Clint awoke leisurely in the morning, nuzzling his face into the pillow and humming, slowing realizing he was rubbing his hips into the bed. Through his sleepy haze he smiled lazily and skimmed his fingers over the thin skin of the hollow of his hips before slipping his hand into his shorts. He turned fully on his back and ran his fingers around the base of his length before gripping it fully and giving it a long, hard stroke. He hummed happily again and ran a hand through his hair, continuing to rub himself off, his thumb getting wet from the tip with every stroke. Clint moaned through closed lips and finished quickly, his come wetting his shorts and hand. When the high of his orgasm finally dissipated, he pulled his hand out of his boxers and cursed. Had to shower.
He climbed out of the bed and pulled off the soiled underwear, padding with bare feet into the bathroom, where he started a hot shower. That was something he was always glad to come home to- hot water. He showered quickly and went back into his room to get dressed, finally able to wear casual civilian clothes rather than his tactical gear or rough camping clothes. He went into the living room sock-footed and stopped short when he saw Loki on the couch. He was sleeping still, curled up to fit between the arm rests with the blanket pulled up to his shoulders. Clint realized then he'd never seen the god sleep before all this. He seen it at the camp, knew he slept beside him in the tent, but never before. Loki didn't have the bags under his eyes he'd had during the invasion. Sunken in and almost bruised looking.
It had been the Tesseract's control. They never slept then. There was no need with the tesseract's power fueling their minds. Clint remembered not even knowing what the word 'sleep' meant at the time. He saw the bags under every man's eyes whose were the same blue-opal color. But never quite so severe as Loki's had been. Even though the god's eyes hadn't been so color-contact blue as the rest of his team, he'd been under some kind of control from the cube. Maybe not so much as Clint's brainwashing, but something like fueling the desires and hates that already existed in the god's heart. Fueled to the point of madness. He'd looked better by the time he met the Avengers and was consequently captured, but until then he'd looked like death. Clint didn't know how long Loki had been under the Tesseract's control, but it must have been a while. Now, Loki was fresh-faced, but considerably less snarky. Clint wasn't sure which one he preferred more.
It seemed as though Loki had lost his will to tower over the world. Not just in terms of ruling and invasion, but even in finding himself above others. He was more watchful and silent. Guarded. Definitely pliable though. He'd taken Clint's directions and orders for basic tasks easily and without complaint. The archer was sure there was a limit, but they certainly hadn't reached it yet. As he closed in on the god, he inspected the gash on his cheek, finding the bruising a nice pale purple, starting to yellow along the edges. Perhaps the beating Clint had given him during their first day alone had revealed to Loki that he was at the mercy of the people he'd tried to conquer. Or at least at the mercy of his former second-in-command.
Clint decided the injuries to the god's face were healing nicely, hoping he'll have a scar to remind him. He still watched him closely, taking his chance to get his fill. And then he caught himself- his fill of what? What the hell was so damn interesting about Loki's broken face? He didn't get time to think about it when Loki's eyes opened and widened with surprise. Clint was hovering over the god and he straightened up quickly, blinking a few times and jamming his hands into his jeans. He winced when the fabric scraped at the raw skin of his knuckles.
"Uh," Clint stammered and chuckled nervously, "I was just gonna wake you up; you beat me to it."
Loki sat up and rubbed his eyes, flipping the blanket off and swinging his legs over the edge of the couch.
"Were you attempting to wake me with a kiss- you were close enough for it." He trudged past the archer to the bathroom and slammed the door.
"Well, someone's not a morning person," he said to himself and then looked down at his crotch. "Unlike you."
When Loki reappeared, hair still wavy from lack of product and wearing his Asgardian leathers, Clint stood in the kitchen with a glass of milk in one hand, leaning his hip against the counter. The window was still open and the silky tones of a saxophone drifted in. Clint leaned his ear to the music and had his eyes closed. Loki had been going to say something, but the soft picture Clint made of himself caused the god to forget it. He listened to the music intently and watched Clint sip his milk. The god followed the sounds to the window and looked out, seeing the billowing curtains of the window across the alley. He commented on it, pointing out the source of the music.
