Crimson and Viridian:
Everything Burns
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: FrostIron (Loki/Tony), canongirl!Tony Stark(i.e. Natasha Stark), and the rest of the Avengers movie cast.
Warnings: For moar violence, and fresh romancin'. Also, movie spoilers, obviously, and in a major way. Spoilers for various events throughout the comic-verse, including Civil War, Dark Reign, and Siege.
Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Well, except Earth-199990, but that's pretty useless to me without all these great Marvel characters.
Summary: I crawl back into the shadows of my heart and just sit there in the dark where you don't require the love you'll take.
Chapter Nineteen:
I Crawl Back Into the Shadows of My Heart
Now, in addition to avoiding Loki, Natasha makes plans to evade Bruce until the violent stab of embarrassment has vanished or erased itself completely from memory.
She's not embarrassed about Loki, or even with the fact that Bruce had walked in on them just before Natasha and Loki defiled the couch. She's humiliated by the fact that Bruce had walked in on something intimate and private because intimacy implied so much more than Natasha was ready for and she felt the hot shame of a child caught wondering about sex for the first time by a parent. Which is rather ridiculous, because Natasha had learned about sex through trial and error and plenty—plenty—of videos while her mother sipped martinis and her father explored the Arctic.
"You look distracted," Rogers grins, bouncing the knuckle of his boxing glove against the side of her face. "I thought you wanted to learn."
"I know how to box. Happy trains me," Natasha grumbles, dodging his fist when he feigns another punch. "I am distracted and I'm trying to forget."
Rogers sobers, nodding. "Then clearly I'm not doing a good job at keeping you entertained."
Instead of responding, Natasha jabs at his exposed flank—expects it when he twists from the blow, lowering his arms to block her punch while simultaneously countering with his opposite fist. She ducks to the side to avoid the blow—then clinches her arm around his and uses him to put force into her knee as she nails him in the gut.
He doesn't even grunt, frowning as he detaches himself from her and lays a glove over his abs. "That's fighting dirty."
"I didn't realize HYDRA fought any other way," Natasha retorts with a snort, keeping herself bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Rogers concedes the point by testing her defenses—then twisting away as she counters, catching the back of her head with a sturdy knock of his elbow. "I'm not HYDRA."
Despite his words, Rogers adopts her methods, ensuring that for the next forty-five minutes she is unable of thinking beyond anticipation of his next move. Afterwards, when her limbs are loose and tingling from exertions, she nearly collapses under the weight of his hand when he claps her back. He laughs at her evident exhaustion and she glares when she sees he's barely broken a sweat—grimaces when she's aware of the way her shirt clings to her skin at uncomfortable creases, soaked and stifling. Rogers shuts up when she swiftly hauls it over her head so she's standing only in her bra and the board shorts she'd borrowed from him (and had to roll at the waist four times, testing the limits of the string to tighten the waistband sufficiently).
Dropping his eyes as he drops his gloves into the gym bag next to her, he clears his throat nervously, proceeding to try to ignore her presence completely.
She rolls her eyes, stealing the towel from his bag to wipe herself down. "Calm down. I'm not trying to threaten your virtue. It's not exactly like I came prepared to duke it out with Captain America."
"It's—" She thinks he might have intended to go with his usual 'It's fine', but she sees it on his face the moment he decides that would not end well. Instead, he fishes a white T-shirt from his bag and holds it out to her, eyes on the corner furthest from her. "Here."
"I'd swim in that," she snorts, shaking her head. "I'll just wear my jacket."
He nods, dropping the shirt and bringing a hand to scrub at the back of his neck uncomfortably. After a moment of staring helplessly down at his bag, he shrugs his massive shoulders and looks up, meeting her eyes decisively. She snorts, lips twisting into a wry grin as she lets her body cool down for a second before slipping into her leather jacket.
She's not blind to the way Rogers' eyes flick to her collar as she tugs the zipper up. Is about to call him out on it, when—
"Uh." She grimaces as memory returns and she brings the pads of her fingers to the bruise at the crook of her neck.
So much for not thinking of Loki.
Her eyes flick to study Rogers' expression in panic—sees him carefully unwinding the wraps from his knuckles, a pinch at his brow that doesn't really reveal anything.
She tugs at her zipper higher, then at the strings of the hoodies zipped to the back of her jacket, closing the collar around her neck—when Rogers breaks his silence at last.
"Is it wise?"
Her stomach jolts but Natasha swallows her anxiety and watches his profile, muted by her dismay.
When she doesn't answer, Rogers looks up, nodding to the hickey on her neck, holding her gaze without an ounce of judgment. "It's Loki, isn't it?" He doesn't seem deterred when her eyes widen, setting down the wad of bandages then crossing his arms as he turns his body to her. "Is it wise?"
Natasha snorts, snapping back to herself and shrugging artlessly.
Rogers frowns. "Do you trust him?"
"Absolutely not," Natasha replies easily—then remembers the necklace she'd kept safe in the pocket of her jacket and sighs as she slips her hand around it. "Mostly not. I don't—I don't know. Maybe? Sometimes."
"He's dangerous."
"Well, we're all dangerous."
