For all the Steve fans out there, I'm very sorry. I have no idea how to deal with him, so you got a hyperactive puppy that ate a bag of pop rocks for Captain America. I'm so sorry (THAT I'M NOT SORRY).
I literally have no idea what happened to me during this chapter. The whole story is all depressing and not fun and then somehow this chapter was like LOL I'MMA TURN INTO A CRACKFIC. I'm sorry guys, but I had to. This chapter was being REALLY difficult, so I sort of started stressing out halfway and so here you go. However, I'm very serious when I say that this OUGHT TO be the last filler chapter needed. Everything's going to be bam bam bam bam.
I was THIS close to not publishing this chapter. THIIIIS close. Seriously, it went from re-writing the entire thing to scrapping that chapter and then thinking of not having a Team-bonding/cute lighthearted chapter in general. Then I got stressed out and went YOLO and here you go. So please don't leave this story on account of this chapter. I was not in the right headspace and I don't exactly have the time to rewrite it...
I admit, most of the chapter, I was like, 'The Avengers are full-grown ADULTS, would they really be doing things like this?' Then I look at interviews of the cast and I was like, '...Yeah they would.'
But yeah, if you've got a gist of my writing style, I normally never write carefree things like this! But that's because we are dwelling in the eye of the storm.
There was one state of being that Loki did not miss while he was with the Chitauri, and that was boredom.
Granted, it had only been several days since his bodily wounds healed and his mother bade them goodbye to return to Asgard. Odin, she said, was up to his neck with looming threats of outside attacks and she was to be at his side during such unpredictable times. While Loki didn't wish to see her go, as reluctant as he was to admit it, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. He needed time to process everything, and her presence confused him as much as it soothed him.
"You will take care of yourself, all right?" said Frigga. Her eyes were red at the prospect of leaving her sons again for the sake of Asgard. She cupped Loki's face in her tender hands and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "My heart will not stop worrying for you two, but it will be at least eased if I was assured that you and Thor will look after each other."
Loki smiled wryly at her comment, doubting that anything would remotely soothe Frigga after knowing what shenanigans her sons had been up to these past several months without her knowing. Regardless, she gave him and Thor a tight squeeze of a hug before stepping out into the open space of the outer deck, fading with magic to their home.
But if looking after Thor required following him everywhere, Loki was doing a terrible job. Loki never attempted to leave his privacy since. It wasn't that he did not grasp the sense of freedom; in fact, he'd gladly embrace it if only he had a single idea of what he was doing. The books that Natasha gave him were well read and spent, JARVIS was tampered with at least twice every three hours, but he soon came to realize that above all he was generally the only person in the room. Clint and Natasha were busy with SHIELD duties constantly, Tony and Bruce were still working on that arc reactor as they called it, Steve was still trying to prove that he could outdo Dummy (although occasionally he'd try to entertain Loki with crude, Midgardian magic tricks, which sooner made Loki clasp his forehead than anything else), and last Loki checked, Thor was taking a five day nap the moment Frigga left.
Loki would leave a cup of coffee outside of Thor's door each time. Unbeknownst to him, Thor more often than not tripped over the mugs, and Steve was becoming more adept in washing coffee stains out of carpets.
Interaction. Loki always considered himself an introvert of sorts, or at least not as famished for attention as Thor once was, but this silence he dwelled in was so stiff and unyielding that he vaguely wondered if they had forgotten about him. Everyone except Pepper, at least, who would bring him food and talk to him every now and then, and sometimes she'd help him alleviate his boredom by assigning him to arrange Tony's paperwork. He obliged, only because it was Pepper and she was kind to him, and she turned a blind eye when he printed scandalously photoshopped images of Tony onto the back just to give the playboy billionaire the occasional cardiac arrest when he felt particularly sadistic.
Which was why Loki had finally pulled himself together and snuck out of his room, wandering aimlessly through the winding hallways and trying to figure where the hell he was.
Shame that he had programmed JARVIS to behave like a sobbing, angst-ridden teenager two hours ago so that now Loki couldn't ask the butler for directions. It was amusing to hear Tony's reaction two floors below him, though.
