"You're up bright and early."
Steve lifted his head in the general direction of the husky voice, his hand wrapped around a milk carton, which he was about to pour into a bowl of Cheerios that he had placed on the circular table. "Well, yes," he said, tipping the carton to the side and releasing a thin stream of milk, "How was your night out, Miss. Natasha?"
"Interesting," she said, and snagged a seat opposite to him. "I'm guessing the rest of the team's hung over?"
"Yup," Steve said, "Except for Banner. He had a handsome amount of drinks, but decided that it'd be better not to get raving drunk."
"He has common sense," Natasha agreed, giving Steve a dim smile.
"Mmm," Steve said, ladling the spoon dripping with the crunchy cereal into his eager mouth. He was a little bit unnerved, as Natasha watched him eat.
"Sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable," she said.
"You're not, don't worry," Steve lied, and smiled.
"Good." She then stood up, and sauntered over to the coffee machine. After shrugging a reasonable amount of coffee grains into a flimsy filter, she placed it in the top portion of the machine, and then grabbed a decently sized mug, which was decorated with canary colored daffodils. Throughout the short span of time she had been in the Stark Towers, she had gotten a good sense of where the dishes and utensils in the kitchen were.
Finally, the coffee was ready, and she gingerly held the steaming cup by its handle, the warmth seeping into her rough fingertips. She sat back down at the table, and took a sip. Looking back over at Steve, she noticed with faint amusement, that he had already downed the contents in the bowl, and was now moving on to seconds.
He was a tad bit laconic, but she was okay with that. She preferred to be silent, rather than talk in the mornings anyway. Bustling chatter and pompous laughter so early in the day always seemed to jar her self-motivated state of zen, and prod her temples with taunting fire pokers. She had a low tolerance of bullshit in general, but in the mornings, even an ounce of toleration was completely gone. Once she had a few cups of coffee, however, she moved from a lethal mood to a more serene one, one where she had things under a greater amount of control.
She poured herself her own bowl of cereal, and munched thoroughly, drumming her fingers on the smooth surface of the table, itching for something to read. For some reason, in the mornings, she liked to have a magazine, or a book of some sort to keep herself occupied with while she ate. She perused the room with wanton eyes, and noticed that in the island, there was that built in bookshelf.
Oh, right.
She stood up, and knelt down by the bookshelf, one slender hand leafing through the hard-cover bound books and the shiny magazines. All of the magazines were men's magazines, of course, with some having Tony Stark as the cover star.
Of course.
She rolled her eyes.
There was a Cosmo shoved between a Men's Health and Sports Illustrated, but she shoved that aside as well, barely giving the sinuous celebrity on the cover a passing glance. She generally hated magazines like that; she had no care for fashion, or makeup tips, and the sex advice she could pass on as well. She was not a prude in any way, and had had satisfying sexual escapades, but they were short lived, and rare. Time was not in her favor for leisure activities as such, and the men that she'd gotten involved with had not viewed the moment as a hookup, but rather, the beginning of an actual relationship.
Yuck.
Natasha continued looking through the meager stack, and finally found something worthwhile: A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway. She had not read many classics, except for Anna Karenina, but she was forced to read that one in her scholar activities. In the Red Room, not only had they insisted on teaching the girls how to break a man's spine in seven different ways, but they had also insisted that they be well caught up on Russian literature while doing it.
Joy.
She was not retarded about American literature in any way, shape, or form, however. She just hadn't gotten around to actually sitting down and reading it. But lately, she had a good portion of free time at night, and a little in the morning (like right now). Plus, the Avengers were AWOL, save for Steve, so that she'd have a little privacy.
It was a nice way to start the day.
"In the late summer of that year we lived in a house in a village that looked across the river…"
For once, Loki ached for something that had not been part of his daily routine in what felt like an eternity: normalcy. He wasn't entirely sure what his definition of normalcy happened to be, but he knew it definitely didn't entitle him to willingly aid a mortal being who was in desperate need of help.
Normalcy.