Rogers pins her with a pointedly reprimanding look, arching a brow. It's a startlingly brotherly gesture. "You've never tried to take over the world."
She shrugs. "Yet."
That gets a laugh out of him at least as he nods, still chuckling. "Yet."
The apartment is much the same as she remembers it. He was still mostly living out of boxes, his walls bare and furniture immaculate, yet aged. As he moves into the adjoining kitchen to grab them a couple of sodas, Natasha studies the room with interest.
"You didn't fix the wall," she observes, frowning at the fist-sized hole next to the window. The confrontation echoes briefly at the fringes of memory but she pushes it away.
"I didn't," Rogers says carefully as he returns, handing her an open bottle of Coke. It's cold, the glass moist from condensation. She pretends that the chill in her hand doesn't remind her of Loki as she studies his expression.
When he moves past her to take a seat at his couch, she shakes her head, snorting, "You're such a fucking martyr, man."
Rogers sniffs quietly, waiting until she's joined him before saying, "So, Loki."
Natasha groans, throwing her head back against the couch. "Man, it's not enough that I have to deal with Barton's inquisition? Now, you too? Do you know about the bet he and—"
"I know all about the bet," Rogers mutters, and it's clear from his tone exactly what he thinks about said bet. "It's hard not to when I happen to be a point of speculation. You didn't think you were the only one Barton approached, did you?"
She grimaces. "I didn't think he'd have the balls to harass you like that."
"Of course, he doesn't know that it would be impossible for there to be anything between us when you and Loki have been interested in each other since before he took residence in your home."
Natasha's head snaps to face him and she blurts a startled, "What?"
Rogers merely gulps down a mouthful of soda before reclining his head back against the couch. He looks almost serene as he closes his eyes and for a moment Natasha thinks she sees a flicker of a smile across his lips.
Her eyes narrow sharply, immediately wary. "Who else … knows?"
He shrugs a shoulder, nonchalant. "Coulson suspects. Romanoff knows, but that's to be expected."
"Fury?"
"I don't think he cares."
"Small favors."
With a silent whine, Natasha mimics his position, facing the empty unit where a television would normally sit. Propping her feet up on his coffee table, she scowls—isn't sure whether she wants to continue blaming Barton or if she's ready to accept responsibility for the situation. It had never occurred to her to actively try to hide her … whatever with Loki. She hadn't thought there was anything to hide beyond what happened behind closed doors. It's not like they were a couple. Natasha was nobody's girlfriend. The thought alone made her skin crawl.
The thing that pisses her off most of all is that it even matters in the first place. It's not like it's the first time she's been with a guy that's caused Barton or Pepper (or even Bruce) to raise a brow. Before Loki had returned, she'd filled those six months with a number of different men. Distractions, all of them. And even if Loki wasn't necessarily a distraction, he wasn't special.
Well.
Okay, he was special.
Fine.
She can admit that.
But not in that way.
He was a semi-partner and sometimes friend. He was someone she could talk to without the precaution of judgment. He was one of the few who could look into the darkest part of her and smile.
But he wasn't …
He wasn't … more.
He was just Loki.
Just Loki.
"Look," she sighs, palming her brow wearily. "It hasn't been going on for long, if that's what you think. Weeks, only. And it's not like this is a thing. It's nothing complicated. It's just—"
Rogers snorts. "Of course it's complicated. He's a war criminal and you're an Avenger. That's complicated, Natasha."
She feels a grin steal honestly across her lips as she glances over to him. "Okay, yeah. So it's a little complicated."
"Yup."
They sit, letting silence settle between them, comfortable and warm.
With each sip of her soda, she quietly filters out any thoughts of Loki and non-existing relationships.
When she returns to the office after a meeting with the company shareholders, Pepper laughs when she sees Loki lounging in the armchair in front of her desk, dressed primly like one of the many lawyers she's had to deal with already this morning.
"Are you hiding out here because you're too embarrassed to face Bruce after he caught you guys trying to do it on the couch?"
Loki grimaces, idly flicking at the weighted armature sitting on her desk. The spindly metal piece comes to life, the middle intersecting bar teetering as its various adjoining pieces rotate and distribute their weight. Pepper smiles at it as she steps around him to take her seat at her desk, glancing a finger over the tracking pad on her laptop to bring it to life.
"When Natasha told him I would be staying with her in the Tower, the Hulk tried to pulverize me along with the new interior," Loki says with no small amount of resentment. "I won't wait to see what he intends for this particular offense."
Pepper chuckles, shaking her head as she pulls up her schedule. "Sweetheart, you're adorable. But I think you're fine. Bruce didn't seem upset. He didn't even seem surprised. He's still laughing it up at the Tower since you guys vacated the place."
Loki says nothing, frowning at the armature as he watches it twist and flip around itself.
Hands pausing over her keyboard, Pepper looks to him and sighs. "Okay, what's wrong?"
Brows furrowed, Loki says seriously, "Don't try the Indian place that just opened up down the street. You'll be in for a surprise."
Pepper grins, shaking her head. "Thanks for the warning?"
Loki nods magnanimously.
When Pepper continues to watch him, he finally looks up, blinking. "What?"
