A/N: Here is my gift to you, in celebration of the fact that this time next week I'll be London-bound for the midnight showing of TDW. The countdown begins. Mwahaha. Enjoy, chicas.
Turn
by Flaignhan
Fury's words echo in her head as she wanders through the bookshop, browsing the shelves, her eyes barely seeing the titles on the spines of the books.
"I've got something coming up for you. It's level seven, don't mention it to the others. I'll give you more details when I have them."
She had answered with a courteous "Yes sir," and had then left his office, her head full of questions about where she'd be going, who she'd be going with, if anyone, who she'd be dealing with, how severely she'd have to deal with them, and, most importantly, how long she'd be gone for. With Fury giving her a heads up so far in advance, it seems as though this assignment isn't exactly going to be a day trip to Staten Island.
Eventually, after she manages to pull herself back to reality, she finds a book on poker technique. She flicks through it, pausing at some of the chapters and reading the first few lines. It's quite dense, and delves quite heavily into the psychology behind the game, but she figures Loki will appreciate that more than an idiot's guide or a brief couple of pages in a broader book about card games in general. She tries to find something else that might occupy his time, something that will keep him focused, because it's the boredom that will send him spiralling downwards more than anything else.
She picks up an old espionage thriller from one of the shelves, glances at the back cover, her eyes scanning the blurb then decides that it's worth a shot. She doesn't know what kind of books he'd like, but she's guessing chick-lit is out, and doesn't really see him as the military action novel sort. Besides, classic espionage will hold just the right amount of drama for him, and, if it's as good as the reviews on the back cover say, the plot will keep him gripped until the very end. If he even bothers to read it, of course.
Natasha heads over to the counter, books tucked under her arm as she extracts her credit card from her purse. The smiley girl behind the cash register bags up her books for her and after Natasha has tapped in her pin, she heads back out onto the chilly street, walking quickly through the crowds, hoping she'll make it to the department store before it closes.
She doesn't know when she became so determined to make Loki happy, but as she ducks into the store a few minutes later, dazzled by Christmas decorations, she decides that the when and the why don't really matter at all, it's only the outcome that does.
"How has he been?" Natasha asks, her head still swimming from the effects of her bifrost trip.
Thor hesitates before answering, and when he speaks, he does so slowly, as though considering each and every syllable. "Good…he came into the woods yesterday."
"Just the two of you?" Natasha asks, raising an eyebrow. She hadn't expected that. But perhaps Loki had grown so bored of being cooped up in his cell that he decided an hour or so outside with Thor was preferable to staring out into the dungeon.
"Yes…" Thor replies. "I didn't use the chains. I didn't think it necessary. Father was furious when I told him but…"
"Wow," Natasha says, still trying to process the information. She can't imagine what's gotten into Loki to lead him to that, and for all that she's glad that he's taken a huge step in the right direction, there is a small, selfish part of her that is upset about the fact that he did it when she wasn't around. It's ridiculous, really, but she likes to be able to see the results of her work, whether it's a level seven assignment or trying to rebalance Loki's ideas about the world. She hopes she'll get to see some of the same benefits today, but knows that if she asks him too many questions about it, if she tries to get him to talk about his feelings, he'll shut her off and play poker in silence all day until she leaves.
She knows the route down to the dungeons as well as Thor does now, and she's gotten used to keeping up with his huge strides, her feet moving nearly twice as quickly as his. As they descend the stairs to the dungeons, Thor says quietly, "He will be pleased to see you. He's missed you a great a deal."
"Oh really?" Natasha says skeptically. "He told you that?"
"He eats less when you're not here, goes to sleep earlier, plays with the cards on his own. I'd say it's safe to assume that he was missing you."
"I don't think you should make any assumptions about him," Natasha says, as she unhooks one end of the chain from around the door handles. Thor takes it from her and pulls the rest out, before laying it on the floor and opening the door. He gives her a shrug and that's the last of it, Natasha choosing to ignore it and head inside the dungeon.
