Mishaps

We got our happy reunion! What did you think? What do you predict?

It's late, this is late, and I'm a little loopy. Please review. Yeah...bed sounds good now...

-XXX-

We don't return to the house. Loki whisks me away shortly before dawn, claiming he cannot wait to pick up my bag - "Hush now, I'll replace everything…yes, even those 'impractical' gowns. I like a woman in a dress quite as much as I like them out of…ouch." - and that no, Banner doesn't require a goodbye. He pulls me to him, telling me to close my eyes. I open my mouth to ask why, I mean, we've done this before with my eyes open, but he sneakily presses his lips to mine, kissing hungrily. My arms wind around his neck, eyes drifting shut as I'm drawn nearer-

And we're there. I stumble slightly when the setting settles in my vision. I recognize polished tile, wooden railing, and an Edwardian-style light fixture. The brownstone. New York again. Relief jolts my body. A pair of hands find my waist to steady me. Amusement pulls at the corners of Loki's mouth. I would scowl, but I fear I do not have the energy. Instead, I slump against him. The god easily accepts my weight.

For a moment, we stand in the foyer, content to hold one another. I find a space for my head in the crook of his shoulder, where the neck meets his torso. Except for lack of movement, it would almost be like we're dancing.

Does he dance? I cannot imagine Loki waltzing at a wedding, or swaying along to Journey at a school dance, or grinding against the hips of another in a club. It simply isn't his style. He is the epitome of grace. Just not the kind I can envision on the dance floor.

As if reading my mind, he presses closer, his lower body conforming to mine. I squeak with the contact, but he merely grins.

"Yes," he whispers conspiratorially. "I can dance. And quite well, in Asgardian fashion. However, the most recent form of Midgardian courting dances I would very much like to try."

"Right now?" I ask, amused.

A roll of the hips is more than enough to answer my question. I shudder through a gasp. He's being unusually…touchy. Weeks of sharing a bed, and he's never touch my hips like his, or graced my neck with…oh god….

I pull back a little, struggling to mouth words. "Um, what brought this on?"

He doesn't exactly stop his fondling of me, but speaks around it. "Life is short. Well, your life is short-"

"Thanks for the reminder."

Loki ignores me. "-and I've already waited quite some time, my dear, through no fault of your own - though, I must say, a cat? Really, my love? - and I am rather content to…move forward. Completely content, actually."

"Absolutely," I agree, finding breath to be a little difficult at this point. "But there are things we need to talk about. I mean, we seriously just came home-"

"Home?" He raises his head, frowning. "Hm. I like that."

"-and we weren't exactly so, eh, physical. With each other, I mean."

The god moves in time with my form, which is being guided by a pair of hands spread between my waist, stomach, and hips. When we begin a legitimate club grind, I am at a loss. We had our first legit kiss, like, last night. So, that's his go-ahead for everything else? And how the hell did he learn how to do this?

"Loki?" I murmur against his collar. There is a grunt-like noise in response. "We really need to talk about…about things like this."

A pair of lips skim my jaw. "What is there to talk about?"

"Well, for starters, babies."

In less than five seconds he has stilled himself. "I'm listening," he says, attentive.

"I had a feeling that would spark your attention." I smirk. "Right now I'm not particularly in the baby-producing mood. And it can be prevented, just-just-I don't know how potent it will be when the other tango partner is a god."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

He looks uncomfortable. "We'll risk it."

"Oh, no," I shake my head. "I'll be the one risking it. And I don't want to. Will this mean tiny half-gods for us?"

"Not yet." He is determined. "I will prevent any…mishaps, Tatiana."

"You promise? This isn't another trick?"

Loki appears mildly offended. "You think I would trick you?"

I do not hesitate in rolling my eyes. "I know you would."

In response, he ducks to kiss me. I wiggle away from him. Loki smiles against my lips, taking my wrists in his cold hands to prevent me from moving, kissing harder. Moving to lace arms around his neck (his hands still attached), I sink fingers in his dark locks. His mouth is hard against mine, tongue demanding entrance. When I allow it, I then bite down, hard, on his lip. Cursing loudly, Loki flings me away while I laugh, clinging to the nearest piece of stair railing. The god glares. But I can spot a gleam of playfulness in his eyes.

"That was a very bad idea, Deror," he warns, stalking toward me threateningly. I'm not to let him loom, though, and dart up the stairs. But I am no match-hands quickly find me once I've reached the hallway, and I hit his chest with a "thud."

He holds me by the waist as I strain against him, giggling like a loon. When exhausted, I turn in his trap of arms to lace my hands around his neck once again. I kiss him sound on the mouth. Amusement fights in a smile against my lips. Loki's hands drift downwards, brushing the waistband of my sweats. Without warning, my feet are in the air, and I'm being lifted, then carried, toward the bedroom with remarkable grace. I do not protest in the least.

