Spaces In-Between

A/N: Sorry I don't update super quickly; full-time work, time set aside for working out, D&D, time with husband, errands, et cetera, ad infinitum. I appreciate the followers and any reviews/comments. I apologize for any lazy mistakes (like Anne's name missing an 'e' in the beginning) in spelling in my last chapter (or any chapter, for that matter). I typed it up on a program that doesn't spell-check and then copy/pasted. Like an idiot. And I'm far too lazy to go make changes now. Rest assured, I'll be more careful from here on out.

Chapter Three

Days at the tower went by too quickly. I got used to Bruce and Tony's near constant presence, the advanced technology of the tower, and their super-powered friends visiting. Clint came often over the following week, asking about my progress and trying to make small talk. He was really funny and charming, but in their own way, all of the Avengers were. I was in the presence of greatness. I had trouble keeping my head on straight. Tony adored it.

What Tony didn't adore - nor Bruce - was my return that night. I blinked back into existence and scared the shit out of Bruce, who clutched his shirt and staggered back into a tray of medical supplies. Tools skittered across the tray and clattered to the floor. I couldn't stop the laugh bubbling up in my throat. As if on cue, Tony marched into the lab with a stern finger already pointing. The laugh died before it could really happen.

"I'm sorry," I blurted.

"What the hell!" Tony walked back and forth before the hospital bed, glaring at me with all the rage of a father (did he have children?). "I was gone for, what? Ten, fifteen minutes? A little longer? And Jarvis informs us that you've shimmered off into god-knows-where?" His hands flew and gesticulated, underlining his frustration.

"Where did you go?" Bruce asked. His eyes were still wide, but he seemed more bewildered than anything else.

"To Asgard."

"You went to Asgard?" Tony looked like he could implode at any second. His lips were a line drawn from frustration and, according to his bloodshot eyes, perhaps alcohol or lack of sleep. A tiny part of me liked it, somebody suddenly caring about whether I was there or not. It was amusing to watch, but for the fact that I felt the same trepidation as a child does when getting scolded. "When we were talking about Asgard -"

"You talked to her about Asgard?" Bruce interrupted.

Tony shot him a look and continued as if Bruce hadn't said anything. "- I wasn't suggesting you go, I was just asking if you had. Jesus Christ! Especially while your hip is a-all..." He narrowed his eyes and pointed at me. "You're sitting up. You can't sit up. Bruce?"

"Yeah," he murmured, arms crossed. His eyebrows furrowed. He straightened his glasses. "You're sitting up, Anne."

I looked at my own hip, like we all needed this validation. "Oh. Yeah, Odin fixed it."

Tony barked a laugh. "The fucking Allfather just fixed your hip?" When I nodded, he looked to Bruce. So did I. Bruce raised his eyebrows and uncrossed his arms. "What?" He asked. "What?"

Not finding whatever answer he sought in Bruce, Tony looked back at me. "What'd you do, suck him off?"

"Tony," Bruce said sharply.

I laughed. I couldn't help but think of what happened when he'd healed me and I felt a flush climb up my neck. A side effect of the magic is all it had been. Probably. "No, of course I didn't." Tony's anger seemed to be melting away, turning into a sadistic kind of amusement. He watched me intensely, smirking. "I didn't," I repeated.

"You did," he breathed. "You went down on a god. Wow."

"Shut up Tony, I did not." Now my face was burning. "He asked me about how I got there, he was really nice. He fixed it. That's all."

"Can I have a look?" Bruce asked. He was bright with eagerness. I was happy to be his guinea pig and nodded my consent. I lay back on the bed for him and he lifted my shirt and hovered over my pants. "I'm going to have to... pull these down a little," he mumbled. I assured him this would be okay. The scar was bright against the rest of my skin, fresh and pink and raised. A sizable dark bruise haloed protectively around it. It was like somebody had (fairly recently) gored my hip. Bruce asked questions about how it occurred, why was there a scar. I explained the best I could, but I had no idea exactly how the magic worked. I assumed there must be some kind of give-and-take involved.

He brushed his fingers over the scar and I sucked in a breath. "Are you okay?" he asked, yanking his hand back. "Does it hurt?"

