NOTE - Special thanks to emlichan, dankhanvu, Esha Napoleon, thephoenixandthedragonforever, joy, and moriarty-assbutt for those wonderful reviews on the last two chapters. You always put a huge smile on my face. Joy - you make my day as well. I love posting these stories for you and all the readers out there.
Loki kisses for everyone!
10. Return to Midgard
Loki's face was pale, and his lips tightened as Heimdall left. "It seems you already have a host of champions," he frothed in a throbbing tone that cut the air with its implied danger. "Obviously you have no need of me."
"Aha, I see we are in for your moment of bad temper, as usual – I only expected as much. Please do not break anything too valuable this time." Natasha raised her chin; she refused to be intimidated by his anger.
He cut her off with another bitter retort. "I may not even escort you to the remains of the Bifrost! Instead I must watch you leave me here like a chained goat about to be sacrificed to a dragon…"
"And there you have it - yet another reason for you to guard your behaviour. If you win your freedom, we can walk together outside, explore all of Asgard if we wish. Go hunting, visit the other realms…I told you I wanted no other instructor. You, in this as in everything, are my first choice."
He dropped his hands from her waist to seize her arms in a painful grip. "My behaviour! What part does that play in all this? You are about to leave me - that is the beginning and end of it."
"You are hurting me," she said in a low voice.
Instantly he let go and stepped away. "My apologies, madam."
"I see." She gazed at him for a moment without blinking. "I would normally coax you out of your current mood, but at the moment I haven't got time." Stepping back, she whirled away from him and followed Heimdall to the door.
There she hesitated and looked over one shoulder. Loki dropped his face into one hand; he looked completely alone even in the centre of the crowded, glittering room. Her heart trembled at the sight. Not caring about the throng surrounding them she ran to his side, flung her arms around his neck, and pressed her cheek to his. "I will return the instant I can. You heard Frigga, she gave instructions to Heimdall to – mmmmf!"
Ignoring what else she had to say, Loki seized her and kissed her so passionately she was bent backwards under the force of his lips. Just as suddenly, he released her and pushed her away from him. "There, leave me quickly while I have the strength to bear it."
It was good advice. If she looked at him any longer she would disobey the summons and fly to his rooms instead. With a quick pace, she followed Heimdall out of the palace.
Although Thor and Jane accompanied her to the ruined Bifrost now powered by the Tesseract, Natasha arrived in Midgard alone. Heimdall told her before he sent her out she would appear in the very spot where she was needed most. It was surprising, therefore, to show up not in Nick's office, therefore, but inside her own apartment seated on the couch.
Okay, what the hell? Natasha looked around her in dismay. If Heimdall had ruined her 'Get Laid by Loki Until Falling Into a Coma' plans for the evening simply to hint she needed to vacuum and dust her apartment, she would spend the next bout of target practice on his head.
The laptop sat on the coffee table in front of her. Out of curiosity Natasha flipped it open to check her email; immediately she saw seventeen messages from Clint, ten from Anzhela, as well as an email from the Petrovitch Foundation with the dire title 'For Ms Romanova's Eyes Only – Open at Once'.
She started with the latest one from Clint. Jeez, Nat, he wrote, where the hell are you hiding out these days? Anzhela and I have been going crazy trying to find you. She thinks you hate her, and I think you are doing that subtract yourself from the world thing you always do when stuff gets rough. Please call or at least send me an email…
The others all said just about the same thing. Natasha quickly typed her response: Sorry, Clint. Been away for a few days. Tell Anzhela I don't hate her. My phone is gone, so you'll have to contact me via email for a bit.
The communiqué from the Foundation was much longer and came from the head of the board. The woman outlined a long list of problems at the group, all leading to possible shut-down of the agency. Without a proper CEO or manager, the woman wrote, it is difficult to fully function and thus fulfillment of the charity's goals is impossible; already the situation has compromised the safety of several women in Lithuania…
Natasha swore and prepared to shut her laptop, but a loud ping pronounced another email from Clint. Will you meet me somewhere now? he wrote. And is it okay if Anzhela tags along? I really think the three of us need to talk.
"Damn it to hell and back!" Natasha shouted. She wanted to tell Clint to kiss her ass and throw her laptop out of the window. Something stopped her, however: she suspected she might be acting just like Loki himself in one of his evil moods.
Furthermore, if Heimdall plopped her into the middle of the Clint / Anzhela mess, obviously she had to confront it head on.
Natasha sent Clint another message telling him to bring Anzhela to the park in the morning where she had first met Jane. That would give her time to change out of her Renaissance Faire get-up and grab a few hours sleep, but not enough to chicken out of showing up.
Next she wrote a long response to the Petrovitch board member, apologizing for the late reply and promising to renew her search for a proper CEO. She already had five employment search companies scouting for talent, but none of them had the right candidate. Natasha sighed for Loki's computer skills; she knew he would have a dozen possibilities lined up for her within a few hours. Without his expertise, she would have to stay in Midgard for at a few weeks to get the entire cluster under control. That should go over well, she thought. Please, Mischief, don't destroy too many realms before I get back.
Mulling that problem over, she sent a quick message to Jane with an attached letter for Thor to give to his brother when he returned. Loki, Natasha wrote, I meant what I said to you tonight. My feelings remain the same. Unfortunately, I have a few things to settle here, and the moment it is all under control I will return to you. She added her name and sent it off, hoping he would read between the lines and realize she couldn't send him a more passionate note by way of Jane and Thor.