"I told you she'd be back, didn't I, brother?" Thor says cheerfully, sweeping into the room, and grinning at Loki.
Loki looks up at Natasha and offers her the briefest of smiles, but ignores Thor completely. Thor doesn't give up, however.
"I was just telling her about our trip out into the woods, yesterday."
"How very exciting for you," Loki drawls. "I don't know how you're managing to contain yourself."
Natasha smirks and steps through the glass, placing her bag on the floor and sitting down next to Loki. His eyes wander over to the bag and one of his eyebrows quirks upwards, but he doesn't comment.
"Are we going out today?" Thor asks, still standing outside the cell, his hands clasped behind his back.
"No," Loki says. "I don't want to."
"All right," Thor says with a nod. "I'll be back later."
"Can't wait…" Loki murmurs. Thor doesn't quite hear him, and bids the both of them goodbye before disappearing behind the dungeon door and leaving the two of them alone.
"Someone's cranky…" Natasha muses, pulling her bag onto her lap and opening it. Loki leans over to peer inside but Natasha closes it and gives him a look. He resumes his previous position, his lips pouting slightly, eyebrows drawn together in a frown, and Natasha turns her attention back to her bag. "So how was the trip out? I heard you weren't chained up."
"It was dull," Loki sighs, his eyes focused on her hands as she rummages through her belongings. "Dreadful and dull."
"Never mind," Natasha says briskly. She pulls out a bar of chocolate and hands it to Loki, whose expression of displeasure immediately melts away. He opens the packet and breaks it into pieces, first offering some to Natasha, who declines with a wave of her hand, and then taking some himself and popping it into his mouth, a smile spreading slowly across his lips as he allows the chocolate to melt into his mouth. While he enjoys his chocolate, Natasha pulls out the two books she's brought for him and tosses them into his lap. His eyes snap open at the impact and he looks down, picking up the first - the poker book - and flicking through the pages.
"Your paper is so thin," he says thickly through his chocolate. "And shiny. It's strange."
"Is that a problem?" Natasha asks, raising an eyebrow.
"No," he says defensively, holding the book closer to him as though he fears she'll take it away from him.
"Good," Natasha replies simply. "I got you a novel as well," she adds. "Thought it might entertain you when you're bored of cards."
Loki picks up the paperback, frowning at the cover. The dark, watercolour mishmash of greys and blues is broken only by the glow of an old fashioned street light, and in the distance, there is a silhouette of a man, walking alone, away from the reader. In thin, serifed, crimson letters, the title The Man at the Top is laid across the top of the cover, and Loki's eyes pause on it, before he flicks through the pages, pausing occasionally to read a sentence or two.
"What's it about?" he asks her after a moment.
"Spy," she says with a shrug.
"Like you?" he asks, a small grin forming on his lips.
"No," she says with a chuckle. "I don't think so somehow. No one would ever write a book about me. A report, maybe, but not a book."
"It's a shame," Loki says, his eyes paused on the blurb, moving slowly down the paragraph. "I think it'd make a good story."
Natasha can't stop the sarcastic ha that comes from her mouth, then follows it up with "Like anybody'd wanna read that."
"I'd read it," Loki says, his eyes still on the back cover of the book but no longer moving. It's like he's waiting for her reaction before he'll dare make eye contact with her again, but Natasha doesn't know how to react to something like that. Is it a compliment? Or is it him just wanting to know all of the details that he didn't manage to wrestle out of Clint when he was in control of his mind? She doesn't know, but at the moment, there is a softness to him that makes her think that it might just be the former. And, if Thor was right and Loki really has missed her, or her company, or her gifts, or whatever combination of those that he likes the best, then maybe he's a little more appreciative of her today than previously. She's sure the chocolate wouldn't have hurt that.
"I wouldn't," Natasha says. "When it's not depressing, it's just boring."
"Even now?" Loki asks, looking up at last, faint, crinkled lines appearing on his forehead.
