A/N: Yay! New chapter. Huzzah, etc. Hope you like it, let me know what you think!
Turn
by Flaignhan
The snow is falling thickly outside, the high winds sending the chunky flakes spiralling past the window. Natasha sits down on the sofa, bowl of cereal in one hand, blanket wrapped tightly around her. She turns on the TV and spends the next ten minutes channel hopping while she eats her cereal, internally cursing her apartment layout – the large, high ceilinged rooms mean that the small, inadequate heaters struggle to raise the temperature by a single degree. It's fine in the summer, beautifully cool, but last winter she swore she'd move, and somehow, this winter, she's still here. She supposes she had a busy summer, with alien invasions but even so, she bitterly regrets her lack of action now. She's not sure she can make it through another winter like this, not without losing her mind.
The light overhead flickers, and she stops, mid-chew, and looks up to the ceiling. She places her bowl on the coffee table and gets up, heading quickly into the kitchen and rooting around in the cupboard under the sink to find candles. Just as her hand closes around a couple of long, waxy cylinders, the lights give one final, half-hearted flicker, then blink out. Natasha sighs, pulls out the candles, then feels her way over to the other side of the kitchen, opening a drawer and seeking a lighter. After much rummaging, she finds one, lights the candles, and pads back into the lounge. She heads over to the window to check on the rest of the city, just to make sure it's not a fuse blowing in her apartment, but as she suspects, the entire block is cloaked in darkness.
Her text alert sounds, and she heads back to the sofa to check her phone. It's Clint.
You lost power too?
She types back a quick response.
Yep. All out over here.
She waits a few moments, and then her phone vibrates in her palm.
You need anything? All stocked up over here.
She responds with a polite no, tells him she's fine and just tags on the end that she's going to Asgard in the morning so won't have to worry. She gets a rather chilly 'okay' in response, and hears no more from Clint for the rest of the night. Just as she's about to go to bed however, her phone vibrates again, but this time it's Tony, apparently having sent out a mass message.
Hey kids, as you've probably guessed, we're the only people in the city with power right now. The Stark hotel is open for business, rooms are charged at a rate of one beer per night, and may be settled at a later date. Be safe.
Natasha smiles, types out a quick response, telling Tony she's on babysitting duty from the morning and not to worry about her. Then, she switches off her phone to preserve the battery, picks up the candles and goes to her room, huddling herself up in her duvet and trying to get herself comfortable, before she blows out the candles and goes to sleep.
Just as she's about to nod off, she wonders how long the power will be out for, whether it'll still be gone when she gets back, and how much tinned food she can actually put up with. She thinks of the platters on Asgard with an ache in her belly, and wonders if Thor wants Loki off of his hands for more than a few hours, this time.
"You look cosy." His first words of the day to her are laced with amusement, and Natasha stomps the snow off of her boots, unravels her seemingly never-ending scarf, removes her mittens, and shrugs off her jacket, placing it on the back of the new, slightly comfier looking wooden chair by Loki's cell.
"Snow storm," she mutters, rubbing her hands together to try and get some feeling back into them. It doesn't take long; even in the dungeons it's fairly warm, but she's felt like a block of ice since the previous night, despite her piles upon piles of blankets. It's been a long, long while since she's been so cold, and she doesn't have much regard for the memories it brings about.
"You have luggage," he comments, his eyes dropping to the bag by her feet. "Or a rather large gift."
"No gifts," she says, straightening her top and smoothing it down, before looking up at him. "Stores are closed. I got nothing. And yeah, it's luggage. I'm staying for a few days."
"Because of the snow?" he asks mockingly, though the corners of his mouth have turned slightly upwards at the news, and she knows that he's secretly pleased.
"Because of the power cut," Natasha informs him, stepping through the glass with a shudder. "No power, no heat, no nothing." She sits down next to him, still a little chilly, goosebumps scattered over her skin. She can feel his eyes on her, but when she turns to look at him, he's facing the other way, one of his long arms reaching across for a tired looking patchwork blanket.
