Chapter Twelve: Temptress
Natasha led Sam into the conference room and was greeted by the concerned looks of all her Avengers comrades, including their various counterparts-minus Pepper. As she pointed to a seat and nodded to Sam to take it, she stood at the head of the table. "So, you've all just been waiting for us to get back?"
"Yeah, and we're really hoping you've got something," Tony uttered, "how many other leads do we have again? Gentlemen?" Darcy leaned forward from her seat to glare at him. "Well, Darcy my dear, do you have any leads?"
She sunk back into her seat and crossed her arms. "I could have leads," she grumbled, "I don't...but I could."
"Moving on," Fury jumped in and gestured to Natasha. "Fill us in."
She put her hand out to Sam and a blankness filled his eyes. He was completely in over his head, completely intimidated by the room he sat in. "Your notepad," she urged and he scrambled to retrieve it from his jacket. Across the table, Tony let out one amused "Ha!"
Natasha turned her attention to Tony, who quickly defended himself. "What?" He asked, then casually added, "Who's the new guy?"
Sam stood to shake Tony's hand. "Agent Barrows, sir."
"Welcome to the big leagues, Agent Barrows," Tony nodded as he shook his hand.
Bruce laughed. "Big leagues," he muttered between chuckles.
"Moving on!" Fury repeated with substantially more force.
Natasha looked over Sam's notepad, which consisted of only a direct transcript of the conversation. Luckily, that was all she needed. "The man we met there, Graham, claimed he heard the word while out drinking with his girlfriend-" she looked to Sam briefly to make sure the word didn't unleash resentment in him, and continued when he seemed fine, "-a couple nights ago. I couldn't gather much in the time we were there, but I think I got what I need to draw a conclusion. From what Agent Barrows has told me, Eve-the woman who was with him-had never mentioned this man to him before. Graham claimed the two of them met months ago through a mutual friend, again, a friend Agent Barrows has never heard mentioned." She looked over the notes once more. "Graham spoke very formally for a man in his age range. He used phrases such as 'pursue a romantic relationship,' 'absorbed his statement,' and the word 'debacle.' While ordinarily these speech patterns alone cause no reason for alarm, this is no time to ignore a gut feeling."
"You think," Steve interjected, "it could be Loki in disguise?"
"Anything is possible," Natasha responded. "At the very least, I recommend we keep the house under surveillance."
"Sounds doable. Romanov, take Barton with you, set up some bugs," Fury instructed before taking his leave.
For the first time since she got back, she looked at Barton and gave him a small smile. He simply nodded and left, right on Fury's tail. She turned slightly to catch Sam's line of sight, but he was too distracted by all the muscle and tech in the room with him. The advice she'd given him earlier was getting harder and harder for her to take herself.
Elsewhere
Loki finished his meal and eyed up Eve, who was slouched over making aggressive eye contact with the floor. She was officially back to sitting still and not speaking. That was easy, he thought. "Come on," he coaxed her, "I think I'll finish that book I started." He led her to the bedroom and checked her communication device on the nightstand. No new messages from that pest, thank goodness.
She watched his face as he unlocked her phone. When he smiled lightly and threw it back down to the bedside table, she knew there was nothing there to report. She sighed, not sure what she'd wanted or expected. If Sam messaged her, there were chances it would be negative. Somehow to not hear from him was worse. They had talked every single day without fail until this week, it had to be weird for him too. She settled in, laying on her stomach, hands under her cheek which rested at the foot of the bed and tried to feel better. There was nothing she could have done to prevent any of this. What was she supposed to do, not kiss him back? And waste a kiss like that...she thought suddenly, physically shaking her head as though it was an etch-a-sketch.
