Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or its characters.

A/N: Just a little idea that popped into my head a while ago. Sorry I am so terrible with titles. Also, I feel like I have a tendency to write a very sympathetic Loki, and I hope you all don't mind that. I want to explore the sentimental and emotional side of him instead of just the villainous side. I welcome all comments and criticisms, so if you see any mistakes or awkward parts, please let me know! In any case, I hope you enjoy it!


Winter

Winter was by far Natasha's favorite season. When other citizens of New York City rushed back into their heated and comfortable homes and apartments, Natasha found herself basking in the glory of the cold. She remembered times back in Russia when even the thickest winter coat couldn't stop the freezing bite of winter. The somber darkness of the early evenings was calm and familiar, and it always beckoned to Natasha to leave her own comforting apartment and venture outside. Alone and in the cold was a combination to which Natasha was quite accustomed.

One evening, her feet had taken her to Central Park. She didn't venture too far into its grounds, preferring to walk around its perimeter. She took a seat on a park bench, admiring the city lights and the snow.

"It's a bit chilly to be out and about, isn't it?" a voice said, coming from behind her.

She didn't flinch. "You of all people should know how to handle it, what with being a Frost Giant and all."

She turned to face the source of the voice. Loki scowled at her comment. He walked around the bench before sitting down, all the while still staring her down with disdain.

"Let's not bring up our pasts, Natasha. You know how much the subjects upset both of us," he said in a low, velvety, and mildly threatening voice.

A tiny smirk tugged at her lips. "Deal."

Natasha entertained herself by watching the clouds of her breath disappear into the coldness. Loki gave her a puzzled look that Natasha pretended not to see. She loved to tease him with silence, always pushing him to speak first. After all, words were his specialty, not hers.

"You're a bit far from home. What brings you out to this dreary park?" he finally asked, unable to bear the silence any longer.

"Well, I was enjoying the silence of my solitude before you so rudely interrupted it," she said in a sassy tone.

They looked at each other, each with a sly grin.

"Well aren't you cheeky tonight?" he shot back.

Natasha suddenly jumped to her feet and extended a hand out to her godly companion. "Let's go. Coldness might be in my blood, but I am human and can only take so much of it."


The first winter he came was three years ago, a year after his attack on the city. By then, most people had forgotten his face, probably because they had been more interested in the faces of the Avengers team right after the attack. Natasha hadn't forgotten, but she also hadn't expected to ever see him again. So when the God of Mischief appeared on the streets of Manhattan, she wasn't sure whether to immediately attack him or calmly question him.

He only came during the winter, and always at night time. He kept his visits brief, never staying longer than twenty four hours. Sometimes he'd only come once during the whole season, sometimes several times. Each time was dripping with the uncertainty of his return, so they always made the most of it.

Natasha remembered the bruises on her neck after his first return to Earth. The sex had been angry, fierce, full of throwing and hitting and biting and the murmurs of angry, bitter words. Neither of them really knew how it happened, but soon after their encounter on the street, they were back in her apartment, ripping their clothes off while keeping a watchful eye on each other. He had said some choice words to her afterward, and she told him never to come back to Earth ever again or else she'd kill him the next time she saw him.

"I see you take your namesake quite seriously, killing your lover after mating" he had said, chuckling. Natasha had thrown a knife at him, but his body had turned to smoke before it even left her fingers. There was still a slit in the wall where the knife had lodged itself. She'd left it there ever since, partially from indifference to fixing it, partially to remind him that should he turn on her, she'd hunt him down and make sure he didn't disappear this time.

On his third visit during the following winter, Natasha brought up a subject she knew would cause trouble. She was feeling curious, but also mischievous; she wanted to get under his skin the way he got under hers. It seemed like he always knew what to say to piss her off, and now she wanted to return the favor.

"What do you really look like?" she had asked.

The inquiry had caught him off guard. "What?"

"What do you look like as a...as a Frost Giant?"

His expression had grown angry within a nanosecond, and he brought his face close to hers. "Don't you dare ever ask that of me ever again," he threatened. He hadn't touched her, but had merely hovered in her personal space, staring her down. Then he had left as quickly as possible in a flash of smoke.

The next few times they saw each other, she didn't dare bring it up. Once she felt like enough time had passed, she would casually drop it into conversation, most times as a retort to something he had said, but she never pushed the subject further than a joking level. Detailed discussion of their pasts became a taboo between them, and the balance had rarely been upset since her first mention of it.


The temperature of Natasha's apartment was only a mild sixty degrees, but it felt shockingly warm compared to the near freezing temperature outside. Natasha peeled off her winter layers one by one before disappearing into the kitchen. Loki could hear the sound of glasses and dishes clinking lightly as he sat down to wait for her on the couch. She soon appeared in the doorway that connected the kitchen to the living room, holding up two glasses of scotch. The ice cubes jingled in the glasses as she sauntered over to the couch.

"I must admit, I wasn't expecting you to arrive this early," she said, handing him one of the drinks. She took a delicate sip of hers, letting the liquid rest on her tongue before warmly sliding down her throat. "But then again, you never really let me know beforehand."

"Living on two separate worlds can cause that kind of miscommunication," Loki replied coolly after taking a sip of his own.

Natasha ran her finger along the rim of her glass, staring at the ice cubes slowly melting in the amber liquid.