"Here," he says, passing it to her. She takes it, leaning forward to wrap it around herself and bundling it up around her arms, before returning to her original position.
"Thanks," she says with a smile. She still gets surprised by small acts of kindness from him, as it's so averse to everything she's used to coming from him, and yet, he was the one who healed her on her last visit, who had her wellbeing as a priority over everything else. It's probably about time she got used to it.
"I'll want it back tonight," he tells her. So much for the small acts of kindness.
"Yeah, yeah," she says. "I know."
"How long are you staying for?" he asks, lacing his fingers and stretching them outwards, his voice laden with forced casualness.
"A few days…" she extends her legs in front of her and tries to rub some warmth into her thighs. "I dunno, not sure how long we'll be without power. Thor didn't mind when I asked though…"
"Of course he didn't mind. Anything for him to get out of here."
Natasha frowns. "What do you mean?" she asks.
Loki sighs dramatically, casting his eyes up towards the ceiling as though about to tell a long and tiresome story. "Ever since the debacle with the guards, he's been guarding me himself. He's decided that none of the guards can be trusted, not just that moron, Frejir."
"What happened to him?" Natasha asks softly, a pool of dread in her stomach. She really doesn't want another nasty blot on her landscape, not even if it was in self-defence.
"He was flogged," Loki says, his eyebrows dropping forward into a scowl. "A hundred lashes, not nearly a severe enough punishment, but he does have to live with the humiliation of everybody knowing that he attacked a woman and lost."
"That's worse for someone like him though," Natasha adds, secretly relieved that he's still alive. She hasn't taken a life since the attack on New York, and she hopes that she won't have to again any time soon. She has no qualms about taking a life on orders, because that's somebody else's body count she's adding to, but when it comes to her own, she's keen to avoid any increase.
"He walks free," he says bitterly. "He walks free and yet I'm stuck in here."
"Yeah, I'm gonna say it again, you tried to invade a planet. That's nearly seven billion people whose lives you put at risk. That's a pretty major faux pas."
Loki smirks. "Just because I have more style than Frejir…"
Natasha rolls her eyes and decides to turn the conversation back to Thor, knowing full well it could result in a day of childish huffing and puffing should she overstep the mark.
"So Thor's been guarding you himself?" she asks.
"Yes," Loki replies. "Three times a day for a few hours at a time. He leaves me to my own devices otherwise."
"Well that must be better, mustn't it?" Natasha asks, but Loki makes a derisory sound. "What?"
"Better? You must be joking. He keeps trying to talk to me."
"Oh wow, what a bastard," Natasha says with a roll of her eyes. "Imagine your own brother trying to talk to you."
For a moment she thinks she's done it. She feels Loki stiffen next to her, inhale sharply, and from the corner of her eye sees his jaw jut forward slightly, often a good indicator of an oncoming sulk.
"You don't understand. He tries to make me eat with him, like you and I do, and he doesn't understand why I won't. It's always Natasha this and Natasha that and I'm sick of it. If I didn't know better I'd say he was in love with you." He says the last bit with a disgusted curl of his lip, and Natasha simply smiles. It's so easy to forget that Loki's thousands of years old, when he acts like a teenager who's been told they can't go to a rock concert because they were caught smoking pot in the garage. She doesn't point this out to him, because she knows she's pushed enough buttons for now, and so she lets it all slide.
"You wanna play cards?" she asks.
Loki pushes himself to his feet and crosses the cell to take his deck of cards from the table. In the corner behind it, Natasha spots a pile of half a dozen books that she knows weren't there last time.
"Who brought you those?" she asks, ninety percent sure that she knows the answer already.
"Thor," Loki says darkly.
"Have you been reading them?"
"Only when he tries to talk to me. He stops sooner if he's talking to the cover of a book."
"Oh my God…" she says quietly. "You guys…"
Loki ignores her and starts to deal out the cards, seven each, and then sets the deck between them. The first game goes Natasha's way fairly quickly, but Loki takes the second and third, his mood improving with each and every win. By the time lunch arrives, he's come out on top in nearly half of the games, and is reluctant to set the cards aside when Natasha brings in the tray of food. When she insists, however, he slides them to one side and makes room for her to set the tray down, sitting up straight, ready to eat.