But truly, Stark's tower was enormous. Nowhere near the halls of Asgard, whose ceiling reached as high as the moon, but winding and labyrinthine like a multi-headed snake coiled into a tube. Loki couldn't imagine what one man (with no drop of royal blood, no less) could possibly need such an abode, but Loki eventually reasoned with himself that Tony's bullhorn of a voice and large head of brains and cats were enough to fill all the rooms.
The moment that he heard voices down the hallway in the sitting room (the one where his face was smashed into, of all places), he paused. Suddenly he had every desire to retrace his steps and burrow in his designated room again, just to avoid the eyes latching on him and the voices speaking to him, about him. He remembered how he once buried himself in books, in studies, in anything else except socializing whenever there were banquets or balls hosted by the All-Father and he brusquely questioned himself why he thought this moment would be any different.
"We just have one more thing to finish up with the reactor," he heard Tony say, "and then we're finally done. So give me that bottle, Pepper, because if this isn't a reason to celebrate, nothing is."
"Funny how you were never so celebratory about any of your other creations before," said Pepper with a laugh.
"That's because he wants to get rid of all the freeloaders in his tower," said Clint's voice with a snort.
"Not true," said Tony. "I like my company. But this baby's going to kick magic in the ass, is all."
"Yeah, your company's great," said Clint. "By the way, how's JARVIS?"
Loki could hear Tony groan. He unconsciously edged closer to the room, back still pressed against the wall.
"He was blubbering nonsensically last time I tried to get him to check our stocks," said Tony. "God, if Loki wasn't a full-time supervillain, I'd hire him into the industry like that." He smacked his hand against the counter for emphasis.
"He isn't a supervillain. Come on," said Pepper.
"You only like him because he does your paperwork for you," said Tony.
"Correction—he does your paperwork that you ought to be doing, Mr. Stark. And he doesn't dance drunk in front of national television."
"That was only twice, Pepper. Twice."
"Two times more than I ever needed. Where's everyone else? I thought you wanted some sort of get-together."
"I do, but everyone is apparently a lazy ass and won't show face anytime soon. Or is snoring."
"Thor woke up this morning."
Loki perked up slightly at the mention of Thor. He edged closer until he was just around the corner, listening.
"That guy doesn't nap, he hibernates," said Clint.
"After all he's been through, he could afford a wink or two of sleep," said Pepper.
Loki could hear the clinking of glass and ice.
"Looks like your scotch has run out," said Pepper.
"What?" said Tony. "No, no, no. That can't be it. Not my scotch." A rattle of glass. "Oh. I guess it is."
"Relax, there's probably more in the storage room down the hall," said Pepper.
"Right, right," said Tony. "Wanna get that for me, Barton?"
"Oi. I'm not your Dummy."
"You get first dibs of whatever other bottles I have in there."
A beat. "Fine. There better be more than just a single bottle of scotch."
Loki heard approaching footsteps toward his corner. He would have backed away, but found himself rooted in the spot with apprehension. Just as he made up his mind to at least move, Clint immediately turned the corner, finding himself a mere inch away from Loki's face.
"Holy shitballs!" Clint jumped back, tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground, his hand to his chest. Loki jumped back as well, eyes widened as he retreated back into the dark hallway. "What the flying hell?"
"What the heck is going on?" said Tony, moving toward the hallway. He stepped over the fallen Clint to peer out toward the hallway. When he saw Loki shrink back in the shadows, he waved. "Oh, finally see you walking about, Prongs."
"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks for asking," Clint said, kicking Tony's ankle to make him trip. Tony hopped on one foot, steering clear from Clint.
"Bruised your bum, Barton?" said Tony.
"You're getting your own damn scotch," said Clint, pushing himself into a sitting position. "And you—" He pointed to Loki, one hand still on his panicked heartbeat. "Don't—do that, for God's sake."
"Hi, Loki," said Pepper, pointedly ignoring the men squabbling in the background. "Come on in."
Loki took a tentative step forward, poking his head around the corner. Pepper gestured for him to sit on the couch next to her. Keeping a wide berth from Clint and Tony (Clint was repeatedly trying to trip Tony as Tony danced out of the way), Loki seated himself cautiously on one of the cushions.
"Want anything to drink?" said Pepper as if they had been fast friends longer than they had been enemies. "We don't really have scotch anymore—" She raised her eyebrow toward Tony's direction. "But we still have something to offer."