Who was he trying to kid? There was no way he could ever return to the beautiful dreamscape of solace; of mirth, of free-footed walks through the quiet verdant woods of Asgard. Of course, he soiled this dazzling image with his urge to claim Midgard as his own, and also, by striking deals with a dark force that was one of Odin's many foes. Funny, because Laufey happened to be one of these people, and Loki had killed him- killed his true father to appease the great pretender, the man who had rolled elegant stories off his tongue of the oh so evil frost giants, and he was the man who condemned Loki for being a liar, yet, lied with great ease himself.
It was no wonder why Loki loathed Odin so. Thinking about his personal problems ate at his stance and esteem, and he did not want anything to do with it.
After Natasha had left, after that bizarre chain of events where she had almost castrated him, Loki found, with little surprise, that sleep would not come. He was beginning to feel the ill effects of sleep deprivation; a headache pulsed against his sore forehead, and bruise-like shadows had blossomed beneath his eyes, which were beginning to adopt a concave look. He was sort of indifferent to this. He did care somewhat for his appearance, but, unlike Thor, he was not narcissistic. He wished at times, as a young adult on Asgard, that his raven hair shone with Thor's golden haired radiance instead, and that his lanky, awkward body could take on some much needed brawn. Thor always got the women in Asgard, they always pursued him at Odin's lavish parties, thrusting their cleavage in his face as they superficially cackled, weaving strands of soft hair around their pretty fingers, smiling their wide-toothed grins.
However, it's not to say that Loki was celibate- far from it. Women did pursue him, but usually, it was because they were Thor's leftovers, or rejections. At one point, a woman by the name of Emiliana had attempted to win Thor's affections, but, his were turned to a different woman's instead. Emiliana had then practically jumped on Loki about a moment later. It had been a frustrating evening for him, and, he was not about to miss out on a tangible opportunity to bed a woman. He did give in to the urge to sleep with her, and afterwards, in the dim rays of morning, dismissed the broad with barely a second thought.
Loki thought about all of this now, while draped over a chair conveniently placed in front of the luminous window in his room, the one that he had tried to break his first day over at Stark Towers. He had watched the progression of the paralyzing orb of the moon in the sky, with some delight, as it faded into a soft ring, and was replaced by the blinding sun. Tints of baby pink still graced the sky, as it was somewhat early, and he watched with some displeasure, down below, at the bustling crowds of robust humans clattering down the narrow sidewalks, eager to arrive at their mundane, banal jobs.
He smirked.
His stomach growled at that moment, and he frowned. After that disturbing sushi dinner, he had not had a single morsel to eat, and he had been absolutely starving. It was pathetic how often a human body craved food. He was comfortable in the chair, currently, and did not want to get up, but then reminded himself that he should, as Thor and his drunken friends were probably still passed out, and he should grab the chance at getting breakfast before they descended into the kitchen.
After running a toothbrush over his teeth, and slipping on comfortable shoes, Loki exited his bedroom, and entered the elevator. As the elevator stopped on the appropriate floor, he strode down the dimly lit hallway into the kitchen, where he was greeted by a loathsome sight:
That peasant, Steve Rogers, was engulfing a gargantuan bowl of food into his gaping hole of a mouth, and, Natasha Romanoff, his ever so darling little spider, was sitting right across from him, flipping through some book.
It wasn't as bad as normal mornings, but, he would have preferred his mealtime to be spent in solitude.
His entrance was quiet, but still heard by the tentative ears of Natasha, who then said,
"Good morning, Loki." Her voice was nonchalant, and her facial expression remained static, her eyes glued to the book she held in her palms.
At that greeting, Steve looked up, saw the demi-god, and, said, "It was nice to have breakfast with you, Miss. Natasha, uh, I'll catch ya later." With barely a passing glance for Loki, he walked briskly out of the decorative eating area.
"It's quite humorous, how mortals still quake at the very sight of me," Loki mused, sitting in the chair that Steve Rogers had so hastily abandoned.
"I don't think he left because he's scared of you, Loki," Natasha muttered, still avoiding eye contact.
"Well, then what valid reason could you offer in explanation?"
"Manhattan."
"Still?"
Natasha simply raised an eyebrow; refusing to answer.
"You know, I deserve a thank you after you put me through that torture last night."
"I did."
"It was meek," he responded.
Silence ensued.
"It was meek," he repeated.
"I can hear you," she said.
"As I heard your voluptuous screams the prior night."