"Oh. I'm sorry. Did you think we were done? We're not done." Pepper smiles, sitting back in her chair and folding her hands on her lap. "What's wrong, Loki? Don't play dumb. I know that look. That's a: Natasha's 'being stupid and I don't know what to do about it', look."
Loki snorts, shaking his head as he tries to bite back a grin. "It's nothing, Pepper. We'll work it out."
This makes Pepper smile. "I'll believe it when I see it."
She has no intention to drop it. Still, she has work to do. For the next several hours, she sifts through documents and emails, making phone calls and overlooking quotes.
Loki stays quiet, silently fiddling with the weighted armature that Natasha always seemed to find fascinating.
"Hey, I don't remember. Did I thank you, yesterday?" Natasha blurts, blinking up at Rogers from behind the thick framed Moss Lipow sunglasses. "You kinda just let me vent and—"
"You actually did," Rogers says, grinning lightly as they make their way leisurely down Park Avenue. Unlike at the diner, their civilian-wear makes them a little harder to identify so it's easier for them to pretend they're normal and not the total freaks of nature that they actually were. "It was a pleasant surprise. I didn't think you knew how to show gratitude."
Natasha sniffs, shaking her head and pursing her lips to keep a smile from bursting forth. "Don't get sassy. You're ruining the moment."
"Was this a moment?"
Natasha glares, but he only smiles.
As they duck out of the main street and veer towards the park, Natasha watches the overcast sky. It occurs to her that the only other times she's ever been out and about the city like this had been with Morgan. The thought sobers her expression, but she doesn't allow the dark memory of their last encounter to linger long enough to take root. Occasionally, Rhodey used to drag her out of her workshop to the nearest sports bar where they could unwind, but she's never just taken a walk—with no other purpose other than to appreciate the city and enjoy the sound of life. Silence is not quite the beast it once was, but Natasha still prefers noise—any noise—if given the option.
"Where's Iron Woman?"
"Are you Captain America?"
Natasha blinks, looking down from the sky to see an apologetic mother. She whispers in sharp Spanish to her kids, tugging at their shoulders to urge them back to her side. The children, a boy and a girl, no older than ten, blink up at Natasha and Rogers in awe, mouths slightly agape and eyes wide, absorbing every detail. For a moment, Natasha almost regrets having abandoned Iron Woman in the storage unit of Rogers' apartment—doesn't think Natasha Stark has quite the same draw as the mere pilot to the incredible Iron Woman.
It doesn't seem to matter, though. The little boy beams up at her regardless, holding up his Iron Woman trading card. "Will you sign my card?"
"Ah—" Natasha blinks again, quirking her mouth to one side in feigned displeasure. "I don't have a pen." She looks to the mother seriously. "Do you have a pen?"
The mother starts, pulling her large purse forward to search. She holds out a metallic Sharpie half a minute later and Natasha grins, crouching down to the boy's level so she can sign his card.
"Can you sign my backpack?" The little girl asks suddenly, twisting to reveal her purple backpack, stippled with Ponies and Spongebob and a big round Captain America shield patch stitched across the top with her name embroidered into the middle.
"Of course, little lady."
Rogers crouches next to Natasha and she hands him the marker. Before Natasha can stand, the little boy draws out the rest of his cards from his pocket and begins presenting each with careful consideration. Amused, Natasha listens carefully and with more patience than she'd expected of herself.
When the mother succeeds in drawing her children away, Natasha remains crouched next to Rogers and watches them go, thoughtful.
"You know," Natasha murmurs, "If you ever get tired of slummin' it in that apartment, Cap—"
"It's not slumming. I like it," Rogers huffs quietly.
She grins. "Okay. Well, I know you think it's big and ugly, but—the Tower's got plenty of space. I was thinking of renaming it Avenger Tower. Convert it to a base of operations. If I did that, you think you might be interested in staying? You know—it wouldn't have to be permanent, and you could keep the apartment, though I don't know why you would, but—"
"That would be nice," Rogers says, standing smoothly. Natasha follows, grimacing at the pop in her knees when she does. "I think I would like that. I'd still like to keep the apartment, but I like the idea of Avenger Tower. We could use it to train recruits. There have been a lot of men and women interested in joining the initiative. I'd rest easier knowing they were getting proper training."
Natasha nods. "I'd feel way more comfortable with them in the Avengers than with S.H.I.E.L.D." She catches his smirk and grins. "And it's not just because I don't trust S.H.I.E.L.D."
"No. I understand. The Avengers serve the people in a way that S.H.I.E.L.D. would never allow." Rogers starts walking, frowning. "I don't want to train weapons. I want heroes."
"Alright. I gave you time to think," Pepper says suddenly, startling Loki from his perusal of her weekly planner. "Talk to me. What did Natasha do?"
He sighs, shutting the planner, palm over the leather cover. "Pepper, really—it's nothing. There's no need for concern."
She throws him a disbelieving look, shaking her head as she turns back to her computer. "You know, I used to think I had to worry about Natasha getting hurt because of you. I didn't think the reverse to be possible."
"She hasn't done anything wrong."
"Natasha's always doing something wrong. It takes her five wrongs to make a right."
Loki frowns at that, but he doesn't argue.
