Natasha never knew when she would need to disappear into a deep cover operation, but sometimes she had long stretches of time when S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't need her at all. When that happened, she punctuated the quiet with visits. She had a standing lunch date with Pepper for every second Tuesday of the month, and she had been going over to Steve's place on alternate Friday evenings to help him learn about what had happened in the world since the 1940s. About half the time Bucky would be there as well. She went to the farm to see Clint and Laura and the kids whenever she could, and Clint would stop by her apartment in Avengers Tower when they were both in town at the same time so they could spar in the gym and talk smack about everybody else. Occasionally, she even made a point of dropping by Fury's place.

She had friends. It was a surprising thing to be able to say, and while her massive issues with really trusting anyone (except, for some reason, Clint) remained, it sometimes felt like she had a family again. But most of them were still kept at arm's length. She didn't like the idea of letting anyone too close. They might see who she actually was, and after a lifetime of concealing her identity, it was instinct to hide herself. At times, she wasn't sure she knew who the real Natasha was herself anymore.

Still, even with the eclectic circle of people who now belonged in her life, she never would have guessed that she would start having an alien chaos god stopping by her place on a semi-regular basis. She would have been even more stunned to realize she enjoyed it.

It took her exactly fifteen minutes into his first impromptu visit for her to realize three things: he was lonely, he had zero interest in getting her into bed, and they shared a lot in common. Even with the few times they'd exchanged words during Tony's game nights, she hadn't expected them to hit it off quite so well.

For one thing, they were both excellent liars. Sometimes he'd show up with bags of Chinese food, complaining that she never had anything to eat in her apartment, then they'd play Three Truths and a Lie. Every single time, they caught each other, even when they cheated. Especially when they cheated. It amused both of them to have found someone equally adept at pulling the wool over everyone else's eyes, and after dozens of failed attempts at lying to each other, they eventually came up with a rule only to tell the truth during his visits. It was challenging, and both of them slipped sometimes out of pure habit. But it was nice. There were some things Natasha couldn't even tell Clint, and others she had no intention of anyone else ever learning. Loki was a bizarre exception because thus far, it had been impossible to shock him.

It took nearly a year for her defenses to be down completely around him, and she never once mentioned his visits to anyone else, though she assumed JARVIS probably knew. Sometimes they sat around and watched movies or binged TV shows. Often they were things that neither of them was familiar with that had come up during their irregularly scheduled team bonding nights at Tony and Pepper's. They had binged an entire season of Downton Abbey in one night, each of them loudly rooting for their favorites and throwing popcorn at the screen when things went wrong for them. Natasha was firmly in favor of Violet while Loki took a strong liking to Edith. Another time, they found themselves watching old PBS highlights of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. Both of them were oddly fascinated by the sequence showing how crayons were made, which they must have watched at least five times. But they didn't speak about the more emotional bits, though they did somehow wind up holding each other's hands, the first time they had allowed themselves to actually touch. Then there had been baseball. She still didn't really see what all the fuss was about, but Loki would sit behind her, braiding her hair while furiously yelling insults at the umpires and eating nachos. Sometimes they just sat. Those were nights neither of them wanted to talk, but they didn't want to be alone either. The sense that someone else was there, someone whose own memories might be things that would give most people a lifetime's worth of nightmares, made the apartment echo less.

Tonight they were splitting a pizza from Giuseppe's down the street, freshly delivered to the door and so piping hot she'd nearly burned her mouth on the pepperoni. As the credits rolled on screen from Baryshnikov's The Nutcracker, the same movie they had watched last year with the rest of the Avengers, Loki patted his stomach and grinned.

"There is nothing in the rest of the Nine Realms that could touch New York pizza," Loki said, licking his lips. "Be warned. If certain civilizations learned of it, you would find yourselves fighting weekly invasions."

Natasha smiled, but she was still looking wistfully at the TV. She loved this ballet and had ever since she was a little girl, but it made her sad, too. Clara's dream dissolved in the end, and she was left with memories of a beautiful but impossible world that she would never be a part of. She understood the feeling. Being in New York, surrounded with people living ordinary lives of nine to five jobs and marriage and children and rent, she sometimes looked at them and imagined what it would be like to be one of them, and envy gnawed at her.

"What are you thinking about?" Loki asked as he closed the pizza box, giving her one of his searching looks.

She shook her head slightly, saying nothing. He tipped his head to one side, regarding her carefully.

"You think too much," Loki said. "Just enjoy the ballet and stop wishing for a different life."

She couldn't help the sharp intake of breath that accompanied his far too accurate statement.

"You're positive you can't read minds?" she said, giving him a suspicious look.