Natasha finally set the dastardly book down, and raised an eyebrow at Loki, chuckling internally at what he had just said, which could've been mistaken for a sexual innuendo.
"Right," she said curtly, staring him down in that strange, unnerving fashion she always loved to display, because it usually made her offender feel uncomfortable.
Of course, Loki's face did not burn with the intensity of her gaze, but rather, he broke into a solid grin, and said, "I find it endearing how quick you are to pass supposedly deleterious comments towards me, when I helped you recover a shard of truth from your collection of broken memories."
"How would you know I recovered anything useful?"
"Because you wouldn't tell me," he laughed, "You think you're being surreptitious, whereas I can read you just as well as that lore you're so infatuated with currently."
"No one can read me, Loki," Natasha replied, coolly, "No one can."
"I believe you're in denial."
"That's what you'd like to believe."
"Ah ah, now, now. Why this animosity so early in the day? I have helped you, and really, I don't know why."
"I said thank you," Natasha said.
"And for what?"
"What do you want from me?" she sighed.
"Compensation," he hissed.
"I'll send you a fruit basket," Natasha said.
He wrinkled his brow. "A basket of fruit…?"
"Okay, look, thank you for, um, helping out, but, I don't think that we should do this again-"
"You trusted me somewhat," Loki offered, smirking.
She stayed quiet.
"Why is that?" he cooed.
"I was not thinking clearly," she demanded, her eyes narrowing at him.
"Your excuses are quite petty," he said, rolling his eyes.
"Get off my back."
"As you wish."
"Good."
"So hostile," he said, smirking, and then stood up, preparing to leave.
"You're going without taking anything to eat? What a waste of time," Natasha said, shaking her head slightly.
"Oh, but of course," Loki said, and wrenched open the fridge door. He pulled out a full carton of apple cider, a packet of mozzarella cheese, and a plate covered with saran wrap, which covered four sticky donuts. He balanced this all in the crook of his arm.
"Those are Stark's," Natasha said, turning around, her lips twitching.
"Your point?" he asked.
"Carry on," she said, and resumed her reading.
As soon as he left, she placed the book down on the table, and let out an exasperated sigh. Yes, he was an infuriating man swollen with multiple problems of various complexities, but, that didn't mean that they couldn't be at least civil with each other.
He did help her last night, after all.
She felt that if she had expressed how she truly felt about the whole affair, she would have come off as slightly sentimental. It was an emotion that was practically taboo to her- she rarely stated any deep emotional thoughts, and when so, she tended to become embarrassed, and unleash a fiery round of hostility.
She wasn't sure why exactly she'd even come to him for help, well, she'd try to reason that desperate times called for desperate measures, but, converging with the enemy? Oh, the irony.
Why was Loki even alright with this? He obviously venerated her to some degree; if he didn't, he would have laughed at her when she appeared in his room last night, and then slammed the door with full force on her pathetic face.
He was probably just bored; she reasoned. All he did for the majority of the time was sit, cooped up in his room, with nothing to keep him company except the stack of books on his desk. He seemed okay, even, without the presence of people, and she wondered briefly, if he had any friends back home.
Maybe, he was actually amicable before the Manhattan catastrophe- Thor had said that Loki had lost his mind- which meant that he had some sanity to begin with. It was odd for her to think of him as a normal, functioning being- to think of him without the emotional baggage he always seemed to carry on his back.
Tired, and more than frustrated, she picked up A Farewell to Arms, and strode out of the kitchen.
"Where's Stark?" Clint asked Pepper, who was skimming her finger along a packet of notes attached to a clipboard settled in the crook of her arm.
"He's working on some project, so I came in to substitute for this meeting," Pepper explained.
"He could've made it for this one very short meeting," Clint reasoned.
"Whenever he gets an idea, he immediately goes down to his lab and works- he could spend thirty minutes to thirty hours in there. I have to remind him to eat and sleep. Nothing can break him out of it," she said, sighing. Tony had rolled out of bed at three a.m., which had awoken her right away, and with a chaste kiss to her forehead, he proclaimed that he was going down to the lab, and left. It was now four p.m., and he was still down there- she had brought him takeout from Shawarma, and set it beside him, as he was attaching wires to nodules using a finite pair of tweezers. Two hours later, when she went to check on him again, the food was still sitting in its bag, untouched, and cold.