"There's a lady who lives there alone, she puts it on if both our windows are open," Clint explained easily.
Loki looked perplexed. "She plays music for you?"
"Yeah."
"Have you considered accepting her entreaties?"
Clint screwed up his face and sputtered with a chuckle. "Her what?"
"She is wooing you. Will you allow her-"
"No, no, no- she's not trying to date me. She's not... fucking wooing me. She's just a lady. She turns on the jazz when we're both home; it's like-" Clint sighed and ran a hand through his hair while he collected his thoughts. "We're like kindred spirits or something. We understand each other in this small way. We don't know fuck all about each other, but we got this."
Loki looked back out towards the woman's window and furrowed his brows. Clint distracted him from it with a question of Loki's clothes. He had no others to change into. Clint went over the plan for the day, which was to buy Loki some regular clothes, buy food for the house, and whatever else they happened to do. They put their boots on and headed out.
Clint mounted the motorcycle and Loki followed suit, sunglasses on again.
"You are truly going to ingratiate me into your society?"
"You can't walk around in your leather shit- someone might recognize you with it, and you're gonna stink up a storm if you keep wearing it. I ain't living with a hobo." They sped off down the streets, Loki keeping his hands on Clint's hips and this time looking over his shoulder to watch the road.
Shopping for clothes had proved to be an ordeal. Not because Loki had eyed every piece of fabric with intense distaste, but because his height made it nearly impossible to find a fit in a regular store. The cashiers were young kids who just worked there for their wage, they had no idea if they carried tall sizes. Clint resorted to the mall to find what they needed, and he was pleasantly surprised. Before they entered the complex, Clint warned the god.
"So there's a shitload of people in there, if you couldn't tell by the number of cars," he said as he pulled off his helmet and tucked it under his arm. He lead Loki through the parking lot with it in hand, having had many helmets stolen if he left them on the bike in public. He wasn't sure why he didn't invest in storage for it on the bike, he just figured it wasn't a priority.
"Walk on the right side of the aisle, and stay right behind me. Okay? And take off the shades when you get in. We'll get in, find something, and get out. I don't like being in there longer than I have to."
They entered through a large department store and began the search for Loki sized clothes again. Actually asking an employee who knew what the hell was going on. She lead them to her 'tall man' section and Clint thanked her profusely for it, relieved at having the search be done already. She had seen the style of Loki's clothes but she was a professional; she made no stares or questioning looks. To her, he was just another guy cursed with height and he had come to her for help. He let Loki browse the whole section and pick out what he found passable and led him to the fitting rooms, leaning against the dressing room door while listening to the god rustle in and out of clothing.
"Was it this infuriating finding garments for Thor?"
"I dunno. Probably not- he's tall but big also. Thick. They have a store for that. Literally called 'Big and Tall'. His girlfriend probably took him there."
Loki scoffed with disgust behind the door and more rustling was heard. "That woman. Thor changed his tune about you tiny humans from simply laying eyes on her! He used to think them so ignorant and childlike; we would laugh when we recounted tales of them prostrating themselves before us at the sight of a mere flash of lightning or a simple swipe of magic." Loki finished his rant in a soft tone of regret, remembering things long past. "Now he would see them protected and coddled. Fool."
Clint chuckled. "Like children, you mean. He does it because, yeah, we seem like kids to him."
"Like a child himself corralling pups." The changing door opened and Loki combed his wavy hair back with his fingers, letting Clint look him over. "Well?"
Dressed in a basic button down shirt and jeans, Loki looked like a regular guy on his lunch break from the office. Whatever office lets you wear jeans with a dress shirt. And then the image broke with the Asgardian boots jutting from the pants. Clint pointed at them.
"Shoes," he said simply and they fitted him with a few pair.
As they stood at the counter and Clint handed over his plastic, Loki fingered and fretted with his new clothes, complaining about the weightlessness he felt without his leather and metal.
Clint sighed. "I guess we can try to find something to make you more comfortable out there," he said, pointing towards the large doorway that lead out into the mall. He thanked the cashier and toted the bags of Loki's extra clothes and shoes, and one with his leathers. They ambled into the halls of the mall, walking slowly so that Loki could look at everything, read every sign. The god seemed to become a little at ease here, dodging other patrons and recognizing something familiar between the stores and the kiosks lining the floors.
