her. It’s the fact that he doesn’t know why she’s late – and the fact that the answer may very well be that she’s still hanging out with Loki. He does not understand for the life of him what she sees in that guy, or why she’s so friendly with him. They agreed to tolerate him for as long as he stays in Avengers Tower; they did not agree to befriend him and let him flirt with them at every possibility.

He gives it another minute or two before he decides to just get up and get the milk started for hot chocolate. If she is still planning to come – and he has no reason to suspect that she’s not – then he might as well get the drinks ready so they don’t have to waste more time. Although, he supposes it’s not really a waste. Sitting around the kitchen with her while they wait for the milk to heat up sounds just as fun as, if not more than, watching Star Wars does.

He just likes to spend time with Natasha. It’s that simple, really. He likes to spend time with his friend – and he likes to daydream about her someday becoming more than that. One day, he’ll work up the courage to do something about that, but for now, he’s just going to sit around and wish it would work itself out.

It's 8:05 when Natasha finally appears, slightly breathless as she runs into the room. The first words out of her mouth are, “I was not watching the clock at all.”

Steve huffs a laugh, and his annoyance immediately dissipates at the sight of her. “I was starting to think you ditched me,” he jokes.

“Like I would ever ditch movie night,” she shoots back with a grin. “I'm on popcorn duty, right?”

“Yep,” Steve says. “And the hot chocolate's almost ready.”

“Shit, I better get on it, then.”

So Natasha goes about microwaving them some popcorn, and Steve finishes up the hot chocolate. They each grab a mug and Natasha grabs the big bowl of popcorn, and then they're off to the TV room.

Steve suspects this is a question he won't want an answer to, but he asks it anyway – as conversationally as he can, though it is kind of an accusation deep down. “What’ve you been up to?”

Natasha shrugs. “Just hanging out.”

“Oh, yeah?” He gives her an amused look. “Just hanging out?” Just hanging out where, is what he'd like to know – and also probably something he wouldn't like to know, if the answer is what he worries it may be.

“Yep,” she says, and she flashes him a smile.

Steve shakes his head to himself. She's so cute. She doesn’t even have to try. She's just that cute.

Natasha sets the movie up – because she understands DVDs much better than Steve does – and they sit down on the couch together. Once they're both situated, Natasha uses the remote to start it.

The title card plays, and in the midst of the swelling music, Steve focuses on reading the scrolling yellow text. It's an interesting decision, putting all of the set-up of these movies as a large block of text before the movie starts, but it works.

As the first real scene begins to play, Natasha pulls her feet up on the couch, and Steve readjusts their shared blanket to make sure she's all covered up.

They must be about ten minutes in when Steve remarks, “You know, I don't dislike these movies, and they're definitely better made than the movies from my time, but I don't really understand the appeal.”

“They were pretty revolutionary for their time,” Natasha tells him. “It created one of the biggest classes of geeks in the world.” She shakes head. “Never mess with the Star Wars fans. They'll bite your head off.”

Steve's face scrunches in distaste. “Really?”

“It's so bad,” Natasha tells him. “There isn't much that scares me, but a big group of Star Wars fans? That would scare me.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “And yet, you're showing me Star Wars.”

“Well, yeah, everybody has to watch Star Wars at least once in their lives,” she says as though it's obvious and he should just intrinsically know that somehow. “Most people manage to escape without becoming one of them.”

“I hope I have the same luck, then,” Steve says. He definitely doesn't see this as the kind of movie series one should dedicate their entire lives to, so he should be safe, unless something amazing happens within the last few movies they have left.

“You better,” Natasha says teasingly. “I'm trusting you, Cap. Don't let me down.”

After that, they turn their attention back to the movie, and Steve just has to hope that he didn't miss anything super important while he was chatting. He probably did, with his luck. At least he has Natasha here to explain things to him.

Another few minutes pass, and Natasha leans into him, resting her head on his chest. Steve glances down at her, but if she notices, she doesn't show it, her eyes still set firmly on the TV in front of them. Steve smiles softly.

He puts an arm around her shoulders, and she snuggles in closer. He decides then and there that it doesn’t matter if this movie is a piece of art or a pile of steaming garbage. Either way, this is going to be the highlight of his week.

Chapter Text

Every time he closes his eyes, all he sees is his mother's face.

She loved him. Even when she shouldn't have, even when he pushed her away, she loved him. In spite of everything he did, she loved him.

And how did he repay her? By sending Malekith right to her.

He hasn't told anybody the role he had in her death. He doesn’t know if he could even force himself to say it aloud. But they know. They have to. Be it from Heimdalll's mouth or another, they must know what he did.

How is he supposed to face them again after what he did?

For all its flaws, Midgard has been a nice relief from the stress of Asgard. He's about as unpopular as he was back home, but at least he's largely left alone, unless Thor decides to harass him, which he does far too often. He probably thinks he's being helpful, saving his brother from isolation. He's not.

And then, of course, there's Natasha. She's perhaps the only part of this whole ordeal that he actually likes. He certainly hadn't expected to, but they started talking, and now…

Well, he just really hopes she doesn't find out what happened to his mother. She's overlooking a lot already, but he fears killing his own mother might be too much for her to ignore. It's certainly too much for him.

He's had a difficult time sleeping since it happened. It was difficult in Asgard, and it's difficult here. He's gotten maybe an hour or two of sleep tonight, and he doesn’t see himself getting much more. Maybe he'll try again in a couple hours. Maybe his exhaustion will sink in once he lies down again after a couple of hours up and about.

He walks around for a while. He has no tangible end goal in sight. When he thinks he might have a chance at falling asleep, he'll try going to sleep. Until then, he's just going to walk.

And he does, for quite some time. Unfortunately, it's not tiredness that finally makes him decide to stop; it's hunger. But that might work out well. It's not uncommon to feel tired after eating. It's probably more likely to happen with a real meal and not a mid-night snack, but he's going to try to be optimistic.

Unfortunately, he steps into the kitchen to find none other than Steve Rogers sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of water and his cellphone, and Loki finds himself freezing in the doorway. He’s been here for nearly two weeks, and the only Avengers he’s found himself alone in a room with have been Thor (obviously) and Natasha. He was not expecting that to change in the middle of the night, but unfortunately, here he is.

He hesitates, but ultimately, avoiding the Avengers entirely was never going to be a feasible plan, so he opts to simply suck it up for the few minutes they will be in the same room together before he can leave and go about his life as if this never happened.

So he heads into the kitchen, and he goes straight to the fridge. The last time he looked, there was quite the variety of fruit in here. He hopes that will ring true today. Although he’s not quite sure what he actually wants to eat. Maybe he’ll have some blueberries? He does really like strawberries, too. And apples are pretty convenient; he can just take it and go.

And, as luck may have it – he’s not sure if it’s good luck or bad luck, but it certainly is luck – he has all three of those options and more. Ultimately, he decides to just go with an apple. He values the ability to take it and leave more than anything else – and it’s definitely easier than carrying a whole plastic container of berries around the tower.

He closes the fridge door and turns around, and he risks a glance at Steve just as Steve risks a glance at him. This is awkward. Would it be more or less awkward to just walk away like this never happened?

Steve makes that decision for him by asking, “What are you doing up?”

Loki shrugs halfheartedly. “Hungry.” It’s easier than admitting he can’t look past the thought of his mother long enough to fall asleep. “Yourself?”

“Thirsty,” Steve replies, and he raises his glass of water a few inches off the table.

Loki presses his lips in a firm line and nods. Well, that was a good talk. He can leave now, right? They’ve acknowledged each other? He can go?

Steve turns his gaze back to his phone, which Loki takes as a sign that he can leave. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but honestly, anywhere is better than standing in the kitchen alone with Captain America. They have not had one real conversation since he’s arrived, and he doesn’t plan to change that today.

But when he reaches the doorway, Steve stops him.

“Thanks for your help today,” he says.

Loki grimaces – he was so close – and turns back around to face him. “It is what I’m here for,” he says, a bit dismissively. Hopefully Steve will take the hint and dismiss it.

“I know,” Steve says. “But you didn’t have to risk hurting yourself to protect Nat, and you did. So thank you.”

Loki nods once. “Of course.” Of course he would risk hurting himself to protect Natasha. Hell, he’d risk hurting himself to protect any of these guys – even the ones he doesn’t like, which is most of them. Loathe as he is to admit it, what they’re doing is important. Their world needs them, a hell of a lot more than any of the Nine Realms need him.

Steve gives him a small, somewhat awkward smile, and Loki returns it with one of his own. Then Steve turns his attention back to his phone, and Loki is finally given the chance to escape. He walks out of the room swiftly, before he can be stopped again, and it’s only when he’s reached the end of the hall without interruption that he lets out a sigh of relief.

He’s not sure exactly what he was expecting from that conversation, but he does know that it exceeded those expectations wonderfully. It was short, it was pleasant, and he earned a compliment from it. It certainly could have been worse.

He takes a bite of his apple. He survived a conversation with Steve Rogers, he has a late-night snack to munch on, and he has the entire tower to wander through while nearly all of its residents are asleep. He supposes tonight could have been worse.

Chapter Text

It takes three days, but finally, Natasha finds herself alone in a room with Thor.

It’s interrogation time.

(But in a friendly, inconspicuous way.)

“How long are you thinking of hanging around?” Natasha asks. This isn’t part of the interrogation. This is just a casual opening line of questioning that will somehow eventually lead to what she really wants to know. (Although she is curious about when he’s going to leave, and where he’s going to go when he does. They’re friends, after all, and she likes to take an interest in her friends’ lives.)

“I don’t know,” Thor admits. “I suppose that will depend on how long it takes to find the scepter.”

Natasha raises a brow. “You’re gonna hang out until we find it?” she asks. “You realize that could take months, right? Or years?”

Thor shakes his head. “No, if it takes too long and if we find ourselves with no leads, I may leave to visit my partner.” With a sheepish smile, he adds, “This is the longest we’ve been apart in the months that she’s been back in my life. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t miss her.”

Natasha smiles softly. That’s cute, actually. He really is just a big ol’ teddy bear. “If you want to pay her a visit, you can go right ahead. Don’t feel like you have to stay here on our account. We can even hook you up with a cell phone so we can let you know if we find anything.”

Thor lets out a long breath as he considers that. “It’s tempting,” he admits. “Very much so. But I don’t know that I’m ready to leave my brother alone in a building full of people he dislikes, and who dislike him.”

Natasha waves that off. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” she assures him. “I like hanging out with him.”

“Really?”

Natasha huffs. “Don't act too surprised.”

“I am surprised,” Thor says. “I like him because he's my brother and I've known him nearly my entire life. You've known him not even two years, and until two weeks ago, saw him as an unsympathetic villain and nothing more.”

Natasha shrugs. “What can I say? I'm big on second chances.” And he's been nothing but nice to her since he showed up. She can't help it; she has a soft spot for a little friendly flirting, and he seems to share the same thought.

Thor smiles softly. “I think he appreciates that,” he says. “I certainly do. I think he needs a friend.”

Natasha pauses.

Friend.

That is what they’re becoming, isn’t it? They’re not just friendly; they’re friends. Slowly but surely, she is becoming genuine friends with the god who destroyed half of Manhattan in an alien invasion while attempting to take over the world. She’s not actually sure how to feel about that.

But still, she smiles and answers rather lightheartedly, “Well, that’s what I’m here for.” She’s here to find the scepter, and she’s here to be Loki’s friend. Only one of these things was planned in advance.

It grows quiet for a few moments, and Natasha uses that as an opportunity to start a new conversation – one that will hopefully get her closer to her goal.

“What’s Loki’s story, anyway?” she asks.

Thor cocks his head to the side. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Like, what’s up with him?” she asks. “Why is he the way that he is?”

Thor just looks at her for a few moments, then shakes his head to himself. “I don’t know that there’s an easy answer to that,” he says. “It was a mixture of a lot of things – politics; family drama; a year he spent lost in space.”

“Wait, hold on.” Natasha gives him a weird look. “What do you mean, a year he spent lost in space? What the hell was he doing in space?”