Pepper exhales, regretting the words despite their truth. She pulls away from her computer and shifts her body to face Loki. She doesn't meet his eyes, however, bowing her head into her hand, palm pushing into the ridge of her brow. "Usually—usually it's enough to make up for all the chaos and destruction she wreaks along the way. But she's also blind to collateral damage. Natasha's all about the bigger picture."
She slides her hand down to her mouth, curling it into a fist. She looks to Loki and finds him studying the contours of her desk, pointedly avoiding her gaze. It makes her smile when she can't remember if that is a purely Loki trait, or something he'd picked up from Natasha. It was certainly a tactic employed by both when they wanted to avoid betraying their thoughts.
"She's all about the grand scheme. She can see fifty moves ahead of the rest of us, but can't see what's right under her nose until it's too late," Pepper continues, studying Loki's expression. "That's why it freaks her out so much when she finds herself getting caught up in the details."
Loki's eyes narrow, gaze sharpening as it fixes on a single point on her desk with sudden attentiveness. Curiously, he asks, "Is that what's happening?"
"Let me tell you what I think is going on," Pepper says, waiting until Loki's eyes flick to hers before continuing. "It's not just that you're Loki. It's that she's worried you might actually care."
Loki's brow pinches, perplexed.
Pepper smiles and it's tinged in sadness she cannot conceal. "Natasha loves attention. She loves being loved. But she knows that—really—the Natasha people love or admire is only an idea. An image—not entirely of her own creation, but one that's been manufactured over years by the media. It's her safety net. She can pretend she's not lonely because a Stark is never bereft of admirers. But she can also deflect any criticism—any hate—knowing that the person people see on their television or in the magazines don't really know her. Don't really care."
"And now she has Iron Woman," Loki murmurs.
Pepper sniffs quietly, shaking her head as her smile twists sardonically. "I think she spends more time wishing she were Iron Woman than Natasha Stark. Iron Woman is her knight. Her shield. And Natasha—Natasha thinks of herself like a weapon. Like the weapons she used to manufacture before she realized her company was selling them to the terrorists to use against the country she thought she was protecting."
Loki's eyes flicker, not really seeing but absorbing her every word, clever mind calculating. She thinks that maybe six months ago, she might have been hesitant to reveal so much of Natasha's inner mechanics. Thinks she would have definitely been more suspicious of the way Loki stored every fragment of information regarding Natasha, cataloguing every detail. And maybe he's just that charming—that genius—but Pepper finds that, like Happy, she's been indoctrinated into the belief that Loki was truly on their side. Maybe not the Avengers—and certainly not Earth's—but theirs. Natasha, Happy and Pepper—their dysfunctional little family. Loki's dysfunctional family.
"Weapons hurt people—and Natasha is a ticking time bomb," Pepper murmurs, not feeling the pang of betrayal that should have come with exposing Natasha's deepest vulnerability. "When bombs blow up, there are casualties. She wants to create, but all she sees is destruction. She thinks she's a bomb and everything else is a casualty of proximity. She forgets, sometimes—thinks for a while that maybe she's one of the duds. But, then—she gets close to someone. Finds someone she cares about and that matters and suddenly she's a bomb again and she pushes people away because she'd rather be alone and a danger only to herself than to be responsible for the lives of others. She'd rather be alone than to relive that kind of pain."
"You think she's protecting me?" Loki asks, expression drawn incredulously as he looks at her.
"No. I think she's terrified of the idea that someone can know her as well as you do—can look past the idea and see her—and still want to be with her. I think what drew her to you was the fact that—in her eyes—you don't allow attachments. You're selfish."
"I am selfish."
"Not as selfish as she thinks you are. Not as selfish as you think you are." Pepper grins mildly. "But yes, you are selfish."
Loki smirks, averting his eyes and shaking his head in amusement. "Sometimes I think it's a miracle you did not discover me sooner."
"Well, what? You think I was just going to suspect 'Asgardian God!' and warn Natasha?" Pepper grin, shaking her head. "I knew something was up. I knew it had something to do with Natasha. But I never—I never thought you'd hurt her."
Loki frowns. "Until I did."
"Well," Pepper huffs, smile dissolving as her gaze drops to her desk. "Until you did. Yeah."
He stares at nothing, expression vacant. "You don't know that I won't hurt her again, Pepper. Maybe it's better we part ways now—"
Pepper scowls, sitting forward. "No. That would be a mistake and you know it. Look at me." He does without hesitation and Pepper summons all the authority she can muster. "I know Natasha's story, but I don't know yours, and I might not know what made you the way you were two years ago, but I know you're a different man now. You've both changed, Loki. Maybe more than you realize. Right now, Natasha's just adjusting. She's trying to wrap her mind around a situation she has no idea how she got into. It was completely unprecedented for her. You are completely unprecedented. You're the one person she never thought she could hurt and you're the one person she's allowed herself to get close enough to hurt. She's only realized this now, however, and it's terrifying her. So give her time. And please—please—don't let her push you away."
He frowns and she can see the stubbornness in the set of his jaw. "Maybe it's too late."