Loki shook his head. He continued to make a point not to receive any drink from Tony's tower, even if his pride was at this point far beyond salvaging.
"Hey, sorry I'm late," said Steve as he came through the hallway. His eyes landed on Clint and Tony and he looked as if he didn't know whether to laugh or to gawk.
"Pay no attention to the idiots on the floor," said Pepper. "How've you been all day, Steve?"
"Got back to some sketching," said Steve. "Oh, oh! And this. Hey, Loki, look at this."
Loki frowned perplexedly as Steve sat across from him eagerly. The moment Steve pulled out a deck of cards from his pants pocket, Loki had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. If only Steve wasn't so genuinely excited about it, Loki would have a much easier time mocking him.
"So I admit, that last torn card trick I showed you yesterday wasn't that impressive," said Steve. "But this time I think I got something that'll amuse you."
Loki decided that it wasn't the best choice to inform Steve that everything he did was amusing, though probably not in the way Steve would have liked.
"Okay—so, take the card on the top of the deck. Don't show it to me, but you can show it to everyone else," said Steve, presenting the deck to Loki. Loki raised his eyebrows before taking the top card.
The Joker. Well, if this magic trick was all staged then Steve had a cheesy sense of humor.
"Do you remember it?" said Steve. "Okay, now just put it on the top of the deck again."
Loki slid the card facedown back on the top. Steve nodded approvingly.
"Okay, for the next part, can I ask you to stand up from your seat, please?"
Loki glared at Steve. Was Steve questioning Loki's ability to stand? He stood up immediately.
"Good, good," said Steve. He dealt the top ten cards face down on the coffee table. "Now, put your hand on top of those so that they won't move, all right?"
Loki placed a hand upon the cards, bending down slightly to reach the table. Steve stepped to the side so he could deal a card onto Loki's seat.
"Abra cadabra!" Steve said, wiggling his fingers over the one card. When he saw Loki shooting a very bewildered look at Steve over his shoulders, Steve added, "I'm using magic words to make the top card switch and teleport."
If this wasn't besmirching the nature and respect of the ancient and most noble art of sorcery, nothing was.
"Alakazoom!" With a flourish, Steve tapped the card on the chair. "Okay, you can lift your hand from the cards now."
Loki withdrew his hand from the pile. Steve flipped over the card on the couch; the Joker stared brightly back at Loki.
"Is this your card?" Steve said.
Loki narrowed his eyes and nodded.
"Magic!" said Steve.
Loki frowned. He held out his hand expectantly. Steve placed the Joker in his palm. Loki narrowed his eyes, inspecting every corner. Well, there certainly wasn't a trace of magic on the card, and Steve was a mortal after all, so Steve couldn't possibly have performed wizardry to accomplish this…
"Pretty cool, huh?" said Steve, looking like a pupil desperately eager to please his mentor.
Loki flicked the card with his finger. There certainly wasn't a curse on the card either, so that was out of the question.
How did Steve do it?
"So, where the hell are the others?" said Tony, hopping on an uninjured foot.
"Thor's still on the phone with Jane," said Steve. "Bruce said he wanted a little bit of quiet time first."
"Wha-a-a-at?" said Tony. "He's foregoing more bonding time with us?"
"To be fair, he has to put up with you for the whole day for the past several weeks," said Clint, getting off of the ground.
"If I can do it, so can he," said Tony. "What about Natasha?"
Loki looked up briefly before returning half of his attention to the Joker. If Steve had no magic, and this wasn't another of his optical illusions or mathematical pattern tricks, how did he do it?
"She'll be around in a moment," said Clint. "She almost didn't come. Said it would be too unprofessional if our fellow agents were working and we were in your living room playing video games or something."
"Neither of you are on duty anyway," said Tony. "So what are we thinking tonight? Movie night? I think we need a movie night in this tower."
"No," said Steve with a scowl. "Not this time. Let's do something else."
"Come on, you're just still sour that I made you think 'Inglorious Basterds' was a documentary. I'll have you know that it was worth it."
"Not funny, Tony."
"Thor and Loki-Dokey haven't experienced the wonderful thing called cinema yet," said Tony. "Ow!" Tony hadn't time to move out of the way before Loki threw a card at him. "You need a nickname, and 'Loki' is just too easy to work with."