Thor shrugs, a bit tense, a bit uncomfortable. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I’ve asked him once or twice before. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

Natasha nods slowly. That’s… interesting. She’s intrigued, to say the least. Maybe once she’s cozied up to him, she can get the answers that his brother can’t, if only to tame her own curiosity.

This feels like as good a segway as any, so she asks, “What about his girlfriend? What happened to her?”

Thor huffs. “You’ll have to be more specific,” he says. “He’s had many girlfriends in his life. After a thousand years, once is bound to have a list.”

Of course he has. What a fuckboy.

“The last one,” she says. “The most recent one.”

Thor furrows his brows. “I don’t think anything happened to her,” he says. “She still lives in Vanaheim. Neither he nor I have seen her in a decade at least.”

Natasha furrows her brows, too. Well, now she’s just confused. “He just had a girlfriend,” she says slowly. “Like, just had one. She used to visit him in the dungeon?”

Thor shakes his head, spreading his arms helplessly. “If he had a girlfriend when he returned to Asgard, I am unaware of it.”

Huh.

Maybe she wasn’t supposed to mention this.

But she already did, so she might as well keep pushing. Her curiosity isn’t going to solve itself, after all.

“He said she’s dead now?” Natasha says. “That she was the only one who used to visit him in the dungeon until she died in battle?” She’s pretty sure that’s what their conversation meant. That’s the understanding she got from his comments on Valhalla, at least.

Thor just looks at her for a few moments, until finally, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not referring to our mother?”

Oh.

Oh.

Okay, then.

That’s not where she thought this was going at all.

“She would visit him in secret, against our father’s wishes,” Thor continues. “She died a few months ago, slain by the Dark Elves. That was when I freed Loki from the dungeon, and we avenged her death together.”

Natasha clicks her tongue. “That is probably what I was referring to,” she agrees. It fits with what little bit of the story she knows – and somehow, she feels like it made the story sadder. His mother was the only person to visit him when he was in the dungeon? His mother was forbidden from visiting him in the dungeon? His mother died while he was in the dungeon? It just keeps getting worse.

“You know,” an all-too-familiar voice says from the doorway, “when I’d told you I didn’t want to talk about it, that was not a request that you discuss it with my brother in my absence.”

Natasha grimaces and turns around to find Loki in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow raised. Natasha offers him an awkward smile. She really didn’t think she was going to be caught that quickly.

Thor seems unbothered, though, and greets him with a friendly but teasing, “Wow, look at you, out and about during the day.”

Loki makes a show of rolling his eyes. “Just because I spend much of my time in my chambers does not mean I do not ever leave them,” he says.

“Strange,” Thor says, “because every time I seek you out, you are exactly where I left you.”

Loki rolls his eyes once more, somehow even more dramatically than the first time.

“Are you looking for something?” Thor asks him.

“Yes: something to quell my boredom,” Loki replies. “I don’t suppose you have any suggestions.”

“Unfortunately not,” Thor says. “Unless you want to stay here and talk to us.”

“I suppose I could do that,” Loki says. “It sounds marginally more entertaining than staring at a wall.”

Natasha huffs. “Gee, thanks, Loki,” she says sarcastically. “Good to see you, too.”

Loki flashes her a smile. “You are the only redeeming quality this afternoon has.”

Natasha can't help the smile that creeps up on her own face. He's such a flirt. She loves that about him. She probably shouldn't, but she does. It's just so fun.

“Are you talking about anything of interest?” Loki asks them. “Or simply rehashing my mother's violent death?”

Thor rolls his eyes. “Discussing Mother's heroics,” he corrects him. “Must you view it so negatively?”

“Must you delude yourself with your optimism?” Loki counters.

Thor shakes his head to himself. “Well, to answer your question, that was all we were discussing,” he says, “but I'm sure we can change the subject to something more lighthearted.”

“Lovely.” Loki invites himself into the room, leaning against the wall casually. He gestures for them to proceed. “Go on. Entertain me.”

Natasha puts her hands up in a sarcastic surrender. “Alright, Your Highness. We'll get on that.”

Loki smirks at that, and she's not sure if she wants to slap him or kiss him. (Is that weird? That might be weird.)

She’s not actually sure what else to talk about or how to entertain the resident terrorist god and his non-terrorist brother, so she pulls out her phone. “You guys wanna see a funny cat video?” She sent it to Steve last night and it got rave reviews from her one-person audience. Hopefully it will be a hit here, too.

“Yes,” Thor says immediately.

“I'm interested,” Loki agrees.

Natasha grins. Thank god for cat videos.

Chapter Text

“Do you have a two?”

“Go fish.”

Steve picks up a card. It’s a five. That doesn’t help.

“Do you have a six?”

“Go fish.”

Natasha picks up a card.

“Do you have a four?”

Natasha hands him a four. Steve puts his newfound pair down on the table. Success.

“Do you have a five?”

Natasha scowls and hands him a five. Steve puts this second new pair on the table.

“Do you have a three?”

“Go fish.”

Steve picks up a card. It’s a nine. That doesn’t help.

Natasha smirks. “Do you have a two?”

Steve balks at her. “I just asked you for a two!”

“And I just picked it up,” Natasha says smugly. “Gimme your two, Cap. It’s mine now.”

Steve sighs dramatically and hands her his two. Now that was just unfortunate.

And, speaking of ‘unfortunate,’ Loki picks that exact moment to walk into the room. He looks between them, his brows raised, and Steve wishes he could just tell the guy to get lost. If he wants to come around while the whole team is hanging out, that’s one thing, but this is supposed to be some quality time with just himself and Natasha. They really don’t need a party crasher.

Natasha, of course, is unbothered. “What's up?” she greets him.

“Not much,” Loki replies. “Yourself?”

“Just playing Go Fish,” Natasha replies. “You wanna hop in after this round?”

Steve grimaces. That's exactly what he wanted to avoid.

“I don't know what Go Fish is, but I would love to,” Loki replies.

"Well, pull up a chair,” Natasha says. “I'll show you how to play.”

Loki does just that. He drags a chair over, and he puts it much closer to Natasha than Steve – uncomfortably close, even, at least for Steve’s taste. But not only is Natasha unbothered by it; she embraces it, even leaning in closer as she shows him her cards.

“It's a pretty easy game,” Natasha tells him. “You can teach a five-year-old to play it.”

“Well, then, I hope I pick it up quickly,” Loki remarks. “It would be rather embarrassing if I didn't.”

Natasha cracks a smile. “You'll be fine,” she assures him. To Steve, she asks, “Whose turn is it? Is it your turn or my turn?”

“Uh…” Steve glances at Loki uncomfortably, and he swears that when Loki looks back at him, he smirks. That smug bastard. (Or maybe he’s projecting? But at this point, if he’s projecting every smug look on the guy’s face, it’s probably bordering on hallucination.) “It’s your turn. I just gave you a card.”

“Right.” Natasha clicks her tongue and looks down at her cards. To Loki, she explains, “Basically, what you want to do is make pairs with the cards you’re holding, and if you get a pair, you put them down, and whoever has the most pairs at the end wins.” She pauses. “I think some people play it as whoever runs out of cards wins, but that’s stupid. We’re not doing that.”

Loki huffs a laugh. “Noted,” he says. “How do you make pairs?”

“You ask,” Natasha explains. “Steve, do you have an eight?”

“Go fish,” Steve replies.

“Since he doesn’t have one,” Natasha explains, “I need to pick a card from the pond. If he did have one, I would take it and it would become my pair, and then I’d get to ask about another card.” She reaches into the pond and picks up a card, and the grin on her face says it’s not one he wants her to have. “Pair of queens, baby!” She puts down her queens.

“Do you get to ask again, then?” Loki asks. “Because you have a pair?”

Natasha shakes her head. “If I’d picked up an eight, I would’ve, because that’s the card I asked for, but since it’s a different one, I don’t.”

Loki nods slowly as he absorbs this.

“And now it’s Cap’s turn.” Natasha looks over at him across the table. “What’ll it be, Cap?”

“Hmm…” He ponders his options. What’s one that he hasn’t asked about in a while? Maybe… “Do you have a seven?”

“Fuck.”

Steve grins, and when he takes her seven, he sticks his tongue out at her. She sticks her tongue out in return.

“Do you have a nine?” Steve asks.

“Go fuck yourself,” Natasha answers, handing her nine over.

Steve grins. And now he’s down to two cards: a jack and an ace. He ponders his options, then asks, “Do you have a jack?”

“Go fish.”

Steve picks up another card. It’s an eight. He slots that in the middle, because he could never play this game with his cards out of order. If he remembers correctly, she asked him for an eight a few minutes ago. This will have to be his next play.

Natasha looks up at Loki. “What should we ask for?”

Steve’s smile fades. He really doesn’t want to share this game with Loki. He’s ruining their quality bonding time. If he has to be in the tower, that’s fine, but can’t he go bother someone else? Why is it always Natasha?

Loki thinks for a few moments, then taps one of the cards. He looks at Natasha, an eyebrow raised in silent question, and she nods once.

“Alright, Cap,” Natasha says. “You got an eight?”

And now Loki’s fucking up his winning strategy, too. It’s not as endearing to hand over his card when he knows it’s all Loki’s fault.

Natasha puts the pair of eights down, and now they both have two cards left.

“Okay, let’s see,” Natasha says. “Do you have a king?”

“Nope,” Steve replies. “Go fish.”

Natasha picks up a card.

Steve ponders his options once more; then, “Do you have an ace?”

Natasha scowls and hands over her ace. As Steve is putting the pair down, he jokes, “Uno!”

“I’m going to slit your throat with my cards,” Natasha deadpans.

Steve chuckles. “Do you have a–”

“Just take it.” Natasha hands him her jack. “Good game, and also fuck you.”

I wouldn’t be opposed to that.

“Hey, we still gotta count our pairs,” Steve reminds her. “It’s not over just yet.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re still winning,” Natasha says, but she counts her pairs anyway.

Steve counts his own. One, two, three… All the way up to fourteen. They really went through a lot of cards, didn’t they?

“Fifteen,” Natasha declares finally. “You?”

Steve hesitates. “Can I lie and say sixteen?”

Natasha scoffs. “Wait, how many do you have?”

“Fourteen.”

Natasha scoffs again, and a grin spreads over her lips. “Holy shit, I won.”

“You sure did,” Steve says with a grin.

“I did not see that coming,” she admits.

“I noticed,” Steve says teasingly. The fuck you kind of gave it away. “Good game, Nat.”

“It sure was a good game,” she says with a grin. She looks up at Loki beside her. “And thank you for being my good luck charm.”

Steve’s smile falters, but she doesn’t notice because she’s not even looking his way. This is why he didn’t want this to become a group activity. He wants her to brag to him. He wants to listen to her make fun of him. It’s not the same when someone else is involved – especially when that someone else is Loki.

“It was all you,” Loki says smoothly. “Well done, Agent Romanoff.”

Steve narrows his eyes. There’s nothing inherently wrong with what he said. It was all Natasha’s doing, after all; Loki contributed next to nothing, and he sure as hell doesn’t bring good luck. But the way he said it, and even just the way he said her name… He hates it. He hates how playful it sounds. He hates how flirtatious it sounds. It isn’t Loki’s place to tease her, or, god forbid, to flirt with her. He really just needs to back off.

“You think you’re ready to jump in?” Natasha asks the god.

“I think I’m ready to try,” Loki answers.

“Alrighty, then.” Natasha gathers all the cards to shuffle for the next round. “Go Fish is definitely more of a three-player game than a two-player game, so this is going to be fun – or mildly infuriating. One of the two.”

Loki chuckles. “I look forward to finding out which it is.”

“Let me win, and I’ll make sure it’s the former.”

Loki shakes his head to himself, a smile playing at his lips, and Natasha wears one of her own.

Steve just scowls. It’s bad enough that he had to waltz in here and interrupt their game. Did he have to steal the playful banter, too?

Chapter Text

“We’ve got a lead on the scepter,” Tony announces. “Everyone suit up.”

Loki furrows his brows. “Shouldn’t we wait for Thor?” He left for Asgard a few days ago. He shouldn’t be gone too much longer. They’re not really planning to do this without their strongest soldier, are they?