The stew that the cooks have sent down warms her from the inside out, leaving her smiling happily. Loki eats slowly but steadily, helping himself to more regularly. He looks far healthier than when she first started visiting; his eyes are less sunken than before, and although he's still very, very lean, there's noticeably more meat on his bones. His face even looks a little fuller, though he's still constructed from sharp angles and strong cheek bones. She can't see the outline of his ribs through his shirt though, and that, to her, is the most important thing.
When they hear the rattle of the chains from the other side of the door, Natasha turns, and Loki sighs heavily, setting down his fork and leaning back against the wall.
"It's Thor…" he tells her. "He's the only one with a key."
Natasha waits until he steps into the room, all cheerful smiles and thick blond hair before she relaxes. She's perfectly safe in the cell, she knows, but she doesn't really fancy a repeat of her last visit. A little caution never hurt anybody, after all.
"How are we?" Thor asks, striding towards the glass and stepping through it. Loki puts his plate down noisily and folds his arms, not responding.
"Good," Natasha says, putting her own plate to one side and twisting to face Thor. "This is delicious by the way," she adds, indicating the stew and Thor grins.
"I thought you might appreciate it," he says, taking a seat on the floor with them. "You looked frozen when you arrived! No wonder you wanted to stay. How does Midgard cope when your mortal magic fails?"
"It's called electricity," Loki says impatiently. "It's not magic."
"He can't resist speaking if it's to correct me," Thor says in a pretend whisper. Natasha smirks, which only deepens Loki's scowl, and Thor chuckles heartily. "Oh don't be so sour, brother! You know it to be true!"
"Or perhaps you're just wrong far more often than you're right," Loki mutters. "You know, I was under the impression that this is my cell. Is that still the case? Or does this space now cater for three?"
"If you want me to go…" Natasha begins.
"Not you," Loki snaps. "They have a saying on Midgard, brother. Two's company, three's a crowd."
"Yeah, and four's a party," Natasha adds, giving him a reproachful look. "Just chill out, it's not like he's moving in with you."
"It certainly feels like he is. He was never this interested in spending time with me before you arrived."
"You wouldn't even entertain the idea before Natasha arrived. You're far more amiable since you've had her companionship."
Natasha laughs. "Really? This is amiable?"
Loki shoots a dirty look at her but Thor laughs. "For Loki, yes it is."
"I'm finished eating," Loki says coolly. "Take it away."
"I'm not finished," Natasha says firmly, picking up her plate, spiking a lump of beef with the prongs of her fork and putting it into her mouth, chewing slowly, pointedly, as Loki watches her. He glances over to Thor, just a split second look, but Natasha catches it, and knows exactly what he's getting at. Thor will probably leave once they've finished eating. He only wants to check in to make sure Loki is eating, probably wants to see what his brother is like when he's as close to content as it's possible for him to be in the cell. She also knows that the jibe about Loki's sourness being as close to amiable as he's liable to get hit a nerve. Natasha obviously has no idea what the previous couple of thousand years were like for Loki, but she knows that his downfall has only come in the last twelve months, at the very most. She's sure he wasn't like this towards Thor before then, would put money on it. If he had been, then there's no way that Thor would have tried to pull him back from the brink in New York, no way he would be so protective over him, and no way that he would try to save him again and again and again and again.
"I'm sure you'll find your quarters most comfortable," Thor says, breaking the silence. "I've had you placed in the rooms next to mine. You won't have anybody disturb you there."
He meets her eye and Natasha catches his drift. Frejir is still walking about Asgard, and she imagines that should he get wind of her staying in the palace, he probably wouldn't think twice about trying to kill her in her sleep.
"My rooms are next to yours," Loki says indignantly. "What are you playing at?"
