Clint still couldn't believe that Loki, the Loki, the guy responsible for this whole schlep, was now living at his apartment.
The first night had been the worst shock, he'd just put Francis to bed and there the god was, casually in the doorway. It was very unnerving, and Hawkeye did his best to play it off as he did everything, but soon found it just plain downright annoying as he felt the god's eyes on his back.
He stalked into the kitchen, hopefully just enough out of earshot from Francis' room, and turned to Loki his face set in a frown.
"Look. I don't know what you want, or why I'm even putting up with you right now. But hey, SHIELD agents are known for their resilience and ability to adapt to chaotic situations I guess."
Clint really didn't know where he was going with this, and Loki appeared more amused than anything.
"Just, don't follow me around like this. It's bad enough you've got Francis liking you, I really don't want you rubbing it in my face."
"Clinton, I had no idea you were capable of being so paranoid, or jealous for that matter."
"Yeah well, how would you feel if you were in my shoes right now?"
Loki's eyes gleamed with mischief, a smirk playing on his thin lips.
"Why I would be honoured that a god has graced my pathetic mortal presence. I would also offer him food, seeing as he would be staying in my humble abode."
Did Loki just make a joke inside an insult? Okay, this was getting a little too weird for Clint's liking.
"Food. Are you serious?"
"Do I look to be joking Barton?"
Clint blinked, turning around and reaching into the cupboard. He then tossed a bag of hot cheetohs directly at the trickster's face. But of course a god had inhumanely fast reflexes though, and caught it just before it hit its mark.
"Bon appetite, your highness."
Loki said nothing as the mortal brushed past him. He could feel the hostility radiating off his former minion and watched with annoyed eyes as Clint stalked off towards the master bedroom, resisting the urge to punish him for his insolence.
He could understand though, why his being here distressed the mortal so. But that understanding only went so far though. Loki after all, was a god.
i-~~~~~~~~~~~~~******~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~-i
Clint was just slipping into a pair of pajama bottoms when his heightened senses suggested he no longer had privacy along with a new unwanted houseguest. Slowly he turned, fully aware that he lacked a shirt, but at least had some goddamn pants on.
"You know, my door was closed for a reason."
Loki looked around his room with distaste.
"This is where you rest? This is a broom closet Barton."
"Yeah well, you give up space and luxury for an affordable place."
Loki scoffed, his eyes trailing down the archer's bare torso, marvelling at the toned muscles and sun kissed skin. Clint was suddenly very self conscious, and crossed his arms over his chest in an effort to shield himself from those piercing green eyes.
"This is my room."
"Clearly."
Silence hung in the room.
"Meaning, in the most respectful and literal way, get out."
"Tsk. You would treat your guests as such? A guest that happens to also be your god?"
The room dropped a couple degrees in temperature, and Clint shifted restlessly.
"Look. I get it, you want me in your sight at all times so I don't report you. Remember I don't work for SHIELD anymore..."
Loki chuckled.
Oh that's not good, Loki chuckling is never good.
"Barton, you have it entirely backwards. I could care not if you were to report me to anyone. It would in fact amuse me truthfully."
Clint's eyes followed the god warily as he sauntered over and perched on the edge of the bed, running those long fingers of his over the soft plush of the comforter.
"Then... is there any particular reason as to why..."
Realization hit him like an ocean wave upon the sand.
"Hell, fucking, no."
Flustered, and annoyed as all hell, Hawkeye grabbed a pillow and left the room in a hustle.
He was so not in the mood for stupid sex-deprived gods.
Loki smirked, reclining on the mattress with a soft laugh. Mission accomplished.
i-~~~~~~~~~~~~~******~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~-i
Sunlight peaked through the blinds at last, and the trickster rolled away from it, shoving a pillow over his head to block it out. There was nothing he detested more than being awoken from a well needed rest, and this blasted sun was really starting to get on his nerves. He never really had the chance to lie down and rest like this in a long while, and Loki really wanted nothing more in life at the moment then to just remain like this. Halfway between asleep and awake, nicely comfortable, with the scent of Clinton around him-
Wait a moment-
Clint?