Tony huffs. “Yeah, okay, sure,” he says sarcastically. “Let’s just sit around and twiddle our thumbs until he comes back. We don’t need that scepter back, anyway. What’s the worst that could happen if we leave it in HYDRA’s hands for another few days?”

Loki puts his hands up in a sarcastic surrender. Fine, they’ll go without Thor. He doesn’t care. They probably should, though. It’s only the second time they’ve brought Loki along on a mission, and they’re doing it without the one person who could stop him if the need arose. That’s certainly an interesting decision.

The team goes off to “suit up,” and Loki, being the only person already “suited up” because he sees no need to wear a stupid costume while he works, begins making his way to the Quinjet. Except, he realizes as the rest of the Avengers split off, he’s not the only one who’s already prepared for the mission, because he ends up right behind Bruce.

He slows down, letting Bruce get a ways ahead of him. Maybe if he stays back, Bruce won’t realize he’s here, and then they–

Bruce glances over his shoulder.

There goes that plan.

Loki nods once in acknowledgement, then focuses his gaze straight ahead of himself, right past the scientist. He doesn’t want to talk. He wants to go on this mission, he wants to kill some people, and he wants to come back to the tower and stare at the wall or hang out with Natasha until Thor gets back, and that is it.

And, he supposes, he also wants to find the scepter, but that’s not really a priority for him so much as it is an excuse to get out of Asgard for a while. He’d actually prefer not to find the scepter today, if that’s possible.

Regardless, talking to Bruce is not on the agenda today. He likes to talk to his brother and he likes to talk to Natasha and he likes to join in group conversations with the occasional sarcastic remark, and that is all the socializing he wants to do while he's here.

So he and Bruce climb aboard the Quinjet in silence, and then they wait.

And they wait.

And they wait some more.

He should have brought a book.

The only thing worse than standing against the wall in the back of the ship and doing nothing is standing against the wall in the back of the ship and talking to someone, so naturally, Bruce has to make his day worse with some very awkward small talk.

“So,” he says uncomfortably, “today might be our lucky day.” He forces a smile that looks more like a grimace.

“It may be,” Loki says monotonously.

“It figures Thor’d be here for weeks, and within days of him leaving, we finally get a lead,” Bruce adds.

“He is quite the slacker,” Loki agrees. “Leave it to him to push all his responsibilities off on us.”

Bruce cracks the slightest of smiles at that, like he finds it just a little amusing, which, honestly, is a better reaction than he’d expected, so he’ll take it. He doesn’t particularly want to crack jokes with the Avengers, but if his disparaging remarks about his brother can make someone smile, he certainly won’t complain.

It grows quiet again, and Loki crosses his arms, gazing out the windshield. It better not take them too long to suit up. He really doesn’t want to be here any longer than he has to be.

“Do you have any idea when Thor’s coming back?” Bruce asks him.

“I suspect that will depend on what happens today,” Loki answers. “If we do find the scepter, I imagine he’ll make his grandiose return before the sun sets.”

“That’d be nice,” Bruce remarks.

Loki grimaces. Nice is certainly not the word he would use – not when it would end in his inevitable return to Asgard coming sooner than he’d anticipated. But he doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t want to think about going back to Asgard. Unfortunately, he knows the power of the scepter better than anyone of this world, and he knows how dangerous it can be in the wrong hands. He doesn’t want HYDRA to have it any more than the Avengers do.

It’s then he catches sight of Natasha and Clint heading their way, and he’s pleased to see that he now has a distraction from his plight. If she’d been coming with Steve, perhaps Loki would have stood a chance in stealing her away from him, but with Clint, he knows he doesn’t. They have a special, long-standing bond that he knows damn well that he cannot break. But it will likely bring about some conversations for him to eavesdrop on, and he can’t complain about that.

They climb aboard the Quinjet, and they share a brief “Hello” with Bruce before Natasha takes her seat in the pilot’s chair, and Clint stands beside her, using the back of the seat as an armrest.

“It’s gonna be weird when we do find it,” Natasha says, her voice muted somewhat, her words directed toward Clint by her side. “I don’t know what to do if SHIELD’s not around to tell me.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Clint assures her. “We can always head back to my place. You know you’re always welcome.”

Natasha looks up at him with a soft smile that makes Loki want to smile, too. It’s stupid, and he knows that. She’s not talking to him. She’s not smiling at him. She hasn’t even acknowledged his existence since she boarded the ship. But there’s something about that smile…

He doesn’t know what it is about Natasha Romanoff that makes it so hard to maintain his usual indifference. He doesn’t care about any of the other Avengers. Whether they live or die is of no importance to him. But with Natasha… He really, genuinely likes to be around her. He likes to talk to her. He likes to listen to her talk. He likes to see her smile.

He just likes her.

It’s strange.

But it gives him something to look forward to in his day-to-day life. Especially now that Thor’s decided he feels comfortable leaving the tower for days on end, he needs something to keep him going. And the promise that he’ll run into her at some point? That they may share some witty banter or a playful conversation any time he leaves his room – and occasionally, even when he doesn’t? He’s starting to like her more than he likes his own brother.

(He should probably give credit where credit’s due. Thor has put up with a lot from him, and he is doing his best in a very uncomfortable situation after everything that’s happened in the last few years. But in the end, he’s still a nuisance, and Natasha is not.)

“Do you think we’ll have to get jobs?” Natasha asks. “‘Cause I don’t think McDonald’s is hiring people with a criminal background as extensive as mine.”

Clint huffs a laugh. “I think we could coast by doing celebrity endorsements and shit.”

“I’ll do a Coke partnership and you can do a Pepsi partnership,” Natasha says. “We’ll play up the rivalry. It’ll be the next big meme.”

Clint balks at her. “I cannot believe you’re talking about becoming a meme.”

“Well, what else are we supposed to do?” Natasha asks. “I just leaked all of SHIELD’s files for the whole world to read. I’d rather be seen as a meme than a murderer.”

Loki cocks an eyebrow. Clearly, he missed an important piece of Avengers lore while he was rotting away in the dungeon. Does the world know about the Black Widow’s bloody ledger? They can’t still see her as a hero; not after everything she’s done. He would love to see the fall-out from this.

Except… no, he wouldn’t. He would hate to see the fall-out. He would hate to see how it would hurt her. Anybody else on the team, he wouldn’t really care. He doesn’t really know the others; he certainly doesn’t really care about the others. But Natasha? He likes her. He doesn’t want to see her suffer, even if it’s over something as ridiculous as the general public’s opinions on her.

Tony enters the ship next, with his suit floating along behind him. It’s an unorthodox way to transport it, but if it works, it works. He’s greeted with a few waves, but nothing more than that.

“Why did it get so quiet the second I stepped onboard?” Tony asks.

“I’ll give you a hint,” Clint says teasingly. “It’s because you’re here.”

Tony rolls his eyes goodnaturedly. “Uh-huh. Great. Thanks.”

It takes another couple of minutes, but finally, Steve and Sam come aboard. The rest of the team greets them, some more kindly than others – Tony’s “It’s about time” remark comes to mind – and they get situated with the rest of the team.

“Everyone ready?” Steve asks.

“Better be,” Tony replies, “‘cause we’re not waiting around.”

“Wait,” Natasha says quickly, “what about Loki?”

Loki furrows his brows. What about him?

Everybody else seems equally as confused, but it’s Bruce that says, “Loki’s already here.”

Natasha spins her chair around, eyes scanning the ship. “What?”

Loki raises his hand in an awkward wave from the back of the ship.

Natasha’s brows shoot up. “Holy shit, you’re like a ninja,” she breathes. “We need to put another light back there. I’ve spent this whole time waiting for you like a dumbass.”

Loki huffs a laugh, the corners of his lips quirking upward in a slight smile. “Rest assured, I was not going to let you leave without me,” he says. As an (admittedly lame) joke, he adds, “But I do rather enjoy lurking in the darkness, so if we could refrain from bringing about another light…”

Natasha shakes her head to herself, amused. “Alright, alright,” she concedes. “You just keep doing you, Batman.”

Loki isn’t sure what Batman is or if that’s a compliment or an insult, but the way she says it makes him think it’s worthy of a smile. Even if it is an insult, if it comes from her lips, it’s worthy of a smile.

Natasha swivels her chair back around to face the windshield. “Okay, well, now that I know the resident ninja’s onboard, are we ready to go?”