"You kids can do a game night," said Pepper, grinning.
"No way," said Clint. "If we play Scrabble, Thor's just going to pull some Swedish word out of his ass and win five hundred points with 'Eyjafjallajökull' or something like that."
"That's Icelandic, but you were so close."
They heard the elevator doors part down the hallway and soon after Natasha and Thor arrived as well. When Thor saw Loki at the couch, his face brightened so warmly Loki thought he would grow blind.
"It's good to see you with us," Thor said, clasping a warm hand on Loki's shoulder. Loki couldn't find it in him to shrug it away; he hadn't noticed how chilly it was in the room. He stole a brief glance at Natasha; she gave him an approving nod.
"Yeah, now that I think about it," said Clint. "Did you ever actually invite him?"
"We are now," said Tony. "Hey, Loki, wanna be awesome? Yes? Okay, good." He nodded approvingly before Loki could even turn his head to face Tony. "How's your little lady, Thor?"
"Stressed with work, but she is doing well," said Thor with a smile. "Your communication device of 'Skype' is a blessing indeed. I had missed seeing her face and hearing her voice."
"I'm telling you, just give me the word and I'll arrange a nice private jet to fly her over here. Keep love alive and yada yada, you know?" said Tony.
"Thank you for the offer," said Thor. Loki felt Thor's gaze flicker nervously toward him and he pretended to shuffle the cards instead of listening in on their conversation.
"Let's start with something to eat because I'm starving," said Tony. "I want something packed with worthless calories."
"We are not ordering fifty cheeseburgers for your own pleasure again," said Pepper.
"Cheeseburgers are good. Haters gonna hate," said Tony. "What's everyone feeling? Chicken wings? Ribs? Please don't tell me something fancy schmancy because I had a corporate lunch yesterday and I'm still drowning in limoncello vinaigrette and braised oxtail."
"Oh God, your life is so hard," said Clint.
"Sunflower seeds for you? Okay," said Tony, pretending to write on his palm like a waiter. Clint threw a pillow at Tony. "What about you, Natasha?"
"Anything that's remotely edible," she said. "Actually, I could go for pirozhki right now."
"I like to be in America, okay by me in America!" sang Tony. Natasha snorted. "At this rate I'm ordering shawarma again."
Everyone except Thor and Loki groaned.
"Come on, Loki hasn't tried it yet," said Tony.
Loki cast a glance at Thor.
"It is a Midgardian cuisine," said Thor. "We—er—the others and I had it a while back."
"Actually, can I try something?" said Natasha. "You have a kitchen on this floor, don't you?"
"Yeah, down in the other room. Why?" said Tony.
"I want to make some syrniki," said Natasha. "America, I love you and all, but your cuisine could use a lot of work."
"What's this syrniki?" said Steve.
"It's like a Russian fried doughnut and pancake hybrid," she said. "Goes well with honey."
"Holy shit, I heard the word 'fried' and I fell in love," said Tony. "Make some. Please."
"Whoa, you're going to cook? You? Cook?" said Clint.
"I'm going to drag all of your butts to help me because like hell I'm serving you," said Natasha. "Or, you know, you could go with the carrot sticks left in the fridge."
"I shall aid you, Agent Romanoff," said Thor. "I know my pancake skills are not as prominent as your Midgardian chefs, but I shall do my best."
Natasha laughed. "You'll be just fine, Thor. Any other takers?"
"I'll help with the eggs," said Clint.
"You'll tell us what to do, won't you?" said Steve.
"Unless you have the confidence to completely wing it," said Natasha. "You've got cottage cheese in your place?"
"We probably do," said Pepper. "Here, Tony, go take them to the kitchen. I'll find the scotch."
"Aye, aye," said Tony. "You coming, Loki?"
Loki stiffened slightly, forgetting that he was part of the conversation. He gave a jerky half-shrug, still surprised that they had remembered him.
"Well, come on then. You're working for your food too," said Tony. He frowned. "Well, I mean, if you want to eat it."
Loki hesitated. He didn't expect to be roped into this when he stepped out of his room.
