XXVI
"Of course you would side with the bloody Lannisters." Loki shot Peggy a quirked eyebrow, half surprised and half offended.
"Do you have something against my shirt?" The god didn't own many t-shirts, but he was quite fond of the red House Lannister shirt Sherlock had gotten him two Christmases ago. Even if it was his "brother's" color. "Or the ruling house of Westeros for that matter?"
"Well, called me biased…" Peggy prefaced as she tried to set up her laptop, despite the dragon determined to nest on it. "But the North remembers." Loki chuckled and raised his mug in a mock taste."
"A Lannister always pays their debts." The young woman giggled, curling up on the couch after finally evicting Elsa off her computer. "And if I recall you are known to favor a Lannister mug as well, young lady."
"A Tyrion Lannister mug, thank you very much. I can love the Imp and despise the rest of his family. House Stark and House Targaryen for the win!"
"You cannot claim loyalty to houses on the opposite sides of the world, Miss Stark."
"I can and I will. And I've asked you to call me Peggy." Elsa decided to curl up in Peggy's legs as Loki nudged her out of his seat on the couch.
"Force of habit. And that is not how loyalty within monarchies works."
"A fictional monarchy, smarty britches," Peggy corrected, draping a grey blanket over her and Elsa. The dragon began to make tents in the fabric in confusion. "Sorry, El."
"You mortals may not be so keen on monarchies, but I will not see the rules bent simply because you have – oh how did Mary put it – 'the hots' for Robb Stark and Jon Snow." That comment earned him a vicious glare as she freed Elsa's head.
"Says the God who tried to turn New York into a dictatorship."
"An important detail."
"So where is Sherlock? This debate is going nowhere."
"Um…I think he's on a case. Not sure honestly. I was finishing my morning caffeine IV when he told me," she explained. "He didn't tell you before he left."
"Well, aren't you just useless, peasant? And he did but I tried to stop him going." Peggy kicked at him in annoyance.
"No wonder you two were so loud this morning. And remember, you marry Sherlock, you're stuck with this peasant, arsehole," she reminded him. Loki chuckled as he rubbed his hip where she had kicked him. For such a small mortal, that kick had quite a bit of power to it. "Besides whom would you have Game of Thrones and Tolkien marathons with? I can't imagine watching them with consulting detective Stick-up-his-ass."
"Well the last two Hobbit films are actually quite fun to watch with him. He doesn't believe me when I tell him he bears a resemblance to the actor behind Smaug," Loki explained.
"Oh of course not. He's far too prideful for such nonsense."
"To say the least!"
"Which means you two are perfect for each other." Loki quirked an eyebrow up at that. "Oh don't act like you don't put a ridiculous amount of effort into your appearance." He chuckled.
"Perhaps so. But my vanity tends to prove useful to Sherlock's cases."
"Tch. Flirt."
"Of course."
"Well go ahead and be forewarned. Your good looks have no power over me," she said with a smirk. Loki chuckled and his eyebrow went up again when a shiver passed through Peggy's body. While snuggling the little ice dragon could easily chill anyone, the young mortal was wearing at least three layers of tops, not including the fleece Stark blanket. Somehow, she seemed to be permanently chilled. "You ready to start?"
"Would you like me to start the fire? You're shivering."
"I'll be fine really," Peggy countered as she shivered again. Loki rolled his eyes and flicked a wrist. Immediately, bright green flames sprung to life in the fireplace. "Green? Really?"
"It is my specialty and you are a terrible liar."
"I wasn't lying."
"You shiver more than those rat dogs."
"What you got against Chihuahuas, space punk?"
"What do you have against being worm, Midgardian-cicle?"
"Nothing? I'm just always cold. It is just a thing with me."
"Well, I'd imagine fantasizing about various kings and knights would be difficult if you cannot cease shaking from cold for more than two minutes," Loki prodded.
"I'm sure their capes are more than big enough for two."
"Mmm that is true."
"You were supposed to be grossed out." Loki chuckled, ignoring the door shutting.
"I'm not Sherlock, darling. Sex does not alarm me."
"Are you gossiping about me again, Mischief God?" Sherlock asked as he popped into the room, seemingly looking for something.
"Of course, Sherlove."
"He says he likes your butt and fancy hair," Peggy elaborated for them. Loki frowned, slightly glaring at Sherlock's back.
"No, I think what I said was that he's a workaholic, who doesn't give his fiancé the time of day when he gets home." Sherlock scoffed, finally turning to the smirking god.
"So needy." But the neediness seemed to work as the detective pause in his strange search to press a chaste kiss on Loki's lips. Or at least, he made a valiant effort to. However, Loki never did anything halfway. When Sherlock tried to pull away, the Trickster yanked him right back by his lapels.
"Ew." Elsa, who had somehow wriggled out of Peggy's blanket, grunted in agreement. "If you boys wanna make out, please get a room. Elsa and I can them watch Game of Thrones in peace." Sherlock chuckled.
"I only came back for my magnifying glass. I just can't seem to find it…"
"On the dresser by my daggers," Loki answered.
"Oh. Thank you."
"Of course." Sherlock gave Loki another quick kiss before taking off to retrieve said glass. The god smiled almost dreamily as he ran his fingertips over the scars on his upper lip. Peggy smirked as she resumed preparing her laptop for their marathon.
"Oi Sherlock. Don't forget we're supposed to go out to the range tomorrow."
"I didn't. Don't set any fires while I'm gone, you two."
"Ah man."
"You're no fun, Sherlove!" Sherlock chuckled as he left at their rebuttal. Loki turned to Peggy as the door slammed shut. "And what 'range' are you two off to tomorrow then?"