There’s a chorus of agreement from the others, but Loki remains silent, his arms folded over his chest as he leans against the wall. He spreads his feet, giving himself a wide base of report for when the lift-off inevitably gets a little bumpy. Now he just has to hope this flight won’t be too long, and that their in-flight planning session won’t be too painfully boring.

~~~

The flight was long, and the planning was boring.

But Loki’s killed seventeen people already, so he’s okay with that.

(And, okay, a few of those seventeen people might still be alive. He doesn’t know; he didn’t wait around to find out. He’s the only one walking through the front door right now, and he has better things to do than stare at every body he leaves behind to make sure their chest doesn’t rise again.)

It’s funny, in a way, because the HYDRA soldiers gather in different groups in different rooms, so he only ever deals with one group at a time. That means that every time he enters a room, a whole new group of soon-to-be-dead Nazis discovers that they’re about to fight a bullet-proof man in throat-to-knife combat, and he has to admit, their reactions are one of the most amusing parts of his day.

He’d wondered, since that last mission they took, if the excitement would fade once it became a recurring thing. He’s pleased to realize that, at least so far, that’s not the case. He’s out here stabbing and slicing people and enjoying it just as much as he did a few weeks ago.

He grabs one HYDRA soldier and snaps his arm in half so that he has to drop his gun; then he throws the man to the ground and stomps his boot through his head. The next nearest has the common sense to run, and Loki lets him do it, though only because he needs a few moments to pick up the other soldier’s blood-splattered gun. He shoots off a shot, and it blows right through the man, sending him to the ground.

He should use guns more often. That was actually kind of fun.

Every now and then, he’ll hear a piece of commentary from the others. It’s about the mission, most often, though there is the occasional joke thrown in. He doesn’t pay it any mind. He doesn’t care that the roof is clear. He doesn’t care that the Falcon is in the building. He doesn’t care that Steve hasn’t found Rumlow yet. None of this interests him. He’s listening for any mention of the scepter and he’s listening for any sign that someone’s in trouble, and that’s all he cares about.

He elbows a HYDRA soldier in the face. He slits the throat of another. He whips his stolen gun back out for a shot to the head. This is easier than he’d like. It’s a lot different than fighting with Thor and his friends among the stars, but at least it’s something. It’s something to do that’s not sitting in his chambers in Avengers Tower or rotting in the dungeon of Asgard, and he can’t really complain.

He has to admit, this was more fun with Thor here. It’s not that he wants to work as a team. He doesn’t. He doesn’t need Thor’s help, and he certainly doesn’t need the guy looking over his shoulder at every kill. But this is also much more fun when there’s someone here to make witty remarks to. It’s an integral piece of the fight that he hadn’t realized he’d miss.

But, as luck would have it, when he turns the corner to the next room, he finds himself opposite Natasha, who’s making her way through the enemy line like it’s nothing. It’s impressive, really. He’d obviously known that she was good at what she did, but it’s certainly interesting to see it for himself like this.

He leans against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest as he watches. She does jumps; she does flips; she ends up on top of people far more often than she probably should. She puts on quite the show.

It’s not until there are only two people left that Loki lets himself get involved. Natasha takes out one, and Loki shoots the other. The guy never even knew he was here.

Natasha knows, though, at least after that. She looks over at him and puts her hands on her hips. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Quite a while, I’d say,” Loki replies. “I would have offered a hand, but you seemed to have everything under control.”

Natasha cracks a smile. “I always do,” she says. She jerks her head toward the doorway behind him. “All clear that way?”

Loki nods once. “It is.”

“Guess we should find somewhere else to go, then, huh?”

Loki cocks an eyebrow. “Where do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know,” Natasha admits. “Let’s just follow the sound of violence until we find you some more people to shoot.” With a smirk, she adds, “You know, you look damn good with a gun.”

“It is quite useful,” Loki tells her. He tosses it aside, and when he holds his hand out, another fallen soldier’s weapon flies into it. “Unfortunately, I don’t know how to use them, so I simply have to hope I don’t run out of bullets.”

Natasha huffs a laugh. “Remind me to give you a gun safety course when we get home.”

Home.

That’s… a weird thought.

A true thought, he supposes, but weird nonetheless.

Still, Loki smiles. “Gladly.”

Chapter Text

“No fucking way!” Clint bursts out laughing at the screen in front of them.

“They’re so stupid,” Natasha wheezes.

“Are we sure these are real videos?” Steve asks. He sounds understandably wary. It’s a feeling nobody else shares. “They’re not made up for the show?”

“Nope, they're all real,” Natasha tells him. “You could submit your own if you ever catch Barton doing something incredibly stupid – which happens a lot, so it should be pretty easy.”

Clint reaches over and slaps her shoulder. “Hey!”

Natasha snorts. “What, you're gonna tell me you've never done anything stupid enough to belong on America's Funniest Home Videos?”

“Of course I'm not saying that,” Clint says indignantly. “I've just never done anything that stupid on video, so you have no proof.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, a grin on her lips. She loves hanging out with her guys. As nice as it would be to have another woman around, she has to admit, she got pretty damn lucky with this team.

And, speaking of her team, there is one member of the audience who hasn't really weighed in on the show since it began. She cranes her neck to look at Loki on the floor. (He had the misfortune of arriving last, and the couch was already taken.) “Lokes? Anybody home?”

Loki looks up at her, brows drawn together in confusion.

“You can’t tell me you haven't had any thoughts on the ten minutes of stupidity you've seen so far,” she says. She blames Clint and Steve for his silence. He's certainly more talkative when they're alone. But he's been living with them for too damn long to not at least try to be himself in front of other people.

“Oh, I've certainly had thoughts,” Loki tells her, “but given my history with your realm, I fear laughing at the pain and misfortune of these humans would be rather… questionable.”

Natasha shakes her head to herself. That is both so cute and so stupid at the same time. “The whole point is to laugh at them,” she says. “You've seen, like, two dozen guys become infertile because of their own bad choices, and you think you're not supposed to laugh?”

Loki cracks a smile at that. “Usually, I would associate ‘laughing at other people's pain’ to be the trait of a villain, not the heroes.”

Natasha shrugs. “Well, for the duration of AFV tonight, it's gonna be for the heroes, too.”

“And for those of us in between, I presume?” Loki asks.

Natasha chuckles and reaches down to pat him on the shoulder. “And for those of you in between,” she agrees.

He seems pretty content as he turns his attention back to the screen. He does appear to enjoy it a bit more now. If there's one thing everybody in the tower can likely agree on, it's that it is ridiculously fun to watch stupid people doing stupid things to bring about stupid injuries. Many a penis has been crushed on this television screen today, and many more are still to come.

They make it through this video montage and into the next before they're greeted by a visitor in the doorway.

“Well, this is an interesting show,” Thor remarks.

Natasha looks up at him with a grin. “Hey, you’re back!” He's only been gone a few days, but the place has felt so empty without him. He's such a big, boisterous personality. It's been quiet without him around to shake things up.

“I am,” Thor replies. “And I hear I missed a mission while I was gone.”

“You didn’t miss much,” Steve tells him. “They didn’t have the scepter.”

“And I assume Rumlow wasn’t there?” Thor asks.

Natasha shakes her head. “Nope, but we’ll get him.” Not that it means much to him. Rumlow is more of a concept to him than a person. They've never really met. They've certainly never had any meaningful interactions. He cares about Rumlow because they care about Rumlow, and it's cute, really.

“We’ll get him, and we’ll get the scepter,” Clint adds. With a hint of sarcasm, he adds, “And then we’ll all live happily ever after.”

Loki huffs at that.

“I look forward to it,” Thor tells him. With that settled, he turns his attention to his brother. “Loki, can I talk to you?”

“Can this wait until the next commercial?” Loki asks. “I’ve only just been given permission to laugh at these people’s pain. I’d like to make the most of it.”

Natasha huffs a laugh. That is an awful way to phrase that. They must sound like horrible human beings.

Thor raises a brow, looks at the TV screen just long enough to see a man fall face-first into concrete, and looks back at his brother. “I suppose it can,” he says. “It’s nothing urgent; just that Father would like to see you back in Asgard.”

Loki balks at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Only for a short while,” Thor assures him. “He wants to know how you feel about this arrangement so far.”

Loki clenches his jaw, but there's a faux sense of calm in his voice when he says, “You can tell him that I am enjoying myself just fine.”

“I think he would rather hear it from you,” Thor says.

“Then he will have to wait until we find the scepter and I return to Asgard.”

Thor sighs. “Loki…”

Loki repeats, firmer and obnoxiously slowly, “He will have to wait until we find the scepter and I return to Asgard.”

Natasha looks between the two of them warily. This is weird. She glances at Steve beside her, but he looks just as confused as she feels. A glance at Clint earns nothing more than a shrug.

“It will take no more than fifteen minutes,” Thor says, exasperated. “It does not have to be now. It can be tomorrow, even, if you’d rather wait until then.”

Loki balls his hands into fists and stands up, teeth gritted in frustration. “I am not going back to Asgard.”

Thor’s brows draw together, and for a moment, he just looks at his brother, as though he's a puzzle that needs to be solved. “I'm only asking for fifteen minutes of your time,” he says. “Father is asking for fifteen minutes of your time. Whenever you have them to spare–”

“I don't,” Loki snaps. “I was told that I would not have to return to Asgard until we found the scepter or until they stopped looking for it. I intend to hold our father to that promise.”

Thor’s frown only deepens. “Loki, I’m only–”

“Enough,” Loki interrupts. “If he feels it is that important, he can come to Midgard and speak to me here, but I am not going back to Asgard. Until you realize harassing me about it will do no good, stay out of my way.”

And with that, Loki pushes past him and stalks out of the room, his cape flowing very dramatically behind him. If this whole conversation hadn’t been incredibly weird and uncomfortable, that might have earned a smile from her. No wonder he always wears that outfit. It fits his dramatic flare very well.

Thor watches his brother go, until finally, he turns back to the others, all awkwardly seated on the couch in silence. And, to make matters worse, a commercial break starts right then, so there’s not even any clips of self-inflicted violence to distract them.

“Has he been like this since I left?” Thor asks the three agents.

Clint and Steve both look at her, which is probably fair, if a bit annoying. What if she didn’t want to insert herself into their brotherly drama?

“No, he’s been pretty normal,” Natasha tells him. Quiet, sarcastic, charming: his usual self. It was clearly their conversation that set him off. She suspects Thor already knows that.

Thor folds his arms across his chest, lips pursed as he processes that.

This definitely isn’t her place to butt in, but, just because Loki’s not here to advocate for himself anymore, she asks, “Does he have to go back to Asgard?”

Thor hesitates. “The Allfather did ask me to bring him, but I think we both assumed he would go willingly. If he really does not want to, I don’t plan to force him to, but I don’t understand…”

Natasha shrugs awkwardly. “I mean, he doesn’t want to be in Asgard,” she says. “That’s why he’s here, right? To get out?” He's all but said as much to her. Why the guy can’t spare fifteen minutes to talk to his dad, she won’t claim to understand, but he has made it fairly clear since he arrived that he’s only here because it’s better than the alternative.

But Thor’s taken aback by the question. “No, he’s here to find the scepter,” he says, confused. “It has nothing to do with Asgard – that I’m aware of, at least, though after this…”

Natasha debates her options – do something, or don’t do something – and opts to go with the former, so, with a sigh, she pushes herself to her feet. “I’m gonna go check on him.”

Thor grimaces. “I don’t know that that’s a good idea,” he says cautiously. “I understand that you’re likely the Midgardian he tolerates the most, but I don’t think–”

“Well, I don’t think he wants to talk to you,” Natasha says, “so I’m gonna give it a shot.”

Steve cuts in with, “Or we could just let him cool off by himself.”

“Usually, when someone storms out of a room, it is because they want to be alone,” Clint agrees.

Natasha shakes her head. “It’ll be fine,” she assures them. “And if he does try to kill me in a fit of rage, JARVIS will let you know.”

Chapter Text

Was he a little dramatic?

Maybe.

Did he really need to storm out of the room like that?

Probably not.

Would fifteen minutes in Asgard really be the end of the world?

No, it…

Well, it might be. He’s not sure. It does sound incredibly painful, and the possibility that the fifteen minutes will drag on into twenty, thirty, forty minutes of talking to Odin physically makes him cringe, but the world most likely wouldn’t end. It just might feel like it did for a little while.

He buries his head in his hands and lets out a dramatic groan, because really, he is nothing if not dramatic, and that doesn’t change when he’s alone.

“Having fun in there?” a teasing voice asks.

Loki lifts his head, but he doesn’t move any further than that. Is that Natasha? (Of course it’s Natasha; she’s the only woman in the building, and definitely the only woman who would come to his chambers after he snapped at his brother like that.) What is she doing? This is supposed to be Thor’s mess to clean up, whenever he decides to come by and talk to him. That’s how this always goes. They fight, they take a break, and they reconvene, sometimes to fight some more, and then they get over it. There’s not supposed to be a third player in this game.

“Can I help you?” Loki asks uncertainly. He really wasn’t prepared for this. He’s not quite sure what to do.

“Can I come in?” Natasha asks.

Loki hesitates. “I suppose?” If she really wants to? He’s not sure he understands why, but he won’t tell her not to.

Natasha opens the door, then puts her hands on her lips, looking at the god with an eyebrow raised. “What’s going on, Lokes?”

Loki cocks his head to the side. She knows what’s going on. She was there for it. Why is she asking him?

When she doesn’t get an answer, she invites herself into his room, closing the door behind herself. And then, because she is nothing if not the epitome of self-confidence, she then invites herself onto his bed, sitting down beside him and looking up at him sympathetically.

“What’s going on?” she asks again, and there’s a gentleness to her voice that he hasn’t heard since…

Well, since Frigga.

He swallows hard and tries to push that thought away, and when he speaks, he does so with half-assed sarcasm. “I imagine you could answer that yourself. You were there for the conversation.”

“The fact that I was there is what makes me want to know,” she says. “That’s not like you.”

“No, it was exactly like me, actually,” he tells her. “You simply haven’t known me long enough to notice.”

Natasha shakes her head. “There’s something bugging you.”

“Well, yes,” he says, “the Allfather wants me to return to Asgard. Again, you were there for the conversation. This should not be news to you.” It’s a bit rude, he’ll admit; a bit colder than he needs to be. But she is not from Asgard. She couldn’t possibly understand how much he does not want to go back, and the last thing he wants right now is to listen to her try to persuade him otherwise.

“He’s not asking you to stay,” Natasha reminds him. He's not asking that yet, perhaps, is a better way to say it. “Why can’t you give him fifteen minutes?”

Loki takes a deep breath, willing himself to remain calm. Thor is used to his frustration; it doesn’t phase him. Natasha can’t say the same, and he’d hate to scare off the only friend he has in this realm. So, as emotionally detached as he can, he says, “Because I do not want to. If Thor sent you here to change my mind, you are wasting both your time and his, and you should tell him as such.”

“Thor didn’t send me, and I’m not here to change your mind,” she tells him. “If you don’t want to go back to Asgard, you shouldn’t have to go back to Asgard – and I’m sure as hell not gonna tell you to get lost, ‘cause I like having you around.”

That puts the slightest of smiles on Loki’s face.

“I just want to know what’s going on,” Natasha says gently. “Why don’t you want to go back? Is it your dad? Is it just Asgard in general?”

He should have known this was where it was going. He should have known she was just trying to get into his business. He can’t say he understands why she cares so much about things he doesn’t want to talk about, but she’s certainly not trying to hide that she does, and he’s not very fond of it.

“I don’t want to go back to Asgard because I see no reason to,” Loki says. “I am perfectly content on Midgard while we search for the scepter, and if and when Thor returns home, he can tell the Allfather that then. I see no reason to go through the effort of returning to Asgard to answer such a ridiculous question.”

Natasha shrugs. “Well, maybe it’s not about the question. Maybe your dad just misses you. You’ve been here for a while; he probably just wants to see you again.”

Loki grimaces at the thought. And she’s right, which is the worst part. Odin does just want to see his son again. He wants to talk, and he wants to act like a father, and he wants to show Loki that he loves him and that he cares, and Loki just doesn’t want to put up with that.

“What, you don’t want to talk to him?” Natasha asks. He wonders if it’s her spy training that told her that, or if he’s simply that transparent.

Loki sighs. “No,” he says finally. “I do not want to talk to him.” To him, that feels like a good place to end the conversation – he’s answered her question, after all – but he knows that it’s not over yet, much to his chagrin, and he knows exactly what she’s going to ask next.

“Why not?”