She had gotten pretty used to this, however, and she shook him out of his technology induced stupor, sitting by him as he finally ate with fervor, even though the heat had seeped out of the food he had become infatuated with.
Now, the Avengers had joined together for a quick meeting: Thor, Steve, Banner, and Clint- to discuss the state of affairs at the moment. Natasha said that she'd arrive at a later time.
"I have something to say," Thor declared, and all heads turned towards him, as he said, "I need to return to Asgard for a trice, as I must see how my family and my people are faring."
"Will Loki be going with you?" Clint asked, sardonically.
"Well," Thor replied, completely ignoring the nasty tone within Clint's speech. "I've thought about it, but I do not know if it's entirely necessary."
"What do you mean, it's not necessary?"
"He has not fulfilled Odin's requirements yet."
"Don't they want to check up on him, to uh, make sure he hasn't, you know, killed anybody?" Bruce asked.
"They can see how he's doing here with archaic magic, of Ser Dammen, the looking pond," Thor explained. "I would like him to return to Asgard for a little while, and perhaps converse with our parents, but, at the same time, I do not think it'd be the best for his spirit."
"I'm just saying," Steve interjected, "That it might actually be better for him to return to his home planet for a little while, so, he doesn't think that everyone's forgotten him."
"Yeah, yeah, take him back!" Clint agreed, a broad smile plastered on his face.
"You simply say that because you want to get rid of him," Thor accused, glaring at his fellow teammates.
At that moment, Pepper was grateful that Tony wasn't there, as he would have incinerated a full on war with the demi-god.
At that moment, Natasha sauntered into the room, her face austere as always.
"Hello, Natasha," Pepper said, giving her a thin smile.
"Hi."
"We're just discussing future plans, and of course, Loki," Steve explained.
"As usual," Natasha said.
"Yes, as usual, and since you've been spending so much time with him, I'm sure you can give us a shit-ton of valuable insight on Loki," Clint said, glaring at her.
"Watch it, Clint," Natasha shot at him, and crossed her arms. "Anyway, what's the spiel?"
"I am headed back to Asgard in two weeks' time," Thor said, "And I am debating whether or not to bring Loki with me."
"It might not be the best decision to go on your own," Pepper said.
"Ah, maybe Stark shall accompany me?" Thor suggested.
"He really can't, actually," Pepper said, "We'll be headed back to our regular home next week for a bit, because Tony's got several unfinished projects he wants to finish there."
"Wait, then, who will be with Loki?" Thor asked.
"And what did Fury say about this?" Clint interrupted.
"Fury's off in Guatemala, I believe, so I don't know," Natasha said. "He said he'll be getting back to us soon. I'm actually off next week as well; I'm busy."
"I can watch over Loki," Bruce suddenly offered, grinning.
The room grew silent.
"Geez, can't anyone take a joke around here?" he said, laughing.
"You know what," Natasha suddenly said, her eyes widening slightly, "Has anyone bothered to talk to Loki about this?"
Thor, all of a sudden, looked incredibly guilty.
"I guess not, then. I would be pretty peeved if people were making my life decisions for me," Natasha said.
"Well, Loki isn't capable of-" Clint began.
"ENOUGH!" Thor boomed, pointing a finger at Clint as a warning. The archer shut his mouth immediately.
"So, why don't you go talk to him?" Natasha asked.
"He refuses."
"You know what, I'm sick of this, I'll go talk to him myself," Natasha snapped, and walked out of the room.
Loki was reading the scene in Macbeth, where the doctor and Lady Macbeth's assistant were discussing Lady Macbeth's deteriorating mental health, when a sharp series of knocks ascended upon his door.
He groaned as he got up, wondering why the blasted Avengers couldn't leave him be. As he opened the door, he was greeted by Natasha's grim face, with pursed lips.
"Do you require my services?" he asked.
"Very funny, Loki," she said. "No, actually, I was going to invite you to come on a walk with me."
He raised an eyebrow at her in an almost comical fashion, staring at her face, trying to detect any jocular traces.
"You must be bored in there," Natasha said, gesturing with her hand.
"Actually no, I have preoccupied myself with reading Shakespeare," Loki said.