"Well maybe not right now," Natasha reasons, then she offers him a small smile which seems to placate him, and he offers her some chocolate. This time she takes it, despite having had breakfast less than an hour ago. There's something nice about sharing food in silence with him, their fingertips occasionally meeting over the packet, though neither of them acknowledge it. She realises that she's actually comfortable with him, in a way that she is with very very few people on Earth. Clint is one of them, Bruce, these days, is another. Steve too, in fact, all of the Avengers, she's comfortable around. She's used to them now, but before they had that very unique bonding session, courtesy of the man sitting next to her, Clint was probably the only person she could sit down and chill out with. Not even Fury, who plays his cards closer to his chest than anybody she's ever met. It makes him an intimidating poker player, that steely face of his never shifting from its glower. She has a theory that if he does have a tell, it's in the muscles around his missing eye, hidden conveniently from view by his eye patch. She's never voiced the theory to him, but she's shared it with Clint, and whenever the three of them are in a game together, she can see Clint staring at the eye patch, as though daring it to move.
They finish the chocolate, and she momentarily feels bad for depriving him of a good third of it, but then, she supposes, there is a second bar in her bag that she's planning on giving him before she leaves this evening, to tide him over until her next visit. She wonders whether she'll get to see him again before Fury sends her off on her next assignment, but she doesn't want to bring the subject up - details are so scarce at the moment and she doesn't want to spoil Loki's mood unnecessarily. Just as long as she doesn't get shipped off without a chance to explain to him that she's going, she'll be fine, and hopefully so will he, if a little sulky.
It's when they're halfway through their fifth round of poker, Loki having speedily read the first chapter of his new book on strategy, that the chains on the other side of the door start to rattle. Assuming it's Thor, Natasha and Loki continue playing, Loki holding his cards close to his chest as he raises the bet with a handful of golden coins. Natasha is counting out enough coins to match him, when she realises the footsteps on the dungeon floor don't sound as heavy or purposeful as Thor's. She whips her head around, and sees an old man, his white hair swept back from his face, a dark eye patch covering his right eye. He's standing silently, casting one judgemental eye down on the two of them, and Natasha feels like a schoolgirl, down on the floor, caught red handed in some sort of wrongdoing. She knows who it is in an instant.
"Father…" Loki breathes, placing his cards face down on the floor and sitting up straighter. Even after all this time, the child in him is so painfully obvious.
"You're addressing me as such, now?" Odin says coldly.
"Yes." Loki's hands are clasped in his lap, one index finger tapping nervously against the back of his other hand. Natasha can tell by the slight pull on his lower lip that's he's biting the inside of it, whether to keep himself from saying something he'll regret or to keep his nerves from becoming too apparent, she doesn't know.
"And you must be the human in whom Thor has so much faith," Odin says, turning to Natasha.
"Well," Natasha says with a frown. "I'm human. You'd have to ask Thor about that last bit."
The corners of Odin's mouth twitch minutely upwards, and Natasha quietly lets out a breath that she hadn't realised she'd been holding. There is something about Odin that demands respect, something that sets her spine on edge, her skin prickling with unwelcome goose bumps. She knows this is most certainly a case of speak when spoken to, and it seems as though Loki is following that rule as well.
"Thor took you outside yesterday, did he not?"
"Yes," Loki replies, his voice sounding smaller than Natasha has ever heard it.
"Without any shackles?"
"No shackles."
"And you returned to your cell without incident?"
"Yes, father."
"Why?"
Natasha chews her lip and looks down at the floor, wishing she didn't have to listen to this conversation. She can tell, just by the tone of Loki's voice that his shoulders are slumped, and that his eyes have that glazed over, slightly vacant look to them. It's the same look he had after she woke him from his nightmare, that same, shaken, defeated tone of voice, barely above a whisper.
"Because there's nowhere else for me to go. The last time I left Asgard it didn't…work out."
Natasha almost smiles at the understatement of the century, but the atmosphere is so heavy, she can feel it weighing on her shoulders, keeping her planted firmly in her spot next to Loki, her gaze still fixed on the floor.