Natasha feels her heart slide down in her chest. The last thing she needs is for her staying here to be yet another source of contention between the two brothers. She's about to say that she really doesn't mind where she sleeps, that's she'll quite happily make herself comfortable in the dungeon with a sleeping bag and a few pillows, but Thor speaks first.
"Brother, you claim you have no family, no place in this realm, and yet to lay claim to the living quarters you haven't touched in months?"
"There are guest quarters," Loki hisses. "For this exact purpose."
"Yes," Thor replies through gritted teeth. "And the guest quarters are guarded, and guess who they're guarded by."
"Frejir should have been executed! And any of his friends, Meinholf included should have been banished from the palace! Instead it's me that's making the sacrifice again."
"You're far too dramatic," Thor shoots back. "It's hardly a sacrifice. You get Natasha here for days at a time, and you won't let her sleep in the bed you haven't laid in since last winter!"
"It's not a question of her sleeping in my bed, it's a question of you thinking that that's your decision to make!"
Loki's trembling now, and Natasha looks down at her plate, no longer feeling the love for her now lukewarm stew. While she can understand why Loki's upset, she does get the feeling that he'd rather turn anything into an argument with Thor, as opposed to having a conversation, or even just accepting it. He's already admitted he has no issue with her staying in his quarters, just in the manner that it was decided. She's sure that if it had been his mother who had offered up his quarters for Natasha's use, he wouldn't have batted an eyelid.
"It's where I felt she would be most comfortable," Thor says slowly, clenching and unclenching his fist, obviously trying to keep a hold on his temper. "And safe. So do you want her to stay there tonight, or would you prefer she stays somewhere else? I will quite happily give her my quarters for her stay, if that's what you want?"
Loki's eyes flash. "Don't be ridiculous," he snaps. "Like she'd want to sleep in your bed. And what would your precious Jane think?"
"I wonder, what would Jane think of me giving up my bed to ensure that a friend sleeps comfortably and safely during her visit to our world?" Thor muses, an unusual hint of sarcasm to his tone. "I don't imagine she'd ever forgive me, do you?"
"Loki," Natasha says softly. "Where do you want me to sleep? You choose. And this stops now or I'm gonna be sleeping at Stark's place tonight."
Loki pouts, picking at a small hole near the hem of his shirt and considers his answer. "Why Stark's place?"
"He still has power," Natasha answers. "The arc reactor. He's self-sufficient."
"So why aren't you there anyway?"
"Because the food's better here."
Loki looks back down at the hole in his shirt, only making it worse when he pokes his little finger through it.
"And I think my time is spent more productively when I'm with you, than if I'm hanging around Stark tower trying not to drown in the testosterone."
His lips twitch into what Natasha is sure is almost a smile, and then, after a moment he says quietly, "Stay in my quarters. Make yourself at home. Don't let Thor mess anything up."
Thor opens his mouth, about to retort, but Natasha gives him a look and he chooses to keep quiet.
"Thank you," Natasha says. "I appreciate it."
Drama over, and blood pressures returning to normal, Thor soon departs, taking the dinner tray with him and promising he'll visit later on (much to Loki's displeasure). They're quiet for a while, and Natasha considers having another one of those conversations with him, the kind that she knows he hates, and when he picks up the cards to deal out another round of gin, she stops him, her hand on top of his.
"You didn't need to get upset like that," she says calmly. "I get it, I understand it's the principle of it. But he knew you would never begrudge me a safe place to sleep. It's not that he didn't consider how you'd feel, it's that he considered, and then knew you wouldn't mind. It's not the same thing."
"He didn't say that you could have my quarters though," Loki replies quietly, his thumb sliding the top card of the deck up and down absentmindedly. "He said you could have the quarters next to his, like they're not even mine anymore, like this is where I live now."
"Maybe he didn't want to draw attention to them being your quarters," Natasha says with a shrug. "Maybe he thought I'd mind sleeping in your quarters."
"Well if it's a choice between that and Stark tower -"
"I know, right?" Natasha says with a small smile. She releases his hand and he gives the cards a shuffle before dealing them out. "Just…try and chill out. Not everything Thor does is meant to be an insult to you."
