Lucy hated Clint Barton. She hated having him around, she hated him calling her "angel" when they both knew very well he didn't mean it, and she absolutely wanted to kill him for the way he kept kissing her neck.
She grit her teeth when he did exactly later on in the morning as he left.
"Be good, Angel; Jarvis will report back to me," he said as the elevator doors closed behind him when he started off to work.
Lucy rolled her eyes and turned from the closed elevator. Feeling the cotton swish around her calves as she turned, she looked down in despair at the gown she was wearing before making a decision and trooping into Barton's bedroom. She stole an outfit – did the man own anything that wasn't black? – and changed, seriously considering taking a butcher knife to her hair instead of having to brush it. But then, she had a feeling that Barton at least didn't mind her hair, and if she played her cards right, there might be that slim chance that she could use it as a feminine asset in this house of men.
Not that she didn't absolutely shudder at the idea, of course, but it was a card that she now had in her arsenal if it was needed. Right now, being basically helpless, she needed every card she could get since she was so far behind enemy lines.
So she spent far too long brushing out the black waves, momentarily wondering why her feminine version had nearly waist-length hair when her masculine version's was nowhere near that long. It was just a trick of the spell, she assumed, shrugging it off.
Once she decided that she had improved upon the looks of Lucy-just-out-of-bed, she grabbed the book that she had started reading the night before and decided to read on the roof, out in the sunshine. When she emerged into the bright light, she blinked until her eyes adjusted and then did it a few more times when she realized what she was seeing. She hadn't paid a lot of attention when coming here with Thor yesterday, but now the devastation below her hit her in full. It had been nearly a month since the battle, and since then all the streets had been cleared of rubble, but she could still see numerous buildings that – had they not been completely totaled – were missing everything from a few windows to entire floors.
That's when the idea struck her, and she decided to see if Barton had left the elevator able to be used. Discovering that he had, she told Jarvis to take her to her brother and the AI dropped her off at Thor's level of the tower.
"Thor," she called out, still unaccustomed to the sound of her own voice.
She called for him a couple more times before locating him in his bedroom, still dead to the world.
Rolling her eyes, she yanked the covers roughly away from him, ordering, "Get up, you lazy waste of space; I want to go back to Asgard."
"Impossible," Thor muttered, still mostly asleep as he tried to reclaim his bedcovers.
"I think I know a way to make it happen quicker," Lucy offered.
Thor finally realized he was fighting a losing battle and sat up groggily, asking gruffly, "How?"
"I want to help with the cleanup and reconstruction of the city."
"How good of you," her brother said, starting to slide back into sleep.
"Not because I'm feeling any sudden burst of goodwill, you idiot, but if I act like I am, I might be able to go home sooner."
"Have fun."
"Barton's at work; you have to come with me. It's not like you don't know how to swing a hammer."
"Not now."
Lucy huffed as Thor's breathing evened out again. She turned on her heel and stomped into the kitchen, locating a gallon pitcher and dumping most of the contents of the icemaker into it. No one was going to tell the god – goddess? – of mischief that she didn't know how to get people onto their feet.
Thor woke up spluttering and shouting and grasping for Mjolnir. And Lucy just started laughing. She laughed until her sides hurt and she was doubled over, and it felt good. She loved to laugh, but since getting involved with the Chitauri, she certainly hadn't been doing much of it. She had missed it, she realized, as Thor stumbled out of bed and around his room, pulling on clothes, glaring, and swearing at her in their mother-tongue.
Lucy was still smiling at her brother when he was finally ready to go and she asked him cheerfully, "Are you ready to go turn me into a good Samaritan?"
"I would rather have done it after another hour's rest," Thor groused, still determined to be cranky.
"Oh, cheer up, Point Break," Lucy said, stepping with him into the elevator.
"Reindeer Games," Thor shot back.
"It's eternally better than being 'Angel,'" Lucy pointed out.
"'Angel'?" Thor repeated, looking surprised.
"I think Barton's decided that's his official name for me."
"You are supposed to be falling in love with him," Thor pointed out, suddenly in a good enough mood to be fighting his own grin.
Lucy flipped her hair back over her shoulder, batting her eyelashes at Thor with a faux coy smile. "Only in his most secret dreams."
Thor chuckled. "How have you and the Hawkeye been faring, b… sister?"
"We keep both of our mouths shut or we argue; he watches movies and I read books."
"How delightful," Thor said with a dry smile.
"It's Barton," Lucy said with a dismissive roll of her eyes. "What else did you expect?"
Thor paused before admitting, "A bloodbath."
"That's on tomorrow's to do list," Lucy deadpanned.
When she noticed that her brother didn't realize she didn't actually mean it – at least she didn't mean it right now – she allowed a malicious smile to curve the corners of her mouth upward for Thor's benefit – mostly.