"How many times have you read Macbeth by now?" Natasha asked.
"Seven," Loki admitted.
"C'mon, let's go, then," Natasha said.
"Quite the change of heart," Loki muttered, and then retreated back into his chamber to retrieve a suitable jacket and a pair of shoes.
Natasha gave him a once over, and prided herself internally that she managed to pick out clothes for a guy, and the fact that the shopping trip previously had gone swell.
Swell. Really? She thought.
As he returned, she said, "Oh, by the way, let's not mention last night…okay?"
"Alright," he agreed, in a somewhat passive nature, which confused Natasha slightly. His persona seemed split into infinitesimal fragments; he was not in any way an open book, that's for sure.
And neither was she.
"Where exactly would we be walking?" he asked.
"On the sidewalk," she blatantly pointed out.
"I know that, but to where?"
"We could go to Central Park," Natasha said, "It's a nice place."
"But there's people there," Loki said.
"You don't have to talk to them Loki," Natasha replied, wincing internally at the tone of his voice.
He remained silent.
Luckily, the elevator ride wasn't delayed by anyone else, and as they exited Stark Towers, they found themselves swept in the midst of the bustling sea of people.
A zephyr wafted through the area, nipping gently at Loki's and Natasha's cheeks. They were in the midst of fall, and the weather had grown considerably cooler in New York City.
"Central Park is about ten minutes away," Natasha said. "We can just walk."
"Sounds like a plan," Loki said.
The walk was brisk. Natasha pointed out the hot dog and pretzel vendors, and suggested that they stop by later and pick up some food. Loki looked around at the towering buildings; at the skyscrapers with rows of paneled windows that scintillated in the sunlight.
"Not bad, hmm?" she said.
He shrugged.
As they walked down eighth avenue, they saw the entrance to the park.
"What's our purpose being here?" Loki asked, as they strolled down the narrow alleyway.
"I don't know. I've never been here, actually."
"You sounded like you did."
"I do that a lot."
There was a line to purchase tickets for the zoo to the right of them, but neither really had any desire to go, so they continued down the road, which was surrounded by maple trees, that swayed to and fro in the breeze. People had set up carts advertising caricatures, and there was a woman wearing a neon sweater receiving one; Loki wrinkled his nose in disgust.
"You look like you just smelled something awful," Natasha said.
"Those drawings are ghastly," he said, pointing to the theatrically exaggerated facial drawings that were stacked on a metal rack.
"Oh, those are just caricatures," she said, "They're supposed to look silly."
"I don't care; they're awful."
"Everyone's entitled to their opinion," she said, shrugging.
"And mine's right."
"Well, then," she said, rolling her eyes.
They exited that area of the park, and entered the playground, where a cluster of children knelt in a sandbox, pouring the grainy substance over a plastic truck.
"The swings are open," Natasha said, "And I'm a bit tired."
"They're a children's plaything," Loki said.
"No, they're not. You're being very unreasonable today," she said.
"Not true, I agreed to go on a walk with you, I don't know what for," he said. "You must have some ulterior motive."
"I don't," she lied, and directed him towards the swingset, him following, grudgingly.
She situated herself in the scoop of a seat, and he did as well, dragging the tip of his shoe over the wood chips on the ground.
"You know," she said, "I'm sorry about the whole hypnosis thing, I shouldn't have come."
He looked out towards the skyline, and then back at her. "What are you sorry for?"
"For wasting your time."
"You didn't," he said. "I didn't mind."
"Really? I attacked you like a fucking psychopath."
"I'm the psychopath, clearly," he argued. He swallowed, and then said, "Did you get anything out of it?"
"I did," she muttered. "I just don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about last night any more. I just feel bad about it."
He was quiet for a moment, and then said, "Don't. It's fine."
A little boy ran in front of the swing set, soon followed by his sanguine father, who was laughing heartily.
"I know you have something you need to tell me," Loki said. "I can tell that Thor's keeping a secret from me."
"It's true," Natasha admitted. "He's going back to Asgard in two weeks."
"Oh?" said Loki, raising an eyebrow. "And how does this concern me? I have no affiliation with that place."
"Well…" she said, slowly, "He was thinking about taking you there."
"For what?" he said, incredulously, "So the crowds can pelt me with food, and laugh at my wrongdoings? No thank you."