It didn't hurt. It felt like liquid heat. It pooled low in my belly, between my thighs, it made me quiver. When he removed his touch, it died down, but not entirely. It burned low, ignited and waiting. Jesus. I wondered idly if he could make me come just by stroking the scar. The thought made me want to clench my thighs together. "It doesn't hurt," I assured him. When he waited, I added, "It's just... sensitive."

He continued to ask me questions and probe at the wound, checking for pain and feeling around for whatever he was looking for. I felt guilty for enjoying his touch without his knowledge. It was difficult to sit still. I want to press against the mattress. I wanted him to cup me between my legs. I watched his mouth and focused on what he said, but every time his fingers moved I had to bite back a moan. What the hell did Odin do? Was he aware of the effects of magic on humans?

Jarvis spoke up. "Anne's heart rate is elevating."

Bruce looked at my face intently. "You're flushed and under obvious strain." His eyes slid away. "I shouldn't have pushed you. You didn't have to lie about the pain, Anne."

"I'm not, I promise. It's fine." I throbbed. He tapped one of my hands and I noticed that I'd been white-knuckling the blankets. My fingers trembled in his grip.

"Not in pain, huh." He peered disapprovingly over his glasses. I shied away from his gaze and mumbled my disagreement, which he ignored. He patted my hand and stood to gather his things. I waited for Bruce to gently scold me and bid Tony a good night before turning my sights on Tony. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and smiled nervously. "Did you want to check out my battle wound?"

His eyebrows furrowed for a moment. "Why?"

"I..." My mouth went dry as I shifted where I sat. I suppressed a shudder and shifted again, enjoying the needy throbbing it caused. It was embarrassing, and that added to the excitement. "It's just that..." I want you to. I want you. I want someone, anyone, anything, to touch me. Heat spread out underneath my skin like a wave. I felt it smoldering high on my cheekbones and in my chest. I gave up on using words and shrugged. Tony touched his lips and regarded me curiously.

After a beat of silence, he cocked his head. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were..." he smirked and huffed out a laugh. "I'd say you were aroused."

I AM. I AM, PLEASE, PLEASE TOUCH ME. "...Oh." I shifted once more and stifled a gasp. This was ridiculous. I fought a private war between enjoying it and wishing it would end. "That's weird."

"Yeah, I guess that was kinda weird to say. Look," he said, closing the distance between us, "I flipped out because I was worried. I'm - well, I'm sort of a high-stress individual, or whatever, and this has been a really intense several hours and I don't have too much room left for surprises."

I watched his hand grasp the ball of my shoulder. It was meant to be comforting, but all I could imagine was him sliding it down over my chest, caressing and plucking -

He removed his hand. "Sorry, should have asked before touching. I'm not creepy. I mean - I'm not that creepy. Okay. Sorry about that. We need sleep. Don't disappear again, for god's sake. And don't tell anyone I said I was worried. I wasn't that worried. Got it?"

I grinned coyly at him. "Right. I'm just an experiment. You don't care about my well being."

He pointed again and winked. "You're goddamned right."

"Ow."

Clint recoiled and watched me, concerned. Or perhaps not overly concerned, because he jabbed his finger right back into my wound. Though it pleasured me to a degree, it was a bruised and recovering wound, after all. Jabbing wasn't the same as touching nicely, and it had been days. Clint was fully fucking aware of it hurting.

"I said ow, you mean prick!" I slapped his hand and glared at him, shielding the scar from further abuse. "God. What is wrong with you?"

Clint shrugged and offered me a lopsided grin. "I don't know."

"Clint picking on you again?" Clint and I both craned our necks to see Natasha sashay into the room with two very tall and very blond men. They were stacked with muscle. I vaguely recognized both of them; Thor and Captain America, though I couldn't say what the Captain's true name was. I was sure I was about to be introduced properly. Thor's hair tied back into a bun, and his shirt - a plain white tee - matched Cap's. Thor wore jeans whereas the Captain wore crisp tan slacks, creased down the center.

"I... yeah, he was. Kill him immediately." I looked back and forth between the men, who looked interested. Cap struggled against a smile and lost. Thor knit his brow and approached me.

"I am Thor Odinson. My father healed you, as I understand."