He picked up the book and opened to the page he'd left off on. Before immersing himself in it, he caught sight of Eve and his eyes lingered there for a moment too long. She looked peaceful, her head turned toward him but focussed aimlessly at his stretched out legs. She looked bored more than anything, and powerless to do anything about it. He mentally traced the curve of her back and the sharp turn at her waist where her hips branched out. She was wearing denim and it clung to her figure closely. He found himself admiring her legs, but his vision kept coming back to-
Eve turned onto her back and readjusted, bending her legs at the knees. She glanced at her captor and caught his eyes focussed near her stomach, maybe a bit lower. Wait, lower? She sat up on her elbows. "What?" she asked, pulling at her shirt, searching for a stain or a stray piece of lint he could be looking at. There was nothing.
He met her gaze, actually looking caught off guard for once, and neglected to answer her. His eyes returned to the novel.
"Okay then," she asserted, annoyed at his lack of explanation. She closed her eyes and stretched her arms above her before resting her hands underneath her head again. He hadn't been looking at her for any reason, he couldn't have been. He must have been lost in thought. Still, was it such a crazy idea? She wasn't a horrible looking girl. In fact, she considered herself above average. If he was looking at her before she rolled over, he'd definitely been checking her out. No, but, surely she couldn't compare to the sorts of women he was used to. Then again, a little change of pace isn't always a bad thing.
He tried to read. He didn't try very hard, but he tried. Soon he was looking at her again, first noting that her eyes were closed. Her chest rose and fell delicately with each breath and her shirt had ridden up to reveal a sliver of pale skin at her stomach. Her figure was flawless as far as he could gather. His mind wandered to the things men think about when faced with an attractive specimen such as herself. What would be the harm in bedding her? It would do wonders for relieving their mutual boredom. It would be easy, it would be nice to have a little stress relief. There was always the old adage not to mix business with pleasure, and he needed to save his strength. Better to not waste his time fraternizing with someone whose company he hopefully wouldn't be in much longer. Better to concentrate on getting stronger and getting out.
Eve's thoughts spiraled. She decided to reread something from her bookshelf to occupy her mind. How long until the menace was gone? How much longer would she have to stand by quietly, trying not to irritate him? He didn't seem to be doing anything, just waiting for an undisclosed event to occur or for a sign to come. What if it was weeks...months…
She opened her eyes, she needed to focus on something else. She looked to the bringer of her stress and inner turmoil, and his eyes were focussed right on her chest. She sat up again, feeling confident this time. "What?" She asked again with more assurance, almost mocking him. She knew for a fact this time that he'd been admiring her body and that knowledge in itself brought her joy for many reasons.
"Mind your tone," he warned as his eyes drifted up to hers.
"Okay," she agreed playfully, smiling too wide for his liking. She was already plotting ways to use this to her advantage. This was substantial proof that though he was not of earth, he still thought like a man.
He narrowed his eyes at her. "What are you playing at?" He was fully aware she'd seen him looking at her body. She should be honored he would look upon her in such a way. He was a prince. He was the God of Mischief.
"Nothing," she remarked, a determined glow behind her eyes. She rose to grab a book and bent over, searching for something she hadn't read in a while. She found what she was looking for but pretended to ponder for a moment longer.
He grinned, ever perplexed by her actions. If she wanted to play with him, he would oblige.
When she returned to the bed, she sat next to him properly this time. She opened the book and rested it on her knees before arching forward slightly, creating a smooth curve from her neck to her lower back and beyond. He made no effort to hide his enjoyment as he slid his hand up the back of her shirt. He placed a finger at the base of her skull and drew it down her spine, stopping at her tailbone. A chill coursed through her in resonating pulses, causing her to sit up and look directly into his eyes.
His smile was covered in bad intentions. For a moment it brought out a side of her she hadn't had a chance to exercise in a few months, since her last boyfriend, whose name she was having trouble recalling. The thoughts that branched off from the present were drawn away, pulled out of her head by the roots as she felt compelled to really feel the moment at hand. Was this what she wanted? No...why would this be what she wanted?
Loki drew her in with one hand on the small of her back. Their mouths were close enough that he could feel her breath on his lips. He noticed in her expression a slight hesitation. If she was going to make it this easy for him...it had to be a trick.
He slammed the book in his lap closed and she recoiled in his arms, pushing back against his hand. "You cannot win a war this way, temptress," he said, "you cannot win at all."