"This is a marketplace," Loki concluded.
"I guess so. Only thing you can't really buy here is food stuffs- groceries anyway."
Clint stopped in front of a weapons shop, looking at the swords and daggers on display in the front window. He saw sets of throwing knives carved like a bird's wing, others with the bevel of the blade colored like it was burning hot from the fire, or some as a giant spear-head with its metal twisting back into a handle. He looked back at Loki and remembered that he'd had knives hidden away in his armor, only a few, but he had magic then- he would only need a few. Loki didn't have his blades now, most likely taken away when he was on trial in Asgard.
Clint left the storefront and went to the god's side, checking out the merchandise. Woven necklaces, carved beads, leather accessories. It was the leather Loki was eyeing, thick cuffs lined on a roll with buckles, beads, or embossed with shapes and animals. Loki's fingers drifted to touch over a cuff with a burnt imprint of a raven slowly before pulling away and absently rubbing his fingertips against his thumb.
"These," he said.
Clint shrugged. "Okay, pick one."
Loki's eyes glossed over every one of them before gently tapping the one he wanted: black with an embossed tree, it's roots and branches knotted together in a never ending loop, and small leaves flung around it, all in green. Clint told him to grab it while he paid the girl who ran the kiosk. Loki found its button at the back and unclasped it, and he brought it to his nose and inhaled.
The girl inside the kiosk smiled and settled her elbows on the counter. "Love that leather smell right?"
Loki looked surprised that she understood his action and he nodded nervously as he wrapped the cuff over his wrist and clicked the button shut.
"Yes, it's lovely."
The girl gazed at Loki with bedroom eyes and hummed in agreement.
Clint watched the exchange and cleared his throat loudly, thanking her for the purchase and telling Loki it was time to go. Loki walked more at ease with his cuff on, Clint noticed, guess it was the weight and texture of the leather that made him feel more at home.
They mounted the bike together and Loki grunted with the tightening of the jeans against his crotch. Clint knew what was happening and he chuckled as he kicked the bike to life.
"Tight enough for you?"
"It wouldn't be so awful if I didn't have to sit directly behind you. I feel as though I'm rutting against you."
"Ugh, please don't say that. Don't you think we're weird enough without that image?"
They rode back to the apartment and dropped off the bags of clothes, and then they walked to a grocery store, the nearest one only a block or two away. They bought the basics, and a lot of variety, not knowing what to feed a god not of this world. He couldn't remember seeing Loki eat during the invasion. Loki responded best in the produce and meat sections of the store, confused by the packages of food. There was a lot of fruit and deli meat in the fridge. Clint wondered as they stowed the groceries in his cabinets and fridge if SHIELD was going to reimburse him for all the supplies to take care of a god. Probably not.
Loki stood next to Charles' tank and blandly watched Clint move about the kitchen, tossing cut vegetables and chicken into a pan with sauces and herbs. The window was open, but no music played from across the alley yet. From his position at the counter, Loki could see the bow hanging in the living room and he stared at it.
"What is the significance of your bow?"
"Of my bow?"
"Yes," Loki said and looked at Clint again as the archer stirred the cooking food. "You said no one is allowed to touch it, not even your bosom companion. It is special to you?"
Clint smiled down at the pan, remembering good things. "It's my granddad's bow. He made it himself a long time ago. See, we got a little Crow in my Dad's bloodline- my granddad was half or third or something, I can't remember. Anyhow, he was really into preserving his heritage and he learned how to do all kinds of shit old school natives used to do, including making bows. When I was a kid, he took me out into the woods, taught me how to make a bow, and arrows, and even the quiver. I had my own tiny one for a while... Not anymore though. But I fucking loved that thing- I practically spent my entire childhood outside shooting arrows at shit. When Granddad would visit, he'd bring an old teepee and we'd live like Indians on the plains for a few days. Archery was one of those things that I just took to like a fish to water. It was all I wanted to do and I wanted to be the fucking best at it."
"And look at you now," Loki said quietly, trying to keep the praise out of his voice.