She rolls her eyes, relaxing the stiff set of her shoulders. "If you really believed that, you wouldn't have sat here for the past three hours pretending to read a book when I know you were just waiting around for me to help you wade through the mess that comes with being in any sort of committed relationship to Natasha."
Almost petulantly, Loki mutters, "She doesn't want a relationship. I'm not even sure I want a relationship."
"Well, tough. Because you're in one. Short of traveling back in time and just making the proactive decision to stay out of our lives for your own sake, you're stuck."
Loki laughs, the tension he'd carried into the room faltering at last. "You make it sound like I'm the one who came up short in all of this."
Pepper only smiles.
"My dear, you have that look."
He doesn't hear the opening of the grand door, but the banquet hall echoes with the sound of his mother's delicate footsteps. His scowl eases and eventually fades into a smile, though not soon enough—if his mother's concerned frown is anything to go by. She sighs, motioning him to sit when he moves to stand from the polished steps. Frigga claims the open space beside him (the open space once filled, perhaps a lifetime ago) and he stiffens, preparing for a lecture.
"What is it, Thor? What troubles you?"
"Nothing to burden you with, mother," Thor murmurs, his uncharacteristic softness betraying him at once.
Frigga hums, as if amused, reaching out to entwine her hand with his where it sits in a fist over his knee. She presses her side briefly to his and the contact is comforting in the way that only a mother can accomplish. Thor smiles, but his mother pins him with a pointedly disapproving look. "That is what mothers are for, dear one. To share the weight of burden. Now, speak—before I make it command."
"Yes, mother," Thor sighs, bowing his head gratefully to press a kiss to her hand. "It is Midgar."
"Loki," Frigga says on an exhale.
Thor looks to her in a moment of surprise, having come to expect the Lady Jane's name in the stead of his brother. His mother was not the first to approach him in hopes of drawing him out of his thoughts, but unlike Frigga, Lady Sif and Fandral had presumed it was the absence of Lady Jane that sobered his spirit. Of course, one look at the weary lines that had appeared at the corners of Frigga's eyes and the ever present pinch between her brow—and Thor knew that Loki was never far from her thoughts, as well.
Nodding, at last, in response, he frowns. "The allotted time has passed, yet father does nothing. Loki's banishment was never meant to be permanent. His home is here. How are we ever to build trust when father binds him to the mortal's realm? Is he so hard? Does he not feel the absence of his own son?"
"Your father's heart and thoughts are his own. I cannot hope to understand them." A smile flickers across her lips but she seems to restrain it. He frowns, curious, and she says, "But you did not ingratiate yourself with him by pursuing yet more conflict with Jotunheim."
Thor scowls, inhaling sharply as he averts his gaze. He does not regret his actions, though it has been the cause for much friction between himself and the All-Father.
"It did not turn to war."
"It very nearly did."
"Father sees me only as a child! I am an adult only when it is of convenience of him. What else was I to do?"
"You attempted to reason with Farbauti and, failing that, stole Elderstahl—"
"It was not theft if the Jotun's did not even know where to find it."
"… Thor."
Frigga's hand tightens over his and Thor feels his petulance grow. Gritting his teeth, he swallows the bitter anger that threatens to blind him to reason. Shutting his eyes, he bows his head, his hair falling to place like a curtain around his face to keep his mournful expression from betraying his heart to his mother. Knowing her, she knew his anguish well enough regardless.
His eyes burn with emotion and angrily he whispers, "Father would see Loki erased from the memories of all Asgard, but how can Thor exist without Loki at his side? We are brothers."
"And you both—my children." Frigga stands gracefully, releasing his hand almost reluctantly before moving to the banquet table. "I would see own heart from chest if I thought it could ease the suffering of my precious sons."
She inhales slowly, plucking a chalice from the table to sip at quietly. Thor blinks, surprised by the action. When she notices his look, she smiles, returning to him and passing over the chalice of wine. Thor takes it dubiously, frowning. Frigga's smile widens as she bows to press a loving kiss to his brow.
Lashes moist from unshed tears, Thor blinks and brings the chalice to his lips to drink.
When Frigga is gone, leaving Thor to his thoughts and drink, he does not see the shimmer of magic that dissolves the loving face of his mother to that of the Enchantress.
Does not see Amora's smile as she touches her fingers to her lips or the wickedness in his eyes.
Thor only drinks.
And he mourns.
Loki is not prepared when he arrives at the Tower the next morning to find Natasha laughing at the bar with Banner. Rogers is at their feet on his back with his hands locked to the back of his head as he curls his body forward to press his brow to his knees repeatedly, a grin twisting his lips as Natasha laughs harder and Banner shakes his head, rolling his eyes in amusement. Banner is leaning against the bar on crossed arms, idly picking at half a PopTart while Natasha happily chews on the other.
"Steve—buddy!" Natasha declares, caught between a laugh and a snort. "Breakfast is supposed to last you all day. You're going to work it all off!"
"You're one to talk," Rogers huffs, as he rolls his spine back along the floor. "Do you even know what breakfast is supposed to look like?"