Loki takes a deep breath. He’d ignore the question if he thought he could, but she’s nothing if not persistent. She’ll annoy him into answering it sooner or later. He might as well do it now and save them both the trouble.

“Because he projects his guilt and his grief onto every conversation,” Loki says. “Because the man who claims to love me now once wanted to see me executed, and that is not something that is easy to look past – for myself or for him.”

Natasha frowns, and there’s a vague look of discomfort on her face. Good. There should be. If she’s going to pry into his personal life after he tried so hard to run from it, she deserves to be made uncomfortable by it.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “That sounds… hard.”

Loki just nods. It is hard. It’s harder than it was when Odin hated him, even. At least then, it made sense. At least then, his feelings were warranted; they were a valid response to the hell that Loki had unleashed, and Loki goaded that hatred on because he could; because he deserved it, and he knew that. But now…

“I still don’t understand why he changed his mind,” Loki admits. “I’ve done nothing to earn it, and it’s only serving to make both of us uncomfortable.”

Natasha raises a brow. “You did nothing to earn it?” she repeats skeptically. She reaches out a hand, and she lets one finger hover mere inches from his chest, just over his stab wound. “Nothing at all? You can’t think of a single thing–”

Loki swats her hand away. “That doesn’t count.”

Natasha scoffs. “What do you mean, it doesn’t count? How could that not count?”

“Because it doesn’t,” Loki says, and the icy chill to his voice returns. This time, he does nothing to quell it. She’s treading very close to ground he does not want her to touch. He wants her to know that.

And she must know, but she doesn’t care. “Loki, come on.”

“Romanoff-”

“You literally risked your life to save your brother!”

“No, I tried to give my life to avenge my mother’s,” Loki snaps. “It had nothing to do with Thor. I could not have cared less whether he lived or died; whether he saved the Nine Realms or not. I had the chance to kill the monster who murdered my mother, and I took it. That was all.”

Despite the coldness of his voice, Natasha’s gaze softens at his words. It takes him a moment to find out why; what piece of information he hadn’t meant to give.

“You thought it was going to kill you,” she says quietly.

Loki sighs and leans against the wall behind him. He closes his eyes, and he lets his head fall back. “Yes, I did,” he says. “And it would certainly have been preferable to the life I returned to, but unfortunately, I failed. So here I am.”

It grows quiet after that. He’s shocked, truly. He rendered the Black Widow speechless. He hadn’t thought that was possible. Surely she’s been trained for uncomfortable situations like this during her interrogations. He has no doubt that she’s heard worse on her missions. And yet, she’s silent nonetheless.

Until finally, she says, “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you failed.”

Loki huffs. “Then you’re a part of a very small group,” he says. Thor would agree, he’s sure. He’d like to think so, at least; over the last few months, it almost feels as though their relationship has returned to normal. But other than Thor? She may well be the only one who feels that way.

“It sounds like your dad agrees,” Natasha remarks.

Loki shakes his head minutely. “He would say he does, but he’d be lying,” he says. “He’s welcomed me back into the family because he feels he has to; because he knows that it’s what my mother would have wanted, and he’s tried to delude himself into thinking he agrees. But it would have been easier for him if I’d died in the Dark World. He wouldn’t be wracked with guilt during our every conversation.” And, to his credit, he tries to hide it. He really is trying to be a good father. But he needn’t bother; neither of them are enjoying it, though Odin may try to act otherwise.

“That sounds like your conscience talking to me,” Natasha says.

Loki huffs. “Hardly,” he says. “It is very real – and a reality I am glad to have escaped from, however impermanent it may be.”

Natasha’s quiet for a few moments, until she says, “Well, you’re a prince, right? I’m sure your people are glad to have you back.”

That is such an outrageous claim that Loki finds himself genuinely laughing at it. “My ‘people’ have never cared for me,” he says. “And after what I’ve done, their opinions of me have only worsened. I’ve done my best to avoid them, but the conversations I have been forced to have have been nothing short of painful.” It’s true of the commoners and the Palace staff, and it’s especially true of Sif and the Warriors Three. It’s as though they can’t decide whether they’re allowed to hate him still, and it makes every glance in their direction a new misery.

Loki sighs once more, and if Natasha hadn’t been seated right next to him, he would have flopped face-first into his pillow. He’s just so tired of all of this. He wasn’t supposed to have to go through this. He was supposed to be dead. He was supposed to be in Valhalla with his mother. It would have been so much easier.

Natasha sighs, too, and she rests her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “That’s just… that’s awful.”

Of course it’s awful. Everything about his life has always been awful.

Everything except this.

Loki finally opens his eyes, and he looks down at her. She doesn’t seem to notice, her gaze already shifted downward. For a moment, he just lets himself take this all in. For once, he’s not just moping in solitude. For once, he has someone to share his frustration with. And maybe it wasn’t on purpose, and maybe he didn’t want to, but he did. He told her what he hasn’t told anybody else. And it feels… better. A little bit.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

“Hmm?” She lifts her gaze to look at him, but her head doesn’t move from where it rests against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he says again. “For listening. Nobody else…”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she tells him. “To listen, even when you’d rather kick me out of your room because I’m a pain in your ass and you never asked me to come bother you.”

Loki cracks a smile at that. “You are a pain,” he admits, “but I appreciate it.” He hadn’t expected to appreciate it, and admittedly, there’s still a (very large) part of him that wishes this conversation never happened, but it’s nice, in a not-so-nice sort of way, to have finally said this aloud. It’s nice to have shared this with somebody – especially somebody so far removed from the situation, who will never in a million lifetimes have the chance to tell his father what he said.

“Of course,” Natasha says. “And, you know, I bet Thor would listen if you’d talk to him. He does want to know what’s going on.”

Loki shakes his head solemnly. “He wouldn’t see it,” he says. “Just as he never saw the Allfather’s flaws before. He never saw how I was treated.” Not by Odin, not by Sif and the Warriors Three, and not even by himself. He never noticed the way he mistreated his little brother, or the frustration that came with it. Loki’s not naive enough to think that would change now.

Natasha sighs. “I’m sorry,” she says. “That's a shitty situation all around.”

Loki shrugs halfheartedly. “After what I've done, I suppose I can't say I don't deserve it.” He deserves death, really. Odin was right about that. But death would have been too easy, and the Norns would never let him off easy.

“Well, you admit you were wrong to try to take over the world, right?” Natasha asks.

“I was wrong for a lot of things,” Loki says. He can’t say he regrets letting the Frost Giants into Asgard. Thor was certainly not ready to be king, and somebody had to stop the ceremony. But everything he's done since then – from goading Thor into attacking Jotunheim to all of the things he did on Earth – he was wrong to do. He knows that now.

“Then you're a better person than you were two years ago,” Natasha tells him. “And you deserve a second chance – a chance at a normal, not-super-awkward life.”

Loki gives her a small smile. “I appreciate the sentiment,” he says, “but even if it were true that I deserved better, I'm not naive enough to expect it.” Because it's not about him. Not really. Not entirely. It's about all the other people who had to watch him lash out amidst his descent into madness, and how their perspectives on him are irrevocably changed. He can’t blame anybody for that except himself, and he certainly can’t expect them to change for him.

“Well, for what it’s worth, you can expect it from me,” Natasha tells him. “You know where I come from; what I’ve done. If I could have a second chance, I don’t see why you can’t have one, too.”

“Thank you, Agent Romanoff,” Loki says, and he means it so sincerely. She doesn’t owe him a second chance. He’s not sure he deserves one. But she’s going to give him one anyway, without all the unease and discomfort of his supposed second chance back home, and it means more than he could say.

The corners of her lips quirk upwards in a small smile. “You can call me Nat, you know.”

“I know,” Loki says; then, with a somewhat teasing, almost flirtatious smile, he adds, “Agent Romanoff.”

Natasha shakes her head to herself. “Alright, alright. ‘Agent Romanoff’ it is.”

Chapter Text

The Avengers have done their best to keep Loki away from the general public over the last few months. He goes with them on their missions, and occasionally he’ll make it in some group social media post – Tony’s idea; to get the world to slowly acclimate to having him around again – but he’s yet to truly have the opportunity to interact with anybody.

That changes tonight.

It’s Tony’s birthday weekend, and, in true multi-billionaire fashion, he’s opted to throw a party. It’s a fancy party, too – fancy outfits; fancy foods; fancy decorations. He’s sparing no expense to make it a tolerable event. But as long as Loki’s here, it’s asking a lot for his guests to be comfortable.

It hasn’t been too bad so far. He’s spent most of the party meandering around the outskirts of the room, most frequently at the bar or the snack table because it is by far the most enjoyable part of the night, even if the snacks are small and the alcohol is hardly alcoholic – at least for a god; some of the humans are most certainly getting drunk, and he envies them greatly.

Sometimes Thor comes up to talk to him. It’s a nice reprieve from this rather lonely event. He’s not necessarily upset to see everybody move away when they realize he’s near, but it is starting to get frustrating. He’s not here to bother them. If he was going to make a show, he would have done so by now. But Thor treats him like a normal person and not the mass murderer that he technically is, and he appreciates that.

Every now and then, his gaze strays to Natasha. And how could it not, when she's wearing such a gorgeous gown? She really steals the spotlight – or, at least, she does to him, but then, she would steal his spotlight in simple jeans and a t-shirt.

She was talking to Clint earlier, he noticed; she'd made her way over to Steve after that. She later went to the bar and shared a drink with Bruce, though unfortunately, not while Loki was there. Once, he also caught a glimpse of her talking to Tony, but that didn’t seem to last long.

She’s made her way back to Steve, and this time, Sam is a part of their conversation. He doesn’t know much about Sam, but he seems like a nice enough person. He certainly finds the guy less annoying than he finds Steve, though that may be less about him and more about the dirty looks he’ll catch Steve shooting him when Natasha’s not paying attention.

Speaking of which, Steve glances his way, and he catches sight of Loki looking back at them. Steve rolls his eyes, and Loki just cocks an eyebrow, an almost taunting smirk on his lips. It’s not even like he’s the bad guy in this situation. Yes, he was looking at them, but Steve wouldn’t know that if he wasn’t looking back at him. That is not a fair thing for him to be upset about.

But, because Steve is already annoyed and because Loki does like to cause problems, he decides to make his way over to them. He’s careful not to touch anybody as he squeezes past them – he has to imagine they wouldn’t take kindly to being touched by the super evil terrorist alien that now lives among them – and he murmurs polite “Excuse me”s the whole way.

By the time he’s reached them, the three of them are well aware that he’s approaching, and he’s greeted with two smiles and a very pointed non-smile from Steve. Naturally, that means Loki flashes him a smile first before he turns to the others.

“Enjoying the party?” Loki asks them.

“Fanciest shit I’ve ever seen,” Sam remarks. “I’ll give it that.”

Loki huffs. Growing up in a golden palace, he certainly can’t relate, but he can understand where that would come from.

“It’s definitely nicer than the last Stark birthday party I had to go to,” Natasha says.

“What happened there?” Steve asks.

“Oh, a lot,” Natasha says. “Stark pissed his suit and then he and Rhodey beat the shit out of each other and scared everyone away.”

Sam huffs a laugh. “Man, I forgot about that,” he says. “It was all over the news. People thought he was crazy – and honestly, now that I’ve met the guy, I’m pretty sure they were right.”

“I take it he was drunk?” Steve asks.

“So drunk,” Natasha says. “But, in his defense, he was dying and it was supposed to be his last hurrah.” She shrugs. “Don’t know why he decided to celebrate his last birthday by pissing himself, but hey, to each their own.”

Loki is going to have to look into this later.

… If he can figure out how to navigate Google. It’s very overwhelming to him. He tries to avoid it when he can.

“But enough about the resident drunkard,” Natasha decides. “Loki, how are you enjoying the party?”

“Oh, it’s alright, I suppose,” Loki says. “There is less yelling, less fighting, and less vomiting than there would be in Asgard. I do like that aspect of it.” Not that he dislikes parties in Asgard. Quite the contrary; he actually really does enjoy them, for the most part. But he’s enjoying this party, too, in a much more subdued way.

Sam huffs a laugh. “Man, I want to see what a party up in God Land is like. That sounds either awesome or horrible.”

“I think you’d find it’s a bit of both,” Loki tells him – though likely with a heavier emphasis on ‘awful’ for somebody who isn’t accustomed to their culture.

“If it’s any consolation,” Natasha tells him, “I’ll be shocked if the night ends without at least one fistfight.”

Loki chuckles. “Oh, I look forward to it,” he says. Playfully, he adds, “And I will try not to be a part of it.”

Natasha purses her lips, amused, and nods. “Probably smart,” she agrees. “I don’t think Tony’d be happy if ‘operation: show the world that Loki’s not a violent monster’ ended with you being violent in front of people.”

“And, more importantly, in front of cameras,” Sam adds. “You know shit’s gonna be bad if it’s on video – and that would definitely be on video.”

Natasha sighs dramatically. “The curse of being famous.”

Sam snorts. “You’re housemates with a billionaire. I think the pros outweigh the cons.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Natasha agrees without a moment of hesitation. “I may not like everybody knowing my business, but at least I’m a billionaire by proxy.”

“And you definitely get your money’s worth out of him,” Steve adds. “He made a mistake when he gave you his credit card.”

“He sure did,” Natasha says with a smirk, “but there’s nothing he can do about it now.”

“Hey, if you're gonna keep spending his money on outfits like that,” Sam says, eyeing her – rather showy, at least around the breasts – gown with a slight smirk, “I don't think anyone's gonna complain.”

Natasha huffs. “He's sure as hell not gonna tell me to stop,” she agrees. “Did the same thing for Pep before they got together. She said she used to buy dresses on his dime all the time – called them a ‘work expense.’”

That earns a bit of laughter. Loki doesn’t know Pepper very well – she doesn’t exactly seek him out when she’s around – but he can’t deny that he’s a bit amused by that, too. He can always support people financially abusing Tony Stark.

The song changes to a much quieter, tamer one, and over the speakers, the DJ says, “Alright, you lovebirds. It’s time to bring your special someone out on the dance floor for a little slow dance.”

Loki glances behind himself at the dance floor, just in time to see a mass exodus of presumably single people. A fair number of couples are making their way to the floor, and those who are already there are holding each other close, swaying to the music.

Loki turns back to this small group of Avengers, and he looks at Natasha thoughtfully. What if…?

No, he couldn’t.

Although…

Sam rolls his eyes. “Do they have to do this at every party?”

“I think it’s cute,” Steve remarks. “Keeping love alive, you know?”

Sam heaves a dramatic sigh. “I guess…”

Steve looks over at Natasha, a thoughtful look on his face – the same thoughtful look that was on Loki’s face only moments earlier. If Loki had had any reservations about what he was considering doing, that dispels them. He would love to dance with Natasha, but, more importantly, he wants to stop Steve from doing the same.

So Loki holds out a hand to her, his head bowed respectfully but peering up at her through his lashes. “I would be remiss not to ask you for a dance, Agent Romanoff.”

Natasha cracks a smile, and she takes Loki’s hand in hers. “I would love to.”

Loki gives her a smile in return. He spares a glance at Steve, only for a moment, a fraction of a second, and he revels in the look of irritation he wears. There really are few things as easy and enjoyable as pissing off Captain America.

Loki leads her to the dance floor, and they find a spot for themselves among the outskirts of the crowd, where they can have some space for themselves instead of cramming themselves in with the others. Loki lets go of her hand, resting his hands on her hips. She takes a step closer, so close that they’re almost touching, and rests her arms over his shoulders, hands draped behind his neck.

“You do look marvelous in this dress,” Loki murmurs.

Natasha looks him up and down, a slight smirk on her lips. “And you’re looking quite spiffy yourself,” she tells him. “Gonna need to find more excuses to get you dressed up like this.”

Loki huffs. “Only if you’ll do the same,” he says playfully. “A fair compromise, I’d say – and you can use it as an excuse to buy more dresses on Stark’s dime.”

“Oh, gladly,” she agrees.

They continue swaying to the music, and he finds that he revels in this. He revels in spending this time with her. He revels in having her so close to him. Even if it only lasts a few minutes, even if they move on as though this never happened, he’s going to treasure it. He certainly can’t imagine this evening getting any better.

As though she heard that thought and decided to challenge it, she asks, “If I come closer, am I going to hurt you? With the stab wound?”

That absolutely would hurt him. He knows that very well. But it’s been healing, slowly but surely; it won’t put him in absolutely excruciating pain that leaves him writhing on the floor and begging for the sweet release of death, so he lies. “Not at all.”

