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Entry #15: Manhattan [In Which Loki Goes Shopping]

Clint's parting words echoed in Natasha's head: "Don't let him hurt my baby."

She shook a lock of hair out of her face and glanced over at Loki, who was sitting wordlessly in the passenger's seat of Clint's "baby." The demigod had opted to ride shotgun anyway, obviously used to being escorted around. It annoyed her that in his mind she was worthy of nothing more than to be his chaperone (and probably not even that), but Clint would have killed her if she had attempted to give him a driving lesson in his sports car. She felt no inclination to do such a potentially hazardous thing, anyway.

Natasha gripped the wheel with two white-knuckled fists, glancing sideways at the passenger every now and then. So far he had experimented with the air conditioning three times, perused the glove compartment and fished out a pocket-sized picture of Nat sitting in Clint's lap on a park bench in D.C. while they ate triple-scoop ice cream cones, and scared the living daylights out of both of them when he accidentally turned on the radio. Apparently, Clint went for the "maximum everything," which included the rock-and-roll station, headache-inducing volume, and such an excellent bass that the whole car vibrated.

Loki didn't mess with any more buttons after that. Obviously, this car was dangerous.

Natasha might have laughed at the stunned expression on his face had she not been thinking the exact same thing.

When they pulled into the parking lot of the local grocery store, she put the car in park and turned sideways to look at Loki. "We are going to do this quickly and quietly. You will not pull any pranks or cause any mayhem in this store. Okay?"

Loki appeared to be processing this. Finally, he nodded, and they both got out of the car. "Nick Fury didn't even want you to leave the house," Natasha reminded him as she slammed her door shut and pressed the 'lock' button on the key ring, "so you'd better not be more than five feet away from me at any given time. Your new calling in life is to walk behind me and push the cart down the aisles—without ramming it into the backs of my legs, thank you very much."

By the time they had claimed a cart and Loki had finished examining the automatic doors, Natasha was feeling quite a bit better about this excursion. Loki was acting more like a quiet, curious kid than a murderous demigod. But he was still an enemy, right? And even if she had decided to treat him like an insolent four-year-old, she had to remember that he was really a war-mongering, hate-filled, super-human being that could probably crush her even without his powers if she didn't maintain some sense of perspective.

The first thing they saw as they passed the cash register was a large stand displaying one thing: flowers. Lots and lots of flowers.

Natasha stopped to smell the closest bouquet, and to her surprise, Loki did as well. She stepped back and watched him as he examined each individual petal, and then moved on to another bunch, mumbling something about the Midgardian tulips being inferior to those in Asgard.

Finally he selected a small, perky bouquet and offered it to Natasha.

She stood very still, her hands plastered to her sides as she tried to figure out what he was doing.

Then he said, "For Clint."

After one really awkward moment, Nat finally remembered telling him that he was under orders to find something 'really nice' for Clint.

"Oh…" Natasha relaxed. "Oh, no, um, I don't really think he wants—"

Then she hesitated. Why not? Loki had taken the time to select them himself, and she assumed that giving flowers was a universal sign of respect and favor in Asgard.

A small smirk touched Natasha's lips. "Well, okay." She took the flowers and carefully placed them upright in the cart. "But I think the flowers can be from me, and you can get him a Snickers bar or ingredients for making s'mores or something."

Loki inquired as to the nature of these s'mores with an unusual degree of interest, but became visibly confused when Natasha rattled off the short list of ingredients. He did not know exactly what Graham crackers were, and actually seemed to have trouble pronouncing marshmallows. It was the first time Natasha had found a flaw in his English vocabulary, and she tried hard not to laugh at him. "No, uh, hahah—ahem. It's pronounced, 'marsh-mell-o's'," she corrected.

Loki frowned and remained silent, looking very pointedly in the opposite direction. Natasha realized quickly that she had found a chink in Loki's well-oiled and carefully maintained mental armor: being laughed at.

Filing that bit of information away for future reference, Natasha marched toward the candy aisle, and Loki obediently pushed the cart behind her.

"Ah!" Natasha smiled and selected a jumbo-size package of Hershey's bars, tossing it carelessly into the cart. "And this—" she grabbed some kit-kats "—and this—" a few skittles for herself "—and this—" in went the unpronounceable delicacy 'marshmallows' "—and this!" And finally, the graham crackers. Then Natasha scanned the list again. She had the distinct feeling that she was forgetting something.

Oh yes. A special request from Tony: peanut M&M's. Ten packages of those went into the basket as well.

"Alright then. Onto the healthy food… which I'm probably going to have all to myself," she added wryly. Tony's instructions had been to get "party materials, M&M's, lots of junky deliciousness, and some vodka." Natasha had declined the vodka, but suggested Dr. Pepper as a non-alcoholic alternative.

When they finished their shopping and were making their way toward the cash registers, Loki stopped the cart. The next thing that had caught his eye was a row of balloons. Some for birthdays, some for college graduation parties, some for friendship, and a few really old ones left over from Father's Day.

He was staring up at the gently bobbing objects with great curiosity. After a minute of solemn thought, Loki pointed to one that said, "Hope your day is as awesome as you are!" It was a birthday-style balloon, and Natasha decided that Clint's day had probably been slaughtered beyond all hope of recovery, but she finally relented.

They got the balloon (whether Loki had gotten it for Clint or himself Natasha couldn't quite figure out, and she didn't ask) and that was the end of their grocery shopping.

Loki tried to leave without paying, quite by accident—i.e. unfamiliarity with Midgardian customs—but Natasha stopped him before he made it to the door.

It was only when they had trudged back to the car with the now-overloaded cart that Natasha realized what a mistake it had been to take Clint's baby. The sports car had a very small trunk (almost too small to deserve such a grand title) and an equally cramped back seat. With an odd combination of skill and luck, the two of them managed to squeeze everything into the car. Loki was very helpful. Natasha thanked him for reminding her to put the ice cream under a blanket so as to prevent any meltage on the way home. He also stopped her from placing a bag of bananas on top of the sour-cream-and-onion ruffles chips.

In the end, a rather uncomfortable Loki still had to sit with a package of Doritos between his feet and three grocery bags on his lap, one containing Stark's M&M's, one with four liters of soda, and another that held spaghetti and meatballs and two loaves of French bread.

Natasha sighed, pushing the balloon out of her face for the umpteenth time. "And we still have to go to the mall!" she moaned, feeling utterly defeated.

Hope you enjoyed Loki's shopping spree!

~Alassiel