"Come on," urged Natasha, and without another word followed Tony to the kitchen. Loki hung back behind the others, slightly stunned and wary. Before he turned the corner, Clint looked back at Loki. His eyebrows furrowed, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Loki swallowed, knowing all too well the animosity the archer had for him. In the back of his mind he wondered why everyone had walked away so quickly.
"Well," said Clint. His voice made Loki hold his breath. "You're invited. So are you coming or not?"
Loki blinked, not expecting that response in the slightest. Before Loki could affirm, however, Clint ran off, disappearing around the corner. Loki followed, keeping several paces behind the others as they trailed into the kitchen.
"All right, let's get to work, people," said Natasha, flicking on the lights to the spacious kitchen. Loki could never understand why Tony had so many fancy kitchens when he never saw the man cook even an egg. "Wash your hands, I'm not getting germs because of you guys."
"Yes, Snow White," said Clint, turning on the faucet. Natasha pretended to kick him in the rear.
"Stark, get me some cottage cheese, eggs, sugar, vanilla extract…what was the last thing again? Right—some salt and oil."
"Can I have pecans in mine?"
"Clint, this is not exactly a nutty dessert."
Loki procured himself a safe place near the kitchen island, far from the action as Tony chucked boxes of ingredients out of the refrigerator.
"Come on, Stark, carefully," said Natasha, straightening the ingredients on the kitchen island. "Thor, can you mash the cheese with this fork into this bowl?" She passed an empty plastic bowl and the cottage cheese to Thor. Thor took it with a vigorous nod before emptying the carton of cottage cheese into the bowl and decimating it with the fork. The fork bent immediately on impact.
"That was actual silverware too," said Tony.
"Midgardian silver is so flimsy," said Thor, straightening the prongs.
"Don't tell me that even elements are different on Asgard because of magic."
"Focus, Tony," said Natasha, oiling a pan. "You can have your science debates later, when someone actually cares. Combine the egg yolk, sugar, vanilla, and salt for me."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, you didn't even tell me how much of each," said Tony.
"You're a scientist. You can figure out the chemical reaction," said Natasha, rolling her eyes. "Don't you know how homemade comfort food never has proper measurements?"
"What if I made enough to make like, ten thousand batches of these pancakes?" said Tony. "Then will you regret it?"
Loki watched Tony warily, wondering how exactly the man fed himself properly all this time. He made a mental note to treat Pepper to a very long reward of relaxation one of these days.
"On second thought, Steve, you do that," said Natasha. "Three egg yolks, five teaspoons of sugar, one teaspoon of vanilla, and a pinch of salt."
"Ah—okay," said Steve, awkwardly taking the ingredients away from Tony. Tony threw his hands up in the air in resignation.
"Get some flour, Stark," said Natasha. "Clint, make sure Thor's not killing anything in there."
"I am doing nothing wrong," said Thor as one of the prongs of the fork flew off.
"Loki, want to watch Steve?" said Natasha.
Loki bit the tip of his tongue before shrugging, edging a little closer to Steve. Steven gently nudged the bowl between him and Loki as he carefully measured the sugar and vanilla.
"He's not going to go ahead and add chili powder secretly into the mix, is he?" said Clint. "Because if I eat this thing and find that there's like, rabbit poop in it, I'm going to kick his ass."
"You really want to do that when he has practically two bodyguards?" said Tony.
"Whoa, when did this happen?" said Clint.
Even Loki glanced skeptically at Tony. More for the fact that Tony assumed Loki needed bodyguards in the first place, if no one counted the last predicament with the Chitauri.
"Yeah, Point Break, and the Other Guy. Bruce was telling me apparently the Hulk's got a soft spot for Loki ever since he beat the shit out of him. Like a kid insulting his sibling and going into a fit because someone else did it too."
"We're all doomed."
Loki almost snorted with skepticism. The day the Hulk had a 'soft spot' for him was the day Thor renounced his warrior ways and vowed to spend the rest of his days sewing drapes in a carriage drawn by goats.
"Na-a-at, Thor broke the fork again."
"Thor, goddammit, do I have to send a bill to Asgard?"
"I promise you, I did not mean it!"
"Have you boys never stepped into a kitchen properly in your entire life?"
"Do you want to break the eggs?" Steve said to Loki over the commotion, offering an egg.