So Natasha closes the space between them, and she rests her head against his chest. He can feel the aching pain where her ear lies, but he pushes that out of his mind. He can stand a little pain if it means he can hold her closer; if it means he can hold her to him. He can’t remember the last time he’s held someone this close. It’s been years, at least – before his fall from Asgard; he can say that much with confidence.

She’s so warm. He’d forgotten how warm people are. She’s like his own personal space heater, and he’s going to savor every moment of it. He’s going to savor every moment of holding her close; he’s going to savor every moment of swaying back and forth; he’s going to savor every moment of just being here with her.

He closes his eyes, letting her touch and the music wash over him. When he’d asked her to dance, he’d done it because he’d thought it would be fun; because he likes to flirt with her and he truly thinks that she enjoys flirting back. He’d thought it would be a playful experience. He hadn’t expected for it to feel so… nice.

He rests her chin on top of her head, and he opens his eyes.

The first thing he sees is Steve glaring daggers at him from across the room.

… Oops.

So he lowers his gaze to the floor instead, only because he can’t look at Natasha beneath him while he’s using her as a chinrest. Annoying Steve had certainly been a part of his plan to begin with, but now that he’s here and now that he’s holding her in his arms, the Captain is the last thing he wants to think about right now.

He just wants to think about her.

“You know,” Natasha says quietly, “you are the perfect size for a hug.”

Loki’s so taken aback by that, he can’t help but laugh. “I beg your pardon?” What does that even mean?

“You’re just hug-sized,” she tells him. “Next time I need a hug, I’m looking for you.”

That does absolutely nothing to quell his confusion, but all he does is laugh once more. “And I will gladly give you the hug you desire, whenever you desire it.”

“Thanks, Lokes,” she murmurs. “You’re the best.”

Chapter Text

“Dude,” Sam says. “What the fuck?”

Steve just stares, dumbfounded.

“What the hell is he doing?” Sam asks. “Actually, what the hell is she doing? She’s dancing with Loki?”

Steve nods slowly, emotionlessly. “She’s dancing with Loki,” he says monotonously. Even though he is right here. Even though he was just about to ask. Right now, she is dancing with Loki.

Sam sighs and pats him on the back. “I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything,” he says. “I mean, it’s Loki. I don’t think he’s capable of sincerity – and I’m sure Nat knows it.”

“I hope so,” Steve grumbles. It’s just such a dick move. Loki knew what he was doing. He knew Steve was about to ask her to dance. He knew it, and he swooped in and stole her away right before he could do it. What a bastard.

“Dude, come on,” Sam gives him a reassuring punch to the shoulder. “You have nothing to worry about. It’s not like she’s gonna fall in love with the guy. I mean, she’s an Avenger. He’s the bad guy that brought the Avengers together in the first place. Not exactly a match made in heaven, you know?”

“I don’t know; she hasn’t exactly been an angel,” Steve says – something he’s learned more about than he wants to know since SHIELD’s files were leaked, but he’s tried his best not to look at any of that, for her sake. “She might convince herself that she deserves someone like that.”

But Sam just rolls his eyes. “Not when she’s got you around,” he says. “Stop worrying so much and just… ask her out for coffee or something.”

Steve raises a brow. “Ask her out to coffee? When we live in the same building – that already has coffee?”

“Well, subtlety’s not gonna get you what you want,” he says. “I mean, if you really wanna, you can ask her out to ice cream or a mini golf date or something else, but I really think you wanna be direct.”

Steve sighs. “I don’t know…” He’s probably right. If he looks at this objectively, he can kind of see that. He can’t keep beating around the bush. He can’t keep pining silently and hoping things work out. But at the same time…

“I’m just saying,” Sam adds, “if you wait too long, Loki might break her down. God knows they’re not gonna last long, but then you’re gonna have to wait for her to move on and be ready to try again, and I have no idea how long that’s gonna take. I’m telling you, you’re better off shooting your shot now.”

Steve nods reluctantly. He really should ‘shoot his shot’ soon. He’s just… so worried it’s going to go wrong. He’s worried he’s going to make a mistake and ruin everything. Because yes, he would like a relationship with her, but he values the relationship they already have, too. He values just having her in his life, professionally and personally, and he doesn’t know what he’d do if he ruined that.

Sam claps him on the back. “It’s gonna go great,” he assures him. “At least you know she already likes you – probably more than anyone but Clint, and I’m pretty sure he’s not competition.”

“No, they have a special kind of relationship,” Steve says. “He’s definitely not competition – and honestly, even if this does work out, I have a feeling I’ll always be second place to him.”

Sam cocks an eyebrow. “And you’re okay with that?”

Steve shrugs. “I mean, he basically saved her life. He’s the reason she’s here right now, alive, fighting with the good guys. I can’t be upset about that.”

Sam nods understandingly.

“Loki, on the other hand…” Steve looks back at the god, still dancing with Natasha and looking far too comfortable doing it. He can’t see Natasha’s face from where he stands, but he can see Loki’s, and he can see that smug smirk on his lips as he holds her to him. His eyes are closed – which is so weird – and they’re just swaying back and forth to the music like they’re the only two people in the world.

What a bastard.

“You and I both know there’s nothing serious going on there,” Sam says.

“I know that,” Steve says. “But I don’t know if she knows that.” He takes another few moments to just watch, scowling at the sight before him. “If he hurts her…”

“Hey, she’s a big girl,” Sam reminds him. “She’ll be fine.”

He wishes he could trust that. He wishes he could trust that he wasn’t going to fall into this trap; that she’s just playing around, just humoring him, and that she knows not to get attached. She has to understand that she’s playing a dangerous game. She has to.

Loki opens his eyes, and their gaze locks. Steve just narrows his eyes. This is ridiculous. He’s sure Loki knows it’s ridiculous, but it’s really fucking ridiculous. And it’s wrong, more importantly. He’s playing games with her, and it’s not funny.

Loki just looks down at her once more, his smile unwavering.

Steve scowls. He’s put up with a lot from the guy. He really did try to kind of give him the benefit of the doubt at first. If he wants to watch a movie with her or play a card game or watch YouTube videos, that’s fine. Even if that means intruding on Steve’s alone time with her, it’s fine. It’s annoying, yes, and he’s not happy about it, but it’s fine. He can’t stop Loki from making friends. If he’s going to be living among them until they find the scepter, it makes sense that he’d want someone to talk to that isn’t his brother.

But this… He’s taking this too far. He’s made it very clear that he’s not looking for a friend; he’s looking for a toy, and he picked the wrong one.

As if reading his mind, Sam says quietly, “Don’t do anything stupid, Cap.”

“I’m not,” Steve assures him. He’s not doing anything stupid. He’s doing something necessary – something he needs to do before this gets too far.

Chapter Text

Loki and Natasha are all smiles as they make their way back to their friends – using the word loosely in Loki’s case, of course. The slow dance had ended a couple minutes ago, but they didn’t leave when most of the couples did. Natasha had started dancing to whatever atrocious pop music had begun playing next – and looked adorable doing it – and Loki had laughed and joined in with some somewhat awkward bouncing around of his own.

Steve, of course, had scowled the whole time, because he should have been the one awkwardly bouncing around while she danced, not Loki.

But they’re on their way back now, which means that this nightmare is finally over. And, if he has his way, there’s not going to be another one. He’s going to put a stop to this before it gets any worse.

The two rejoin the group, and though Natasha had been walking on Loki’s left, she switches over to his right to stand by Steve’s side instead of Sam’s. It’s a small comfort, but he appreciates it. She still wants to spend the night with him. She’s just spending the night with him and a couple of other people.

“So,” Natasha greets him with a grin, and she looks over at Sam, too, as she speaks, “did we miss any riveting conversations?”

They share a look, and Sam answers with a rather casual, “Nope; it’s been pretty boring on this front.”

“Damn,” Natasha says. “Guess we’ll have to fix that.”

“Please do,” Sam says.

As far as Steve’s concerned, she ‘fixed that’ the moment she came back. It doesn’t take much for her to light up the room. She just does it naturally.

But there’s something he has to take care of first, so he turns to the resident demigod. “Loki, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Loki raises his brows, and he glances at Natasha, then at Sam, before he nods once. “I suppose.”

Sam slaps him on the arm and shoots him a warning look, but Steve waves it off. He murmurs a quiet, “Excuse us,” and leads Loki away.

They find a spot along the wall not too far from there, but certainly far enough away that neither Natasha nor Sam could hear them – and with how loud the music is, he feels fairly confident that nobody will be able to hear them, even if they’re actively trying. It’s probably for the best: a big part of this party is that it’s supposed to be good PR for Loki, and what he’s about to say is not going to help his case.

“Is there a problem?” Loki asks him when they’ve stopped. He asks it so innocently. It makes Steve want to slap him.

Steve crosses his arms. “What are you doing?”

Loki smiles. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“With Nat,” Steve says, though he’s sure Loki knows exactly what he meant. “What are you doing?”

Loki shrugs, a pointedly carefree movement. “The DJ announced a slow dance. I would have been remiss not to take the opportunity to join.” With a sarcastic smirk, he adds, “I would have asked you to dance, but I suspect you wouldn’t have been so eager to agree.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m not playing games, Loki.”

“You’re not doing much of anything right now, really,” Loki remarks. “You’re glaring and speaking condescendingly, but otherwise…”

Steve clenches his jaw. He’s getting really sick of having this guy around.

“I assume you’re going to tell me off for asking Agent Romanoff to dance,” Loki says – which is true; he’s not wrong. “Allow me to stop you before you do. I understand that you do not like me, nor do I like you, so I have no intention of trying to change your mind. But you have no more claim to her than I do. She is her own person, and she has the right to make her own decisions.”

“I know she does,” Steve snaps. Of course he knows that. He’s not an idiot. “But she deserves the right to make her own decisions without being toyed with.”

Loki scoffs. “Toyed with?” he repeats, incredulous. “I am not toying with her.”

“No?” Steve cocks a brow. “Then what would you call it?”

“I would call it ‘being friendly,’” Loki says, “though I can understand why you’d be confused, as it seems that that’s something you’re unfamiliar with.”

Steve ignores that remark. “Just watch yourself,” he says. “Because if you hurt her, you’re done. I don’t care if we haven’t found the scepter. I don’t care that you don’t want to go back to Asgard. If you hurt her, you’re going home.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “You’re not worried that I’m going to hurt her,” he says. “You’re worried that I’m going to take her from you.”

“That’s not–”

“But she will make her own choice,” Loki continues, ignoring the interruption. “And should she choose you, I will respect that, and I will continue to be nothing but a friend to her. Should she choose me, I hope you’ll have the same respect.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “Stop pretending to be the bigger person,” he says. “We both know that’s not the case.”

Loki pats him on the shoulder, a condescending look on his face, and Steve smacks his hand away. “I admire that you’re worried about your friend,” he says. “And I can understand why you may think that this is a game to me, but I assure you, I take it as seriously as you. Natasha Romanoff is the only friend I have made in this realm, and she is the last person that I would want to hurt. But I do not have the same qualms about hurting you. So stay out of my way, or you will regret it.”

And with that, Loki turns and stalks away, making his way back to Natasha as though nothing happened.

Steve grits his teeth. Fuck this – and, more importantly, fuck him, too.

Chapter Text

Steve has not seen Natasha all day, but with the amount of alcohol that was consumed last night and with how late they all went to bed, he can’t say he’s surprised.

He’s had a pretty productive day, though. He woke up and went for a run, and then he took a nice, long shower and made himself a fruit smoothie. And now, the part of the day that he’s been most excited for: the Yankees game.

It took him a while to get used to present-day baseball. The game itself hasn’t changed, but it looks so different to him these days. The quality of the video is better; it’s in color now; the entire team changed in the blink of an eye. But he’s been able to watch for a few seasons since he got out of the ice, and he’s starting to get used to it. It’s still weird, relearning his entire team, but he’s been getting better with it. He’s been getting more comfortable with it.

It’s a commercial break right now, and sometimes, he swears these commercials also got longer while he was in the ice. But he passes the time the best he can. Today, he’s spending that time doodling. He finished his doodled baseball during the last commercial break, so for this commercial break, he’s drawing a cat instead. It’s not any specific cat. It’s not one he has a history with. He’s just drawing… a cat.

He has no idea why he's drawing a cat. It's actually kind of weird. He's not sure he's ever drawn a cat without a cat sitting in front of him.

And then there's a very familiar, very pleasant voice from the doorway.

“And what're you up to?” Natasha asks.

Steve looks up at her, and she flashes him a smile. He gives her a smile in return. He was wondering when he'd see her.

“Just watching the Yankees,” Steve tells her.

Natasha looks at the TV. “Huh. Didn't know the Yankees picked up a gecko for their team. Good for them.”

Steve looks at the TV, too, where he finds a Geico commercial playing. He chuckles at her joke, though it wasn't all that funny. “Yeah, all these commercials are killing me.”

“You look like you're making do,” she remarks with a pointed look at his sketch pad. “Working on anything fun?”

Steve doesn’t tend to show people his drawings, but it's Natasha and she's obviously a special case, so he turns his notebook to face her. “Right now, a cat.”

“Oh, cute!” she says with a grin, and she comes closer to the couch to get a better look. Steve hands her the notebook, and she looks it over, nodding approvingly. “A cat you know?”

Steve shakes his head. “Just… a cat.”

“Huh.” Natasha looks at the sketch pad again. “Well, it’s a cute cat.”

Steve cracks a smile. “Oh, thanks.” He thinks it’s pretty cute, too, if he’s being honest. He wishes it was a real cat. He'd like to meet the little guy.

Natasha invites herself onto the couch, taking a seat beside him. “Who’s winning so far?”

“So far? The Yankees,” Steve says, “but it’s pretty close.”

She sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Well, good luck to them.”

“They’re gonna need it,” Steve agrees. He pauses, pondering a question that’s never occurred to him before in all their sports-related conversations. “Are you actually a Yankees fan, or are you just saying that because you know I like the Yankees?”

Natasha shrugs. “Both,” she says. “You like the Yankees, so I like the Yankees.”

Steve smiles softly. She’s so cute.

“What’ve you been up to?” Steve asks. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Nursing a hangover,” Natasha answers. “Wish I had a more fun and exciting answer for you, but I spent half the morning puking in the toilet and sleeping on the bathroom floor.”

Steve chuckles. “Had a little bit too much to drink last night?”

“Oh, no,” she says sarcastically. “Not at all.” She nudges his shoulder playfully. “I bet that’s one thing you don’t miss about your pre-serum days: the hangovers.”

“Well, you’re not wrong about that,” Steve agrees, “although I do miss being able to get drunk.” Not that he did it all that often, but it was nice to at least have the option.

“I bet Thor could give you a hand with that,” Natasha tells him. “Loki says the alcohol in Asgard is way stronger than the stuff we’ve got here.”

Steve’s face falls at the mention of that name. Loki’s not even here and he’s ruining his day. That’s actually impressive. He’d doubtlessly be thrilled to hear that.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “What is it with you and Loki?”

“I just don’t like him,” Steve says. “I think he’s a good resource, but he’s not a good person, and he’s never going to be a good person.”

Natasha shrugs. “I don't know. I think he's about as good a person as I am.”

Steve sighs. “Nat…”

“I've done some bad things,” Natasha says. “You know that. Hell, the whole world knows that now. But I'm trying to be better, and I think that's where he is right now, too.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, see, you're trying to do better. You're trying to be a good person – a genuinely good, selfless person, who's trying to make the world a better place. But Loki's just…” He takes a moment to try to find the words. “He's not trying to make a difference in the world. He's just trying to stay out of trouble.”

Natasha shrugs once more. “Maybe you're right,” she says. “Maybe he's not trying to make a difference. But everybody starts somewhere, and as far as I’m concerned, he's doing a good thing.”

“I think you're giving the benefit of the doubt where it's not due,” Steve tells her.

“Maybe,” she admits. “But what can I say? I'm big on second chances.”

Steve frowns, but he doesn’t try to argue any further. Loki's already ruined this conversation enough. He'd like to change the subject before he ruins it further.

Natasha heaves a dramatic sigh and pulls her legs up on the couch, leaning into him and resting her head on his shoulder. “How far into the game are we?”

“They're heading into the sixth inning right now,” Steve tells her.

“So there's still about a million years left, then,” she surmises.

“You don't have to stay if you don't want to,” Steve tells her. “I don't mind watching on my own.” He'd planned to watch on his own, even; he wasn't expecting any visitors, though he certainly can't complain about the visitor he got.

“Of course I want to stay,” Natasha says. “Let me know if I'm in your way when you're trying to draw, though.”

Though having her head on his shoulder does make it much more difficult to draw, he lies and says, “No, you're okay where you are.”

“Perfect.” Natasha snuggles up next to him, and she looks up at him through her lashes, a small smile on her face. “You know, this is the highlight of my day so far.”