"Yes, thank the Norns," Loki said. "I'd be driven mad if I had to listen to the drivel undoubtedly rattling around in my brother's head. But you, Natasha dear, are a different matter. I can read you precisely because no one else can. Well, most of the time."

She supposed it hadn't exactly been a difficult conclusion for him to draw, but the holidays were coming nearer, and they always left her feeling a little down. A lot of people seemed to feel the same way. She stretched, letting herself relax just enough to not feel like she was coming apart at the seams. Loki had been too quiet tonight as well, making fewer sarcastic comments than usual, and sometimes out of the corner of her eye she had seen an expression flit over his face that suggested he was thinking of something else as well. The problem was she wasn't nearly as sure what he was dwelling on.

Natasha took a sip of wine. She was nowhere near drunk, and neither was Loki. But as the film ended, she curled into the corner of the couch and regarded him with an unblinking stare that she knew most people found unnerving. All it really meant was she was reading the room, taking in information, but tonight, she was mostly wondering about herself, not him. So she decided, just this once, to let herself be stupid.

"Wanna play a game?" she asked.

"I sincerely hope you don't mean Monopoly," Loki said with a snort.

"No, really."

"What sort of game?" he asked.

"Truth or Dare?" she suggested. "Ever played?"

"No, but I assume it's as straightforward as the name suggests?" he asked.

"We take turns. You choose whether you want to be asked a question, any question, that you have to answer truthfully, or if you want to accept a dare. You can switch your choice after hearing the question or dare, but only once," Natasha said. "If you refuse, you lose."

"Charming."

"It's a stupid game, really. Teenagers tend to play it."

"Why do I have the feeling the dares are often along the lines of kissing random people or removing articles of clothing?" Loki asked, smirking.

"Usually, but that's not us," Natasha said. "Nothing like that."

He sighed, putting down his own wineglass.

"Ask me anything, then," he said quietly. "Just realize you may not like the answers. Or possibly me, after you hear them."

Natasha hesitated, then said, "What's your earliest memory?"

Loki looked mildly surprised, then knitted his brows together, thinking. "Cold. I remember feeling freezing cold. I assume it's from when Odin took me from Jotunheim. Asgard is never that cold, not even in the depths of its winter. I must have been extremely young, and before that everything is darkness. The thing of it is, a Jotun wouldn't have noticed the cold. It must have been my reaction to Odin casting the spell over me that made me look like one of the Aesir. Suddenly, I was freezing. So, I suppose my first memory was pain at the hands of my dear adoptive father."

Natasha felt a little guilty. She knew he hated thinking about where he came from and how. He had every reason to.

"So, a question or a dare?" he asked.

"Question."

"And what do you remember first?" he asked.

Natasha supposed she should have expected the question, but somehow, she hadn't. It was a sign of how far off her guard she was that she wasn't plotting out the conversation in her head like a chess match, trying to keep at least four moves ahead. She thought hard, trying to remember.

"Food," she finally said. "I remember eating. It might have been something like applesauce. It was sweet and soft. I don't know who was feeding me. That part's a blank."

"But whoever it was, they were taking care of you," he said, leaning a little closer and putting a hand on hers in a comforting gesture. "That's not horrible, at least."

She nodded in acknowledgement. There were other much worse memories, of course, but that one at least had been pleasant enough. It gave her a thought.

"Truth again?" she asked, and he nodded. "What's the happiest you've ever been?"

He blinked. It obviously wasn't what he had been expecting, and that told her he was off his guard as well. Loki was always ready for an attack at normal times, prepared for anything, just as she was, but not here.

"I'm not sure," he said, considering carefully. "It's less a specific memory than a general one, I suppose. A feeling. I remember being a child, sitting on my mother's lap in her flower garden when it was at the height of its blooming, while she read a story to me. She would let me hold the book and helped me trace the letters with my fingers. I think I felt… safe then. Happy, though I might not have known it in the way I would now."

"That long ago?"

"Centuries before your birth, Natasha, but then you did ask for the happiest. I have been happy since, of course, many times. But it became tinged with awareness. I can never quite forget the shadows even in sunlight. Back then, the shadows hadn't been cast yet."

She knew exactly what he meant. For her, too, the shadows had come very early, and they made everything else a little less bright.

"So, will you take truth or a dare?" he asked.

"Truth again."

"In one of our little games with the others, you said your fear was fascism. I believe that was true, but it was chosen because it had to begin with the letter F. What is your real fear?" he asked, and his hand was still gently wrapped around hers.

It didn't take her a second to know the answer, but she wasn't sure she wanted to say it. She bit her lip pensively, then shook her head.

