Chapter Three
What a waste of time for an Asgardian prince, playing librarian while Thor was out actually achieving something. Then again, knowledge is power and there were very few better places to be for that than S.H.I.E.L.D's vault of secrets. Would any of it be enough to manipulate his way out of the glass cell the kept him in when he wasn't in the archives room being watched over like some sort of child? He doubted it, though there was always a possibility.
Loki glanced up from the book in front of him—the book he had started to read voraciously until he realized that it held no useful secrets for him to store away until later, then only occasionally skimmed—and caught sight of the Midgardian woman as she organized files on the other side of the room. Half obscured by bookshelves, Loki only got a few teasing glances of her in her tight black cropped shirt and high-waisted denim shorts with the rips beneath the pockets. He grinned.
There might not have been a lot to like about Midgard, what with its inhabitants dying so young and so much rampant war amongst themselves and very little magic to keep it interesting, but he did so love their female attire. So much tighter and more revealing than in Asgard. Why, when the girl moved just the right way Loki could see a lovely outline of her hindquarters. And that shirt just begged to be lifted off. Why, it was halfway doing so on its own with how close to the bottom of her breasts it sat. What hedonistic god wouldn't love it?
She didn't appear to be an idiot, though. She kept him away from the sensitive information. She watched him like a hawk and whenever he made a move to read something a bit more interesting she would insert herself right in his way and refuse to move.
But what he found most intriguing, he realized, was that the girl in the archives room wasn't afraid of him.
He wanted to have some fun with her.
Grinning, Loki stood from the table piled high with books unrelated to anything he cared about. Medieval Iconography, histories of various cults throughout history, most of which related to any and all groups who claimed to worship a mythological deity. The idea was to draw a connection between something that might have happened in the past with what was going on at that very moment to gain a semblance of understanding of the current trouble. Loki had realized it was busywork rather quickly. They wouldn't allow him to look at any of the reports regarding what had been found out during the green haired woman's investigations.
Loki was careful not to let the legs of the chair scrape against the floor any louder than necessary. Before he left the table he checked to make sure she hadn't stopped to check on him. She did, occasionally, as if she didn't trust him to work on his own.
She hadn't. She moved to pick up a box of files. When he saw her struggle to put it up on a shelf much higher than herself, Loki swooped in.
"Here, let me." He took the box from her and, flashing his most dashing smile, slid the box easily into its place. The girl—what was her name?—crossed her arms under her chest and watched him with a suspicious eye. She had a nice chest, he supposed. Perky, though small. All the same he wondered what that chest would look like splayed out beneath him writhing with pleasure. His dashing smile had taken on a devious twinkle. He had very little experience with Midgardian women himself but had a great number of lovers on Asgard. Though most of them had gone through him to get to Thor, hoping perhaps that he would speak favorably of them to his brother.
"Thanks." But she didn't sound thankful—it was a begrudging platitude. She had worn an oversized plaid shirt over her other clothes when she came in that morning, had rolled up the sleeves at one point, and then had apparently discarded the whole thing to leave it draped on the back of her chair.
"Of course, what kind of gentleman would I be otherwise?"
She eyed him. Then she nodded toward two more boxes nearby. "Those need to go up there too."
Is that how you ask for a favor? Loki thought, somewhat bitterly, as he smiled. "Allow me."
He put those boxes up with the first one. "There." He turned and approached the girl. A smile quirked the corner of his lips. "Is there . . . anything else I can help you with?"
She swallowed. He saw her muscles tense. He'd had an effect on her.
With a frown, the girl placed her finger on the center of his forehead and pushed him away. "Down boy."
"I can do that, Princess."
"That's not what I meant and you know it." She strolled back to her desk. He followed. "Did you learn anything useful yet?"
"Well considering you won't let me look at the necessary files, I think we both know I haven't." He leaned across the desk. She kept odd toys. A bobblehead of a blond cartoon character in a blue jumpsuit with its hand up over its eyes as if looking into the distance. A pen holder of a zombie laying on its back, her ink pen supposedly the spear that felled the undead bastard. An odd little thing made to resemble a bowling alley, complete with pins and little silver balls to act as a bowling ball. "Come on, let me look at them. I'd be a lot more help if I—"
"I think S.H.I.E.L.D files should stay with S.H.I.E.L.D agents, if its all the same to you." She wouldn't look him in the eye. He took note of that. He figured she must've been briefed on his powers and had taken the necessary precaution of avoiding direct eye contact. Unnecessary, but hilarious to him all the same. Musing over how ridiculous it was helped him ignore the needling of pain in his chest from the chance that she was just not looking him in the eye because of what he did to the city.
What do I care if she thinks poorly of me? He asked himself, irritated that it was a question to begin with. She doesn't matter.
"Why don't we just call it what it is, then? This is busy work to keep me occupied while you do the real work."
"Wow!" she gasped, feigning excitement. "You really are smart!"