Natasha breaks off a piece of her PopTart to flick at the Captain and as they laugh, Loki hates them all. The emotion wells up in the pit of his stomach, hot and acidic. He thinks of the Warriors Three and their treacherous smiles as they eagerly took Loki's place at his brother's flank—and Thor, ever happy for the attention, oblivious to all as Loki was quietly migrated out of sight. He watches Banner lean into Natasha's side, murmuring quietly and receiving a mischievous grin in return. Rogers sees this as well and sits up immediately, eyes narrowing suspiciously on Natasha.
When Parker shows up, loudly proclaiming his arrival with a bright box of donuts in his arms, the last of Loki's patience snaps. He moves swiftly out of the room without ever announcing his presence, only distantly hearing Parker's muttered, " What's with him?"
The words still ring in his ears long after his magic carries him away to a familiar island of floating rock and endless space.
It was a day.
And then it was a week.
Silence.
"Shit," Natasha mutters quietly as her hands slips and the circuitry of the chest armor sparks in defiance. "Okay, yeah. Calm down. I'm sorry."
She doesn't hear the door open, and as she's adjusting the armor on its mount she nearly drops it on her feet when she hears a sharp clang behind her. Heart in her throat, Natasha jolts and twists around to see Pepper holding a gauntlet against the side of her station, apologetic and bemused smile on her face.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I did knock," Pepper says as Natasha lays a hand over her chest and tries to settle her rapidly beating heart. It takes her a moment to realize that Pepper is dressed in one of Happy's shirts and a pair of workout shorts. She's barefoot, as well, which is enough to give Natasha another minor heart attack. Seeing her alarm, Pepper chuckles and retreats to the door. "Sorry. I'll be quick."
Natasha exhales loudly, breathless and exhausted and still feeling as if she's on the verge of a panic attack. She's not entirely sure it's completely from the near-miss with the armor or Pepper's frightening lack of regard for personal safety. She's been on edge and restless all week—not that she's ready to really think about why.
Mopping at the sweat at her brow with her arm, Natasha casts a dubious look to the plastic bag Pepper has dangling over her shoulder on a finger before turning back to the armor to double-check the harness is locked properly.
"Leave that. Come on."
"What?" Natasha mutters at the armor, frowning . "Can't it wait?"
"Nope," Pepper replies pleasantly.
Glancing over her shoulder wearily, Natasha studies the determined gleam in Pepper's eyes and rolls her eyes. With an exasperated sigh, she removes all the tools she's stowed in the various pockets of her jeans and nods. Utterly bemused, she follows Pepper back and they retreat upstairs to her bedroom—where Natasha briefly panics again as she tries to remember if she or Loki had left anything incriminating lying about.
Then she remembers that she hasn't seen or spoken with Loki all week and her confusion dissolves into annoyance that she selfishly divides between herself and the Trickster.
"Get comfortable," Pepper demands as she settles herself on Natasha bed, propping herself up against the headboard and waving her hand above her head where the sensor installed into the wall could pick up the movement. Across from her, the white wall seems to fade to reveal a television screen seamlessly integrated.
From the door, Natasha watches Pepper draw a bottle of wine and a tub of Rocky Road ice cream from her plastic bag.
"What's … ?"
Pepper pats the spot next to her, eyes on the television where it's picked up on a movie Natasha and Loki never finished. "Sit."
Natasha frowns, averting her eyes from the film as she turns to head for her adjoining bathroom instead. "Let me clean up, first."
She shuts the door immediately behind her and stares vacantly into the open space of her bathroom. Her head, startlingly empty and simultaneously filled with white noise, throbs. The necklace around her neck is heavy, weighing her down as she moves to switch on the faucet. Her eyes find the mirror and the reflection of the cube dangling from its chain around her throat where it rests just above the imprint of her reactor through her layered shirts.
Absently, her hand dips into the sink. Water slushes over her fingers—cold and not cold enough.
When Pepper opens the door to peer inside half an hour later, her eyes drop to find Natasha sitting in front of the sink with her back to the counter and legs splayed out in front of her, expression neutral as she stares at the empty shower stall. The water is still running and the sound slowly brings Natasha to the present.
She blinks, takes a breath, and Pepper murmurs soberly, "You know what's not fair?"
The door swings open lazily the rest of the way and Pepper rests her shoulder against the frame, arms crossed and eyes pinning Natasha with an intensity she doesn't have to look up to understand.
"You exhausted so much of the past two years lusting after Loki—"
"Has it been two years?" Natasha mutters, pushing herself to her feet and reaching to switch off the faucet. "Wow."
"And now that you both have set aside your pigheadedness to explore a potential relationship—"
Natasha levels Pepper with a wry look, lips a thin line absent any trace of humor and single brow arched pointedly.
Pepper frowns. "You're backing out. Without even giving it a chance—you're backing out at the first sign of doubt because that's just you."
Natasha shrugs. "I told you. I told him. I don't do relationships. He understands."
"Then where is he?" Pepper demands, a flicker of irritation coloring her tone.
"It's not like there's a contract binding him to me. He's free to come and go as he likes."
For the first time in a long time, Pepper's expression crumples in disappointment, reading through Natasha's words and hearing something else entirely. "You think you can fill someone's curiosity of you with a taste. As if you're someone so easy to forget. You abandon relationships before they can become personal because you don't want to hurt people like you've been hurt—"
With a snort, Natasha shakes her head and moves to push past her.
