Oh look, a magical gift fic for thorki-smut, the most amazing lady to ever grace tumblr :D
This turned out to be way longer than I thought it would be, and went all the places I hadn't exactly planned, so I hope you still like it, pumpkin. I worked super hard on it. 'twas a labor of loooove; angsty, awkwardly romantic, Clint-centric loooooooooooooove.
Anyways, here's your magical alternate ending fic, honeybunch~ Happy reading.
Part One
Clint Barton considered himself a reasonable man. On his best day, he might even go so far as to call himself agreeable. But at the very least he could usually manage to keep his cool, if only for efficiency's sake. There were only two things in the world that could put him off his mood- being asked to explain himself and blunt force trauma. Somehow, within the span of an hour, both of those things had happened. Repeatedly.
Sometimes he really hated his job.
"You still haven't answered the question."
Sometimes he really hated Natasha too, but that was probably just the headache talking.
Grumbling a bit, he took another sip of the water she'd brought him. He'd have rathered soda, which didn't seem like an exorbitant request. She'd had him walled up for the last three hours and bombarded him with questions he didn't know the answers to in the first place. The least she could have done was give him a few cans of Coke for his trouble. She wouldn't have it though- said he needed the hydration. Which was infuriating. And loving.
Ok, he probably didn't hate her.
"You haven't asked me one I can answer yet."
She didn't look convinced, but after hours of this run-around he hadn't expected her to. If he was honest, he probably wouldn't have believed himself either.
Natasha fisted a hand in her hair, looking as weary of the interrogation as Clint felt. "So that's it? Loki goes through the trouble of taking you on board, then doesn't tell you anything but his name?"
In his defense he knew a bit more than that, but he got the point.
"The guy just wanted a bit of security. I provided it. How many of your secrets would you spill to a body guard?"
She still didn't look overly convinced, but she didn't offer a quick retort like she had for the last few hours. Small victories. He threw back the rest of the water and let Natasha pluck the cup from his hands before continuing. "Besides, his plans weren't exactly at the forefront. He had plenty of other things he wanted to talk about."
Not all of them pertaining to himself, which Clint found surprising now that he thought about it. Loki struck him as the egotistical type.
Some of Natasha's earlier spark returned. "That so?"
She took to nibbling on the lip of the cup. One of her quirks, though if she noticed the habit she never talked about it. Whenever she picked up a scent, she'd chew on whatever she had in her hands. Pencils, the tips of her hair, and undoubtedly cups- anything was fair game. Maybe it helped her think. "And you're sure none of it is relevant?"
There were a lot of words for what had passed between them. Relevant wasn't one of them.
"Positive."
"Run it by me anyway."
"What do you want me to say, Tasha?" he snapped. "That he was some gloating bastard? He wasn't."
And that silenced her for the moment, either from satisfaction with his answer or irritation. The pursing of her lips and the slight stomp she gave as she stood to refill the cup hinted at the latter. He didn't blame her. They were never short with one another. It probably stung.
He jumped at bit when she slammed the tap closed. Scratch that. It most definitely stung. He waited for her to return to her seat before making amends.
"Sorry. I'm tired as hell."
It was terrible apology, but Natasha accepted it anyway. Shrugging, she passed him the now full glass. "I'm just doing my job."
Damn the job. It'd gotten him nothing but grilled and hit all afternoon. "I'm about tired of mine."
She cracked her first smile of the afternoon. "Rough week, huh?"
"Had worse. Like I said, the guy wasn't that bad."
He took a sip from the cup before passing it back. He really hated the taste of water. The second she let him go he planned on finding the nearest drink machine, even if that meant jumping ship.
Natasha fiddled with the cup again, stilling mulling something over. He hoped to god it was something with a one-word answer, because dammit if he wasn't sick of this room.
"How was he? Really."
Clint grunted in disapproval.
"Purely personal interest," she added, no doubt to coax him.
"You mean it, or are you just trying to get me to talk?"
"I mean it."
He wasn't so sure. She rarely did anything out of personal interest. Not that it would matter. He'd meant it when he said his and Loki's interactions were irrelevant. Reporting any of it would be superfluous. No harm in letting her have her way.
"He talked a lot. Mostly about home and his brother, though. He didn't have much to say for himself. Seemed to like listening, too. He asked a bunch of pointless questions."
"Such as?"
Eager. Maybe she would report it. Ah well. Too late. It would only be a spectacular waste of time for her, anyway. "You know, pointless questions people like to ask. If my family and I get along, if I like where I live, if I love anyone. People stuff."