"I'll take the dare instead," she said.

He looked at her with something that seemed to verge on sympathy in his eyes, then glanced away.

"Alright then. I dare you to speak in Russian."

He had spoken the words in Russian himself, perfectly, with no trace of an accent. She would have sworn he'd been born in St. Petersburg if she didn't know differently. Her eyebrows raised.

"I didn't know you spoke it," she said in her birth tongue.

"I don't," Loki said, still in Russian. "For that matter, I don't speak English, either. This is Allspeak. I can adapt it to whatever situation I find myself in, regardless of language."

"That must be useful."

"It is."

"Can mortals learn it?" Natasha asked.

"Is that my question if I answer?"

She considered, then said, "If you want."

"No," Loki said. "It's given, not learned. I don't believe a mortal brain is capable of accepting it."

"Well, I've got Google anyway, and we all know how well that translates things," she said, and he laughed.

"Fine. Truth or dare?" he asked.

"Truth."

"How long have you been in love with Banner?"

The wineglass slipped out of her hand and shattered on the floor, leaving a bright red spill of wine on her white carpet. She swore and started blotting it up with one of the napkins from the pizza place, but Loki made a simple hand movement and the stain dissolved.

"No distractions, Natasha," he said. "You were the one who wanted to play this game. So will you answer, or will you take a dare instead?"

He'd figured out she'd dropped the glass on purpose, of course, but the shock was still real. She considered taking the dare, but looking at him, she knew it was pointless.

"I don't know that I am," she said. "I do like him."

"And I like Clint, though don't tell him that, but I don't blush if I accidentally bump into him or steal glances at him when no one's supposed to be looking," Loki said, but his tone wasn't cruel. "Don't worry. The others haven't noticed, or at least I don't believe so."

"He's attractive," she admitted.

"So is Steven," Loki said, "and Tony, and, quite frankly, all of us. We're a very attractive lot. So why Bruce rather than, say, my brother?"

"I don't know," she said, and she found herself looking at the floor. "He's kind."

"There are far worse reasons to feel attraction than that," Loki said.

"But I'm being stupid," she said, her tone almost vicious.

"Why?"

"That's not fair. That's another question," she said. "It's your turn."

Loki drew in a breath as though to argue, but let it out again.

"Fine, though you didn't really answer yours. I'll take a dare."

"Show me your Jotun form."

He reacted almost as if she had slapped him, his face stunned as he dropped her hand and pulled back.

"I'm sorry," she said immediately, realizing she'd gone too far and kicking herself for it. "I take it back."

For a horrible moment, she thought she'd done something completely unforgivable, that this would be what it would take for him to leave and never come back. He remained silent for several long seconds, then, to her surprise, he nodded.

"No. It's alright," he said.

He stood, closing his eyes, and the air around him rippled like water in a pond. As she watched, he grew taller, horns sprouted on his head, and his skin turned a vivid, deep blue. Honestly, he looked terrifying, but there was something in his face that still remained recognizable as Loki. He opened his eyes, which were now bright red, and looked at her.

"This is my true face," he said, his tone disgusted. "At least you didn't scream."

She forced herself to continue to look at him calmly, then moved her gaze directly to his eyes.

"Thank you," she said, and she meant it.

"It's uncomfortably warm in here, so if you don't mind—" he said, his features already shifting back to his usual form.

"Of course," she said.

In a moment, he sat beside her again, stopping to take a sip of wine from his glass with a hand that she noticed had a slight tremble. He took a steadying breath.

"I have never willingly shown that form to anyone else," he said. "I'm not sure why I just did."

She took his hand this time, and he squeezed it back gently.

"So, I guess I know what question you want to ask," she said.

"You do."

"It's stupid because of the other question I wouldn't answer," she said. "My fear."

"It's love, isn't it."

It wasn't a question. She chewed the inside of her lip, then said, "Yes, but maybe not for the reasons you think."

"Oh, you mean it has nothing to do with the fact your formative years were spent being taught that love was a tool you could use against others to make them trust you so that you could blackmail them, hurt them, deceive them, and get them to willingly do things against their conscience, and you have no desire to fall into the same trap that you have led others to?" Loki said, giving her a look.

"Actually, no," she said. "That's true, of course. But it's more than that."

"Such as?"

She paused, then said, "I'm frightened. I don't think I know how to love someone."

"Natasha Romanov, if you tell me you're a virgin, I am going to toss you out that window for being a liar, and don't think I won't. Ask Tony."

"No, that's not what I mean. And the Winter Soldier took care of that," she said, staring off into the middle distance, "for all of us. It was the most practical way of dealing with it."

