Awkward
"Come here. Look at this." Loki beckoned to Natasha from where he stood hidden behind a curtain, overlooking a long gallery below.
There Sif and Steve were seated at a table filled with lists of armour and battle plans. Natasha could just make out the phrase Need Several Kelterweight of Throg Cannon written on one page in florid script – probably the work of Fandral.
"What of it?" she whispered.
"Just watch." Loki grinned.
Sif bent over the long list, and Steve looked up at her. There was longing in his glance as he regarded the beautiful warrior; when she raised her head, however, he quickly ducked over a longship inventory and pursed his lips with false fascination.
"Do you think they …?" Natasha whispered in Loki's ear.
"Wait. It gets better."
Sif, in her turn, watched Steve's face reading his list and extended her hand towards his. As he spoke she twitched it back and pretended to frown at what he said.
Natasha bore Loki away before he would explode with pent-up humour. "Gods, darling!" he gasped. "Were we ever that awkward and foolish?"
She gave him her secret smile and tickled his side. "Throg Cannon," she giggled.
Loki fell off the bed with laughter.