Natasha slumped a bit in her chair. "Oh."
Clint snorted a bit at that. He'd never seen her lose interest in a subject so quickly. Then again, she'd never been one for "people stuff". It bored her, or scared her. He hadn't figured it out yet.
For a moment, he thought it would end there. She'd been losing momentum for the last hour and a half, anyway. It was a good a time as any to call it quits. While he waited for dismissal, he made a mental list of all the possible places on the ship where he might find a soda machine. The dining area, definitely, but that was a ways off. Maybe he'd run across a break room on the way. There'd probably be one there. Of course, then there was the issue of paying for it. He supposed he could just-
"You like him?"
Oh. Apparently they weren't done. "Pardon?"
"Loki. Do you like him?"
"How so?"
"Normally so."
Clint considered it a moment. He had yet to make that call. Loki had been odd company, but not as bad as he would have thought. Going off first impressions, he'd expected someone, well, harsher. His edges were rough, and he was unbelievably pissed at god knew what, but that described over half of Clint's co-workers and he liked them well enough. And few of them were as accommodating as the man had been. Nothing but hospitable, honestly, and attentive, at least towards him. Loki had latched onto him, just as much for company as safeguarding. He'd felt more like a guest in a strange house than anything else. All that said, he supposed he shouldn't care for him for the simple fact that the man had commandeered his mind. Still, Loki was uncommonly likeable, and the urge was damn near irresistible.
But he wouldn't tell Natasha that. Not now anyway. She'd just want to talk about it, and he couldn't have wanted anything less. Maybe after a few hours sleep, but not now.
"He's not that bad."
"Must be talking about two different guys."
"Or one guy with an image to uphold. You know how that is."
Natasha landed a teasing punch to his shoulder. "Ass."
"Twat."
She huffed in mock fury and punched him a bit harder, and he couldn't resist flinching away from it that time. She'd hit hard enough earlier to make him nervous. It didn't escape her notice and she pulled back, looking nothing short of sheepish. "How about a peace offering?"
Clint tried his hand at looking disinterested. "I can't be bought."
"Not even with that Coke you wanted?"
She didn't wait for him to drop his act, not that she needed to. He'd complained enough earlier for her to know it was a suitable trade.
"I'll be back in a few," she said, standing and heading for the door. "Try to get some sleep while I'm gone, yea? You look terrible."
Clint snorted, chucking a spare pillow at her. She managed to slip through the door before it reached her, and instead it collided with the frame. Not nearly as satisfying, but he could live with it.
"Thanks, mom."
She yelled something back, but was too far down the hall by then for it to be discernible. He doubted it mattered, though. She'd have thought of a better jab by the time she came back, anyway. He wouldn't miss out.
Taking her advice, he slid down into the bed, resting against the remaining pillow. The contact made his skull throb, but he opted to ride it out instead of repositioning. The bare mattress would only hurt worse, and it'd dissipate soon enough anyway. All he needed to do was sleep it off. If he hurried off, he might be able to squeak out thirty minutes. Better than nothing.
Way better than a bash to the head, at least.
Had he the energy, he might have laughed at the thought. The bed was comfortable, though, and had already given under his weight and formed to the curve of his back. It had effectively drained the last vestiges of his will. He'd just have to remember it and tell Natasha when she got back. She'd laugh. Or hit him again. Either way, she'd be amused.
Using the last of his strength to burrow into the sheets, he drifted off, hoping the nearest Coke was on the opposite side of the ship and that Natasha got pulled into a meeting along the way. Thirty minutes was better than nothing, but an hour or two would be real damn nice.
0-0-0
"You hate me." It was an odd thing to say, but Clint wasn't surprised. Loki consistently said odd things.
He knew this room. It was Loki's, where he went when he needed to think or wanted Clint to himself. The latter was more frequent, but Clint supposed he wouldn't have wanted to be alone if he were Loki either.
But this wasn't real. Not now. It had been, but now it was just a memory. Or a dream. "Dream" was probably a better word in this situation.
Clint looked up from his boots to find Loki staring. Again, he wasn't surprised. The man watched him like he would break away at any second. Irrational. He couldn't have left if he tried.
"No sir," he said, meeting his gaze. The man liked that- watching for lies, no doubt. But Clint wasn't going to lie. He doubted that was even an option. "Don't have much reason to."
Loki scoffed, tugging at the ends of his hair. Nervous habit, perhaps. "You will."