-XXX-

At approximately ten in the morning, they greet an unusual crowd of guests to their parlor. Loki finds it amusing, to say the least - he's not yet hosted anyone in this house before, and the fates have now placed the Avengers on his doorstep. How…curious.

They arrive, all of them including Thor and Fury. Tati is tight-lipped as they file in. He insists that she makes tea. The glare he receives is returned in the form of a wide, biting smile. She returns bearing a full tray. Stark is the only one to accept, sinking into the nearest couch, gazing about the room with a mild interest.

"Not the kind of digs I would have pegged for the Silvertongue. A little too…civilized for someone who has, as my colleague puts it, the mental stability of a bag of cats. "

Loki winces at the mention of his Asgardian nickname. "Yes, well…I feel it rather suits me."

Tony shrugs. Tatiana gives him a look that clearly says "behave," and the god is reminded of Stark's Pepper.

Uncomfortable silence resumes. Loki examines the room's occupants carefully. Only Thor and Fury will stare openly. Banner has eyes only for his human (he will have do to something about that soon. He honestly cannot blame the man for an adoration of Tati, but he cannot let it simply slide, either). The Hawk and Widow are far more interested in their corner haunts, keeping check of all exits. His lips curl upon seeing Hawkeye. Barton is ill-at-ease. The Widow keeps one hand on his, hidden in the shadows between them.

"Interesting," he thinks, noting the attachment. They'd not been so close a few months ago-and he knew. After all, he'd been in Barton's head, scrambling things up a bit.

Finally, it is Steve who sees fit to break the ice.

"We all know why we're here. It is utterly pointless to continue chatting. So, shall we get on with it?" The Captain swallows. "A truce."

He looks to Fury. "You want Loki gone. Yet he is here still, and is unlikely to be moving on anytime soon. So, I suggest you set down a few terms for discussion."

Fury rubs his chin. "You're going to be on technical probation, Laufeyson. No leaving the planet-hell, no leaving the country. No deaths, no killing. Anything remotely suspicious, and we'll fry your ass right back to Asgard. We'll require full access to you. Any time, day or night. No complaints."

"But that's just for starters," Tony says, ideally steepling his fingers.

Tati speaks.

"Fair enough. But we have our own terms." She is calm. Firm. "A good queen, someday." He sits back, pushing aside the thought to listen. "Obviously, no reruns of the last three-ish weeks. As I have said before, the snag-and-bag thing gets old pretty quickly. And you wouldn't want to have another freak-out session on the Helicarrier?" Her smile is positively wicked. She continues. "We want privacy. You can have access, but we want our alone to be 'alone.' All liaisons will be people we know-I call dibs on Bruce."

"We want surveillance of this house."

"Ah, no," the god says. "I shall comply with all other requests. This house isn't simply to do with me, though."

Fury isn't pleased. "We require-"

"She," Loki tips his head Tati's direction. "Isn't part of this. This house is her home as well as mine, and under your laws, she is entitled to privacy."

The director scowls. Beside him, Thor shifts.

"Brother, can you swear that you will leave the people of this world alone? That they will be safe from you?" The elder god's crystalline eyes are unreadable. "Can you swear it?"

Loki inclines his head.

Thor steps back. "That is enough for me, director."

"But not for me." Fury glances to Natasha and Barton. Both tense, at the ready. Barton's shoulders straighten, and the Widow's chest shoves forward, fingers twitching. The others do not follow suit – they've just barely noted the sharpen figures beside them. Loki snorts.

"Your playacting is amusing."

"Funny, I didn't realize I was running a damn comedy club," the one-eyed man growls. "You've already got one foot in the Bifrost, Loki, I suggest you listen and listen well."

"I will make truce with you," he says loudly. "Upon my word. There will be peace between us, Avengers. I do not know what else you may require, but this is my promise. I shall…remain on Midgard." Here his eyes become level with Tati's. She is scared, yes, and so nervous. They're risking everything in this pow-wow. "And lead a quieter life. Does that content you?"

The director grunts.

Loki waits. He has no doubt that the man will accept his terms. Everyone is tired, ready to find peace. All shift uneasily, waiting for the one-eyed man to make a decision. The once-prince is reminded of his father's court, as all would wait in anxious silence around the Allfather as he pondered various rulings and matters of state. The reverence shown by all – even Stark, even Tati – is admirable. Loki has no doubt more than half of these people hate Fury in some capacity, so it is quite interesting to see their clear regard for him as their leader. The only one second in rank to him might be the clean-cut Captain. But he was making no challenges. "A soldier all the way," thinks the god with a wry internal grin.