There seemed to be nothing else for her to do. At a loose end, Natasha found herself digging for her old bottle of vodka in the freezer to down a few shots before she climbed into bed and tried to sleep.
In the park, Clint and Anzhela sat together on the bench where Jane had waited. As Natasha approached, Anzhela jumped up and moved away from the archer, as though she felt guilty for being close to him.
"Hey!" the girl yelled, waving both arms over her head. "Hey! Over here!"
"I see you," Natasha muttered. "And hear you. So does all of Manhattan." She walked up to them and immediately Anzhela launched into a long explanation.
"First, I want you to know this whole thing is totally my fault. Clint is so, so, so, so innocent. You should be PO'ed at me, not him – he tried to stop me from jumping his bones, but would I listen? Nope. No, I would not. Because I'm a dumb, dumb dork. I guess my only excuse is I was so scared at the time, and I just needed someone to hold onto, and blah blah blah. But I'm so sorry I messed up everything between you and me – it was the last thing I meant to do. I had the best intentions of becoming your friend, and…"
Natasha held up one hand to stem the flood of words. "Anzhela," she begged. "Anzhela. Listen to me!"
The girl stopped. "Okay." Clint let loose a chuckle but sobered as soon as Natasha shot him a look.
"I need to say something to Clint first," Natasha insisted. "Buddy, I apologize for how I acted the last time we saw each other. I was out of line, and rude, and off my head. Will you forgive me?"
He laughed, stood up, and held out his arms. "Are you kidding? I deserved every drop of beer in my tidy whities."
Natasha let him give her a bear hug before she faced Anzhela. "I need to say sorry to you as well. You were trying to contact me and create a relationship between us, I guess. And as usual, I had no idea how to do that. As far as the current situation – let's just put it all behind us. There's nothing we can do about it now. What's done is done, right?"
The girl flung her arms around Natasha, still babbling. "Don't make me cry! I don't deserve this. I really wish you would punch me in my face or something."
"Why don't we all just sit down," Natasha suggested. "Let's just talk about your plans. Are you going to have the – you know – the thing?"
"The baby?" Anzhela gave Clint a sideways glance. "Yes. I'll work my butt off to raise the kid. I know I seem pretty scatter-brained, but I do have some smarts when it counts. If only…"
"Anzhela's job is in Philadelphia," Clint interrupted. "I want to stick by her and the kid, be part of the baby's life, but it's hard if I'm working here and she's in another city."
"Your job?" Natasha turned to Anzhela.
"Oh, yeah. I got this really sweet gig at Temple managing all the sports promos, but I have to be onsite. And Clint has to be onsite here, obviously, so it's rough."
"Yeah, so we have to figure it all out," he added. As he sat back and rubbed both hands over his face, Anzhela snuck a glance at him from under her lashes. Natasha intercepted it and realized the girl had real feelings for her partner – her former partner. What right had she to interfere with their lives, especially since she herself was busy falling into bed with the god of mischief?
Feeling like an interloper, she rose to her feet. "I really, really wish you both the best of luck. You've got a good guy there," she added to Anzhela.
Clint blushed and made some embarrassed noises, but Anzhela nodded her head with her usual enthusiasm. "I know, right? He's the best. A lot of dudes would tell me to get lost or just send a couple checks, but …"
"Okay, changing the subject." His face was the color of a Solo cup. "Nat, you sure you gotta go? Can't we buy you breakfast or something?"
"I really have to take care of some business." Natasha was thinking of the Petrovitch Foundation.
"I'm so glad we hashed all this out, though." Anzhela jumped up and wrapped her arms around Natasha to give her a long, close hug. Apparently pregnancy wasn't making her cranky or sapping her energy yet.
Managing to detach herself, Natasha left the park and headed uptown. She thought she might look for a few gifts for Loki to make him happier about their forced situation. But what do you buy a demigod who can conjure up anything he wants? she mused. Sitting for a glamour shot wasn't her style, and slippers or a wallet didn't seem appropriate either.
Just as she was about to give up and head back to her apartment, Natasha passed the kind of second-hand bookstore she loved – one with an old bow window and a cat asleep among the stacks in the sunshine. On an impulse she entered, sniffed the heady fragrance of old parchment and ink, and plunged into the shelves of novels and old comic books.
A few hours later she emerged with a copy of Gods Behaving Badly, a slim volume of edgy poetry by S. Whittaker, and a first edition of The Railway Children. She thought its humor might appeal to Loki, as well as the theme of imprisonment and its effects on others. Certainly the title of the first book would make him laugh, and she wanted to hear his caramel voice read her a few of the poems. Flushed with success she headed home, stopping to pick up a large coffee and a sandwich for a late lunch.
The glow faded as she wondered about her "mission," if one could call it that. What had she accomplished, exactly, besides gift shopping for her mischievous lover? Nick was nowhere to be found. The Petrovitch Foundation was still a mess. She had resolved things somewhat with Clint and Anzhela, but that was hardly worth…
She froze, and a man holding a small child by the hand ran straight into her. "Watch it, lady!" the guy yelled, pulling the kid away from her with a venomous glare.
Natasha gave him the finger absent-mindedly. She had just come up with an idea, one so obvious she wondered why it hadn't occurred to her earlier. If all went well, she could solve her problems and return to Asgard in a day or two at the latest, as long as Fury didn't call her in for a case first, of course.
It also meant she could be back in Loki's bed in less than forty-eight hours. Natasha abandoned the idea of walking home and hailed a cab. "Stark Tower," she told the driver. "I'll double the tip if you can get me there in ten minutes."