Where exactly was-
The god opened his eyes, pupils dilating at the unwanted brightness, and made a quick scan of the room as he sat himself up.
Oh yes. He'd almost forgotten.
He was in Clint's apartment. Where he would remain until such a time as he felt the need to leave.
Loki stretched, shoulders back and arms outstretched, and let out a soft yawn as he swung his feet over the edge of the nest he'd made. (Hawkeye would have quite the adventure putting this bed back together)
Once that was over with, he brushed his sable hair back into its usual flipped state, and got up to walk to the door. Quietly, he pushed it open, and stepped into the living room to investigate.
Clint was sprawled out on the couch, legs a tangled mess in the quilt Loki had seen tucked away under the sofa yesterday. His face was turned away, into the cushion, and one arm hung over the edge and unto the floor. Softly he snored, completely oblivious to Loki's presence for the time being, and shifted only a bit as the god stepped closer.
Loki decided that the archer was still asleep, for however long left, which gave him the perfect opportunity to experiment.
Reaching into the shimmering pool of magic his immortal blood held, Loki drew out the blue link that had once bound Agent Barton to him in servitude. He extended it, painfully slow towards the slumbering human, and kept a calculating eye out for any sort of reaction. In his mind's eye, he could see the remainder of the Chitauri's magic. A swirling clear crystal blue, intertwining in with the dark violet of Clint's aura.
Interesting.
Even after two years, the damage done to the mortal's soul had remained. Then again, Loki had only to look into his own and see the turquoise that had replaced his once acid green magic.
Loki broke the link between them, sighing a bit.
He still had time yet, before the other would wake, as so took a silent seat on the table next to the sofa. Intensely he stared, eyes narrowed and hands twitching to grab and touch and hold. Hands itched to show Barton his proper place in life again, by his side and nowhere else. It infuriated him, the thought that Clint had been happy and content before he'd invaded earth. He was a god, immortal. Surely Loki was more deserving of such a life. He had lived through so much despair and torment, while this insignificant human enjoyed things such as companionship. The freedom to do what he pleased...
The sound of a door creaking snapped Loki from his thoughts, and he glanced away from Clint to see a disheveled looking Francis yawning in the doorway to his room. The boy rubbed at his eyes and made his way over to the couch where his father slept soundly, not even acknowledging Loki's presence in the room. He heaved himself up on the sofa and crawled onto Clint's chest, lying flat and exhaling.
Loki tilted his head, extending his hand and gently moving aside some of Francis' feathery blonde hair.
"Hello child. Have you come to rouse your father?"
"Hungy."
The god nodded in understanding, "I see. Well if that is the case, then I know an excellent way to wake him. Would you like me to demonstrate?"
The wheels of Francis' toddler mind turned, only understanding the words 'I' and 'wake him.' He nodded, and let himself be picked up and placed snugly in the crook of one of the god's long arms. Loki stood, and gently drew aside the quilt that covered Clint. Then. tossing the blanket on the ground, he once again reached inside for his magic, and formed a small sphere of icy water right above his fingertips. Thinking about what was to come next brought a smirk to his lips, and Loki daintily dropped the freezing water directly on Clint's crotch.
Clint immediately sprung up, gasping, goosebumps appearing on his skin while Loki and Francis looked on, innocent as doves.
"W-What the he-He-Hatties?" (Clint was trying to cut back on swearing)
He shot a dark glare up at Loki, already knowing this day was going to be awful. He got a sweet smile and a giggle from Francis in response.
"Hi daddy!"
i-~~~~~~~~~~~~~******~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~-i
Clint did his best to go through his normal day, which mostly consisted of taking care of Francis and worrying about money. He was cleaning up after breakfast when he noticed that his son had really taken a liking to the tall foreboding immortal who had taken residence in the armchair by the door. Loki seemed preoccupied, but always smiled and accepted whatever toy or snack Francis offered him. Clint didn't know if he should be concerned or relieved.
