Chapter Nine: Close Your Eyes

When Barton opened his door, he wasn't sure what he'd expected. Natasha had been dropping by on false pretenses every couple hours for the past few days. He waited patiently for her excuse this time. She didn't speak and didn't look like she had any intention to. She breezed past him and settled down on his couch without a word.

"Come on in, Nat," he said to the hallway before closing his door. He sat down next to her and raised his eyebrows. "What, no interrogation? You don't want to know how I'm holding up, how I'm feeling?" She didn't even meet his gaze. Her eyes were fixed on the television, fully engrossed in an ad for a knife that would stay sharp forever. "Oh, I see," he went on, "you came over to hang out, because we're buddies." She granted him one brief look and half-smile before returning her attention to the commercial. "This isn't going to work," he breathed heavily, "this cold shoulder bull shit. You think if you sit there all disinterested and calm that I'll get this sudden urge to pour my damaged guts out to you. Well, tough. You're getting nothing from me in the way of confessions."

Suddenly, it landed. The straw the broke the widow's back. "Why do you think it's all about you?" She shouted suddenly, dozens of emotions and sub-emotions bubbling to her creamy, peach surface. "Loki told me he would have you kill me, and then kill you himself. I thought maybe I'd never have you back. And now here you are," she looked at him now meaningfully, putting her hand in his and shaking it for emphasis, "and you won't speak to me."

"Nat-" he began, but there were no other words behind it.

"I already know what you're feeling. You're not some enigma, impossible to crack. You're feeling what anyone would in your situation. I don't care about any of it. If you want to talk, great. If you don't, that's fine. I'm not trying to work you like a mark, I'm not trying to feel around for intel. I just...want…" she was close to really losing it. She never lost it.

He pulled her arm until she was within his reach and placed his free hand on her neck. When he kissed her it was electric, and she met him with sweet eagerness. Her hands climbed quickly to his neck and she clung to him like he was all she'd ever needed.

The knock at the door stung them both, throwing them apart like opposing magnets. "Agent Barton!" Fury's unwelcome voice sounded from outside.

"Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow," he whispered to her and beckoned her back in.

She hesitated. "This will only take a moment," Fury went on, "and I'm not leaving."

Barton scowled and got up to appease him. He opened the door and made ferocious eye contact. "What?" He spat.

"Is she here?" Fury asked.

"That all depends on which she you're referring to."

Fury pushed the door open the rest of the way and made eye contact with Natasha. "May I speak to you for a quick moment?" She stood and met him in the hall, rolling her eyes when Barton slammed the door and left them alone.

"Got a call, some nobody throwing the word 'Chitauri' around. I want you to accompany the agent who heard this to her home. I can't risk him missing something. Eight o'clock sharp you're to meet him there, understood? I'll make sure you have all the info you need before the night is out."

"Yes, sir," she agreed as he turned to leave. "I apologize," she added, "for not being in my room. I hope it didn't take you long to find me."

Fury turned his head to look back at her, but continued walking. "Not a problem, Agent Romanov. I didn't bother going to your room, I came here first."

Elsewhere

Eve was asleep. She'd quickly mastered the art of balancing on the edge of the bed. Tonight she felt as though she had a Get Out of Jail Free card, considering Loki needed her alive for their morning meeting with the very people he'd been trying to avoid. Sam had sent her a text to confirm the time, eight thirty, and she'd suggested getting some sleep so they could be on their toes. Her little outburst seemed fuel enough for a swift and painless transition to slumber.

Loki, however, could not sleep. He rested on his side facing Eve, closer to the center of the bed than his designated section. He massaged his left cheek where she'd struck him and winced. The blow had hurt. He recalled laying on the ground for a moment too long in shock before regaining his composure. If things kept up in this fashion, he'd be here forever. He was constantly having to waste his stored magic on supplementing the protection spell and various necessities like teleporting to retrieve his spirited hostage. When he thought of the events unfolding, he was surprised to find himself impressed. The way she had mimicked him, offering her tears to him with such assuredness. She had performed well. Her face reflected none of her ulterior motives, her eyes even sent out a wave of confident submission, as though she were glad to give herself to him. His shock after she'd jabbed him was partly directed at himself. He should have known, being the king of deception, yet his judgement was clouded by something frightening-a desire for the lie she'd presented to be true.

The next morning, they woke to the alarm clock buzzing. They scrambled around, trying to avoid one another while always being in the same room going about their morning routines. When they were done, she couldn't help but notice he'd been working to make himself look presentable. He caught her staring as he fussed with his hair and moved to stand in front of her. As she looked on, he transformed into a completely different man. Still handsome, though blond and a bit more muscular, he presented himself to her. "What do you think?" He winked and smiled wide, teeth included.