~~~

Apparently, the highlight of her day is not all that exciting, because she's passed out by the time the eighth inning ends. And, to be fair, the majority of her day has been spent recuperating in the bathroom; he should have known it wasn't a high bar to clear.

He doesn’t mind, though. He doesn’t need her to watch the game with him. Just having her here snuggled up with him is more than enough for him.

There’s another commercial break, and he's convinced that every commercial break he has to sit through takes another year off his life. Fortunately, he has his sketchbook and one free hand to hold a pencil to keep him entertained. It's not the easiest way to draw, with half his body out of commission because there's a beautiful woman sleeping on it, but it's a sacrifice he's willing to make for the view.

He doesn’t even think about it before he does it. It just feels so obvious. With Natasha looking so beautiful, so peaceful, on top of him, he just has to draw her.

His pencil skirts across the paper, quickly and gently as it forms her outline. And slowly, piece by piece, feature by feature, it starts to take shape. Her head, her hair, her face… It comes so naturally to him. It always does with her.

He glances at the TV every now and then, but the commercials continue to drone on, so he continues to draw. He turns his attention to her lips, just a rough outlined sketch right now, and starts to reshape them. He looks between her lips and those on his sketchpad, and he tries to replicate them. This curves upwards a little more; this curve isn't quite so defined; this one's a bit softer than he drew it. It's like a game, and one he could spend hours playing.

And then he notices a new curve to those lips as they curl upwards in a smile. He raises his gaze to hers, and he's not surprised to find that she's looking down at his sketchbook.

He can feel the warmth in his cheeks, but he tries to play it off like this isn't the most embarrassing thing she could have caught him doing right now. “You know, it's pretty hard to draw when your subject won't stop moving.”

Natasha huffs a quiet laugh and readjusts herself, letting herself get more comfortable against his chest. “It looks good,” she murmurs as her eyes flutter closed once more. “Can't wait to see it when it's done.”