"Thor tells me your behaviour has improved under the care of this woman."
Natasha looks up to see Odin gesture vaguely towards her, and Loki nods.
"I suppose you could say that," he agrees.
"Why her? Why not your family?"
She would be offended, were it not for the crack in Odin's voice as he says the last word, and she knows it's not because Odin doesn't think she's worthy enough, but that he doesn't think any of them are as worthy as she is and can't for the life of him see why. After all, what's so special about one little human, even if she can pack a punch and speak half a dozen languages? She's nothing to them, it's why Frejir was so determined to put her in her place. There is an arrogance that will only lead to trouble. Loki had it, on the helicarrier, Thor had it too, according to his file, and Frejir certainly had a wealth of it. Odin, as King, is probably a little more entitled to have it, but he doesn't exhibit it in the same, attention seeking way as the others. He just seems to have much better things to be doing.
"Natasha doesn't treat me like an animal."
"You behaved like an animal," Odin hisses. "The Chitauri, Loki! How could you sink so low?"
"Thanos said -"
"You listen to Thanos over your own family?"
"You lied to me." The words come out in a rush, and perhaps he had thought better of saying them but had then been unable to stop himself. Natasha feels the goose pimples on her skin intensify, as though an icy blast of air has rushed through the cell.
"And Thanos didn't?"
Loki hesitates before answering, and when he does, his voice is thick, his words coming slowly. He has never sounded so unlike himself. "I didn't think at the time -"
"You didn't think at all you foolish boy!" Odin snaps. Natasha feels Loki stiffen next to her and she has the strongest urge to take his hand and remind him that she's here, she's with him, and she's not going anywhere. She doesn't move though. She knows that Odin will draw conclusions, or else see it as a sign of weakness in Loki, that he needs this human girl to lick his wounds and keep him safe from the big bad wolf.
She wonders whether Thor knows that Odin is down here, but she hopes that had he known this morning, he would have given her a heads up, even if he'd made her promise not to mention it to Loki. She can't help but feel that if he were here, he might be able to soften Odin's blows, or at least defend Loki to Odin in some way. He'd be grasping at straws, because everything Odin is saying is true, but all the same, she can almost feel Loki shrinking beside her under Odin's glare.
"I'm sorry," Loki mumbles.
Natasha hears him loud and clear, and at his words, she looks up to gauge Odin's reaction, who has apparently heard Loki just as well as Natasha has. He fidgets with his staff, moving it to three different spots on the floor before returning it to its first position and leaning heavily on it. He blinks a few times, considering Loki, and briefly, he glances across at Natasha. She meets his gaze unfalteringly, and then Odin turns his attention back to Loki, apparently coming to a conclusion.
"You are still my son," Odin says softly. "Despite your mistakes, you will always be my son. You have no idea how much it pains me to have you locked down here, how distraught your mother is, and Thor, who has tried so hard."
Loki doesn't say anything, and it's probably for the best. Any derogatory comments towards the favourite son will hardly do Loki any favours now.
"But, he tells me that he believes you can be trusted more than previously. He says you have found peace."
"What?"
"Yes…" Odin muses. "I had the same reaction. That aside, you have proved yourself to be more…responsible. And for that, I am glad."
Natasha turns to Loki, waiting to see if he responds, but he continues to look down at his hands, his jaw clenched, and Natasha realises he's waiting for a but.
"As such, I no longer believe that this cell is the best place for you."
Loki looks up at this, and Natasha thinks he might give himself whiplash with the speed at which he moves.
"What?"
"Your quarters are being prepared for your return as we speak," Odin says, his words monotonous, giving nothing away as he narrows his eye at Loki. Natasha gets the feeling that he's half convinced that this is a huge mistake, and she wonders how instrumental Thor has been in pushing for this. "They will be locked from the outside, but you will have more space, more privacy, your belongings…though I see you have collected a few during your stay here."