"You mean… Bucky?" he said, looking stunned.

"Yes and no," she said. "It was him but not… him."

"And I know precisely what you mean by that," he said. "Great Norns, darling, that must be awkward."

"I'm not sure he remembers," she said.

"That might possibly be worse," Loki said. "I… I am sorry. You have had a life that would make anyone question the concept of love."

"Love is for children," she found herself saying again, then added, "and fools, of course. It's useful as a tool to manipulate people, and I've used it that way more times than I care to recall. But I still don't really feel safe trusting Bruce yet."

"Because of the Hulk," Loki said.

"No, because it takes me a long time to trust anyone, and even then there are limits," she said. "Clint, yes, I trust him. You, weirdly, yes, but not with everything. Sorry, but that's how it is."

"Don't be sorry," he said. "I enjoy our friendship, but I have more than a few issues with trust myself. There's a line."

"And it doesn't get crossed," Natasha finished. "So, truth or dare."

"Oh, truth again."

"Was there something in particular that made you stop trusting people?" she asked.

He seemed to be weighing his response, and she wasn't sure he would answer at all.

"Yes," he finally said.

That was all.

"Okay, that's an answer," she admitted with a shrug. "I take it you don't want to talk about it."

Loki gave a sharp, humorless laugh.

"It's oddly appropriate that you phrased it that way," he explained.

She stared at him, slowly putting that together with one of the legends about him that he hadn't confirmed or denied yet.

"They actually sewed your mouth shut, didn't they?" she said, looking horrified.

"How did… yes," he said. "I sometimes forget the mortals knew about that one, though the circumstances were rather different than what you probably heard. There was no bet. I told a lie, and Odin said that until I learned to speak the truth, I would speak nothing at all."

"What was the lie about?" Natasha said.

"I'd stolen something in the market," Loki said. "I believe it was an apple. The merchant accused me of taking it, and I was frightened, so I said I hadn't done it."

"An apple?"

"Yes, an appropriate object for temptation, I suppose," he said. "I was still quite young, perhaps the equivalent of Peter's age."

"That must have been agony," she said, gripping his hand a little tighter. "How long did they keep it shut?"

"Two months," Loki said. "I didn't eat or drink for that time. Mother tried to sneak me water, but I refused to let her. I was terrified she would suffer the same fate if Odin found out."

"Couldn't she have stopped him?"

"No. The law was quite clear, and I was guilty," he said.

"Then it's a horrible law," Natasha said.

"I agree."

"If I ever meet your father, I'm going to have to kick his ass on general principle now. You realize that, right?" she said.

Loki laughed, patting her hand, but said nothing more.

"Okay, so after that, you get to ask me whatever you want," she said.

He paused, then very carefully said, "Does anyone else know? About Bucky, I mean."

Natasha regarded him curiously for a moment, then said, "Such as?"

Loki looked elsewhere and said, "If I need to say it, I won't."

In spite of herself, Natasha stifled a laugh, "You picked up on him and Steve too, I take it."

"Over a year ago," Loki said, grinning in relief. "I didn't want to give it away, but since you figured it out already, I suppose I haven't really let the secret slip. I realized somewhere around the point when his answer to being asked his favorite Christmas carol wasn't actually that dreadful song by Mariah Carey but a coded plea to find Steven wrapped in mistletoe and nothing else under the tree."

"You got it than I did," she admitted. "I figured it out when they brought the pizzas together. And no, I don't think Steve knows. Like I said, I'm not sure Bucky does, either."

"I suppose that's for the best," Loki said, taking a sip of wine.

"I did make a half-hearted attempt to seduce Steve once, though," she said, and Loki immediately spat out his wine.

"Really?" he said. "I take it that didn't work."

"No," she said. "I did kiss him. Later, I asked him who he wanted me to be. He said he wanted a friend, and that was that. And we are. Friends, I mean."

"Yes. It's good to have those, or so I'm told," he said. "Why would you do that?"

"I don't know," she said. "He's a decent person. Anyone he ends up with will be lucky. Also, when I'm not under cover, I have horrible people skills. I'm not good at just being me, whoever that is, so I either keep quiet or say something I probably shouldn't."

"I can sympathize. At various times I have put my foot in my mouth so deeply that I'm surprised it's not permanently lodged in my pancreas," he said. "Still, I believe I'll take truth again."

"When the movie ended, you were thinking about someone," she said. "Who?"

"You don't miss much, do you?" he said. "A friend, actually, or rather someone who used to be a friend."

She continued to look at him, realizing the answer would probably show up.

"Lady Sif," he finally admitted. "We were fast friends since childhood."