Loki ignores the last comment and takes up his hand, rearranging the cards accordingly, and after watching him for a moment, Natasha picks up her own one, sighing inwardly when she sees the dire hand of nothing she's been landed with. She makes a note to teach him a new game, perhaps tomorrow, because he seems to be fairly content with winning at gin, and she's not sure she wants to spoil that.
The rooms are stupidly large. Actually stupidly large. The furniture is scattered to distant corners – an armchair here, a bookcase there, all much bigger than necessary just so they aren't dwarfed by the gargantuan room. There is a fire roaring in the grate, giving the room a warm, flickering, orange glow.
"I think you'll be quite comfortable here," Thor says, looking around and nodding. "The sleeping quarters are back here…" He heads towards the far side of the room and Natasha follows. He pushes open the tall double doors and inside is a slightly smaller room, the main focal point a gigantic four poster bed with dark green hangings and bed linen.
"Yeah, I think I'll cope," she says, her eyes wide as she takes it in.
"Dressing room," Thor says vaguely, waving to the right, where Natasha can see a narrow corridor leading to a room beyond. "You can leave your luggage in there, Loki won't mind. Bathroom," he gestures straight ahead to the door on the far side. "And, should you need anything…"
He heads to the wall on the left, stopping just in front of the fireplace. Natasha skews her lips to the side curiously, joining him in front of the hearth.
"Just shout up the chimney?" Natasha asks, laughing a little.
Thor doesn't hear her apparently, because he is frowning at the mantelpiece, his eyes searching the carved wood. He strokes his chin with his thumb and index finger, his eyes narrowed, until finally, he reaches out and presses his thumb against a knot in the wood. There is a lurch, and Natasha stumbles, but Thor grabs her by the upper arm, steadying her, as they start to revolve.
"What the -"
The fireplace rotates, the bedroom disappearing to be replaced with a narrow, dimly lit corridor.
"This is like something out of a cartoon…"
Thor chuckles. "I wouldn't know about that," he says. "But this is Loki's magic. One of the first real pieces of magic he did when we were boys. The corridor leads directly to my sleeping quarters – only Loki knows of its existence."
"That's pretty cool I guess," Natasha concedes. "Anything happens, fireplace. Got it."
"I don't imagine you'll need it," he adds, pressing the wooden knot again. "But just in case."
Natasha nods, and as the fireplace takes them back round to Loki's room, she feels a blast of fresh air hit her, the mustiness of the unused corridor disappearing in an instant.
"I think that's all," Thor says. "I can have breakfast sent here for you or you can have it with Loki…he doesn't really eat breakfast."
"He'll eat breakfast tomorrow," Natasha says.
Thor smiles, but something shifts in his eyes. They cloud over and he looks down at the floor, somehow looking impossibly small. "How do you do it?" he asks. "How do you get him to eat? He wants to eat, we know, but he just won't take it from me. Or anyone. Except you."
"He's always going to find fault with everything you do. He's looking for it, and if you're looking for it, you can usually find it."
"I've been looking for my brother for a long time," Thor says softly, still gazing down at the floor. "And I still can't find him."
"Oh come on," Natasha replies, giving his shoulder what she hopes is a comforting pat. "He's there. He's just a little…you know."
"But how do we get him back?"
"You don't. Stop clinging on to who he was and accept him for who he is now." She really doesn't know how this can be such a difficult concept to understand. Thor and Loki are thousands of years old, surely they've been through changes before? Surely they've had to learn to adapt to one another as they got older, changed their ways, and evolved?
"Accept the murder? The betrayal?" Thor looks up at her, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown.
"You already have accepted that," Natasha tells him. "If you hadn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation. What's done is done and he's different because of it, whether you like it or not. He's damaged, you know he is. You have to tread carefully around that, even if it is frustrating."
"My brother is not damaged," Thor says harshly. "There is nothing wrong with him."