He thought about denying it, but the man anticipated it and held up his hand for silence. Biting his tongue, Clint watched as Loki slid down his place on the wall, curling into himself a bit once seated. He looked tired. Real tired, but he wasn't going to point it out.
"You will," the man repeated, not bothering to look at him again. "You'll come out of this eventually. Those friends of yours will see to it." He paused, tucking his knees under his chin. "And when they do, this will be nothing but a bad dream, and I its creator. And you'll hate me for it. Bitterly, perhaps. It would certainly be justified."
Loki finally looked back at him, and Clint took it as his cue to speak. "You bothered by it, sir?"
"I'm bored with it." It was a flat answer. He certainly sounded bored. "Sit."
He came forward, taking a seat directly in front of the man. Had Loki not tucked his legs against his chest, they might even had been knee to knee. Close, like Loki liked it. Clint wondered when exactly during his stay he'd become so aware of what Loki liked, but the man didn't leave him much time to think. Satisfied with Clint's obedience, he pressed on.
"I've developed a talent for turning people against me. Some permanently. Others- well. Suffice it to say that some men have loved and hated me alternatively for as long as I've had the power to turn them. I had thought-" Another pause, longer than the first. Loki let his feet slip out from under him and come to rest on either side of Clint's knees, shoulders rising and falling with a heavy sigh. He looked like a child. "There was thrill in it, at the start. Now I'm not so sure."
"Change of heart?"
"Don't be stupid."
That probably was a yes, but even after such a short time together, Clint knew Loki well enough to know he wouldn't admit it. Stubborn. Family trait, from what he'd heard of Thor. Letting the man have his comfort, he backed down.
"Sorry sir."
Loki waved it off. "It was innocent enough."
It didn't require an answer. He didn't give one. A comfortable silence fell over the two of them, during which Loki kept his eyes trained on him. Clint did his best not to notice. It seemed rude, for whatever reason, so he pretended to be interested in his boots for a while, then the wall, then the hem of Loki's pants- anything but his eyes, which were doing their best to drill through Clint's face. He wondered what the man was looking for, but he wouldn't ask. He didn't really need to know, anyway.
The man chuckled, and Clint decided he could afford to look then. Loki's face was split with a grin, and his shoulders shook slightly. He hadn't looked so amused since- well, Clint had never seen him so amused. "You find me unpleasant."
Also odd. That was twice now. "You keep guessing wrong, sir."
"You wouldn't look at me."
Clint shrugged. "Thought you wouldn't like that."
"You say so you take my wants into consideration?"
It felt like a trap, but he continued anyway. "Yes sir. You're the boss, remember?"
The man's smile fell a bit, if only to settle into a more maintainable position. It still tugged at the corner of his mouth. Whatever he'd taken from that, it was at least partially what he'd wanted to hear.
"I assure you, I remember." And suddenly Loki was moving again, pulling his legs back and pushing himself up onto his knees. "I haven't the luxury of forgetting."
Slowly, almost cautiously, Loki scooted forward, placing himself knees to shins with Clint. It wasn't terribly unusual. The man liked to be close. He chalked it up to a piss-poor childhood or whatever it was that made people crave contact, and sat still. It only seemed to encourage the man, and he let his back curve, bringing their noses mere centimeters apart.
Alright, that was unusual, but he still wasn't going to move. Loki was the boss, after all. As someone who had experience with temperamental bosses, he knew it was best to let the man's whimsy go unchallenged.
"I haven't many luxuries at all, now that I think of it."
Clint felt the words more than heard them. They blew hot across his skin. He carried on as if he hadn't felt them. "Shame."
"Yes."
The man rested his hands on either side of Clint's knees and slinked a bit closer. Clint couldn't help but jump a bit as their noses brushed, but he remained stubbornly rooted and focused on Loki. He was handling it admirably, if he said so himself. Then the Loki's eyes drifted closed, and suddenly he wasn't so sure.
"Forgive me, but-" Whatever Loki might have said to excuse himself, Clint would never know. Letting it trail off, the man opted instead to close the last bit of distance between them.
It was a soft kiss, no more than a brushing of lips, but Clint stiffened at the contact all the same, unsure of how to react. Or if he should react at all. He'd had a lot of bosses in his life, and not one of them had ever kissed him. He felt oddly unprepared. Loki sensed it and pressed against him more fervently, coaxing him with a slew pecks and nips. Clint resisted a while longer, managing to pull a small whine from the other man. Frustrated. He'd managed to frustrate Loki. He was almost proud of himself.