"Lovely." He rolled his eyes. He'd planned to seduce her for some afternoon entertainment, but she was quickly eating away at his nerves. "That's why I was brought here, so I can sit in this musty old room being of no use at all while you sit over here and scowl. You really shouldn't make that face, you know. You're likely to find it permanent." He hadn't meant to lose his temper so quickly—but she infuriated him. As little as he believed in this whole endeavor, Loki Laufeyson hated too much idleness. He hated things with no purpose. Nothing was more idle than searching for answers to questions you aren't even aware of. "I'm sure that's what your superiors had in mind."
"Keep throwing a fit," she said. She sat at her desk and clicked on her computer. "That's really going to help."
"I have an idea." He grabbed a nearby chair, put it behind her desk, and slid into it. He leaned in close, a gesture that left her deliciously perturbed. "If I'm not allowed to look at the files myself, then perhaps a certain S.H.I.E.L.D agent would be willing to assist? We could both look at the files, and I'll let you know if anything I read is helpful. That way you can soothe your paranoia of me stumbling across any information I shouldn't."
Much to his surprise, she actually stopped to consider it. He thought for sure she would make another smart comment to shut him down.
Something small hit against the side of his head behind his ear. Loki looked around him until he found a small bullet-sized piece of orange foam attached to a blue suction cup. "What the . . .?"
Frowning, he searched for the source.
"That . . . would probably be okay," the girl decided, drawing his attention back to her. She got up to retrieve the files.
She came back and spread the files out on her desk. Three manilla folders filled with pages upon pages of information. It brought a smile to Loki's lips. What information could be waiting to be excavated within those papers?
The girl sat back in her chair and opened one of the three folders. Loki slid closer to her to have a better look at the files, and when he did so he caught a whiff of her scent. Something ambiguously floral, likely from some sort of perfume. He rather liked it.
He could also tell her muscles had grown tense when he got close. Oh sweet girl, did she think he couldn't tell that his presence had an effect on her? That he had caused a reaction? It was delicious to know all these things and keep them secret from her. To push the limits of what he could make her feel.
"According to what Adela already found," the girl began. He kept trying to remember her name—it started with an S, didn't it? That seemed right. "There has been a rise in cult activity in the city over the last several months." She showed him a photograph of some sort of magic circle drawn in what looked like red paint. Loki thought it might be blood at first, but the photos had a page paperclipped to them that announced that it was, in fact, just paint. How disappointing. Blood would have been much more theatric. "But we don't know what they're trying to summon, as summoning seems to be at least part of their goal with these circles." She fished a piece of loose-leaf paper out from the top drawer of her desk and took her pen out from her ceramic zombie's heart. She started trying to draw the circle. The optimal word in this situation being trying.
Loki motioned for her pen. "Let me."
She handed it over and watched as he drew a perfect copy of the circles in the photos.
"You're good at that." She turned back to the files. "You can take that with you and look up those symbols to see if you can find anything that might be of use to us. That's a place to start." She started to close the file. Loki reached over and grabbed her hand to stop her.
"You honestly want to stop there, Princess? Why don't we . . . keep going? I'm interested in what you have here." He leaned in, kept his voice a soft and sensual purr. It would be hilarious to watch this girl come undone. She thought herself so much more superior that Loki could hardly help himself. Nobody treated Loki, Prince of Asgard, God of Mischief, as if he was lower than a Midgardian.
That being said he couldn't help but notice how soft her hand was—how soft and small, and a little bit cold. He enjoyed how it felt.
Another foam bullet came from the void and hit him on the side of the head, near his temple. He turned to try and find the source, only to notice the girl had her eyes locked on the shelves. She frowned.
"You saw that, didn't you?" Loki asked, his voice a low whisper.
She stood up and shouted "Adela!" over Loki's head. He turned and watched as her green-haired friend and Thor's professional partner came out from behind the shelves holding what looked like a blue plastic gun.
"What?"
"I told you to stop hiding that stuff in here!"
"And I told you it was for your own protection!" She looked pointedly at Loki. "You never know what kind of slimy men might come in here."
"No you didn't. You said 'you're not the boss of me' and then stormed out."
Loki chuckled.
The green-haired woman pointed her toy gun at him. "You don't get to laugh."
"I hate that Hawkeye taught you this." Loki's pink haired companion pinched the bridge of her nose. "He really has no idea what hell he wrought."
"Nooooo I'm pretty sure he does."
As spectacularly entertaining as it was to watch the two S.H.I.E.L.D agents bicker, Loki could feel a migraine starting. The pink-haired agent—Sabrina! That was her name!—was lovely to look at and had a quality about her that drew Loki's interest, but the green-haired agent was nothing but a nuisance that left his irritation almost too much to bear. He enjoyed chaos as much if not more than the next person but not when it was directed at him.
The girl—Sabrina—picked up Loki's rendition of the magic circles and shoved the paper into his chest. It crinkled as he caught it. "Check these out, see if you can find out what the symbols mean." She grabbed the green-haired woman's arm and pulled her over to the desk. "Adela, you and I are going to have a chat about proper workplace etiquette."