"Natasha brought me some books from Midgard…" he says, stumbling over his words. "Can I really have my room back?" The disbelief is evident in his voice, and it is a mark of how damaged he is that he cannot comprehend the concept of something good happening to him. Apparently, good things don't happen to Loki, or so he believes, but perhaps the tables are about to turn.
"Yes, you can have your room back. The more you adjust back into our world, the more trust you earn, the more freedom will be granted to you."
"You mean, things could go back to how they were?"
The carefully controlled sense of hope in his voice answers Natasha's question from her first visit. But she's always known, from that very first day, perhaps even from that moment when she had stood over his broken body, pointing his own spear at him, that he'd give anything to go back to a simpler, happier time in his life.
"Your mother misses her son dearly. As do I. We hope that with the right encouragement, you will be able to rejoin us fully in the future."
A clatter sounds from the dumb waiter by the door and Odin turns to find the source of the noise.
"Your lunch is here," he says to Loki. "Thor will come to collect you after you've eaten." He moves to leave, and takes a few steps towards the door before Loki suddenly rises to his knees and calls after him.
"Father!"
Odin looks back over his shoulder. "Yes?"
Loki's next words are just about as audible as his earlier apology, and probably just as difficult for him to utter. "Thank you."
A small smile curves Odin's lips, and he nods, reaching out to open the door, but before he even touches the handle, Loki calls after him again.
"Father!"
"Yes, Loki?" Odin says patiently, taking a step backwards and turning to face them.
"Natasha will still be allowed to visit, won't she?" It's that same, small, uncertain voice that Natasha hates to hear come from him, but this time, his words don't leave her feeling like she's been punched in the chest, but rather like someone's inflated a balloon inside her, filling her up with lightness. Odin's face is contorted into a confused frown, and Natasha suddenly finds herself feeling anxious over his answer.
"You honestly think I would deny you the one thing that makes you happy?" He sounds disappointed, and some of the hardness has vanished from his cold blue eyes. "How cruel do you think I am?"
Loki sinks back onto the floor and says nothing, so Odin takes his leave, having sent a courteous nod in Natasha's direction, which, after a moment of shock, she returns. Odin closes the door firmly behind him, but Natasha does not hear the familiar rattle of chains before he walks back down the corridor and up the stairs. She's not the only one - Loki has his eyes narrowed at the closed door, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown.
"Thor'll be here soon," she says. "After lunch, right?" She gets up and goes to collect the tray, eyeing the door warily while she ensures everything will balance properly on its journey to the cell. She doubts anyone will come snooping, doubts they even know that Odin's been down here and left the chains off, but all the same, she's rather glad when she's back in the cell. She sets the tray down between them and starts helping herself to potatoes, but when Loki doesn't move, she puts her plate down and reaches across to him, taking his hand.
"You okay?"
He nods.
"Your sleeping quarters should be just how you left them, I think."
This almost raises a smile from him, but when he still doesn't move, Natasha gives him a gentle nudge and says 'C'mon, the food's getting cold." She hands him a plate and dutifully, he begins to fill it, his face paler than usual as the news of his change in circumstance slowly sinks in.
She hadn't known what to expect. Half of her had thought being back in his own space, his comfort zone, would give him a new lease of energy, that he'd be bouncing off the walls with excitement now that he was finally being treated like a person again. The other part of her, the part she had pushed down and tried to ignore, the part that was, inevitably, correct, had anticipated a silent, subdued Loki, who would take a while to adjust to his new (old) surroundings. He places his few belongings - the books, the deck of cards, and the pile of jewels they've been using as poker chips, wrapped up in that thin blanket of his - on the desk, then turns around, surveying the room, his arms hanging limply by his side. He opens his mouth to speak, but apparently thinks better of it and closes it again.
"You okay?" Natasha asks.