Not wanting to put the man out any more than necessary, Clint relaxed into the contact, kissing him back a moment before taking the plump lower lip between his teeth. Loki's breath caught, and he took it as encouragement, suckling it as penance for his earlier hesitation. The man left him to it a while, then pulled back, letting his lip slip from Clint's mouth with a light pop.
When his eyes opened once more, they were blown. Clint knew that look, and thought for a moment he might come back for more. In a display of characteristic restraint, however, Loki sat back on his heels, composing himself quickly. He wiped his lip on the back of his hand, then hopped to his feet, motioning for Clint to follow suit. He did, and the other man smiled, clapping his shoulder.
"You'll hate me."
Matter-of-fact, as if his eyes still weren't dark with lust. It was almost ridiculous. Clint thought about telling him that, but then the room was shaking, the scene shrinking. No time. He had somewhere to be. Maybe later.
0-0-0
"Any time now."
Clint groaned, slipping his arm up to shield his ear. Natasha's voice was even more abrasive than it had been before his nap. Apparently he'd been wrong. His headache had no intentions of leaving off. Perfect.
"'m up."
She snorted a little. "You don't look it."
The mattress to the back of him gave under her weight, and a concentrated coldness pressed to the center of his back. The Coke, he assumed. The chill drove the last of the sleep fog from his mind. Gently, so as to not send his blood rushing and make his headache worse, he eased onto his back and squinted up at her.
"About time. I was working on you for a few minutes."
"Mm. Dreaming."
"Something good?"
He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled, recreating the tingle of Loki's nips. "Just a dream."
"Well now that you're up," she said, holding out two small pills, "take these."
He held out his hand and she dropped them into his palm. "Pain meds?"
"You got it."
Motioning for him to sit up, Natasha popped the tab on the can. Clint forced himself up with his elbows, leaning against the headboard for support. The movement sent a spike of pain through his temples but he powered through it, taking the can from her and downing the pills quickly. He'd have to remember to thank her once they kicked in. He hadn't even thought to ask for them.
"How long was I out?" he asked, draining half the can in one gulp.
"About an hour. I got pulled into an emergency meeting."
"For what, damage control?" From what he'd seen of the ship before he'd been knocked out, it was in serious need of repair.
"That too, though it wasn't the main focus."
"Ah." Probably something he'd missed during his time with Loki. She'd tell him if he needed to know. Draining the last of the Coke, he crushed the can and tossed it aside. Natasha didn't look amused, but let it happen anyway.
"Listen, about the meeting-" She trailed off, seemingly wrestingly with her words. It was odd, to say the least. She never did that. Before he had a chance to question her, however, she picked up. "Stark left while you were out- took a trip back to his tower. Turns out, your friend was already there."
"Loki?"
She nodded. "Packs a quite a punch, according to Tony."
Clint hesitated, but only a moment. "Is he ok?"
Natasha had the decency not to ask who he'd meant. "It was a small scuffle. Stark managed to safely detain him."
"What about the Tesseract?"
"Still out of our hands, though from what I've heard it's not yet a problem."
Clint wasn't sure how that wasn't a problem, but decided to let it go. "What's Stark going to do with him?"
"Nothing yet. I told Fury what you said, and suggested it might be worthwhile to talk with him. If he's as docile as you said, then there may be a chance that we can get out of this without it getting any messier."
He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little surprised. He would have thought she'd be tired of talking with Loki by now. Still, he wasn't going to question it. "Did he ok it?"
She nodded. "He told Stark to hold off until we got there."
Good. "We going to take turns with him, then?"
"Unless you've got a better plan."
He didn't. Loki liked talking, so the more they did of it, the better. "Good as any."
She was looking at him oddly again, like she thought he might be holding back. Or lying. That made two people this week. He guessed he looked like a liar.
"Really," he added. "The guy will talk as long as you let him. At least it'll keep him distracted. Better than nothing, right?"
She shrugged. "Given the circumstances, yea."
Well, that counted for something, then.
The tension in his skull eased a bit- meds were kicking in, and he took it as his cue to move. He'd rested enough, at least for now. In a few hours he'd be tired as hell again, but it didn't matter. With any luck this would be over by then and he could put in for an off day. Or two. Or five.
He scooted to Natasha's side, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders. "Let's get this job over with."
Rising from the bed and pulling her up, Clint headed for the door. Once in the hall he let her take the lead, trailing behind and letting his mind wander back to the dream, back to the phantom softness against his lips.
You'll hate me.
He didn't, but he bit his lip to banish the memory anyway. They had work to do. It'd just get in the way.