Pepper straightens in the doorway to block her path, unflinching even as Natasha's eyes narrow in warning. "But I don't know if you've realized," Pepper continues. "This is Loki. If there is anyone more well-equipped to handle you and your substantial baggage, it would be that man."
"Pepper. Don't."
Frustration peaking, Pepper demands, "What are you so scared about? Why can't you just let go?"
"How?" Natasha blurts angrily, frustrated and exhausted and pissed because it's been a week and she hasn't seen or heard from that bastard since— "How? You make it sound so easy. Like it's a command I'm naturally programmed to follow. It's not. It's not that simple."
"It is hard. And it's scary. I know. That's what it means to trust someone. That's what it means to be with someone." Pepper starts forward—then stops, her arms half unfolded as if to reach out to her. She doesn't, but Natasha steps back anyway, wary of attempts to comfort. Pepper sighs. "You give them an intimate part of yourself—something that's all you—and all you can do is hope and trust that they will treat it with kindness and respect and that's terrifying. I know."
"But that's just it. I don't want to lose any part of myself. I don't want to give anything up."
Pepper shakes her head, smiling empathetically. "I'm not sure that's how it works."
"Why not? Natasha demands furiously, ignoring the catch in her throat. "Why can't it?"
"Because it isn't fair."
"To who? I shouldn't—"
"To Loki."
"—have to … What?"
"Natasha," Pepper says, patiently—but as if desperate for her to understand. "It isn't fair not to share a part of yourself in return."
"No." Natasha shakes her head, filled with an urgency that amplifies the fluttering panic in her belly. "No. You don't understand. You don't—no. I'm different. I'm different when I'm with—him. I'm not—I'm not me. I hate that. I don't know who I am when I'm with him. I don't—"
"You're treating it like it's something bad. Something wrong. Natasha, that's what happens when you're with someone. When you let yourself be with someone. It changes you, yes. It makes you softer. It—"
"I don't want to change! No." Natasha steps back, shaking her head. "No."
"It's not supposed to be a bad thing, Natasha—"
"No. I—no." Natasha inhales sharply, scowling at the tile—at the flicker of green eyes and wide grin in her mind. "I don't want to be different. I don't want to change. I like who I am. I don't want to be softer or nicer or—I don't want to change. I shouldn't have to change."
"It's not that you have to, it's that—"
"What?" Natasha snarls, stalking forward so suddenly Pepper backs away in surprise, her eyes wide and almost wary. It occurs to her that only Loki and Rogers have ever seen this side of her—vicious and cutting and without the edge of sarcasm or humor to blunt her words. Natasha pulls back immediately, jerking her face to the side to glower at the shallow pool of water in the sink. "Maybe this was all a mistake. I screwed up. I should have just let him return to Asgard. I should have just forgotten about him completely."
Pepper takes a breath, gathering herself. When she reaches out a hand for Natasha's shoulder, Natasha flinches and steps out of the way. "Stop. What are you talking about? What are you doing? No. you can't—love isn't negotiable."
Natasha's jaw tightens and she feels her stomach churn in disgust at the word. "Good thing I'm not in love, then."
"Is that what you think?" Pepper snorts, confidence returned. "Is that what you're telling yourself?"
Natasha levels her with a glare, slashing a hand across the air defiantly. "And why would I want to be in love, anyway? Love's messy. It's complicated. What me and Loki have—that's simple. We like each other and the sex is good. Why the hell are you trying to ruin this? Why does everyone need to define it? We were fine before—"
"Because I know this path. You've taken it before. I know you and I know you're just biding your time until you can find an excuse to run away. But love isn't something to run from. Love is—"
Pepper clamps her mouth, jaw set. She stares Natasha down as if by will alone she could tear through the stubborn resolve. Natasha holds her ground and Pepper sighs, shaking her head.
Quietly, Pepper paces back into the bedroom, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and pressing her palm to her brow in thought. Natasha watches her, slowly forcing herself to unwind with each breath. The panic is gone, replaced with anger—but fear gnaws underneath it all and she tries not to look at Pepper in desperation—stamps down on the little voice that tells her Pepper is always right. Pepper always knows best. Listen to Pepper. Listen.
Finally, Pepper says, "Okay. You know those carnival games? You know how some of them are really hard to win? Then there are others that are super easy, so everyone gets a prize?"
Natasha doesn't entirely relax, but she steps out of the bathroom carefully, regarding Pepper with suspicion. "I've never been to a carnival."
"Right," Pepper nods, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "Just follow me, then. Because—that's the difference between sex and love." At Natasha's arched brow, Pepper explains, impatiently. "Sex is the game where everyone wins and everyone gets to take home that little plastic key chain. And … love—" Pepper's attention seems to flicker and a smile crosses her lips—remembering. Natasha can't begrudge her the look, desperate as she is to hold on to her anger. She sighs and Pepper continues. "Love is the game that's really hard to win."
"Then what's the point?" Natasha mutters, feeling more petulant, now, than angry.
Pepper smiles, wide and beautiful. "Because—when you do win—when you win and you get to take home that life-sized stuffed rabbit—it feels a whole lot better than taking home a crappy little plastic key chain."
