Disclaimer: I don't own The Avengers, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Marvel and their respective creators. I only own any original characters that I choose to include, as well as any original plot ideas.
Distraction
A/N: Post-Avengers.
"You can't walk into the store and drink a bottle of vodka just because you feel like it!"
Well, he'd figured that much after the guards in blue uniforms had shown up, and the frail woman who had manned the counter had started screaming at him while Loki had attempted to gut them. Apparently, the mortal realm wasn't quite so tolerant as they wanted everyone to believe. Particularly if, after creating legends and offering up sacrifices and celebrations to the Aesir for thousands of years, they turned right around and tried to imprison a prince of Asgard in one of their pathetic little motor vehicles.
She had done something right to keep them from actually arresting him, but Loki had no clue as to what. He had, after all, walked right out the doors after that, content to stand in the parking lot until Natasha had come along and threatened to pull his ear off as she'd shoved him back into the car, yelling at him as though he were little more than a child, commenting that he really shouldn't wander around the city wearing his Asgardian armor, as he looked like he'd walked right out of fucking Comic Con.
Whatever the hell a Comic Con was. Regardless, magic had allowed him to easily alter his attire to better suit her liking.
The god leaned forward, finding once again that these damned things called seat belts were increasingly restrictive and uncomfortable as he leered at the mass of knobs and buttons that lined the dashboard of the vehicle. He knew well enough what a clock was and that the radio was a form of mortal technology that allowed sound to be broadcast through a series of satellites and air waves, but that alone wasn't enough to explain everything else. This Bluetooth, or whatever the hell it was called, that the mortals used for their cell phones didn't make any sense or seem to serve a real purpose. The name alone was ridiculous.
Natasha turned her head to peer out the window and he jabbed at one of the buttons, flying back and into the seat with his teeth clenched as sound exploded through the vehicle, causing her to swerve across the road and swear as people outside began honking their horns and howling. She reached over and slapped his hand away, jamming her thumb into the control panel and glowering at him as the music, which sounded to Loki as though someone had set about scraping their silverware against the palace floors, quieted down.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she demanded, seizing the wheel and pulling the car up against a nearby curb. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!"
While potentially deadly, it seemed as though the condition had become a sort of figure of speech among mortal tongues. He couldn't understand how, though, as he'd noted that jokes about such illnesses and conditions were often heavily frowned upon.
"Why do humans need so much technology?" he scoffed. "It is nothing but a distraction."
"You are a distraction," Natasha retorted with a frown. "I'm not going to get anything done today, because I have to tow you around and babysit your stupid ass." She slapped the wheel with a hand and sighed. "Of course, Thor has to be playing around in New Mexico all week... He should be here watching you."
Loki scowled. He didn't like that term. Babysitting. "You think me a child? It is not like that I need to remind you, but a mere child does not take to drinking liquor. Nor does he take pleasure in the art of war." The god cleared his throat. "Among other things."
Apparently, she hadn't liked that last remark. Natasha leaned over in her seat and shoved him.
"This is Earth," she said slowly, "not Asgard. You may be a prince, the God of Mischief, or whatever else, but while here, you do not simply take whatever the hell you feel like. Being royalty, you may not understand, but there are rules, Loki. And you have to follow them."
Yes, as if she, an infamous and bloodthirsty assassin, had any right to lecture him on the concept of rules and public conduct.
He frowned. "Are your musicians of Muspelheim?"
Natasha gave him a strange look. "What?"
Loki nodded to the small radio screen as a band name scrolled across the bottom. Mortals were so bizarre, naming their musical groups after death and all manner of strange things that had no business being together in any context.
"Are they Fire Giants?" He couldn't possibly be any clearer than that, but she continued staring.
Natasha glanced at the screen and shook her head. "Why would they be...?"
"The name alone implies–"
Her head flew forward and into the steering wheel, the horn going off as she sighed. "God," she whispered. "You are so ignorant..." Natasha eased off and looked at him again. "They are not Fire Giants. I doubt anyone here even knows what the hell a Fire Giant is."
His brow creased. The differences between the variations of giants, and that of their home worlds, were among the most basic of lessons taught to Asgardian children within the first two decades of existence. How in the Nine Realms could an organization so full of information not even teach its agents of the other worlds of Yggdrasil? They had Thor to help them understand, did they not?
"The same way that fire and ice are opposites on Midgard, they are the counter to Frost–"
"I wasn't asking," Natasha said, throwing the vehicle back into drive. "I don't really care."
Loki growled and settled back into the seat, taking to counting the number of windows on the buildings as the car began moving again. He soon set about watching the people skitter about the streets, darting in and out of shops with bags that could easily fit small children inside. Several of them struggled, and one woman, wearing ridiculous looking high heeled boots, stumbled forward as she accidentally stepped off the curb, her bags flying across the sidewalk as she caught herself on the post of a crosswalk sign.
The god snickered.
"What did you say to the police," he said, suddenly taken with the blinking traffic light, "to stop them from following me?"
Loki purposely left out the fact that, had they come after him, he wouldn't have given a second thought to kicking their heads across the street like soccer balls.
Natasha bit the inside of her cheek, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "I... told them you were a foreigner. That you didn't speak any English."
A foreigner?
He laughed. "That is quite the understatement."
"It's a damn good thing you kept your mouth shut in there," she said, obviously ignoring him. "Otherwise, it could have been worse. And you're already such a goddamn pain in the ass."
Loki smirked and said nothing. She'd pay for those remarks later.
The joke about the musicians being of Muspelheim came about during a conversation I had with a friend about theNorse mythos and the world of Thor, and we just happened to be listening to AFI at the time. Needless to say, we were laughing so hard, I had to pull over or drive into a telephone pole.