Loki wrapped his fingers around the cool oval. It was light in his hands, but rather large, fitting snugly in his palm. Truthfully, he never cooked in his life, and only watched the cooks back in Asgard when he was a child.
"Let me do one first," said Steve. He gently rapped an egg against the edge of the bowl. Hair-thin cracks splintered the middle and he gently pried the shell open, spilling the yolk from it. "You do one, now."
Loki gripped the egg with his fingertips. Knock the egg against a surface, pour out the yolk. It wasn't so hard, was it? He took hold of the bowl and rammed the egg against the edge. His fist was too forceful and the egg crushed against the bowl, splintered shell and yolk oozing from underneath his palm.
Suddenly, Loki felt very hollow and nauseous. He stepped back, his hand still slick with runny yolk and shell.
"You don't have to do it so hard," said Steve with a gentle laugh, unaware of Loki's discomfort. He used a spoon to scoop out the scraps of eggshell that fell in. "Next time, just a little lightly, okay? Loki?"
Bloodstains on stone, and a gentle head.
His hands were so sticky, and he imagined that they were stained sanguine than a filmy yellow. He swallowed hard and suddenly he felt as if it was not blood that ran through his veins, but sludge—sickly, poisonous sewage.
You have nothing to be afraid of.
He tore himself from his own mind and raised his eyes to Steve, who eyed him concernedly. He flashed a quick, practiced smile and turned is back on Steve to wash the yolk from his hand in the faucet. His mouth suddenly felt very parched, the back of his tongue sour.
"You okay, Loki?" said Steve.
Loki nodded and turned back, a polite smile on his face. He knew how to play charades.
"Clint, want to mix that for them?" Natasha said as she measured the flour in a plastic cup.
"Got any more forks?" said Clint.
"No. You are not abusing more of my poor forks. There's got to be a whisk somewhere," said Tony. He opened several drawers, trying to find the elusive whisk. "Dammit, I don't cook enough to know where any of this shit is."
"You are the kind of people that communists hate," said Clint.
"Whisk away, baby," said Tony, finding a kitchen aid in one of the pantries. Clint rolled his eyes and poured the cottage cheese and the egg mixture together, beating them until it was a frothy, yellow pool.
"Loki, what are you looking for?" said Steve.
Loki was creaking open every cupboard, scouring the shelves for a proper glass. Most of the cupboards were empty, with not even a cobweb to fill its void. His stomach turned more tumultuously and he nearly hit his head with the cupboard door.
"What do you want?" said Tony.
Loki pressed his fingers against his pale lips. He thought he could already taste the coppery, sour memory on his tongue and the hollow sensation strengthened.
"Oh, he's thirsty." Tony reached over and pulled open one of the cupboards, extracting a tall glass. "What are you thinking? Bourbon? Whiskey? Vodka?"
"I think he just wants water," said Natasha, eyeing Loki.
"Oh fine, go the healthy route." Tony poured water into the glass from the refrigerator dispenser (what was that strange Midgardian invention anyway?) and handed it to Loki. Loki bowed his head as he received it and drank the water greedily. The ill feeling subsided, but his head still pounded.
"Can we watch a Disney movie after this?" said Tony.
"I just went through an entire Disney marathon thanks to Clint. No more," said Natasha.
"Oi. Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it," said Clint. "I know for a fact you almost cried during 'Brother Bear.'"
"Lying is a sin, Clint."
Loki couldn't help but smirk; Clint's accusation held a weight of truth in it.
"I'm thinking 'The Incredibles,'" said Tony.
"No way," said Clint.
"What? Come on. Don't tell me that the Frozone guy doesn't remind you of Fury."
"Exactly why I don't want to watch it. One Fury is enough."
"Barton, are you even watching the batter?"
"Why would I need to—?"
Before he could complete the sentence, the KitchenAid mixer whisked out of control and sent a third of the batter splattering all around them. Clint yelped and dropped to the ground to avoid a glob that flew toward his head. It instead slapped Loki right on the cheek.
"Turn it off, turn it off!" Tony said, using a pot to shield himself from the spluttering mixer. Steve hurriedly yanked out the electric cord and the overpowered whisk slowly ceased, the counter splotchy with lumps. Clint rose to his feet cautiously, eyeing the mixer as if it would come alive again and vomit all over him.