Natasha scowls, but with her next breath she feels—deflated.
Pepper reaches behind her for the open tub of ice cream, taking one of the spoons and scooping out a large portion full of marshmallows. She holds it out to Natasha and Natasha glares at it—before accepting it dutifully and popping the spoon into her mouth.
She lets the lump of ice cream melt on her tongue as she contemplates the cold and ignores the pang of regret in her chest—hates that nothing remains in her life untouched by the damned Trickster but doesn't know if she'd change anything, even given the opportunity.
When the lump is little more than liquid and soggy not-quite marshmallows, she swallows and, looking at Pepper, mutters, "And … what if he isn't enough? What if he isn't my … life-sized stuffed rabbit?"
Pepper smiles, warmth in her eyes. "I think he is."
Natasha's scowl deepens. "But what if he isn't? What if I go through all this … and he isn't?"
Pepper shrugs. Like it's that easy. "Then that's just the way it is. But you won't know until you try and you've never been the sort to back down from something because it's scary."
It's not a particularly compelling case.
It doesn't seem worth it.
Natasha has too much else to keep her up all night than an empty bed and a hollow in her chest that the reactor doesn't fill.
"Things were simpler. With just you and me," Natasha huffs, making her way to the bed and dropping next to Pepper. Closing her eyes, she leans into Pepper's warmth and wishes for something colder. Nudging her lightly, Natasha murmurs, "Why can't it just be you and me?"
Pepper sighs, draping an arm across Natasha's shoulders.
"Because we had to grow up eventually, Natasha."
"Tell me. What is your interest in Howard Stark's daughter?"
Loki turns away from the empty corner of space that had occupied his attention at the familiar voice of The Hand. As the man approaches, Loki's eyes stray past him to the steps paving the ascent to the Titan's throne where The Other lurks, hunched and hissing to the voices in his head.
When Loki looks back to The Hand, the man is smiling—a cruel and empty expression. Loki frowns as he replays The Hand's words, canting his head. "I thought she might be of some use. I was wrong. It is not worth the effort."
The Hand hums appreciatively, nodding. "She would be a valuable asset to your cause."
Loki hesitates—but eventually curiosity wins and he asks the question he knows the Hand is waiting for, "You know of her?"
The Hand smiles again. "I knew her father. Rather—I am familiar with his work." At Loki's frown, The Hand steps forward, shoulders aligned as he set his gaze outward over the infinite space beyond Thanos' realm.
Then, a memory surfaces—of lounging in Natasha's bed, laptop shared between them as they trudged through her extensive databases, analyzing.
"I know you," Loki says, realizing.
"I thought you might. Working so intimately with Stark and the Avengers, it was a matter of time."
"You are … were dead."
The Red Skull chuckles, amused. "No. Not dead. Enlightened, yes. But not dead."
Loki turns to face him, frowning. "You possess the Tesseract."
"No," The Skull replies calmly. "But I was touched by it. Was brought before the Master. Was given power—unimaginable power."
"You are connected to the Tesseract, still?"
"Always. We are always connected. It was my destruction—and my reconstruction."
Loki remembers Selvig atop Stark Tower, eyes burning with the power of the Tesseract, yet Loki's influence absent from his mind.
He remembers Natasha's database—The Red Skull, enemy of Captain America. Leader of—
"HYDRA." Loki murmurs. He sees the Skull's smile widen and feels hate brew in his belly. How had he been so blind? "You had Amora recruit soldiers—"
"Weapons," The Skull corrects. "HYDRA provides the soldiers. The Melter, Black Knight, Grim Reaper—those are weapons."
Loki doesn't understand what Amora would have to gain by aligning herself with a mortal with a vendetta against his own kind but he's too furious to care. He schools his expression and keeps his tone neutral. "I believed the Master's interest with Earth shifted when the Tesseract was lost to Asgard."
"Your doing, if I recall?" The Skull replies without really answering, looking up at Loki at last. "I have no quarrel with you Asgardian. You know this. You still hold something of interest to me—and my hold is the grip I wield around the throats of your precious pets. You think the Avengers know war? They are little more than vermin—insects. And I am the boot."
Loki knows those words. Knows these words because they are the words of a Mad Titan.
At once, understands that the Skull's power is one granted, not infinite.
He says nothing and the Skull takes that as concession. He leans closer to Loki's shoulder, smile stretching wicked and wide across bright red skin. "I'll offer you one warning. A sign of good will."
Twisting on his heel, the Red Skull walks away, chuckling as he calls over his shoulder:
"Run."
He has scarcely uttered the word before Amora appears, grinning triumphantly.
Loki sneers, ignoring the magic gathering at her palms. "You are a fool. You think you can best me, little witch?"
"Perhaps not." Her eyes dart behind Loki. "But I know of one who can."
The impossible rumble of thunder resonates within Loki's very bones.
And when he twists, eyes wide, it is too late to run.
Mjolnir cracks against his jaw and sends him plunging into the darkness of empty space.
End Notes: Boom, baby.
Pep's love quote is borrowed from the movie After Love. Also: have I mention how much I love PepperLoki bromance? That shit's legit.