Steve cracks a smile. He doesn’t often get to see the sleepy side of her. He's so used to seeing her at her most badass. It's nice to see her just being cute.

Unfortunately, she's moved a bit, which makes it a little more difficult to finish this. If he's being honest, he hadn't really intended to finish it at all. It was just something to work on to kill time during the break, and then ideally to flip past before Natasha woke up to see it.

But now he feels like he has to. He's going to finish it, and he's going to give it to her when he's done, because the only thing weirder than that is to let her see him drawing a picture of her sleeping and then keeping it himself.

… He does have a few other sketches of her in here. He'll try not to let her see those ones. That would definitely get weird.

The baseball game comes back on, and Steve puts his pencil down, giving the TV his full attention. This really could be anyone's game, and he's excited – and a bit nervous – to see how it's going to go. He just has to hope the Yankees can hold onto their lead until the end of the inning.

Natasha hums quietly and adjusts her position once more, her head resting against his shoulder. He smiles softly and rests his head on top of hers. If he's being honest, he doesn’t care too much which team wins the game tonight. As far as he's concerned, he's the one winning right now.

Chapter Text

What was the most insane mission you’ve ever had?

That’s the question that Natasha and Clint are ruminating on as they walk the halls of the tower, with no real end goal in sight. It’s just something to do; something to think about; something to talk about. They’ve started running out of conversation starters, living together for as long as they have now. They had to start getting inventive.

“Is it a cop-out to say fighting Loki?” Natasha asks. That was a pretty insane mission. They had to fight a literal god and stop an alien invasion. That’s pretty insane by default, she thinks. She’s not sure either of them can top that one.

Clint huffs. “That one’s definitely a cop-out.”

Natasha puts her hands up in a sarcastic surrender of sorts. “Fine, fine,” she says. “I’ll pick another one.”

“Thank you,” Clint says with playful indignance.

“Now you pick while I’m brainstorming,” Natasha says. “Inspire me. What’s your most insane mission?”

Clint hums thoughtfully. “I think…” He purses his lips, the gears visibly turning in his head. “I think it’s gotta be that time I got sent to New Mexico for some stupid hammer and it ended up being the world’s first contact with extraterrestrials.”

Natasha scoffs. “Oh, so you get to pick your god story, but I don’t get to pick my god story?”

“Your god story was unprecedented levels of weird from the jump,” Clint reminds her. “My god story was just supposed to be a normal Tuesday.”

Natasha narrows her eyes playfully. “I don’t think that’s fair criteria when we’re specifically talking about insane missions.”

“Well, I asked the question, so I get to pick the rules,” Clint replies with a smug smirk.

Natasha rolls her eyes lightheartedly. He’s such a pain in the ass. She loves him for it.

“Okay, fine,” she says. “Then my most insane mission that started as ‘just another Tuesday’ was the routine retrieval mission that resulted in tearing down SHIELD as a whole.” She smirks back at him, just as smug as he is. “Try to top that one.”

Clint nods slowly as he thinks about that. “Yeah, no, I don’t think I can top that one,” he concedes. “And, for the record, I’m still pissed you didn’t invite me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Natasha says, playing up her exasperation at this complaint that she’s heard a million times in the last few months. “Maybe you should’ve been at SHIELD and not on the farm, and I could have invited you.”

“I had a phone, you know,” Clint says, just like he always does when this comes up.

“And you know damn well that Pierce was keeping an eye on any message in or out of it,” Natasha reminds him, just like every time before. “He knew you were my favorite dumbass. If I was going to text anyone, it would’ve been you, and they were counting on that.”

“Aw, I’m your favorite dumbass?” Clint coos, batting his eyelashes at her. “Out of all the dumbasses you know, I’m your favorite?”

“Oh, without a doubt,” Natasha assures him, patting him on the shoulder with playful condescension. “You really put the dumb in dumbass.”

“I like to think I also put the ass in dumbass, if I do say so myself,” Clint says with a smirk, smacking his own ass for emphasis.

Natasha brings a fist up to her mouth, a failed attempt at stifling her laughter. For a guy who largely acts like a stoic badass in public, he’s such a fucking dork at heart.

“Wait, I thought of a different, more insane mission,” Clint declares.

Natasha cocks a brow. “More insane than running into a de-powered god in the middle of Nowhere, USA?”

Clint hesitates, then backtracks a little bit: “Okay, I don’t know if it was more insane, but it was at least on the same level of insanity.”

Natasha huffs. “Well, now I’m interested,” she says. “What’s this massively insane mission you’re thinking about?”

“Well, it started pretty mundane, all things considered,” Clint admits. “One of those ‘get in, take out the target, and get out’ kind of deals.”

Natasha nods understandingly. She’s had her fair share of those kinds of missions, too. Hell, it felt like nearly every mission she got in the Red Room was one of those, and a not-insignificant portion of her SHIELD missions, too.

“So I went over to Europe,” Clint continues, “and, like I said, it was just supposed to be a quick thing – one day, two days max – so all I brought with me was my bow, a toothbrush, and a change of underwear. So I found the target, you know, lined up my shot, ready to take ‘em out… And then we killed her boss, hid in a ceiling vent for two days straight, and I brought her home with me.”

Natasha huffs a laugh, looking up at her friend with a fond smile. That was cute, actually. She wasn’t expecting that. She probably should have, if she’s being honest. She probably should have been able to figure it out by the subtle smirk on his lips alone. But it was a cute surprise.

“Okay, that was pretty insane,” Natasha admits. “Not one of my favorite missions in the moment, but I gotta admit, it turned out pretty nice in the end.” There’s still a part of her that regrets it. There’s still a part of her that’s convinced they could have done it differently; that they could have taken Dreykov out without getting his poor daughter involved. But, ultimately, it was one mission they couldn’t afford to blow, and if that was what it took to make sure that they got Dreykov, to make sure that the Red Room was never coming back, to make sure that she could get out, then it was worth it. They had to do it. It was for the greater good.

At least, that’s what she tries to tell herself when she’s lying in bed at night as the guilt of her actions eats away at her like termites on a log cabin.

“It did, didn’t it?” Clint agrees, bumping her shoulder with his own as they walk. “Seeing Thor for the first time might be the real most insane mission I’ve ever been on, but Budapest was definitely the best of ‘em.”

Natasha smiles softly. “It worked out pretty well,” she agrees. She’d go as far as to say it saved her life. It certainly gave her a life worth living – a life she could be proud of; a life of using her skills for something genuinely good. She’s pretty damn happy with how this all turned out.

And then, as though appearing out of thin air, Loki steps into view down the half and starts walking straight toward them, as casual as casual can be. Natasha cracks a smile. He really does show up at the most random of moments.

Clint huffs, an air of annoyance to it. “I’m surprised it took him this long.”

“He’s a very ‘when you least expect it, expect it’ kind of guy,” Natasha remarks. She kind of likes that about him. She kind of likes that he just appears at random. It keeps her on her toes.

“Agent Romanoff,” Loki greets her as they get closer, with that little smirk on his lips. “Barton.” He gives the archer a courteous nod, not nearly as friendly as his greeting to Nat, but not unfriendly, either.

“Loki,” Natasha replies, matching his tone with her own. “How do you always know exactly where to look for me?” It’s impressive, really. She can’t deny that. Especially now, when she’s just meandering around the building, nowhere specific in mind. She should be a lot harder to track down than he makes her seem.

“Who’s to say I’ve been looking for you?” Loki asks playfully. “Perhaps it's simply fate that brings us together time and time again.”

Natasha shakes her head to herself, and she can’t fight back the smile on her lips. She knows damn well that he was looking for her – that he’s always looking for her when he shows up like this. It doesn’t make that answer any less adorable. She has to give him credit: if there are two things Loki’s good at, they would be kicking ass and kissing it. She hopes that never changes.

So Loki joins them on their aimless walk around the tower, and though Clint is doubtlessly annoyed by the intrusion, he keeps his thoughts off his face and out of his mouth, which is far more than Steve would have been able to say if he’d been here. She loves all of her boys, but she has to give Clint credit where it’s due. He’s been very tolerant of her weird unserious flirty relationship with the resident ex-villain.

“Are we talking about anything exciting?” Loki asks them.

Clint answers that, not entirely incorrectly, with, “Well, we agreed that kicking your ass is the coolest thing either of us have ever done.”

Loki huffs, more amused than anything. “Yes, I imagine it was.”

Natasha watches him carefully, looking for even the most minute microexpression that betrays his thoughts. But really, he doesn’t seem at all bothered by the reminder that they did, in fact, kick his ass. She has to wonder how he really feels about that. Does he still harbor a grudge? Is there a part of him that appreciates that he lost? Is there a piece of him that understands just how out-of-hand things had gotten, and that understands that this was the best way it could have ended?

“Other than our… unique first meeting,” Loki says, “are we talking about anything exciting?”

Natasha glances at Clint. He glances back at her. Neither of them jump in with an answer, so they must not have been talking about anything too exciting.

Finally, Natasha says, “Not yet, but if you have any ideas, we're taking suggestions.”

Loki shakes his head, spreading his arms in a carefree shrug of sorts. “I can't say I do,” he says. “Unless we'd like to talk about something as mundane as the weather – and I must ask, does it always rain this much on Midgard?”

Natasha shrugs. “Welcome to springtime in New York.”

“Hmm,” Loki hums. “Sounds miserable.”

“Could be worse,” Clint quips. “Could be aliens falling from the sky instead of water. Wouldn't be the first time that's happened around here.”

Natasha elbows him in the side, but Clint's smug smirk tells her he thinks that little jab was worth it.

Loki also doesn't seem to mind, if his quiet huff of laughter is any indication. He doesn’t say anything about it. It's probably for the best. She can't imagine there's any possible good answer for that.

“What’s the weather like in Asgard?” Natasha asks him, mostly just for an excuse to change the subject away from his misdeeds. Teasingly, she adds, “Perfectly sunny and warm all the time in your godly paradise?”

Loki huffs. “Not with the God of Thunder living there,” he says. “It was especially bad when we were young and he was just learning to control his powers.” The corners of his lips quirk upward in a slight smile as he reminisces on the past. “The storms would come and go often within minutes. One would always know if Thor was angry, even from halfway across the realm.”

Natasha snorts. “Oh, I bet that was fun.”

“Hey, maybe all this rain’s Thor’s fault,” Clint remarks.

Loki shakes his head. “As much as I enjoy blaming Thor for all of my problems, I don’t think this is his doing, if only because he’s far too happy these days to be causing so many storms.”

“You think so?” Natasha asks. Does he seem happy? She wouldn’t really know. That’s a weird thought. She doesn’t know him well enough – hasn’t known him long enough, really – to know if he’s happy or not. Loki does, though, so if he says that Thor’s happy, she’s inclined to believe it. It’s a nice thought.

“Oh, absolutely,” Loki says. “An escape from our home whenever he so pleases; a plethora of friends between multiple realms; a beautiful girl on his arm.” He looks at her when he says that part, pointedly, a subtle smile on his lips. She suspects there’s an unspoken implication there; a subtle reminder of a potential similarity between them. She pretends she doesn’t notice; inside, she’s quite enjoying the thought.

“He keeps telling us he’s going to bring his little lady up someday,” Clint says. “Has he given you an ETA on that, or is he just lying through his teeth to get us to shut up about it?”

“Well, he hasn’t mentioned it to me,” Loki says, “but then, I wouldn’t call his lady friend and I ‘close.’ I suspect I’ll be the last to hear of this.”

Clint snorts. “Oh, yeah? What’d you do to her?”

“To her? Absolutely nothing,” Loki says. “To her friend and to the world as a whole?” He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Well, I can understand why her first instinct upon meeting me was to slap me.”

Natasha bursts out laughing, not because that’s especially funny but because it’s so absurd. Thor’s itty bitty nerdy little girlfriend slapped Loki? And, maybe more impressively, she lived to tell the tale? If she didn’t want to meet Jane Foster before, she certainly does now.

“Oh, I like her already,” Clint says with a grin.

Loki huffs. “Funny, I said the same thing.”

Natasha shakes her head to herself. “Oh, Loki. You’re such a character.”