"You've got the jist of it, yeah," I agreed. Thor turned to Natasha. She cocked her head to look up at him.

"Jist - meaning, you've pretty much gotten the idea. You understand."

Thor turned back to me, smiling and shrugging. "I don't always understand your phrasing. May I look upon the wound?"

I shrugged and lay back, hiking my shirt up a bit and pulling my pants below my hip.

"Yes, good," Clint mumbled, leering comically. I clucked my tongue at him and he winked.

Thor looked at it and opened his mouth just to close it again. Color drained from his face before returning high on his cheekbones. "My father did this? Why?"

I laughed, but it was more of a humorless bark. "Yeah, because... he's nice? Because... I don't know, he just did, and I'm really grateful." I couldn't restrain my tone. Thor winced and took my hand. His grasp was surprisingly gentle for how large he was.

"My lady," he murmured, "forgive me. I didn't mean to offend - it reminds me of something my brother used to do. The shape of it... it's a disturbing coincidence."

I averted my gaze and shrugged again. "S'fine. Your brother was a healer before he -" Before he went nuts and broke New York? "- before he um... before?" I now had color in my face to match Thor's, and considered us even. His jaw tightened and he nodded. "Less of a healer and more of a general magic-user. He knew a lot of tricks." The corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile. He didn't look like he was in the present anymore. I found myself stroking his fingers with my thumb, hoping he'd continue. He didn't disappoint.

"He played many tricks on me in our youth. He has - had - the ability to make doubles of himself, and was a notorious shape-shifter. I didn't usually condone his pranks, but I admit I enjoyed seeing some of the things he got away with. He used those same tricks to get me out of trouble a great deal of times. I loved him for that, and I wish I could tell him so now. As he got older, the maidens began to notice him, and he had a penchant for putting a magic brand on them, his initials, and it -" Thor caught himself mid-reverie and blinked himself out of it, withdrawing his hand. He managed a weak, apologetic smile and met my eyes. "Never mind that, I suppose that isn't appropriate. My father is not known for his healing, and healing can cause many marks. Its shape simply reminded me of Loki's cunning ways."

He returned his attention to the wound and Cap cleared his throat. "What did it do?" he asked.

Thor's fingers hovered over my wound as he looked to Cap. "What?"

"What did the, you know... mark, or whatever, what did Loki's mark do? On the women?"

"Yeah," Clint chimed in. "We're curious, man. Indulge us."

"Make that all of us, whole gang's here, now, big guy." I jumped and glanced over to see Tony and Bruce standing in a doorway. Tony's arms were crossed. "I think we came in around the time you started talking about the maidens. I don't care what you said before that, I'm just interested in the weird god-sex stuff. Now spill."

Thor flushed a deep red and shook his head once. "I wouldn't relate something so crass before the females," he insisted. His eyes remained glued to my scar, but I was sure he wasn't really seeing it.

"Bullshit, we're all adults, here. There isn't usually a factoid I don't know in my line of work. I want to know this one," Natasha responded. I liked her voice. I liked that she took no shit. Her arms were also crossed, hair pulled over one shoulder and gleaming in the light. How could I get my hair that shiny? Perhaps she should bathe me. I imagined her washing my hair. I'd have to kneel in front of her -

"He... the mark he made, it... he cast a special spell on the wearer of his mark. It caused them to go into heat when touched."

I looked at Tony, and he flicked his gaze over to me. I looked away immediately and cursed myself for having no tact whatsoever.

"That sounds rad," Clint mused. "Go into heat, like... they were just slobbering for dick, or...?"

Thor and Steve wore identical grimaces of distaste. "No, but they would be very easily aroused. The spells lasted as long as he wanted them to; sometimes hours, one time months. He was sort of..."

"Depraved?" Cap supplied.

Thor shrugged as if to say, he was what he was. My mind reeled. It was an insane coincidence. Loki was clearly dead, but maybe he got the idea from his father? Maybe this was something Thor hadn't been privy to? I didn't know how much magic Thor knew, but I was betting he didn't know much. When Thor asked again if he could examine it, I summoned the will power to gently deny him and made my way to the showers.

I had a lot of thinking to do...

And god help me, I desperately wanted to return to Asgard.