"It's not an insult," Natasha murmurs. "It's the truth. What he went through…it changed him. It changed all of us. But he's probably still dealing with that, and at the same time he's got you, wishing you could turn back time and have him back how he was before. Do you have any idea what he would give to go back to that?"
"What has he said to you?"
"Nothing," Natasha answers, "But that's the point. He won't say it because he's too proud, and he's too stubborn as well because that's what you want. And what you want is automatically not what he wants because of this friction between the two of you. He'll pick at anything he can to try and start a fight, to push you away, because he hates all these expectations you have."
"So you're saying I should give up? That he'll respond better if I just leave him there to rot?"
Natasha rolls her eyes and wonders if dramatic, rash, non-solutions run in the family. "No," she says obviously. "I'm saying just let him be what he wants. If you take him food, don't stand there and wait for him to eat it, just take him some food, say hi and then leave him alone. Don't even mention the food. If you wanna try and talk you can always come back when he's not eating. You're very much his jailer at the moment. You decide when and what he eats, when he has to talk to you, when he can go outside…you need to break away from that."
Thor stays silent for a moment, digesting Natasha words, his fists clenching and unclenching. She's noticed that a couple of times now, and she wonders if it's his default coping mechanism. She can see his biceps twitching with every movement, his forearms tightening and then relaxing, his metal cuffs glinting in the fire light.
"But if I do that, he might think that I don't care," he says quietly. "And I can't let that happen."
"He knows that you care," Natasha says. "Everybody knows that you care. You just have to learn how to handle him. Shrug it off if he has a tantrum, leave him to it. If he says horrible things, walk away, why should you have to listen to that? Just stop clinging to this notion that you can make him better if you can make him feel like somebody cares. It's not going to work. Only he can make himself better, nobody else."
"You seem to be doing a much better job than I was," Thor replies, a hint of bitterness to his tone. Natasha frowns. She doesn't really consider messing around with a deck of cards to be a pit stop on the road to recovery, but what she does know is that if he's pleasant enough to hang out with, she'll hang out with him. If he's not, then she won't. It's all down to him and his behaviour. He controls what's going to happen by the way he treats her. It's not the other way around, and when she explains this to Thor, he brightens, seemingly understanding the idea. Perhaps his good mood is down to the fact that Loki's malice isn't nearly as personal as he previously thought – that Natasha is no more in favour than he is, she's just looking at things from the other side.
He decides to take the secret fireplace corridor back to his own rooms, for old time's sake, and it's with a spring in his step that he heads towards the hearth. When Thor has disappeared behind the wall, the fireplace makes a full rotation back around, and Natasha looks over to the bed, a smile spreading on her face.
Not even five minutes later, she's tucked up warm under the bedclothes, the pillows soft and cloud-like beneath her head. She inhales deeply, a soft, vaguely familiar aroma evoking a contented sigh from her lungs. Her last thought before she drops off to sleep is how much better off she is here, on another planet, than she would be at the madness and inevitable drinking games of Stark tower.
Thor unlocks the chains and unwinds them from the door handles quietly. Natasha catches his eye and he gives her a meaningful look as he gently sets the chains down and turns the door handle, wincing when the metal creaks lightly. Upon entering the dungeon, Thor noiselessly relights the torch brackets, which have long since faded to glowing embers throughout the night, and Natasha approaches the glass.
Loki is lying on his side, curled up under the blanket he'd loaned Natasha the previous day. His head is resting on his upper arm, his chest rising and falling softly. At first, Natasha thinks he looks peaceful, but then she sees a muscle twitch, his eyebrows drawing together in a frown. He shifts, pulling the blanket up over his head as though shielding himself, his fist clenched around the corner of the blanket, knuckles burning white under the already pale skin.
She steps through the glass without a moment's hesitation, takes three long strides across the cell and drops to her knees, placing her hand on his shoulder and shaking him awake firmly. His eyes snap open and he sits bolt upright with a start, pushing himself instinctively away from her, a sharp intake of breath catching in his throat.
