….
They sit in the solar. A grand dining table of oak and metalwork. Natasha picks at a platter of fruit and cheese.
Sips at what tastes like tea. Asgardian. A little stronger than what earth had to offer. Would've been better with lemon or honey.
"Stay with me." He implores, his voice thick with longing and deliverance. "And you could be Queen." His voice is like the sweetest honey. Charming her, leaving her open to getting stung.
She replies. "But I'm not an Asgardian."
"Neither am I." His lips quirk.
The truth is refreshing and it stuns her for a beat. "I don't want that." Her vision narrows on him, gauging his reaction. The room darkens on her. She puts her hand to her brow. "I don't think I could ever want that."
Loki licks his lips. "Stay with me. For a week. Maybe two. You'll be a guest by all means." Loki reaches to pour a goblet of wine, red. Deep and crimson.
Natasha takes the seat opposite. Dress askew but otherwise untouched. Immaculate. She takes the offered drink.
He teaches her to ride on the first day Asgardian horses are more hardy than the Midgard stallions she's used to. He teaches her how to swing a sword on the second, not that she needs it, basic magic tricks on the third, which she's terrible at, much to his amusement, how to read Old Norse and the language of the Dark Elves came next.
Archery, which she's amazing at, he smelts her a copy of Sif's armour in black and red and she wears it with pride, the breast plage, snug against her skin.
Her handmaiden plaits her hair into an elaborate style, fit for any lady, she hates it but loves the look on his face when he sees it for the first time.
By the fifth day he finds her in the court yard, wearing hardly anything, her dress bunched up around her thighs, yellow, the colour of happiness and joy and her feet, bare to the elements. Sunbathing, she yells him, soaking up the Asgardian sun before her next lesson in something she never asked for.
…
By the weekend, she can't sleep, tosses and turns for solace, but ultimately finds none. How would she file this when she went back home? Would she tell Shield? The intimate workings and power dynamics of Asgardian infrastructure or would she keep it a secret?
There's a noose at the door and she steers her senses to it, she would have guessed he'd creep around her bed chambers at night, sifting what information he could find which she refuses to give him.
"Loki. What are you doing here?" Nat asks him with a jolt.
"I've decided to let you go." He says softly, so soft Natasha thought he hadn't said anything at all. She had been alone with her thoughts all night, with only the moon and the endless stretching horizon of darkness for company.
He looks at the floor and she chances a guess this must be hard for him, painful even. Where was the Loki who wanted his brother dead and humanity to kneel? "Why?" She asks, her thoughts jarring for an explanation.
Loki closes the gap between them. "I know you don't enjoy it here. You don't belong. Believe me, I know how that feels and I was raised here." She had wanted nothing more in the weeks previous to be reunited with her friends, especially Clint and his family. But Nat suppresses her emotions, stuffs them down deep and out of reach.
She looks down at her hands. "Thank you, Loki."
He mutters something with barely a twitch of his face which could have been a reply if she wasn't watching him. Which could have been a gentle "You're welcome". Natasha decides against pushing him any further. She moves to catch his eye.
"It doesn't mean we can't have some fun first, right?" She says and watches emotions chase his face, a transition of confusion, surprise and arousal.
And she kisses him.
Hours later, he rises from the bed and crosses the room. Nude, he leans a hip against the window. His eyes tight, he gazes out at the skyline of Asgardian homes. Rebuilt from blazing infernos after the battle with Malekith. The very people who had come to worship him, to kneel before him in the place of his absent father. He rubs a hand over his face, not from the late hour.
Her training made her aware of movement even in deep sleep. She opened her eyes and watched him standing there, knowing what turmoil was raging inside of him.
Loki continued to stare, his thoughts now wandering to his mother. What she might say if she could see him. But he had difficulties even picturing her. Too much had happened, too much had been taken from him. Her face was there, yet her words remained muted.
Natasha knew his mind had been miles away when she felt him freezing as her arms wrapped around his chest from behind. "What are you thinking?" She rested her cheek against his shoulder blade, her warm breath fanning over his skin.
Loki welcomed her embrace yet couldn't give her a straight answer.
"The pain goes away, you know. The loss, the grieve, the frustration. Find a new goal, something to live up to." She hushed against his neck.
"Cleaning the red in my ledger?" He said with mock amusement. In any other situation he might have scolded her for being so foolish but not right now.
"Smartass." and she laughs against his skin.
…...
The ribbons of multicolour starlight swirl and eventually cease. Leaving her in complete silence and darkness. Blackness, blandness as far as the eye could see. So much so it wouldn't have mattered if she had her eyes shut.
Natasha moves round in a one eighty, eyes softening at the structure of wood beams three stories high and just as sprawling outwards.
The distant harmony of cicadas and a light evening breeze through the grass.
Nat pulls her jacket more around her chest.
A beam of white light pours from a porch light and for a minute she wondered if his Lordship had changed his mind. Nat waves a hesitant hand over her face, a few inches from her eyes in an attempt to prevent blindness.
With a loud snap like the biggest branch in the world being snapped in half, the light switches off plunging Natasha once again in darkness. "Nat?" The voice of Clint Barton, rough from sleep could be heard plain as day, from behind a shotgun nestled in the crook of his arm much like a child's favorite toy and lumberjack cap in squares of black and red.
"Where have you been? We've missed you so much." Clint rallies off quick fire questions like a machine gun. Nat practically throws herself at him, reaching her arms around his frame larger, he smelt of sweat and sawdust an she wouldn't have it any other way.
"I promise I'll answer all your questions soon as, but would you make a girl a coffee?"