"On second thought," said a voice at the door, "maybe I'll go back to the lab."
"Bruce!" said Tony, throwing his hands up to welcome Bruce. Bruce's glasses were bespattered with cottage cheese. When he removed them, the look of purely humorous exasperation shone in his eyes.
"Stress free indeed, Tony," said Bruce, wiping his glasses on a paper towel. "So, how did a genius, some master assassins, two Norse gods, and Captain America of all people fail at baking?"
"It was Clint's fault. He wasn't watching the mixer," said Tony.
"No one told me it was going to work itself up like that!" said Clint.
"Who thought it was a good idea to let you guys become adults?" said Bruce.
"It was all Natasha," said Tony.
"It was a good attempt," Thor said, staring at what batter was left in the bowl.
"Nothing compared to the fiasco that happened in Vienna, right, Clint?"
"Really? I remember it going really well."
In the end, Natasha forced all the men to step away from the cooking supplies and watch her correctly mix the flour into the batter. The way she carefully formed the dough into neat circles vaguely reminded Loki of when Frigga would show him and Thor how to make rieska in their youth. He could have sworn that their fingers moved in the same way.
"Then you just estimate the time you leave them on the pan and you've got yourself syrniki," said Natasha, placing the dough patties onto the hot oil. They sputtered in frying delight on the pan and she covered them with a lid. "Tony, have you got any honey?"
"Is it only good with honey?" said Tony.
"Well," said Natasha, wiping down the counters. "I personally think it goes best with honey."
"Lavender-infused, German, eucalyptus, or wildflower?" said Tony, opening his pantry. Loki craned his neck to admire the round jars of richly gold honey on the shelves; they almost looked as if they emitted their own light.
"Again, you are the reason why communism will never work," said Clint.
"I'm going with wildflower," said Tony, pulling out the glass jar of honey. "Here, catch."
He tossed it to Loki, who instinctively caught it with the tips of his fingers. Loki raised the jar to eye level, peering at everyone with honey-colored glasses. Tony's face was horribly distorted behind the thick current of honey and he chuckled silently. Tony pulled funny faces on the other side of the honey jar, contorting his reflection even more until Loki nearly doubled over in mute laughter. He couldn't understand why he found it so hilarious, but it had been so long since he had any reason to smile that the smallest things sent him in a fit of grins.
(Behind him, Loki did not see Thor's eyes shine with emotion. He did not see Natasha hide a smile as she fried the syrniki, nor did he see Clint look away and try to distract himself with cleanup, ridden with uncertainty. He did not see Bruce watch him carefully, almost sadly, as if he understood the dramatic irony Loki was unaware of)
When the syrniki was done, Natasha swiftly distributed one each on a plate like a blackjack dealer, lathering healthy dollops of honey on each. Everyone gave their thanks and devoured the Russian snack, all equipped with a tall glass of milk that Steve insisted on.
Loki watched everyone dig in, suddenly feeling very out of place. It only just occurred to him how he was at this very moment in the same room with the very people that he had tried to ruin years ago, the ones that he threatened and fought, and now they were treating him as if he was more or less their docile prisoner. No handcuffs, no guns pointed to his face, no threat looming over his head. He was startled for a moment when he realized that he had almost forgotten what life was like without being a prisoner.
Or at least, he thought grimly as Odin came to mind, not being aware of it.
"Hey, Loki," said Natasha.
He looked up. Natasha nudged a plate to him. The syrniki was plump and steaming still.
"Waste not want not," she said.
He stared at it. The honey was oozing over the edges.
He could feel Thor's and Bruce's eyes on him.
"We all made it, remember?" said Natasha.
He glanced at her hands, then to her face.
But she was resolute, if not stubborn, so he gingerly took the fork and broke off a small piece of the syrniki. It crackled underneath the fork like autumn leaves, but the inside of was soft and creamy, dyed amber from the honey. He brought it to his lips.
(It's not real.)
(No. It is. And that's okay.)
He took a bite, chewing slowly. The honey coated his tongue and his mouth felt light. Natasha watched him expectantly, tapping her fingers on the side of the honey jar. When he swallowed, she leaned forward.
"Well?" she said.
He took another bite instead of answering, and she laughed.
"Well, what do you know," she said. "The prince of Asgard likes commoners' food."