"The shooting range. Sherlock is terrible and I'm getting rusty."
"Huh. I would not have pegged you for a firearms girl."
"I see what you did there. And between a druggie mother and an overprotective father and uncle, a girl usually ends up learning how to shoot a gun or something of the like," she explained with a shrug. "Honestly, I'm not fond of guns. I just took lessons to please my dad and uncle." Loki nodded, adjusting himself to see Peggy's tiny computer screen.
"So when we get to meet the paternal Stark anyway? The suspense is actually killing me." Loki had learned from one of Sherlock's cases that inquiring about addict relatives was never wise. Peggy smirked at him.
"Why so curious to meet my dad, huh?"
"Well, Sherlock and I are being entrusted with who I assume is his only daughter. I can tell you from experience fathers can be quite protective of their precious princesses." He refrained from voicing his continued concern that she might be related to the armored avenger. She would never give him a direct answer but rather smile coyly as she was now.
"I'm sure you'll meet him soon enough." Loki tried to hide his concern over that statement.
The god already had his hands full trying to protect Sherlock and his loved ones from Moriarty's plot. The damned search seemed to only gain momentum despite all the roadblocks Loki attempted to throw at him. And despite his mistrust, the god was beginning to grow fond of Ms. Stark. He would hate to see the innocent girl harmed in the crossfire…
"And what is the point of this exactly?" Sherlock asked as Peggy double checked the two handguns in front of her were properly put together. "I know perfectly well how to fire a gun."
"These aren't normal handguns. And it's your nonlethal shot the director's worried about," Peggy responded, pulling two sets of earmuffs and safety glasses out of her bag. "As appreciative as we were of you offing that Magnussen ass, you really can't just shot all your enemies in the head."
"They look like handguns," Sherlock rebutted, choosing to ignore her statement about the Magnussen affair. That whole debacle still stung him. "And I can do that just fine actually."
"These are called icers," Peggy explained, clearly ignoring his rebuttals as well.
"'Icers?'"
"Basically…" Peggy held up a bullet, seemingly filled with some slightly glowing blue liquid. "It has a dendrotoxin that knocks one out for several hours. Some of have more concentration than others for bigger baddies." He quirked an eyebrow at the information, studying the bullet.
"How much bigger?"
"Well…" Peggy started, leaning on the small counter that separated shooters from the targets. "This hasn't been tested but I wouldn't be surprised if they could take down the Hulk."
"Impressive."
"Of course it is. It's FitzSimmons."
"But wouldn't that also be dangerous to claim," he asked, testing the weight of one of the icers. She shrugged.
"I did preface that claim with 'it hasn't been tested.' I don't really know anyone who would want to test the theory. Besides it's FitzSimmons tech. The only stuff better than that is Stark tech."
"You're very confident in the pair's abilities."
"You've met them."
"I didn't say I doubted their abilities. I'm just not taking it as far as you are." The girl shrugged as she put on her safety gear. As he watched, Sherlock found himself once again marveling at the fact that this slip of a girl was a lethally trained secret agent.
"You know," he began as she began to demonstrate just how dangerous the icers really were. Poor Dummy never saw it coming. "I really expected someone older and more experienced to be my S.O."
"Age and experience don't necessarily correlate you know. And Coulson is kinda picky when it comes to people he trusts. Don't want to risk another Ward."
"Ward?"
"Cliff notes version: was on Coulson's team, turned out to be Hydra." The only acknowledgement she gave to the shots she had just fired was the occasional readjustment of the gold and red bow handing onto her braid.
"Even so. You don't look like much of a secret agent."
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Holmes. But that is rather the point. I'm not supposed to look like an agent," she explained. "We certainly don't want your beloved to know you're harboring SHIELD agents."
"I think he suspects you're not quite what you say," Sherlock admitted as he inspected his own weapon. "I've found it's difficult to hide things from Loki."
"I'd expect nothing less from the God of Lies. Please try not to put a bullet through Dummy's head." The detective glared as the impish agent smirked at him. "That would be rather overkillish."
"I'm sure your dummy agrees." He nodded to the target, now sporting a straight line of bullet holes starting between the eyes to its non-existent groin. "You already killed him, was emasculating him as well really necessary?"
"Probably not… Whoops." Peggy shrugged, effectively negating whatever guilt she actually felt for the poor dummy. "He had it coming."
"I'll take your word for it," Sherlock replied, putting away the icer. The detective was well aware his young supervising officer brought him here specifically to train with the weapon but he had too much on his mind to focus on butchering a dummy.
"Penny for your thoughts, rookie?" Peggy asked, somehow reading his silence.
"Do we have enough time?"
"Sharon managed to get us this range for three hours. Start talking." He found himself somewhat shocked at how quick she was for such information. She had only lived with the couple a month or so. And trust was difficult to develop for a spy.
"Mmm… how important is this stone SHIELD is looking for?" he asked after a pause.
"Pretty damn important. Its sister nearly leveled another world according to our sources. Why?"
"Damn… Nothing."
"Is it about your meetings with Inspector Lestrade?" She asked over the bang of her icer. Sherlock's jaw dropped in time with the shot. "The walls aren't that thick, rookie." He sighed.
"Yes, it is…" He admitted.
"Does Loki know?"
"No, he doesn't." Peggy shot him a concerned look, one eyebrow climbing towards the sky. "I have yet to figure out a way to warn him without also insulting him. He is a god after all." He kicked at a speck on the floor. "How does a mere mortal protect a god…"
"You need to tell him. He's a big boy. I'm sure he can protect himself."
"Perhaps… I'll tell him soon…"