In the back of his mind, a tiny voice whispered that he'd missed Loki, and that Loki still controlled him. That must be the reason he continued to just stand here and do nothing while his son fawned over a wanted criminal.
The rational part of his brain, which like to defend Clint, argued that Loki had done nothing to warrant Clint's alarm or need to take any action against the god. After all, he had sort of believed Thor's story about Loki being controlled by the Chitauri. Clint might not be a doctor, but there was no denying that Loki had been sick those many months ago.
No point in arguing with himself. He'd only act if Loki gave him a reason to.
i-~~~~~~~~~~~~~******~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~-i
Loki did not react as Clint picked up Francis from his lap, and placed the child on the couch nearby. Nor did he say anything as the television screen went black, and Clint inserted a small round thing into the black box underneath the television. He was aware of some Midguardian technology, but not everything, and certainly not whatever it was Hawkeye was doing right now. The magic box started playing the moving pictures again, and Francis squealed with delight.
"Yeah yeah! I know it's your favourite! But can you keep it down sparrow? The neighbors will throw bottles at the wall again."
Clint took a seat on the sofa, and pulled his wiggling son unto his lap, smoothing down his golden hair. Loki blinked, and spoke for the first time directly at Clint.
"What has got him excited so...?"
"It's his favourite movie. Treasure Planet. I'unno why, kids got some weird tastes. Least it's not a sappy princess movie."
Loki furrowed his brow, quieting down and focused on the screen, listening intently to the start of the movie. Clint glanced over for a moment, skeptical, but said nothing. It seemed Loki liked movies. Or at least this one, by how engrossed he'd become in the animated film. Hawkeye had seen this movie more times than he'd like, but seeing how much Francis and Loki enjoyed it, he found himself liking it too. Odd though, as this was. The god did not laugh at the parts Clint and Francis did, but it was clear he was amused, and all too soon the movie came to a close. As Jim looked up into the night sky and saw Sliver's smiling face in the constellations, Clint looked down and saw that Francis had fallen asleep. Thumb in mouth and cheek pressed against his dad's forearm, he did not stir as Clint gently scooped him up. Loki saw the movement from the corner of his eye, and watched as the pair vanished into Francis' room.
It was a wonder, how different Clint had been from the last time they'd met. Becoming a parent really did change a person it seemed. While he could see the obvious change in Clint's behavior and posture, Loki still could sense the underlying hint of defiance, and sassiness. Which was a relief, more than he was willing to admit.
Clint re-entered the room, and did the exact opposite than what he had done with the television and movie. If he noticed the green eyes staring intently at his back, he said nothing.
"So you liked the movie?"
Assuming the movie was the thing on the television they had just watched, Loki replied with, "It was... interesting. Is that fable true? And why is it they look like people, but they are not? Is it a sort of magic...?"
The archer puffed a laugh, and set the DVD back inside with the others, "It's called a movie. Like a story, only people act it out. This kind of movie is animated. Meaning people drew out each picture and coloured it. Then they take a picture of the picture they drew and put it all together really fast. That's how cartoons are made."
Loki looked on intrigued, "What I witnessed was a work of an artist...? I do not think I understand."
Clint scratched his head, thinking on how he would explain it better. An idea came, and he went to find a pencil and a stack of sticky notes. He took a seat on the coffee table across from Loki, and began to scribble on the notepad. Loki watched with feigned disinterest.
When he finished, Clint held up the notepad and drew aside some of the paper, revealing a small circle. As he let each paper drop, the ball seemed to move from side to side and up and down. He let the trickster take the pad from him and do it himself.
"See? That whole movie was like that. Only they can draw much better than me."
Loki flipped the pages, fascinated, green eyes sparkling with wonder. He couldn't remember the last time he'd learned something entirely new. Clint didn't really know what was so exciting about this, but was relatively pleased with himself that he'd shown something completely unknown to the seemingly ancient Loki.
Satisfied now, Loki placed the notepad on the coffee table, matching Clint's grey gaze with his own.
"Thank you Barton... I enjoyed that."
Hawkeye looked a bit uncomfortable, wanting to excuse himself, but... not doing so.
"Anytime."