He nods, his eyes darting around the room as if expecting someone to jump out from some dark corner, but nobody does, and so Natasha heads towards the doors on the far side of the room, pushing them open to reveal Loki's bedroom. He approaches, standing behind her and looking into the room over her shoulder, and the way he hangs back, hesitates when Natasha stands aside to let him go in, reminds her of her own feelings, all those years ago when she was dumped in the real world and expected to handle it after so much…trouble.
"Just how you remember it?"
"Yes," he says. His voice croaks, but then he clears his throat and repeats himself. "Yes…more or less."
He walks around, scowling at the fireplace when he passes it. Thor informed them that it's been altered, so that it will only open when Thor's in his own rooms at the other end of the hidden corridor. No escape for Loki. To be perfectly honest, Natasha's not sure whether Loki would use the fireplace even if he could. On the one hand, he might be too proud to go and get his hands dirty in memories from days long gone, but on the other, where else would he go? He knows well enough that the world outside of Asgard doesn't hold anything good for him, he's learned that the hard way, and it is possibly the most effective way of making sure he remains where he ought to. Perhaps, after a few months, he might get itchy feet and start wanting to explore, might get a little bit cocky and push his luck, but Natasha hopes by then that he'll have had even more privileges extended to him.
She also hopes, no matter how fruitless and naive it might be, that one day, she'll come to visit him and it won't be a prisoner who greets her, but a free man. Nothing's impossible, after all.
"Why don't you go and have a bath?" Natasha suggests, nodding towards the bathroom.
"Do I smell?" he asks pointedly, sounding a little more like the Loki she's used to.
"No, but you know, fresh start. It'll give you a little time to relax, 'cause this can be pretty overwhelming."
Loki turns away from her, gazing around the room. "I'd forgotten how big it is," he mumbles. "The bed's almost as big as my entire cell."
It's true, the bed is disgracefully huge, and it's something that always made her feel uncomfortable when she was staying here. Last thing at night, while she changed into her pyjamas, contemplating which small section of the mattress she would lie on that night, her mind would always wander back to Loki, lying on the hard white floor of his cell, that measly little blanket pulled up over his head, trying to keep the demons at bay. It had naturally been difficult to worry about him too much once she'd laid her head down on the pillows and pulled the bedspread over her, but upon waking, her first thought would always be of him, and she would dress in a hurry, ready to go by the time Thor knocked cautiously on the other side of the fireplace before pressing the knot that would open it up.
"Clothes are all in your dressing room," she says. "You don't have to wear that anymore." She points to the thin green shirt which has certainly seen better days, the hem having come unstitched at one side, probably from where he's been picking at it, several small holes which have been made worse by his bored fiddling with them, and a small tear at the base of the v-shaped neckline, the material fraying, threads tickling his pale chest.
After a few more minutes of Loki trying to acclimatise to his new living arrangements, he eventually concedes that a bath might be a good idea, collects some clothes from his dressing room, and disappears into the bathroom. Natasha settles herself on the sofa by the fireplace, and stares into the flames, enjoying the heat. Once she hears the taps in the bathroom turn off, she knows she won't be hearing from Loki for a while, and wouldn't be surprised if he falls asleep in there. She had a lot of baths during those days that she locked herself in the apartment - the heat made her feel safe, alive, and the small bathroom hadn't felt too overwhelming, unlike the large, open plan rooms with windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, giving her an unimpaired view of the entire city.
When she hears a gentle knock, she blinks, and turns to the door behind her, but it's open, and no one's standing there.
"Loki?" The voice is muffled, and Natasha realises it's Thor, and he's behind the fireplace. She gets up and pushes the knot in the wood, and the hearth slowly rotates, bringing Thor into view.
"He's taking a bath," Natasha tells him.
"Oh," Thor says. "I was just wondering how he was."
"Shell shocked, I think," Natasha replies, taking her seat once more and tucking her legs under her. "But that's natural. He's been down there for so long…"
Thor nods. "I hope he adjusts well. Father was skeptical about the move…"
"Did you push hard for it?"
"We had a…discussion," Thor says slowly, then he smiles ruefully. "But I hope that Loki will prove himself to father as he has to me. I told him that we should grant him a little more trust, and see if he rises to the challenge."
