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. . .
Loki lay down on his bed, fingers laced behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. Stark's woman had surprised him when she announced that he would have free range over the floor. He couldn't understand her motivation. Was she deliberately giving him a route to attempt escape so that the humans could punish him severely when he did?
He had to admit that the woman had him stumped. He couldn't believe that she had done this out of kindness. She seemed too intelligent for that. Of course, looks could be deceiving.
"What are you up to, Miss Potts?" he whispered aloud. He stared at the ceiling for a while longer, but no answers came to mind.
He pushed himself up and gazed around his room. It was large and comfortable enough – again not the cage he had expected. The bed was far too big for him in his current state, flanked by oak nightstands with a matching bureau on the opposite end of the room. One wall was a large wardrobe that had a full-length mirror on the door. The color scheme was neutral and fairly soothing. He hadn't gone into the bathroom yet, but he imagined it would be just as nice.
Perhaps it was not blatantly less security that had caused Potts to order him access to the whole floor. Loki frowned as he walked to the door. If he had been confined to one room, then the Avengers would have been slightly more relaxed. But now, he was certain that at least one person would be posted outside his room at all time.
He nodded, satisfied with that answer. They will be more wary, and my escape will be less easily achieved.
Pleased at his conclusion, Loki returned to the bed and reached inside his jacket for the one thing he had been permitted to bring from Asgard. It was a book, black leather bound with gold filigree tracing the edges. He ran his fingers over the smooth, worn surface and allowed himself to forget everything that had happened in his life and simply exist with the book in his hands.
Sighing, Loki returned the book to its place next to his heart. He was uncertain what he should do now. Of course, escape was necessary, but not yet. He would have to observe the Avengers, pry open their weaknesses and choose his time wisely.
But for now, why not have a bit of harmless fun?
#
Steve examined the Rec room, impressed despite himself. The sun was almost set, and the electric lighting in the Rec room was slightly yellowed, reminding him of the days of his youth. The pool table was more elaborate than any he had seen before, and the dart board looked like it had never been used, and he wasn't certain how to use the air hockey table, but it was nice all the same. The bar was empty (something Stark promised he would rectify the next day) but that didn't bother Steve.
He was playing pool by himself, mulling over the events earlier in the day (seriously, what was Miss Potts thinking?) when he heard footsteps approaching. Loki, shadowed by Romanoff, entered the room. He glanced over the games for a moment before sauntering over to the dartboard. Steve felt awkward in the silence, but had nothing to say and so went back to his game.
"Are these for throwing?" Loki asked, reaching for the darts.
Romanoff strode forward, and snatched the darts out of his grasp. "Not by you."
"But Miss Potts said that I was allowed-"
"Miss Potts isn't as smart as I thought she was."
Loki laughed. "Are you afraid of letting me have sharp pointy objects, Agent Romanoff?"
Romanoff stared down at him and didn't reply. She folded her arms across her chest, her black leather jacket hugging her frame loosely.
Loki shrugged and turned away. He clasped his hands behind his back and meandered through the room, inspecting everything closely. He seemed to be immune to the poisonous look from Romanoff. Steve tried to ignore the demigod, but it grew increasingly difficult when Loki stopped to watch him.
"What is the purpose of this?"
Steve glanced up briefly. "To get the balls in the pockets."
"Why?"
"Because that's the rules of the game."
"Why?"
Steve didn't reply. He sighted down the cue and was about to take the shot when Loki reached onto the table and picked up the ball that Steve had been trying to get. He inspected it as if it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.
"Put that back."
"Why?"
"Because it belongs there."
"Why?"
Steve glanced at Romanoff with a silent plea for help. She stepped up behind Loki and plucked the ball from his hand, setting it back down on the felt. Loki, grinning, picked it back up. Romanoff once again took it from him and set it down. He picked it up again. Romanoff grabbed his wrist and twisted it sharply, forcing Loki to release the pool ball.
Loki grunted in pain. Steve stepped forward to intervene, but Romanoff had already picked the demigod up by the collar of his jacket. She all but threw him onto a stool next to the bar. Loki straightened his clothes, giving Romanoff a look that was half-smug, half-annoyed.
"You don't have to be so rough," Steve muttered to Romanoff, walking around the pool table.
"Why not?" she replied.
Steve gave her a look that he hoped conveyed his meaning. When she didn't respond to it, he gestured in the vague downwards position of the gym. "Thor."
Romanoff contemplated Steve for a moment, and then slightly inclined her head. Steve took that as a 'you're probably right' type of nod. She stepped back and gave Loki a withering look. For his part, the demigod was looking positively delighted and so self-satisfied that Steve's solider instincts immediately started tingling.
"What are you so happy about?" he demanded.
Loki looked up at him and grinned. "Oh, I just had a dead mouse that I didn't know what to do with. So I put it in your jacket pocket."
Steve's reaction was instinctual, feeling his pocket. He didn't believe Loki, but as he touched his pocket he felt a lump. A lump that was the exact size that a dead mouse would be. With a strangled yelp, Steve tore off his jacket and tossed it away. A wadded up ball of tissue paper tumbled out of the pocket.
Loki laughed, and Steve glared at him.
"That's not funny," the captain said sternly.
"Yes it is," Loki countered. "That is very funny."
Steve snatched his jacket up off the floor and slung it over the counter, shaking his head at how easily he had been tricked. "Where would you get a dead mouse anyway?" he muttered to himself, snatching up his pool cue.
"On the bridge."
"Yeah," Steve muttered. "Right."
"I put it in your pocket, actually," Loki continued, smiling up at Romanoff.
Romanoff stared back at him coldly and didn't react. He continued to grin, and it unnerved Steve. It was sinking in just how bad of an idea it was to have Loki in the same building as the Avengers to beginning, let alone letting him have free reign to do as he pleased. It was all going to end in tears, if not blood.
"Aren't you going to check your pocket?" Loki asked Romanoff, looking for all the world an innocent ten-year-old.
"You can't play that trick twice in a row," Steve told him.
Romanoff glanced over at Steve, a strange look coming over her face. Moving very deliberately, she reached into her pocket... and pulled out a dead mouse.
Loki was overcome by a fit of laughter. Romanoff stood very still, holding the dead mouse by its tail. A muscle in her jaw twitched. Steve looked on in horror.
"If you'll excuse me," Romanoff said, overly calm as she looked at Steve. "I need to go wash my hands."
She left the room, still holding the dead mouse. Loki laughed as she walked out, and then settled back onto the stool, folding his hands in his lap and looking very pleased with himself. Steve shook his head, and wondered if it was wise to try to reason with Thor's brother. It can't hurt to try, he thought. We're all going to be stuck together for a while. Might as well try to get along.
"Look-" he started.
"Am I going to get a lecture, captain?" Loki asked innocently. "Something like: We're all stuck here together for an undetermined length of time. I might as well try to make the best of it, and to start off with I should probably not antagonise you and your allies... it would be best for us all if we all at least pretended to try to get along."
Steve hated to admit that it was pretty much exactly what he had planned to say.
"Well? How did I do?" Loki asked, smiling broadly. "Would I make a good Captain America?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you're- never mind."
"Why?
"I need a new life," Steve muttered under his breath.
Loki heard him. "Why?"
"Just shut up."
"Why?"
"This is a bad idea."
"Why?"
. . .
All right, I've got a question for all of you. I have been told by some people that Loki's eyes are green, but when I watch Thor, The Avengers, or look at pics of Tom Hiddleston I see blue eyes. However I can't be the only one who's right and everybody else is wrong, so I was just wondering what you would prefer I use in this fic. Blue eyes or green?
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