His human's fingers find his. She doesn't look at him, keeping her face closed, lips pursed, staring ahead. The motion is surprising. He squeezes.

"We accept, Loki Odinson." The man is stiff. Fury is far from content with the arrangement, but, as Loki recalled, such was the way of compromise. "And we will be watching you."

The god's lips curl. "I have no doubt of it. Now, if you don't mind – get out of my house."

They shuffled out. Tati followed Banner and Stark to the door. The pair hung back, with the Captain's hulking form in the threshold. From the space left, Loki could peer outside and see a motorbike, and the bumper of red car.

He doesn't like Tati's hands on Banner and Starks, nor does he appreciate the smiles she is directing toward them. He approaches their circle to listen, face impassive. He does not touch the human, but his figure radiates claim. Banner's eyes slowly meet his, breaking away from Tatiana, and there is a definite understanding. After the encounter, Loki feels a small swell of pride – he's not typically made such subtle claims before – and finds the experience satisfying.

"—thank you, again, for coming. I don't think the bargaining would've gone over as well without some back up," Tati is murmuring. "And thank you for working with us on this."

"No problem, Tati," Stark drawls, dark eye bright. "The trick now will be keeping this one's –" He jerks a thumb Loki's direction. " – toes on the line. But I have no doubt you can handle it."

His human snorts. "Right. I have a feeling this will only work if he is desperate enough to stay here."

"Oh, I'm sure I can think of a few things he is desperate for." Tony let his gaze scan his hostess, then the god's motion closer to his reader. Loki scowls.

Tati doesn't see this, but sighs. "We can only hope."

"I happen to be present," Loki reminds them. "I did promise, did I not?"

The look all four of the foyer's occupants give him is answer enough. Once a trickster, always a trickster.

-XXX-

"Sir?"

Fury is broken from his reverie by the clipped tone of Agent Barton. The older man glances back from his seat by the window. He had been watching the city pass by – marveling at its reconstruction. Over half a year has passed since the Chitauri incident. The people had done what they did best; overcome.

Barton peers at him calmly, waiting for his commander to speak.

The director pressed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer fingers, closing his eye. With a heavy breath, he sits back. "That went well."

The Hawk doesn't disagree, but his eyes are dry with humor.

"I assume this mean we shall be going forward with the original plan?"

It's posed as a question, but the director knows it is merely an inquiry of confirmation; of course they shall be going forth. How foolish would it be to let that Asgardian bastard have his run of New York? He already has a headache enough with the Avengers – why aggravate it with allowing a deranged deity to take up residence in the city? Especially one with so many charges on his godly head.

"You would be right," the director rumbles. "Tell Thor to be at the ready – he isn't going home without his brother in tow."

Barton winces, grey eyes weary. "Looks like he'll be on lock down for a while. Not going to be too happy about that, seeing as Foster is waiting for him across the Rosen Bridge."

"Just call the damn thing a wormhole." Fury has no love for the squint-terminology. He knows Barton spends a lot of time studying all aspects of his various missions. The man has a mind for science, and preferred to comprehend his quarry or his wards if at all possible. "And he'll deal. It shouldn't be more than a week."

The Hawk bows his head slightly. "And Deror?"

This was one complication. Fury knows how protective Banner and Stark can be of the girl. Even the Captain has a softer spot for her – unsurprising, as his age-old manners gives him an automatic liking toward women. Even stoic Barton has warmer feeling toward the curator, mild ones that refused to disrupt his duties. The elder prince, too, has displayed some affections toward her, though that could be a result of his brother's preference. He had proposed already that Deror might be brought to Asgard following his once-brother's punishment, once all has settled. She is like, protected. The result of their actions, if not tempered with the SHIELD complacency and efficiency for smoothing things over.

Allowing Bruce and Tony access to her might do the trick, the one-eyed man mused. Their attachment was a little bemusing at times. But it could very well calm Deror's sorrows – if she had any – as well as prevent a coup from an angry Iron Man.

And Bruce…well, Fury still is not sure of Bruce's affections for the curator. He jumped at the chance to babysit her in Florida. An indication of feelings deeper than friendship? Fury didn't know, yet that was not about to prevent him from exploiting a "maybe."

Let the Iron Man and Banner comfort the grieving young woman. It was a potentially good move – she might not be a Jane Foster, but an art expert could prove useful to SHIELD somewhere along the line. Perhaps Potts could find work for her here in the city….

"Sir? What about Deror?"

Fury glances back up. "She'll be fine."

-XXX-

Mwhahahaha, twisty plot! I can't let anyone be happy, can I? Just like Grey's Anatomy...

Sorry for the lack of personal response to reviews. Like I said, I'm at camp right now, and I have maybe an hour before bed to use my laptop. I'll be back soon enough!