Aaaaaaah. Okay, I was going to update this like three weeks ago, half of it has been sitting on my computer since then, and then this an that happened, and here we are. My bad. I guess some things happen this chapter. I'm gonna try to finish the next one before I leave for Peru next week, but no promises, as usual.
Loki felt like he would never recover. It had been three days, and still his magic was sluggish to the touch. It was like a pulled muscle, difficult to use, and a bit sore. As it turned out, it took far too much to topple a castle, but still hold it for long enough for everyone to get out. Almost all of it, actually, hence his current weakness.
It was odd too, it seemed as though nearly every person in the Tower came to see him while he was ill. In Asgard, he could hardly remember anyone but Thor and Frigga checking on him when he was with the healers. The Warriors Three always had better things to do, and Sif hated him, so they never came to the healer's rooms. And of course Odin would never come see him.
But here, he'd had visitors. Thor, of course, hardly left his side, something which frustrated him to no end. Jack was often in the room as well, apparently shirking his duties as a Guardian to make sure he was all right, although Loki could tell the sprite was not feeling well either. He had woken at least once to the sound of the Captain's pencil scratching across a page as he sketched. Stark tended to sit there and snark all while doing whatever it was he did on a StarkPad. Banner, Barton, and Romanoff were the only ones who never came.
He told himself it didn't matter, and it didn't. Banner, of course, was still recovering from what he'd been told was torture at the hands of the Jotuun. Torture that was Loki's fault, and that he was not going to feel guilty about. He refused to, it would be ridiculous. Barton, of course, was likely still upset about the fact that he had taken over the man's mind. It had been a poor decision, he would admit that now. The entire invasion was. He had no desire to rule this realm, it had nothing of value in it. He could certainly irritate the occupants though, he had proven to be exceptionally good at that, if nothing else. And Romanoff had a…something with Barton. No doubt he should be grateful she hadn't shown up in his room. He was sure he could fend her off, but without his magic it would be much more difficult. And he was tired of fighting in any case.
He was actually alone for once when the door creaked open. Thor had gone off to find food, and everyone else was busy with something. He was using the tablet that Stark had given him to read a book, a mystery about someone named Sherlock Holmes. It was actually entertaining, considering it was written by a Midgardian author.
Of course, he set it down as soon as he saw Barton slipping into the room, wondering what was happening. He'd already decided that the archer wanted nothing to do with him. It was an acceptable loss, as much as he thought they could have been friends, or at least allies. Maybe this meant that Barton was harboring more of a grudge than he thought, and the archer was here to kill him.
He was not as against the thought as he thought it would be. Wasn't that mildly disturbing.
Well at least this would be interesting.
Peter had come to terms with the fact that he was not where he was supposed to be, and that his ship was not here either. Meaning he had no way to get back to Yondu, or his life at home. Even though Terra was technically his home. Kind of. Even though he hadn't been here since he was eight. Honestly, he hardly remembered it, besides his mother and the bands on his mix tape. It wasn't like he had a misplaced sense of nostalgia, no, he was too smart for that. And plus, space was just plain awesome, cannibalistic Ravagers aside.
But for right now, at least, it was somewhat interesting to see what Terra had been up to. For instance, the vaguely robotic voice that spoke as soon as he stepped foot outside of his room.
"Sir, shall I alert someone that you need assistance?" The voice sounded polished, and there definitely wasn't a person in sight, Peter had checked before stepping into the hall. After all, he wasn't really sure if he was a prisoner or not, and it was bad etiquette to try to escape in plain sight. Not to mention that it rarely worked.
"Um, no. I think I'm good." He stuttered, finally, still searching for the source of the voice. Surely Terra didn't have AIs or anything. Everyone said they were far behind the rest of the galaxy when it came to technology, and that was still somewhat new, so it didn't quite seem right.
His stomach's loud rumble gave pause to his thinking, and he started walking down the hall to search out food. They had to have a kitchen somewhere, right?
Loki didn't speak as Barton sat – perched, really – on one of the armchairs in the room. There were two, one close to the bed, and one to the door, and he rather thought it was telling that the archer took the one closest to the door. He still didn't say a word, although he did set the tablet aside after marking his place. No use in it getting broken if the archer was about to get violent.
"Dr. Banner is insisting we all need to be nice to you." Barton's voice was low, and his eyes were on the floor as he spoke. He was obviously uncomfortable, and Loki briefly considered using it before discarding that idea. Ludicrous as it seemed, he actually wanted to know what the other man was saying. And he didn't want to ruin whatever it was for the moment.
"I think he's an idiot." The archer's voice was firmer now, and blue-grey eyes met his with a stubbornness that Loki knew equaled his own. He had been in the Hawk's head. He knew everything about the man.
"But I do respect him enough to try to get along," Barton blew out a breath, "so, truce?" Loki stared at him, unable to hide his disbelief. Truce? After what he had done? Just like that, no punishment, no nothing? One time of saving his friends, and that was it. He was forgiven. It felt like a trap, but he couldn't see any true malice in the other man's gaze. Just hesitance. Perhaps mistrust, but that was deserved, after all.
He had rather made a mess of the man's head.
"Are you offering to be…friends, Barton?" His tone didn't quite have the amount of ridicule he was trying for, and he knew the agent noted it too when a crooked smile appeared on the man's face.
"I guess so."
The kitchen was massive. It was also filled with things he didn't know how to use. Peter had finally found some sort of sugary food in the pantry that wasn't bad. It was kind of like cardboard with a sugary filling and coating that almost made his teeth hurt, but he had eaten worse, so he perched on the counter with his treat.
And when a broad-shouldered man with short blonde hair walked in, he froze with the food halfway to his mouth, eyes darting to where the other exit was. Too late though, the man had already spotted him, and his hand went to wear his blaster usually was before he realized it wasn't anymore.
"Damn." He muttered, staring at the empty holster. If he'd lost that thing, forget Yondu. He wouldn't be able to survive long. Maybe he had a spare back in his ship…And he sagged at that line of thought. His ship which was on a different planet currently.
"You okay?" The two words surprised him enough to make him jump, he'd forgotten the blonde man was in the room.
"Oh, uh, yeah. Just, you know. Eating this." He said, lifting the food up, and the blonde sighed, staring at the flat cardboard thing like someone had just run over his puppy.
"You like Pop-Tarts too?" The words were sad, and he immediately regretted whatever he'd done to make the man look like that. And anyways, it wasn't like he particularly enjoyed it, so he shook his head.
"Not really. Don't really even know what they are. But me and kitchens don't get along anyways, and I don't know what half this shit is." He admitted, waving his free hand to encompass the kitchen. The blonde brightened a bit.
"You want some real food then?" He offered, and Peter grinned.
"Sure." Never turn down free food, that was one of his number one rules. Right up there with always check a girl for tentacles, because that rarely turned out well for him. Besides, tentacles were just getting to the weird zone.
"I'm Steve Rogers, by the way." The blonde interrupted his thoughts, and Peter smiled.
"I'm Peter Quill. Nice to meet you."