Rent
"Loki needs a raise." Natasha and the god of mischief stood side by side in Fury's office; at her words the commander frowned and stabbed his computer screen.
"You are kidding me, right? Look at this - the council already wants to shut down several departments. They say the taxpayers shouldn't bear the burden of supporting a group of high-flying individuals with delusions of grandeur…"
"Excuse me." Natasha produced a neat manila folder, opened it, and placed it on the desk. "I've tracked Loki's work for several weeks. He took down two drug rings, preempted a scandal in Bulgaria, and made several operatives obsolete. His work – done on an out-of-date laptop from his apartment – has saved SHIELD six figures, if not seven, and currently he's making two dollars above minimum wage. You can afford to give him a raise."
Fury looked over the papers. Loki kept quiet; Natasha had told him to keep his mouth shut for once in his life, and although he found it extremely difficult he didn't say a word.
"I don't know about this…" Fury said.
"No? Well, allow me to explain it this way. Suppose Loki goes freelance and work on commission instead? You can pay him four percent of what he recoups for the agency, let's say. That means you and SHIELD owe him over thirty thousand dollars for the past few months. What will it be by year's end, Nick? Want to explain away that little bill to the taxpayers?"
"I can do the math, Agent Romanoff." Fury glared at her over the edge of the folder before he slapped it down on the desk. "Very well, I'll give him a raise. Now, get the hell out of my office, both of you."
To celebrate, Loki and Natasha went to a tiny Italian restaurant. After the first bite of mushroom ravioli, Loki began to see that not all food on Midgard tasted like sawdust; the dish was delicious, and the crusty bread was the most exquisite he had ever eaten.
"And try the wine," Natasha insisted, pouring them both a glass. "Mmmm."
"Mmmm," Loki echoed, eyeing her cleavage in the black dress she wore. "Agent, my mouth is watering."
She laughed and leaned forward to run one fingernail up the inseam of his breeches. "I was talking about the meal."
"And so was I. By the end of the evening I plan on eating every bite." Loki grinned and forked another ravioli, certain he would eat the pasta, the bread, and have his head between the thighs of the exciting woman sitting opposite him before midnight. Her bright face and his new, exalted salary made him feel almost like a prince again.
Their mood was dashed as soon as they reached Loki's apartment. A long envelope under his door contained a bill: "Now that you are earning a living salary," the letter read, "the taxpayers no longer need to support you. Therefore your rent will be paid monthly in the amount of…"
Natasha threw her purse across the room when she heard the amount. "Bull!" she shouted. "For this piece of crap apartment? What a bunch of horseshit!"
"I do not understand." Loki had never paid to live anywhere. His rooms at the palace were – well, they were his home. Handing money over to stay somewhere was unthinkable.
"It negates your salary raise!" Natasha plunked down on his sofa, the full skirt of her dress fluttering from her rage and betraying the tops of her gartered stockings. "Now you'll be earning even less than before after you pay this ridiculous rent."
"What?" Loki felt the room turn red in front of him. "Hand over gold to live in this squalor? I – I will not! I will stop doing the job this instant. It bores me utterly in any case. Instead, I can steal money on the laptop device. There are several options I have found for reaping funds: online gambling as well as several vulnerable businesses - it will be far more interesting in any case."
"No, no, no." Natasha stood, strode up to him, and grabbed the collar of his white shirt. "Don't even say that! It will make you go backwards after all our hard work."
Loki frowned. He couldn't see anything wrong with his plan. They had tried the honest, tedious way, and it hadn't worked. Now it was time to cheat a little and propel his finances into the level they should be. Mentally he listed the things he wanted: a voyage called Cruise, bottles of champagne, the caviar Natasha enjoyed, more of Breton's white shirts… "I shall be fine," he announced. "You have helped me in the past, but now it is time I take over my own affairs."
Natasha opened her mouth, shut it again, closed her eyes. "God help me. I'm about to do something really dumb."
He cupped her face, tilted it up to his so he could search her expression. "What do you mean? Dumb - what does that mean? Sometimes I do not understand your words at all. But if you are worried I can promise you this - I will not be caught."
"No, I'm not talking about that. Loki, do you want to move into my apartment? Do you want to get the hell out of this pit and move in with me?"
Once he grasped her meaning, Loki vacillated from joy to bewilderment. "But why?" he asked for the twentieth time. "You are independent. You are strong. You do not need anyone else to survive."
"It's not that. Frankly, I'm pissed at their little rent stunt. Move in with me, you can help with my rent instead, and you'll still have your raise. Not a huge one, but enough to buy a really nice dinner once in a while. And we'll tell the council to stick this rental suckpile up their asses."
"Natasha." He didn't have anything else to say. Instead he pulled her onto his lap where they sat side by side on his old sofa and looked around the room. "Truthfully I would be happy to leave this place."
"Yeah, I don't blame you. It reeks of depression and despair. I never thought you could smell a color, but this place smells beige, if you get me. Beige and gray." She made a face.
He considered the place where she lived – larger, with new furniture and fresh paint. Still… "Probably you will get angry at me. No, that is not the word – 'pissed'. You will be pissed at me before long."
"That goes without saying. I'm going to make you do chores, you know." Natasha kicked the pile of plates he left on the floor; he hadn't bothered to clean up after breakfast and several snacks. "You'll probably get pissed at me first."
Already his erection was pressing up against her sweet backside at the very thought. Waking up in her bed every morning, sleeping with his arms around her each night, just looking up at any given moment to see her in a shared place...
"Anger is a powerful aphrodisiac for me, agent," he announced, sliding a hand under the garter strap of one stocking.