"This is commoners' cuisine?" said Thor. His syrniki was already reduced to crumbs doused in honey. "I would never have realized."
"Why the hell is everyone in this room so damn rich?" said Clint, helping himself to seconds.
"Don't lie, Barton, you enjoy having rich friends like me," said Tony. "JARVIS tells me you sneak into my Jacuzzi every night."
"Whoa, what have you been asking JARVIS to do for you?"
"Well, JARVIS, is functioning like an angsty and most likely horny teenager because of a certain someone…"
Loki smirked before finishing the rest of the syrniki. Thor looked as if he had stumbled upon great treasure, his eyes positively glowing.
"Would you like another?" said Thor. "There is more on the pan, quite a lot more—" In his flustered excitement he nearly tipped the entire pan of syrniki on to the floor. Steve steadied Thor immediately before the sweets could become casualties. Loki shook his head, pushing his plate into the sink.
Tony managed to convince everyone to proclaim this night as a 'movie night,' which Steve did a relatively questionable job of trying to describe to Thor and Loki what exactly a movie was ("It's like a play, but not. Like, it's a play captured in the same way a painter makes a portrait of a model. You know?"). In the end, everyone curled around the large black screen of fascinating moving pictures portraying the story of war among the stars.
Loki had seated himself right next to them—it was an unconscious decision, something he didn't even think of pondering out beforehand. The moment he found himself between Steve and Bruce, he tensed, realizing exactly what it was that he had done. Who was he to pretend to embrace them like friends, much less acquaintances, and mingle their presences together?
But Steve had turned and smiled at Loki and even Bruce seemed to not mind (there was no sign of the green beast, anyway), so Loki let himself lean back against the couch, relaxed and content to watch the moving picture.
He did not understand the movie very much, and he could not for the life of him figure out where the mortals could find such alien creatures in the Nine Realms for their arts, but for once he found this to be relaxing—relieving—sweet. He thought himself to be happy, and what more, he was happy among them—the ones he was sure hated him.
Hadn't he once been so certain that there wasn't a single person among them that didn't wish him dead?
But now, when he dreamed, he did not hear hisses as he had feared, nor did he see shadows too tangible or monsters too familiar.
He dreamed nothing at all, and he was at peace.
"Guys."
As the credits rolled at the end of the movie, everyone was stretching their cramped limbs and rubbing their eyes. Bruce tried to keep his voice low, even when Thor gave such a satisfied groan as he cracked his back that the coffee table must had vibrated.
"Guys, inside voices," said Bruce.
"What's up, Bruce?" said Clint, stretching his legs.
Bruce nodded toward the floor. Between him and Steve was Loki, curled up against the front of the couch, his head resting on the cushions, fast asleep. His right arm was curled underneath his head as a makeshift pillow, the other draped limply across his body to the floor.
The others quieted immediately, turning to see. Thor offered a smile at the sight of his slumbering brother.
"He hasn't fallen asleep on his own for a long time, has he?" said Thor.
"No," said Bruce. "He hasn't."
"You want to take him back to his room so we don't trip over him?" said Tony.
"He's a very light sleeper," said Thor. "I'm afraid I would wake him, and he must be very tired."
Thor crawled over to drape a throw blanket over Loki. Loki shifted in his sleep, but remained blissfully unaware.
"Are you just going to leave him outside of his room?" said Clint.
"He'll be all right. I'll stay with him," said Thor.
They were silent for a moment, overwhelmed by the wee early hours of the morning. The honey had long crystallized and flaked away from their lips.
"Maybe he's getting better," said Steve. "Not just physically. Maybe emotionally."
But Bruce shook his head, to everyone's surprise.
"It might be an improvement," said Bruce. "But it's not complete. Not even close."
"How do you mean?" said Thor. "Does he not feel safe and content enough to sleep in our presence?"
"Sometimes, when the body's had enough, a person doesn't have a choice to sleep," said Bruce. "I won't deny that he probably feels a little better around us than before, but he's still scared of something. Or ashamed, or scarred, or something."
"What makes you say that?" said Clint.
Bruce bit his lip.
"Isn't it obvious?" said Bruce. "He won't even let himself make a sound when he wants to laugh, of all things."
The silence was telling. The silence was stiff, and the silence mourned.