"Look at me now." Clint turned off the burner to the stove and brought out two bowls, beginning to fill them with the dinner.
"Your grandfather gifted you his bow then?"
"Yeah, gave it to me when I had grown up a little, right after I moved out. I stayed with him in Montana for a couple weeks, told him what happened; he said I was a man and he gave me his bow. I already had a modern made bow, but it was nothing like my old one. But I had to keep up with my archery even after the first one broke."
The two leaned against opposite counters in the kitchen and ate as they continued to talk. Clint stopped to grab a couple sodas out of the fridge and he handed one to Loki while he popped open his own.
"Why not make another bow after the first one, if you knew how to make them?"
Clint exhaled hard and took a bite of chicken, thinking about his reasons clearly. "Because I didn't want to do all that work, put my sweat and blood into it, and just let my Dad break it again. That's how the first one went. I don't even really know his reason for it, but he hated that I spent all my time shooting. I guess because it made me happy and he didn't want me to be. So when Granddad gave me his bow, I never let another person touch it again. You're the only one who has now, but you didn't know, so it's whatever."
"I understand now why you were so angered by it. I did apologize."
"I know," Clint shrugged. He moved into the living room and Loki followed him, looking at the bow hanging on the wall in a new light. He eyed the tiny beads woven together into cuffs on either end of the grip before sitting down beside Clint on the couch.
"You like purple," the god said simply.
"You like green." Clint nodded down at Loki's wrist where the leather cuff gripped him.
Loki sighed and munched on the vegetables. "Even as a young child I knew Thor and I were different from each other. While I wished somewhere inside that we would be the same, I also had a burning in my belly to be his opposite. To prove myself a good boy just like him but in different ways. Green in the opposite of red. Its compliment. That's what we're were for a while- complements of each other. I dare say if there was no throne involved in our relationship, then none of our bad blood would have come to boil. That's where it started."
Clint hummed around his mouthful of food. He kind of liked all this sharing that was happening. The pair had fell into their weird familiarity easily because of their time working with the Tesseract, but they hadn't known a thing about each other. They hadn't needed to. Not that they needed to know each other now, but how do you live with another person, buy them clothes and food and let them sleep on your couch and ride behind you on your bike and not get to know them?
Clint couldn't remember the last person he told about his life- coworkers wanted to know just because they had nothing to talk about, they wanted to gossip. Clint had only shared his past fully with Natasha, maybe some bits and pieces to Coulson over the years.
"You wanted to be king," Clint surmised.
"I didn't want Thor to be king. He wasn't ready. I felt a little more fitting for the crown but I didn't want it. I was Thor's brother; I can rule just as well with my word in his ear."
"Oh, so you want the riches and privileges and king shit without having to do the work."
"Of course," the god set aside bowl and sipped the fizzy drink, glancing at it with surprise with every sip. "Why should I do the work when others will happily work themselves to the bone to do it for me? There's always someone to play the face of the operations and get things done for the one who holds his soul. Why do you think I chose you for my second-in-command?"
Clint's smirking face dropped into one of seriousness. "Think it's a little different when it's against your will."
"Would you have come with me if I had asked then?"
"No, I would've shot you."
"And if Agent Romanov requested it?"
Clint stared into Loki's eyes, comparing his relationship with Natasha to that of Thor and Loki's and he found it somewhat similar. Clint would do anything for her, just as Thor would do anything for Loki.
The god seemed to see the wheels turning in Clint's mind, seemed to know, with that smirk growing into a vicious grin, what Clint's answer was.
"Nat wouldn't manipulate me," Clint resounded.
"Just as she doesn't manipulate everyone around her? Just as she didn't manipulate me- as loathe am I to admit it?"
"It's different- she's my friend. Best friend, only friend."
Loki shook his head with a smile, pitying the poor human. "I was Thor's brother, yet I manipulated him his entire life."
"And that's why everyone hates you. You can't be honest. You can't ask for things yourself and just take the embarrassment when the answer's no."
Loki scowled and got up with a growl, leaving his drink and bowl on the floor and heading for the door, slamming it behind him as he stomped away. Clint let him go and put the dishes in the sink, leaving them for the next day and then he went to bed. The god would return when he cooled off.