NOTE - Don't ask me why I can't get this storyline out of my head: Loki trying to negotiate the trials of being without money for the first time in his very long life.


Gift


"I'm very sorry, sir. Your card has been declined."

Loki's jaw dropped as the officious little fool handed him back the rectangle. "What does that mean?" he demanded.

"Usually that you have exceeded your credit limit. If I were you, sir, I should call the company and ask customer service – they will sort it out in no time."

Watching as the object he had chosen for Natasha was plucked from his hands and stored back under the glass counter, Loki considered crushing the man's head and eviscerating the other people in the shop. Just as quickly he discarded that notion – the Fury fellow had shouted at him for smashing a parking meter the week prior. Probably killing mortals would be almost as bad.


As usual, he had one source for information. "What has happened with this object?" he shouted, throwing the card onto Natasha's lap.

"Oh. Well, let's find out." Natasha dialed a number she found on the back of the card, punched in some numbers, and waited. After a few minutes she handed the card back to Loki. "It's simple – you haven't paid your bill in three months. Haven't they tried to call you?"

"Pay? Bill? What does it all mean? And I suppose I got some person on the other end of this phone device bleating about numbers, but she was tedious and made no sense. I…"

"Hung up on her. You hung up, didn't you?" She regarded him thoughtfully. "Okay, open that laptop of yours. Let's fix this problem."

A long series of searches led to the answer: Loki was, once again, penniless. Although SHIELD paid him for his work as 'Asgard Consultant', he spent his salary and didn't bother to budget. "What did you buy at the Crystal Rocke Shoppe?" Natasha asked, perusing his credit card bill.

"I admired a snow globe in the window," Loki sulked.

"And Le Fourmier's?"

"They carry that Russian caviar you like."

"How about Breton's? Holy shit, they're on Fifth Avenue."

"Their white shirts are acceptable."

She spread her hands in dismay. "Well, you simply have to stop spending money. If you take the next few paychecks, pay down your credit card debt, and bank a few bucks, you should be able to start saving for stuff you want. Really want, not just purchase on impulse."

"Never mind." Loki snatched his laptop and his card before slamming his way out of her apartment. All at once he was desperately tired of being on Midgard– the artificial food, the strange smells, the odd means of transport, and above all, his dreadful living quarters.

He wanted to be back in Asgard in his huge suite of rooms in the Palace. Wanted to feel fur blankets against his face, smell cherry blossoms in the snow, eat eleven course banquets delivered to him by bowing servants instead of surly waiters.

And he wanted to buy that gift for Natasha.

In his bedroom, he went at once to the crevice laughably called a closet and dug among his things. On the top shelf he found a box; inside was a chain made of pure Ljosalfar gold mined in Alfheim. Dragon opals were set into each link to create a swirl representing Jokull's defeat of Bui. Loki was tempted to sell it in one of the plentiful pawn shops within the village of Manhattan so he could pay off the rectangle of credit, flash money at that dreadful little fool in the shop, buy Natasha her present, take her dancing and out to dinner.

"Hey." Her soft voice made him start, nearly drop the chain in his hands. "Holy shit!" she added. "Is that real?"

"I was thinking of selling it," Loki mumbled. "But I could not – that is – it…" The truth was the chain itself had been a gift from Frigga, centuries earlier.

Cautiously she reached out and touched the heavy gold links. "Loki, you can't sell this! It looks extremely valuable – it really should be kept in a bank." She grasped his chin with one hand, forced him to look at her. "And more than that – it's personal, isn't it? It must be, if you brought it here all the way from Asgard."

Loki shook his head, not wanting to say where he had gotten the chain. She didn't press him, simply wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed. "You know what? You interest me," she said. "In fact, you have more layers than I ever thought possible. And what on earth did you want to buy so badly that you considered selling such a magical thing?"

He didn't want to answer that question, either.

"If it was what I think it was, then don't you dare sell that chain. You and I are going to figure out your finances, and before you know it you will have enough to get what you want."

He wrapped his arms around her, gold and opals dripping from one fist. "Very well," he agreed. "However, since you are here…"


In his narrow bed, Natasha took off her shirt, unhooked her bra, and lay back. "Now, what are you going to do to me?" she asked.

Carefully Loki laid the chain over her throat. The dragon opals looked very bright against her red curls, the gold chain was perfect against her skin. "This was once worn by the ruler of the nine realms."

"And now it's decking out the throat of a tired, worn-out assassin. What do you think of that?"

"A vast improvement." He leaned over her, kissed her eyelids, bit her earlobe, started to pull off her jeans. "I want to see you in nothing but gold and gems, Natasha."

"I told you I'm not one for bling…"

"This is not 'bling'. It is the diadem of the Enchanted Forest."

"Oh! I like that."

"I cannot actually…" Loki felt he had hit an awkward point.

"…Give it to me? I should think not. But you can make love to me while I wear it, can't you?"

"Oh, yes." He grinned, amazed afresh at how quickly she caught his mood. "Yes, I can definitely do that."

"Good." Natasha opened his breeches – she called them pants – and pulled them down his thighs. "Come here, you sexy man."

As usual, he was ready for it. Loki knelt, one leg on either side of her hips, and sucked the skin above and below the priceless opals. She arched back, just as prepared as he was – hot, wet, breathless.

Teeth on her neck. Lips on her lips. Tongue in her mouth, and after an unknown time of ecstatic loveplay, his prick inside her stunning body. There on the tiny mattress among chipped furniture and peeling paint, Natasha wore the gems from another realm with the insouciance of an empress.