"It's just me," Natasha whispers, so Thor can't hear. He's busy enough with the torch brackets not to have noticed Loki's nightmare, and she's guessing Loki would prefer for it to stay that way. She clasps her hand around his and stills the shaking. He closes his eyes, resting his forehead against the heel of his palm, one knee pulled up to his chest. He takes a few steadying breaths and Natasha keeps a hold on him, anchoring him to the reality of the cell.
There's a loud clatter, and Loki flinches, opening his eyes quickly, his gaze darting around to find the source.
"It's just breakfast," Natasha tells him, running her thumb back and forth across the underside of his wrist, occasionally catching a hint of his rapid pulse. "Don't worry."
Thor enters the cell, and Natasha releases Loki's wrist, twisting to face Thor. He's brought the breakfast tray with him, and it's laden with all sorts of delicious looking food. He puts it on the table next to the water jug, not even mentioning it, and then frowns at Loki.
"What's the matter? Are you ill?"
"No," Loki says quietly. "I'm fine."
"I just startled him," Natasha says quickly. "When I woke him."
"Well you should have let him sleep," Thor says, his frown deepening. "Breakfast can always wait. And if you wanted to dine now we could have more food sent down later for him."
"It's fine," Loki says, straightening his sitting position a little and making himself comfortable. "I'm fine. It's all...fine."
"Did you want to go out today?" Thor asks. Loki looks up at him, his eyes narrowed as he considers him.
"No," he says after a pause. "I don't."
Thor opens his mouth, but before he can try and convince Loki otherwise, Natasha catches his eye and gives him a look.
"Very well," Thor says, straightening his shoulders and nodding. "If you change your mind we can always go out this afternoon, perhaps head up into the woods again, if you'd like."
Loki's gaze falls on Natasha now, scrutinising and calculating. She can feel him watching her every move, her skin prickling slightly as she tries to pretend that she hasn't noticed.
"We'll see you later on," Natasha says to Thor with a small smile.
Thor bids them farewell and leaves the dungeon, the chains rattling into place from the other side of the door after he closes it. As always, Loki waits until Thor is well out of earshot before speaking, and it's not until Natasha has set the tray between them and started buttering a still-warm crusty roll that he makes a sound.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Yeah," Natasha answers. "Best night I've had in ages. Your bed's really -" She stops herself, realising how insensitive she's being. After his mini tantrum yesterday over Thor deciding it would be fine for her to sleep there, she highly doubts that reminding him of the comfort he's missing will do him any good.
"Really what?"
"Comfortable..." Natasha says slowly with a guilty grimace. "Sorry, I didn't mean to -"
"It's fine," Loki says stiffly, tearing off a piece of his own roll with slightly more force than necessary.
Natasha bites her lip and watches him for a moment, but he doesn't look at her. He keeps his attention focused on breakfast, and after he finishes his roll, he sinks his teeth into a shiny red apple, juice collecting on the waxy skin as he chews.
"What's up?"
"Nothing," Loki says, taking another bite of his apple. He still doesn't look at her, and Natasha knows it's something other than the fact that she slept in his room. It's not bed-envy he's suffering from, but something else, something that runs a little deeper.
"Is it the nightmare?"
"No."
"I had them too," she says softly. "Still do sometimes. Not often, but occasionally. They get less frequent...the more you learn to cope."
"It's not that. And it wasn't a nightmare." He takes one last bite of his apple then throws the half eaten remains down onto his plate. Somehow, he manages to look everywhere in the room except at her, and she doesn't quite get it. If it's not the nightmare, and it's not the fact that she slept in his bed then -
"Couldn't you have just gone to Thor's room? I mean really, did you need to insult me that much?"
"You said you didn't mind!"
"I didn't mind you sleeping in there!" he retorts, angry red blotches marring his normally milky complexion. "But I do object to him using my bed for his disgusting, inadequate, grunting exploits!"
Natasha nearly chokes on her roll. She gulps down the lump of bread in her throat with some difficulty and gapes at Loki. "What?"
"Don't even try and play stupid with me. I know he didn't leave last night. The two of you went into my room last night and you didn't leave until this morning!"