Coffee drank and questions all but answered, bypassing otherwise sensitive material until a better time. Natasha curls on one side of the three seater sofa in the den.
At some point during the night, her body gives in to the pull of exhaustion, rather than a relaxed state.
Clint gives her one of the spare rooms. The one that faces East. Her favourite if she had to pick.
Changed into the borrowed pajamas for the night Nat slips into the cold sheets, finds the mattress is lumpier than the last time she had stayed the night.
Still, nothing could compare to the soft furnishings that Asgard came to bare.
Maybe that's what it was like for him, everything paling in comparison, nothing even coming close. Barely scratching that.
Sleep comes soon after, in no shape to fight it.
Clint leaves that morning, takes the kids to visit Laura's mom in the city. Takes the old, red pick up truck. Gives her some space without asking for it.
"There's enough groceries for about a month. Unless you have a party. Then I'll be sad. If you didn't invite me." Clint says.
Natasha hugs them all before they leave.
"The only other transport is the tractor."
"I'd rather walk. Could do with the exercise." Natasha smirks and ushered Clint into his car. She watches them go until they're a speck of dust on the horizon.
She goes back into the kitchen, opens the fridge and cupboard doors. Finds all the food Clint offered. Also offered the cable and WiFi and the- "hello," Natasha greets what had to be the wine cooler.
It starts to shake like an earthquake, vibrate like the biggest electrical current was running through it.
A blinding light.
Colours of the cosmos and of the universe.
Magic is just science we don't understand yet.
A thunderous roar.
An ear splitting sound.
Natasha sprints down the stairs and out the door. Suddenly feeling a little too naked without Clint. Or her weapons. Or a car.
Sprinting around the outside of the farmhouse, the giant Asgardian insignia burns darkly into the grass and soil. Turning the lush green grass a charred black.
Bent over, leather clad. A shadow of gold and green, she sees him.
A large gash on his hand, usual shining golden armour blackened and dull.
"'tasha." He smiles, thinly. Lips, pale against the night. "Just couldn't stay away."
Natasha helps him into bed. Takes off his clothes, finds some to put on when he wakes. When.
Covers him with blankets and sheets. Clint would more than likely burn them when he got back. Them and the clothes she'd borrowed for Loki.
She moves into the bathroom right next door to the bedroom, tosses his clothes into the wash basket there. Opens the cupboard under the sink and pulls out a small bowl and wash cloth. Tears the plastic wrap and runs it underneath the tap until it's warm and sopping wet.
Puts the cloth in the bowl and carries it into the bedroom. Washes his face gently. Starts with the brow, then the cheeks and nose, chin. Finally the neck.
Loki shifts under the blankets. Moves his feet like he's treading water when he opens his eyes.
"Hey." Natasha says gently. Much to steady him than to make small talk.
Nat reaches to dab the gash on his hand when his lips part.
"Mm. A vision in crimson." Loki hums. Lips curling.
"You're delirious." She quips.
He sighs. "I went to make amends." Like you said.
Loki licks his lips, finds them dry.
Natasha pours him a glass of water out of a nearby bottle. Hands it him.
"I went to find my mother, my real mother. Frost giants aren't friendly to the one rumoured to have slain their king. You know the rest." He finishes dismissively.
"Trust you." Nat gets up, head starting to get foggy, could probably find sleep on a washing line at this point.
"How so?" He asks forehead creasing.
"Trust you to be so damn stubborn to die?" Nat turns to leave, tossing the rag in the bowl of water with a slosh.
"You know what would make me feel better..." he says, his eyes journeying down the curves and dips of her body.
"You were on death's door not an hour ago." She says, a little stern.
"I'm a fast healer," he replies, complete with the arrogant smirk. "And well, that can't be comfortable. All those layers." He slips a hand underneath her shirt, finding the soft skin of her belly. Sensitive, untouched. "It's hardly fair, here I am, naked and laid bare."
Nat sighs, sits up on her haunches, legs akimbo and shrugs off the heavy leather jacket, throwing it beside the bed with a audible thump. Her fingers grace the hem of the lightweight tee-shirt. One of Laura's, not a perfect fit, but comfortable. It hangs off her shoulder effortlessly asking for trouble. Asking for him.
"No." He breathes, hand squeezing her thigh in alarm. "Do it slowly..."
She does as he asks, tucks her elbows in the ringspun shirt easing it up and over her breast. Holds her breath deep in her lungs when she pulls it over her face, catching scarlet curls in the motion, like a wave, raising the velvet curtain on opening night.
Natasha climbs into bed, spoons herself against him. "Are you happy now?" She asks into the blackness of night.
"I'm not exactly unhappy." He gripes before shifting his weight to the side, her wide and nothing more is said.
…..
Clint comes back, furious as always...
Nat tries to placate him as best she van. Having to play advocate of both men. "look at the state of him, does he look dangerous to you?" Nat asks. "he's sweating I'm not sure if that's normal for ...his kind…" She says quietly.
"I don't like this, I don't trust him." Barton huffs out his nose. Absolutely not pleased, not certain. "But I trust you." He finishes, not exactly bursting with enthusiasm. "The kids are staying over at their grandma's place for a few nights. By the time they come back I want him gone."
"He won't be." Natasha says quickly. Too quickly. "I won't be." She finishes, not for a second enjoying the look on his face.
Clint leaves soon after without another word.
Natasha goes back into the bedroom.
"Trouble in paradise?" Loki tries to tease. Though there's something off putting about the dark circles around his eyes and the clamminess of his skin that makes it plain unfunny.
"Shut up." Natasha gripes.
He does.
She curls next to him on the bed after they. Doesn't bother getting under the covers. Doesn't see the point.