"What did he say?"
"He said he'd think about it," Thor replies. "But then he spoke to my mother and…" he gestures to the room. "Here we are. My mother practices several kinds of magic. Her most impressive, in my eyes, is negotiating with my father."
"Has she been to see Loki?"
Thor shakes his head. "She doesn't want to upset his routine. She believes that if he's been improving with your company, then we should continue in the same way until he's more stable."
"Yeah…" Natasha says, her stomach jolting unpleasantly. "About that…"
Thor's eyes flash, and he suddenly looks worried, but she supposes it's best to tell him now, to give him a chance to prepare. It's not an ideal time for this to be happening, after so many things have been set in motion with Loki, but she doesn't even know when it will happen, only that it's going to.
"What's the matter? Is Director Fury displeased with the amount of time you spend here? We could compensate him for his troubles, I'm sure we could find a way to -"
"I've got an assignment coming up. Pretty soon actually. I'm gonna be away for a…a while."
"Can no one else -?"
"Nobody else has the clearance," Natasha tells him. "But it's a little way off yet and I just wanted to let you know in advance."
"Does Loki know?"
Natasha shakes her head. "No. Don't tell him either. I'll break it to him when I know more details."
Thor takes a seat in the armchair and rests his forehead against his palm.
"Is it something I could do? You know I have no interest in Midgardian politics, my only ties are to my friends."
Natasha smiles and shakes her head, wondering how to phrase her response. "I think…" she begins, "It calls for something a little more…stealthy than thunder and lightning," she tells him.
"Of course," Thor says with a smile. "And in that sense I am woefully inept."
"Well I'm not the sole worthy user of a super magical hammer so you know, we all have our talents," Natasha replies.
Thor smiles, but it quickly fades, and he runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "Do you have any idea how long you'll be gone for?"
"Not really," Natasha says. "I'm guessing at least a week. Could be as much as a couple of months."
Thor's eyes widen at this prospect and he slumps back in his chair, his hands clasping the arms of it, fingers tapping the ends. "He'll be upset. He won't admit it, but he will."
"I know," Natasha says quietly. "But hopefully we can manage that a little."
"You're much better at that than I am," Thor replies. "Perhaps I'll leave that to you."
"Coward," Natasha says good-naturedly, a smirk on her face. Thor smiles, but at that moment, they hear the water start to drain from the bathtub and they both turn to look towards the door.
"I should go," Thor says quickly, getting to his feet. "He'll think me intrusive."
"You're not int -"
But before Natasha can even finish the word, the hearth is already halfway round its rotation. Thor raises a hand in farewell and disappears from sight. Moments later, the bathroom door opens, and Loki appears in clean clothes, hair damp and hanging round his shoulders, his skin looking soft for the first time since Natasha has known him.
"What?"
Natasha realises she's staring and shrugs her shoulders, breaking her gaze with a couple of rapid blinks. "Nothing. You okay?"
"Fine," he says, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're still staring."
"Sorry," Natasha says, forcibly turning away from him now. "It's just -" She doesn't know how to explain it. Maybe it's because she knows that their hours are numbered now, at least for a while, or maybe it's because she's never seen him look healthy, but she wants to commit the image of him to memory, just like this. Right now, he is perhaps as close to his natural state as she will ever see him - she can tell by his eyes that's he's still sleepy from the warm, steamy haze of the bath, and his clothes are simple, no leather, no armour, no weapons tucked into belts.
"Just what, exactly?"
"You look healthy," she says quickly. "It's good…it's a good thing."
Loki considers her for another moment, then meanders his way through the furniture to reach his bed, collapsing onto it and staring up at the ceiling, his arms and legs spread wide. Natasha rests her chin on the heel of her palm and stares into the fire, the gentle crackling of the flames the only sound in the room. She ponders the idea of reading Loki's new novel to pass the time, if he's going to go to sleep, but he breaks the silence by speaking her name, his voice gentle in the warm, sleepy atmosphere.
