"If it's Thor wanting to come up here to my floor, let him in, Jarvis," Clint ordered. "And tell them that I'm in the entertainment room."
Clint stretched a lazy smile across his face and flung himself across the length of one of the room's couches, flipping on the monstrous flat screen television. A minute later, Thor walked in to the room as expected, with a small ebony-haired woman tailing him.
"Hey, guys," Clint said nonchalantly, then glanced at Loki – or whatever version of Loki this woman was – adding, "And girls." His gaze flipped back to the game that was on the television as he remarked, "Boobs look good on you, Lokes."
The woman growled, taking a pointed step towards him before Thor stopped her.
"Just know – what name are you going by now? – that any attempt on my life voids my promise to your dear big brother that I won't kill you," Clint warned casually.
"How sweet of you to give him your word," the woman drawled, and Clint just barely bit back his look of surprise at the absolute femininity of her voice.
He wondered momentarily if the spell Odin had cast on his child had purposely included an extra dose of femininity, because – when Clint actually looked at her then – he realized that this woman really was beautiful, despite her ill-chosen masculine clothing. But this woman was actually Loki, and that meant that Clint had to stay very much objective here or he was still running the chance of getting his eyes ripped out.
"Please, sit," Clint said to his guests, waving carelessly at the other couch in the room as he sat himself up straight. Thor and Loki obliged and Clint asked, "So, have you made up a new identity yet, Lokes?"
"Do not call me that," the woman gritted out.
"Reindeer games?" Clint volunteered, borrowing Stark's nickname for the frost giant.
The woman just glared at him a little harder than before, and it struck Clint that, though the eyes of this person before him were Loki's eyes, they looked much better in a female's face. The thought nearly made him smile, but he doubted it would have the same affect on female-Loki and Clint decided not to volunteer it just yet.
"Really, though, what's your name for while you're here?" he asked her.
"Lucy."
"Lucy…"
"Saint."
"Perfect," Clint scoffed. "Why are you here – according to your story?"
"Thor found me homeless after the Battle of Manhattan and thought to bring me here to live until further notice."
Thor supplied, "Until Father declares he's served enough time."
"I don't like that cover," Clint said. "We're not going to use it."
Annoyance flared on Lucy Saint's face as she asked, "Then what are we going to tell the rest of your cohorts?"
Thor shifted uncomfortably on the couch next to his sister, knowing what was coming next as Clint answered, "You're an old friend of mine from when I was little in Waverly, Iowa. After you saw a piece about the Battle on the news, you got concerned and decided to track me down, which of course took you a few weeks to do, but you're here now, rekindling an innocent friendship that is suddenly wrapped in romantic tension now that we're reconnecting as adults."
"I beg your unholy pardon!" Lucy screeched, surging to her feet and – Clint assumed – swearing a blue-streak in Norse.
"Or I could just kill you now," Clint said cheerfully.
"But you promised Thor you wouldn't," Lucy said, trying to sound calm while still shaking with rage.
"You implied that you don't think I'm a man of my word, and I would hate to disappoint you."
"How kind of you," Lucy sneered.
"All I ask is that you remember that I'm in charge here; you do that and this can go a whole lot smoother. For you too, Thor."
"I don't know what your dear Agent Romanoff puts up with, but I refuse to be treated like this," Lucy seethed.
"Oh, but you don't have a choice. And she isn't my Agent Romanoff. I'm pretty sure she's got a thing going with Steve, though…"
Lucy suddenly rolled her eyes, asking, "Are you so very desperate for a real girlfriend, then, that you're willing to force a man to take the position? Is that the way you – oh, what's the term you mortals use? – swing, Agent Barton?"
Clint snorted, running his eyes bluntly over Lucy's lithe body. "Hate to break it to you, Angel, but you are not a man."
The woman took another step towards him with blazing eyes, and Thor again intercepted her, asking, "What do you think the chances are that Father is having an eye kept on you at all times?"
Lucy paused, seeing that her brother was probably right.
"He's right," Clint seconded. "Makes sense that the more you behave the sooner you can get out of here and out of my hair. Everybody wins that way."
"And what happens between now and then?" Lucy questioned with that same dry distrust.
"Well, simply put so that we have no misunderstandings, you'll stay in my spare bedroom and be my new best friend when we're around the others. You stay in this tower unless accompanied by Thor or myself. You stick to the storyline that I gave you if you know what's good for you; making people suspicious of who you are will probably end in your death at this point, and as much as I would love to see that, I don't think you would enjoy it half as much. Do we understand one another?"
"Yes, warden."
"Good," Clint stretched a smile across his face as he said, "It's good to see you again, Lucy, my old friend."
"You know," Lucy said with a calculated smile of her own. "If this new 'relationship' goes well enough, I might just introduce you to my daughter before this is all over…"
Clint kept right on smiling, enjoying how much he and Lucy were unnerving Thor, as he said, "I'm sure we'll both get to that point eventually."