"The woman warrior?" Natasha asked. "The one whose hair you cut?"

"Yes, but that was centuries ago," he said dismissively. "We were in a petty squabble that got out of hand, and I did something deeply stupid as a prank. I apologized, and while it took a few decades, she did eventually forgive me."

"Then what changed?"

"I did, I suppose," he said. "We were both outsiders at first, I through magic, she through her desire to fight, so we supported one another when no one else did. Eventually, she earned her place among the warriors, and the same idiots who used to bully the pair of us became her S.H.I.E.L.D. brothers. They still think of my magic as cheating."

"So she got accepted by the popular kids and you didn't," Natasha said.

"And I became envious," he said, "but I was even more envious of my brother, and that's what did it. Sif and I were still quite close until Thor was banished, something I hadn't consciously planned out but I was instrumental in it happening and not the least sorry about it. Then there was that whole business with the Tesseract and, well—"

He stopped speaking.

"You miss her," Natasha said, "enough to wander over to my apartment, another warrior woman, and try to be friendly."

He looked at her helplessly.

"To begin with, I suppose that's a fair assessment," he admitted. "I was lonely. You reminded me a little of her, and I thought I had nothing to lose. Now? Well, I'm glad I showed up here that night, and I like being here. And I still think the pair of you would get along splendidly."

"Were the two of you ever more than friends?"

"No," he said. "There has been the occasional woman for me, but in general my interests lie elsewhere."

"Understood, and I'll take truth," she said.

He seemed to be surprised by the sudden change in direction and blurted out, "Why do you change your hair so often?"

Natasha laughed, putting down her glass, before saying, "It's kind of a ritual for me. When I'm done with something, whether it's a mission or leaving something else behind, I like changing how I look, and that's the easiest way. It breaks life up into separate parts so that I don't carry quite so much with me."

"But why red? It must stand out in covert operations."

"Because I really am a redhead," she said, "though not exactly this shade. I've been a blonde and a brunette at different times, but they always feel fake to me, like I'm playing dress-up. I do that enough when I'm working."

"Fair enough," he said. "I think I've had enough truth for a bit. I'll take a dare."

She hadn't expected that, but she knew at once what she wanted.

"I dare you to talk to Lady Sif again," she said. "Really talk to her."

He frowned.

"I don't think she would even speak to me," he said.

"You can't be sure," she said. "Perhaps she misses you, too."

"I doubt it," he said, turning away, and she saw real pain on his face. "I don't want to be rejected again."

"If she does, at least you'll know, and you can come here and we'll watch something stupid on TV while eating the best pizza in New York, my treat," she said. "But if I'm right, you owe me sushi."

"I hate sushi."

"I know."

"There is absolutely no reason for it to be raw."

"I recall you saying that before."

"And you know I'm playing for time now."

"Obviously."

He let out a sigh, smiling slightly.

"Alright," he said, "I'll do it, but under one condition."

"Which is?"

"You let yourself try trusting Banner," he said seriously, taking her hand again. "The Hulk aside, Bruce is a good, decent man, and I believe he does have an interest in you. Be brave enough to give love a chance. You mortals live such a short time, and I've seen enough of eternity to know that long or short, life isn't meant to be spent alone, Natasha. Not even for the likes of us."

She squeezed his hand, thinking. At the moment, she would have rather had an assignment tracking down supervillains in the farthest reaches of space because what Loki was suggesting felt far more dangerous and likely to leave her hurt. She chewed her lip thoughtfully, then looked up at him and saw his hopeful expression. Really, could having things turn out right with Bruce be any more unlikely than a friendship with the criminal who had called her a mewling quim? And yet, here they were.

"Okay," she said, smiling a little. "Alright. I'll give it a fair shot."

"Good," he said, "and I'll speak to Sif, so I suppose we've both won the game."

"Oh no," she said, getting up and going into the kitchen. "You don't get off quite that easy."

She rummaged through a drawer until she found what she was looking for, then went back to the living room.

"If I'm doing this, I need a new start," she said, handing him a pair of scissors. "I dare you to cut my hair."

"Seriously?" he said, and a grin split across his face.

"I think I trust you enough," she said, "and you've been wanting me to let you do this since last Christmas."

"Yes, but I never thought you'd actually let me," he said. "I still say you'd look fabulous with short hair. Maybe something like Linda Evangelista had in the nineties?"

She pulled her hair out of the loose braid it had been in, then turned and sat in front of him.

"Go for it," she said as he laughed delightedly.

As the first locks slipped over her shoulders and onto the floor, Natasha already felt lighter. After all, she had never been one to back away from a dare.