All she could think was I prefer the original. Thanks to some well-timed self control, she avoided vocalizing this. "You look nice," she praised, anxious to earn back any ground she'd lost with him.

"Good," he nodded and came close to her. He placed his middle fingers in between her temples and her eyes, causing her to tremble. "Close your eyes, if you're nervous," he instructed with an unfamiliar tenderness and she did. Then it was as though a flash of light crossed her brain, left to right, in one smooth wave. When she opened her eyes, Loki was staring right into them-and he looked like himself. She got lost in the close-up view of his crystal blue irises, losing all sense of her surroundings. "What do you see?" He asked plainly.

"I see you," she breathed, not wanting to disturb her own thoughts as they wandered to not-so-safe places.

"Perfect!" He clapped, drawing her back into reality, and moved away. "This way, you'll be able to see my true form, and they won't. I am a very skilled actor, and I didn't want you to forget who you were dealing with or suddenly get comfortable. Strange things happen when you get comfortable."

The doorbell rang, and Eve's eyes darted to the alarm clock. "It's only eight," she blurted.

"That must be some interrogation tactic. Well, we're ready, so let's not keep them waiting," he encouraged her to leave the room, then grabbed her wrist to pull her back in momentarily, "and no funny business."

She nodded and led the way to the door. As she opened it, Sam led his curvaceous colleague into the living room behind him, much to Eve's alarm. "Hey," she stated uneasily.

"Eve," Sam nodded, all business, "this is Natasha, she will be assisting me today."

Natasha looked at him and smiled. "Sam, while we are here on official business, there's no need to behave so formally. You said this was a friend of yours, correct?" She reached out and shook Eve's hand. "It's lovely to meet you."

"You as well," Eve beamed through the fakest smile she'd ever forced. Who was this busty vixen and why was she so casual with Sam?

Loki locked eyes with the redhead and frowned. Were they so far off his scent that they were sending their biggest players to investigate small leads? Granted, this was a huge potential lead if they could find it. He moved his attention to Sam, who was already staring at him.

"This must be…" Sam trailed off, approaching Loki for a handshake.

"Graham," Loki announced confidently, "it's a pleasure."

Sam broke their handshake and struggled to hide his disdain.

"Let me get you two some chairs," Eve offered, "I would have had it all set up, but you guys were a tad early, so…" she fetched a couple of fold-out chairs with padded seats from the broom closet by the door and set them up on the other side of the coffee table. She took her place on the couch and Loki sat right beside her, their thighs touching. Every time she looked to Sam, his eyes were fixed on "Graham," sizing him up and scowling.

Natasha handed him a pen and notepad and whispered something in his ear, to which he nodded. "Should we get started?" She asked politely.

"Yes, let's," Loki chimed in agreeably. He looked at Eve as though excited about the questions to come. It's all part of the act, she thought.

"Let's start with your official names for the record," Sam stated as he poised his pen above the pad.

"With all due respect," Loki raised one cautious finger, "seeing as we've done nothing wrong, I don't want my name on some suspect list. If it's okay with you, I'd like to proceed with no last names. I know you already know Eve's, seeing as you're old friends," the word friends seemed to agitate Sam, "but maybe you could keep it to yourself? We have a right to our privacy, and we are happy to cooperate otherwise." Loki smiled at her affectionately and then back at their interviewers. It's all part of the act, she reminded herself again, swallowing whatever pleasant feelings echoed in her from his mock endearment.

Sam sat forward a bit, ready to protest when Natasha jumped in. "It's okay," she assured him, "he's right, they're not being interrogated. First names will do just fine for our records."

"Thank you, Natasha," Loki looked at Eve again-this time with a gentleness it was hard to doubt. He took her hand in his, interlocking their fingers and resting them on his thigh. It's all part of the act, she repeated with some difficulty, her mind clouded by the sensation of his cool skin on hers. It's all part of the act, once more for good measure. It's all...he squeezed her hand playfully, in a way the others couldn't see, and she abandoned her mantra, aching to believe.

A/N:

Fun fact! How I got to naming his alter-ego "Graham." Loki is an anagram of kilo which is short for kilogram...drop the kilo and voila! It was nice that particular train of thought went smoothly, I usually take far too long to name characters.

Anyway, this chapter is mostly setting up for the next installment. I'm considering omitting an Avengers segment at the beginning so I can keep the next chapter at about the same length as the others have been, between 1700 and 2000 words. But that's up for debate. I think I have a lot of material to get through but sometimes I think that and it comes up short anyway. We'll see :) Thanks for reading as always!