Natasha frowns, trying to think of what possible evidence could have brought him to that conclusion. Surely not a trouble stirring guard spreading rumours – the chains were on the dungeon door all night. She chews on the inside of her cheek, her eyebrows drawn together in a frown, then, deciding she has no answer, looks up at Loki with a shrug.
"Again, what?"
"There is magic on that door. I might be without my powers now, but my old enchantments still remain. Thor entered my quarters with you last night, and left with you this morning. Don't try to tell me otherwise." He folds his arms, his expression haughtier than ever. Were he not so obviously upset by the whole thing, Natasha would laugh. "And I don't appreciate having my brother's used up seconds hanging around. Get out."
Natasha doesn't move.
"Get out."
"Guess you didn't put one of your special super-duper enchantments on the secret fireplace hidey-hole, did you?" she says airily, meeting his hard glare with a casual gaze.
Loki blinks. "What?"
"Thor took me to your quarters last night," she says slowly. "And then went to his own via the corridor behind the fireplace." She watches as Loki's expression gradually melts into one of shock, his scowl fading away. "And then this morning," she continues, her voice light and airy, "Thor came down the fireplace corridor again and woke me at the crack of dawn, because he thought you'd have a better day if you had company from the get go."
He has the good grace to look a little embarrassed, the redness fading from his cheeks to be replaced by an ashy grey colour.
"But if you want his used up seconds to get out then I'll quite happily head back to Earth and not come back."
Loki taps his fingers against his thighs, his eyes focused on his lap.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly. Natasha can't believe what she's hearing. She knows better than to make a big deal out of it, but she can't help the look of surprise that forms on her face at the sound of his words.
"It's okay," she replies, the shock fading.
"I just assumed…"
"I think you do that a lot…" she says. "And I think that might be the root of a hell of a lot of your problems."
He doesn't have anything to say to that, and so Natasha lets him wallow in the silence for a few minutes, before nudging the breakfast tray towards him. It's the only encouragement he needs to continue eating, and they don't speak for the rest of the meal. After she's taken the tray outside and placed it back in the dumb waiter, she settles down next to him, back against the wall, legs crossed.
"So I have a question," she says, breaking the silence at last.
Loki turns his head to look at her, his exasperated expression making it clear that he's expecting something that will inevitably poke fun at him.
"How d'you know he's inadequate?"
She expects a small chuckle, something to break the tension, but he turns a faint shade of green and stares ahead at the glass.
"The walls aren't as thick as you imagine," he says hoarsely. "It's painfully obvious when a woman's faking it for a prince. They put on more of a show…"
Natasha crinkles her nose in disgust, wishing she'd never asked. "That's…kinda gross."
"Yeah," Loki says, blinking and leaning to his left so he can reach the deck of cards. He opens the pack, and begins to shuffle them. "Gin?" he asks.
Natasha shakes her head and holds out her hand for the cards. He gives them to her, his expression dismayed as though he thinks she might be confiscating them in retaliation for his accusations.
"I'm sick of gin," she says, shuffling the deck thoroughly. "I'm gonna teach you how to play poker."
The soft curve of his lips as he relaxes, his mood lifting, causes a sense of contentment to spread through Natasha. She's not sure why, but every time he responds positively, every time he's well behaved or happy, she treats it as a personal victory. She's not sure how well she'll fare against the god of mischief in a game based on bluffing and deception, but she's happy in the knowledge that once he's gotten the hang of it, he'll be a far more challenging opponent than the terminally honest Steve.
"What are the stakes?" Loki asks, his smile spreading into a grin.
"If I win, you have to read a book about poker technique which I'll bring on my next visit." Natasha thinks this can only be good for him, giving him something to focus on when she's not around, and even better, she won't be drowning in a mountain of chips after two minutes like she normally is, if he actually puts some effort into it.
"And if I win?"
"Then I'll bring you a book about poker technique when I next visit, you can read that, and then really kick my ass next time."
Loki smirks but says no more, and Natasha begins to deal.