"I don't think Thor wants to bring you back so people can laugh at you," Natasha said. "He's got his flaws, but he's not an asshole."
"Oh, you'd be surprised," Loki scoffed.
"I don't know him like you do, obviously," Natasha replied, "But still, I don't think he'd do that. I think he wants you to talk to your par-"
"His," Loki said, cutting Natasha off.
Well, shit, Natasha thought.
"I am not going," Loki said.
"Well, if you don't go, then you'll have to stay with one of the Avengers."
"What do you mean?"
"Stark Towers will not be open to us next week because Tony's headed back to his regular home."
He stayed silent, and she continued, "You probably would have to stay in a hotel with one of us, or something."
"I wish I had a choice over my own fate," he growled, clenching his hands into trembling fists.
"Well-"
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," he said, looking at her with those large, bright green eyes of his.
"You can avoid this for the time being, but you'll have to think about this at some point or another."
"I know that, Natasha," he said, sighing.
"Look, what if I go with you guys to Asgard?" she suggested.
"Why would you do that?"
"I know you're not comfortable around Thor."
"I'm not."
"Would you mind it if I went?"
"I'm not going, though."
"But say you were."
"You're the closest thing I have to a…friend," he said. "I suppose not."
She opened her mouth slightly, and then closed it once more. She wasn't sure of what to say.
"Let's go back," he said. "I want to try one of those…pretzels."
"Right on," she said.
They purchased a pleasantly warm pretzel from a nearby cart in close proximity to Stark Towers, and it was dotted with tiny square beads of salt. Loki smelled it, tentatively, and she cracked a smile at his childish approach to trying a new food.
"Just eat it," she urged.
He took a large bite, and chewed thoughtfully. Then, with a quick movement, he brushed off the majority of the salt particles on the dough, sending them fluttering to the ground.
"Why would you do that? It's the flavoring!" she cried.
"It's repulsive," he said, "But, I like the food itself."
"See, I'm not completely full of bad ideas," she said.
"No, not completely," he agreed.
He finished it by the time they got to Stark Towers, and as they entered the lobby, they noticed, with a sudden horror, that all of the Avengers were clustered around the TV, watching a football game.
"Quietly, go quietly," Natasha whispered into Loki's ear, and they tiptoed past the couch.
"GREETINGS. HOW MAY I HELP YOU," a robot suddenly beeped, and, of course, everyone situated around the TV turned around to see who had activated the machine.
"Well, hey, hey, isn't it our lovely couple!" Tony chuckled, his wet hair pasted to his head. He looked like he was fresh from the shower, no grease stains or filth were anywhere to be found on him.
Clint gave Loki the death stare, and in response, he smirked.
"Now, how was your walk?" Tony asked, grinning.
"Pleasantly, I hope," Thor beamed.
Loki walked off, and Natasha said, "It was just fine."
At Natasha's floor, Loki stepped out as well, and she looked at him, confused. "I had a good time tonight," he admitted.
"Yeah," she said, and shrugged. "I'm glad."
"You still haven't convinced me, however," he said, waggling his finger.
"I'll change your mind," she said.
"Oh? I don't think so," he said.
Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around his midsection, prompting a surprised reaction out of him. His skin was pleasantly warm, and she could feel the rapid song of his heartbeat against her's. He wasn't sure of how to respond, and patted her back uncertainly.
"I know you want to do the right thing for once," she whispered in his ear, and he froze, unsure of what to say back to her. She then released him, and with a simple farewell, he turned around and left.
Author's note:
Well. They hugged, finally. Hope it was somewhat appropriate, you guys tell me what you think.
Anyways, in my last author's note, I completely forgot to thank my reviewers, so, here's a thanks to everyone who reviewed for chapters 12 & 13:
-Phantom105
-DarlingDeathMachine
-Rose of Ice
-AvengerNerd3
-Social Riot
You guys are truly amazing!
Thanks to my new followers and favorites- thank you so much!
Anyway, I thought Loki might be cast in Thor's shadow in a variety of ways. But hey, if I saw him in a dining hall, I'd totally jump on him- not Thor (although he's attractive as well). Oh, Loki. :/
Until next time,
-skywriter23
xoxo