She turns around on the sofa, giving him her full attention, but he's still staring at the ceiling. "Yeah?"
"Will you come and lay with me?" He doesn't break focus, and either's there's something really interesting right above his head or he's been working up to make this simple request for the last ten minutes.
Her answer comes in the form of her getting up and going to join him on the bed, laying down next to him, the plump feather pillows rustling as she gets herself comfortable.
"Bed too big?" she asks.
"Perhaps a touch," he replies, glancing across at her then back at the ceiling.
She knows this feeling all too well, and she knows the others back on Earth would think her a soft touch, easily manipulated, or even just an idiot for agreeing to lay down next to a murderer. But apart from the fact that Loki is far more than just a murderer (in the same way that she likes to think she's far more than just a murderer) none of them have ever experienced this. Perhaps Tony had some semblance of culture shock after his kidnapping, and maybe Steve as well, having to suddenly get used to the twenty first century. But it's not quite the same as having your heart pumping three times faster than normal just because there's more space around you than you feel able to handle. She never felt so small, and vulnerable, and alone as she did when she shut herself up in her apartment, and it wasn't until Clint beat her door down, ordered a couple of pizzas and watched some TV with her that she started to readjust.
"It is pretty huge," Natasha says. "You could fit half a dozen people in here."
Loki smirks. "My more adventurous youth aside…" he begins, and Natasha raises an eyebrow. She doesn't even get to question the plausibility of that statement before he breaks into a smile and lets out a snigger. 'I jest, I jest."
"Sure you do," Natasha says, rolling onto her side to get a better look at that smile. It's such a rare sight on him and perhaps that's why she treasures it so much. Or maybe it's just because deep down, despite everything, she thinks he deserves to be happy, even if he doesn't think so himself.
Loki turns onto his side too, his damp hair splayed over the pillow. After a moment, he reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind Natasha's ear, then withdraws his hand carefully. She doesn't know what to make of that, and so she plays her poker face, not wanting to encourage him any further, but also, and more importantly, not wanting to leave him feeling rejected, or foolish. She just lays there, watching him, expression plain, and he gets the hint, keeping his hands to himself as his eyelids grow heavier and heavier.
Natasha can feel herself becoming tired, and perhaps she does doze off for a while, but when she rejoins reality, Loki is fast asleep, no facial twitches from demons haunting his dreams, his fingers curled gently around the corner of his pillow. She doesn't know how long she watches him before she hears the soft knock from the other side of the fireplace, but when it sounds she gets out of bed as quickly and as quietly as possible. By the time the hearth has rotated, Natasha is folding the bedspread over Loki, unwilling to leave him all night with goose pimpled skin. She takes the second bar of chocolate out of her bag and places it on Loki's bedside table, there for when he wakes up.
"Ready?" Thor asks in a hushed voice, his eyes falling on Loki, his mouth turning upwards at the corners.
"Yeah," Natasha says, pulling on her jacket. She grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder, then turns to Thor, who is still watching Loki.
"He looks so peaceful," he says. "You truly are a miracle worker."
Natasha rolls her eyes and goes to stand by the hearth, one hand resting on the mantel, ready for the initial jerk of movement. Thor exhales heavily, then turns towards Natasha and the fireplace. For a moment, he looks confused, and then, as though the information has slowly filtered through, he says, "Midgard," with a firm nod, then presses the knot on the fireplace.
She keeps her eyes on Loki until the last moment, when all the light and warmth from his bedroom disappears along with the sight of his sleeping form. The walk along the corridor to Thor's quarters is slow and silent, and there is a part of her that very dearly wishes that she was still taking up some of the space in that too large bed. She knows, in the morning, he'll have a horrible time when he wakes, and an even worse day to follow on from that.
She tucks her hair behind her ear and keeps putting one foot in front of the other, knowing that one day, and that it'll be sooner, rather than later, Loki is going to have to learn to cope without a chaperone.