"Why do you only come in winter?" she asked.

Loki laughed softly. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Well, yeah, I get it, it's in our nature. We're cold-blooded creatures. But...don't you ever want to see Earth in its other seasons?"

"I'm not like Thor, always aching to visit his mortal girlfriend. He jumps at any and every chance he can get to go visit his precious Jane. But I prefer to keep my visits short and sparse. I'm not tied up with emotions like he is," Loki said quickly and defensively.

Natasha's eyes narrowed, and she felt something other than the alcohol burning her from the inside. "Oh, I see. You just come back down to Earth for your mortal fuck buddy. Is that all I am to you? Just somebody you have sex with and nothing more?"

"Nata—" he started, but she cut him off.

"So why do you come here if it's just for sex? There aren't any Asgardian women aching to jump into bed with you?"

Loki remained silent, but his face was defiant. The anger was building up inside Natasha too quickly for her to pause and rationalize. There was no stopping her words as they slipped from her tongue and into the air. She wanted to hurt him with her words as much as his words had hurt her.

"You just come here because you know I'm the only person in all the realms willing to fuck you. I guess it makes sense; who would ever want to fuck a Frost Giant?"

Loki snarled and moved his face closer to hers. "To continue talking like that would be most unwise, Natasha."

"It can't be any more unwise than having sex with a monster."

Loki's eyes narrowed, holding Natasha's in his gaze. He slammed his drink down on her coffee table, nearly breaking the glass. A low growl rose from his throat. Natasha knew what he was thinking, but she was quicker. Within seconds, the barrel of her gun was pressed against the bottom of his chin. She could see the angry flames brewing in his eyes as they stared each other down.

"Don't you dare touch me," she whispered.

Loki growled again, and Natasha pressed her gun harder into his flesh. "I think you'd better leave," she said firmly.

Loki backed off, but Natasha still held her gun pointed at him. He moved so quickly and gracefully to the door, Natasha wasn't quite sure it had really happened until she felt the slamming of the door reverberate throughout the apartment. She swore under her breath and threw back the rest of her scotch, her face twisted as it burned its way down her throat.

She climbed back into her many layers and headed out the door herself. She needed to clear her head; outside seemed like a better place to unwind than at the scene of their confrontation. On her second walk of the evening, Natasha replayed the scene in her apartment over and over in her head. His words stung like the icy air, and she hated that he couldn't be honest with her. But then again, she was never completely honest with him either. They were both guilty of lying, of being secretive. It's a reflex, she told herself. We can't help but be cautious. Trusting people gets us into trouble. It gets us hurt.

When her anger had cooled off, she headed back to her apartment. She figured Loki was long gone by now, back on Asgard, easing his own anger. She was startled when she opened her door to find him standing in her apartment in the dark.

"Shit, Loki!" she exclaimed in surprise.

He looked at his feet like a dog that had been scolded. Natasha could see his lips struggle to let the words escape. She knew an apology was a hard thing to squeeze out of Loki, so she was the first to surrender.

"I'm sorry for what I said, Loki," she said gently as she approached him.

He looked up at her, his eyes slightly glossy with tears. He nodded his head, still silent. It wasn't a verbal apology, but Natasha could tell he was sorry. She could also tell he was still hurt. Regaining his composure, he walked over to her bedroom.

"I want to show you something," he said over his shoulder. Intrigued, Natasha quickly followed.

The room grew colder and Natasha shivered despite still being layered under three jackets.

"You once asked if you could see what I look like. What I really look like," Loki said softly. He turned to face her as his skin began to turn blue and his eyes grew red.

When the transformation was complete, he stood silently, waiting for Natasha to speak. But she was speechless. She walked closer to him, an arm outstretched to touch his face. Where his complexion was once smooth, there were now lines of slightly raised skin in intricate lines and patterns. She ran her fingers over them several times, fascinated by his true form.

"Am I a monster?" he asked in a whisper.

Natasha's eyes met the red ones of Loki. A tear fell from her eye and rolled down her cheek.

"No."

Their lips met slowly and with remorse. Tears stained both their faces as their tongues pushed through their lips and their kiss grew more intense. They tried not to part for too long as they fumbled with their heavy layers of clothes. Natasha's were easier to remove, but Loki's outfit was much more intricate. When they had finally removed all their clothing, they fell onto the bed, wrapped in each other's arms. Natasha pulled away to get a fuller look of Loki's blue skin. Her fingers lightly followed the lines that decorated his body.

"Now you see why nobody else wants to, as you so eloquently put it, 'fuck me.'"

She smirked. "Good. I don't want anyone else to."

Their lips met again, this time more passionately. Loki stayed in his Frost Giant form as he slid himself into her. For the first time during sex, it seemed as if they were perfectly in sync with each other, emotionally and physically. Their lips rarely parted, and when they did, they never looked away from each other. When they both came, the whole world seemed to shake.

Loki's skin started to turn back to the pale, fleshy beige color when Natasha whispered, "No. Don't change."

He didn't hesitate to revert back to blue, and he stayed that way the entire night, with Natasha wrapped in his arms. She snuggled closer to him as if trying to make his body engulf her own. Despite the sporadic timing of his visits, Natasha was happy with what they had.

Winter had always been her favorite season.