A/N: I really needed to write this but I didn't want to try and finish off a big fic because that's not my strong point, so I'm writing this out as a series of one-shots and maybe I'll put them in a big juicy fic if this proves popular. Which it won't. Quick preface – Loki's escaped from Asgard but has used up most of his power in doing so, and is being pursued by S.H.E.I.L.D. agents through New York when he stumbles upon the house of Ariadne Barton, and asks her if he can take refuge with her. Have fun reading and please review because reviews make me write!

Loki stumbled down the alleyway, breath coming out in short painful bursts thanks to his bruised – or even broken – ribs. Growling with frustration, he leant against the wall, eyes fluttering closed from exhaustion. If he had his powers, he thought, he would destroy those meddling Midgardian idiots where they stood. But he didn't, or at least, he didn't have enough power to hold them off. He was as weak as a child against those infernal S.H.E.I.L.D. agents.

He heard shouts and footsteps nearing the corner and wracked his brains for somewhere to hide. He shifted through memories of New York, but he didn't remember any safe place out of the areas he had seen. However...he did know of one place...

Loki himself might not know New York, but Clint Barton did. When he'd controlled him, he had also had a unique insight into his thoughts and his memories. His daughter lived not far from here, Loki noted, sifting through the borrowed memories. He shook his head. The girl would never take him in; Loki was her father's enemy. He had taken him from her, controlled him and nearly broken his mind. Ariadne would hate him.

But she was his only choice. He didn't know much of her, only memories of a little blonde toddler clinging to her mother's leg, then a pretty ten year old sipping milkshake opposite Barton, swinging her legs and moving awkwardly through the conversation, then a slim, shapely teenager yelling and slamming the front door, makeup spread over her face as she sobbed in anguish. Finally, a girl in her twenties, face etched with grief as she leaned in for comforting hug. Loki pulled out of Barton's memories, shaken. She clearly had a rocky relationship with her father. Could he use that to his advantage?

The sounds of pursuit grew nearer. He had no choice. He had to find Ariadne Barton.

Stumbling forward as fast as he could, he rounded one corner then another, trying to reconcile his surroundings with Barton's memories. Finally, he leaned against the strange and yet also familiar green door, the one he'd seen slamming in his – no, Barton's – face.

He tried the door handle but it was locked. Obviously. Even Midgardians aren't stupid enough to leave their front doors completely open for anyone. He knocked cautiously, looking over his shoulder for any signs of his pursuers.

The door opened and he was face to face with Clint Barton's daughter.

She gazed at him, eyes clouded over with confusion. She was undoubtedly very beautiful – her hair was more blonde than Barton's, slightly wavy and pushed back from her face, swept over one shoulder. Her large hazel eyes were framed by thick, long lashes and her rosebud lips were parted, the ghost of a question on them.

"Who...the hell are you? You're not that guy...Loki? The one who trashed my city?"

Loki ran a hand through his hair. How to play this, to make him the victim?

"I...um...yes, I am. Can I first apologise for that, and, uh..."

Damn this girl! He kept noticing the flecks of blue and green in her hazel eyes and he couldn't talk straight. What was wrong with him?

"Apologise! Seriously? That's a total joke. What the fuck are you doing here anyway?"

"Please, I need somewhere to hide. It is very urgent, I can't explain..."

"Whoa, whoa, back up. You – want to hide – here? In my house? From what, like, S.H.E.I.L.D? My dad's people?"

Loki nodded. Thank the Allfather she understood. Or, maybe not him. Someone else.

She laughed in a short, mirthless burst. "Uh. No. Bye!"

She went to close the door, but in desperation he put his hand on it. "No, please, you don't understand." He made his voice pleading, widened his eyes so they glistened a little, like they were filling with tears, and laced his voice with what little magic he had left.

"They'll kill me if they find me." A lie, obviously. They would lock him up somewhere very deep and dark, which he didn't particularly fancy. But Loki was, after all, the God of Lies.

The girl halted, pressing her lips together in a tight line. "Right. And...this would piss my dad off a ton, right?"

"Well," said Loki haltingly, unsure of the direction this conversation was taking, "It would make him angry, I suppose...why is this a contributing factor, again?"

"Because I'm really sick of my dad thinking he owns me, that he's so much better than me. Even though I'm twenty years old and he was barely around for most of those years."

"...I know the feeling. Of resenting fathers. My father and I don't see...eye to eye about a lot of things."

Ariadne nodded slowly. "OK...I guess maybe you can stay as long as you...I don't know, apologise again for trashing New York."

"I am deeply sorry for that."

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't think you mean it. Yet. Maybe one day you will, and because of that I'll let you stay. My mom..." he voice cracked a little. "My mom says – said – that everyone deserves a second chance. Even mass-murdering fuckheads like you, I guess. Get inside."

She glanced up and down the street as he slipped inside, and then shut the door with a snap and led him up the stairs to her tiny apartment.