I don't own Loki or the Avengers. The song for this chapter is "Inside Out" by Eve 6. Bit of a warning for foul language on this one—for some reason I just imagine Barton as a very cussy man.
Chapter 28: Confrontation
Loki waited, as silently as he could, for the archer to round the corner. He had spent much time-with the help of Jarvis—studying his quarry's movements. Barton was very much a creature of habit. Every day he would go down to the cafeteria, grab his evening meal, and take it off to some hidden corner to eat alone.
This was the only time of day when Barton could not be found with some kind of weapon in hand. Natasha told him that people had complained about him walking into the cafeteria fully armed, and so he made the effort to appear less threatening. Granted, he likely had as many tricks up his sleeve as she did, but Loki only needed a moment.
There! Loki could hear his footsteps, careless in an intentional sort of way—he didn't like to spook people, apparently—coming down the hallway. He came around the corner, and Loki shot out a hand, placing it on his chest and grabbing hold of his vest.
Clint reacted quickly, going for a knife, and paused at the last possible moment. "Jesus, Loki! What the fuck?" He was too surprised to be angry.
"Hello to you, too," Loki said flippantly. "We need to talk."
Clint rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever." He turned to leave, but Loki still had a firm grip on his vest. He glared at the offending hand, then up at Loki. "Let go." Now he was angry.
"No." Loki said simply. "If I let go, you will leave. As I said, we need to speak."
Clint took a moment to assess the situation. Loki was, for all intents and purposes, a SHIELD agent. He could probably get away if he shoved the knife in his eye, but then there would so much paperwork... Loki wasn't worth that. "Why?" He ground out.
"If we are to work together, we need to have an understanding. Now, I don't care if you trust me, and I sure as Hel don't care if you like me. I don't like you either. But I respect you, and—"
Clint exploded. "You respect me? That's rich, coming from the guy who made me his remote-control bitch for a week."
"Look at me," Loki said quietly.
He ignored him. "I mean really, where do you get off? What makes you think you can just waltz in here—"
"Look. At. Me," he said louder.
"—and just pretend that nothing happened, and hit on my best girl, and—"
"LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM SPEAKING TO YOU BARTON!" Loki shouted, shaking him hard.
Clint silenced, suddenly aware that the man he was dealing with was much, much stronger than him. Reluctantly, he looked Loki in the eye.
"Good. Now, what color are my eyes?" Loki asked seriously.
Clint gave him his best what-the-fuck look.
"What color, are my eyes?" he growled, pained that he even had to bring this up.
"I dunno, green?" Clint was still confused.
"Correct. And when you were my 'remote-control bitch' as you so eloquently put it, what color were they then?" Loki sounded like he was explaining this to a small child.
Clint blinked, thinking. He still had nightmares about Loki, whispering in his ear to kill Fury, Coulson... Natasha. His own face in a mirror, distorted and discolored, his eyes a strange, electric blue. Loki's eyes, boring into his soul, those creepy goddamn ice-blue eyes...
"Oh, Fuck," Clint said softly.
Loki released him. "Couldn't have said it better myself."
The archer stood stock-still as the realization washed over him. "Who was controlling you—us?"
He shook his head. "I know very little about him, but the chain does not end there. He had a master as well."
"Damn." Clint turned, staring out the window. "Look, man, if you want us to trust you, why don't you just tell everybody?"
Loki came to stand next to him, gazing out at the busy city. The sun was sinking behind the tall, glittering buildings, lighting up the sky with a vivid red-orange. "I didn't know, until recently."
Clint stole a glance at the deposed god beside him. "You thought you were in control."
Loki let out a shuddering breath. "Yes. It wasn't the same as you, no spear to my chest, no fighting every inch of the way. You under possession look like a saint next to me."
He snorted. "That doesn't take much."
Loki smiled. "Precisely. I don't want their pity, and I do not wish to pass the blame. I was seduced by the tesseract. It took control, but I went willingly, with arms wide open. By the time I realized the full implications of the plan, my pride and insecurity would not allow me to deviate from the path I had chosen. I would not be hanged by halves."
Clint nodded. "I hate it too. The way they just dismiss it all as your work. They won't tell me how many I killed."
Loki looked back at the city, and for a moment felt the same weight of responsibility that She embraced so fully. "I'm not sure the damage I have done can even be calculated. But I'm sure you can understand my desire to at least try to balance my ledger."
They looked at each other, and Clint smiled a little. "She's something else, isn't she?"
Loki returned the smile, adding a bit of a leer to it. "That she is."
Barton frowned. "You don't deserve her."
"No, I don't," he agreed quietly, surprising Clint. "But if we can't work together, it could get her killed. And we can't have that."
Clint sighed. "Alright, asshole. I've seen the vids. You can fight. I'll watch your back. But you step one inch out of line, and you'll find an arrow in it."
Loki nodded. "I would expect no less." And with that, he left.
Loki had plenty of time to prepare for the mission in Poland. The serial killers had a pattern, striking early each month. It was likely that they pooled their end-of-the month paycheck to pay for the unsuspecting girl. This meant that they would not try again until just after Femme Loki's week at the helm.
Poker night was an interesting experience. Thor seemed the most relaxed, happy that Loki was integrating well. For his part, Loki was careful not to take advantage of the other players. He made a fairly tidy sum, and then won and lost in roughly equal measures. Tony, who also carefully controlled how much money he won and lost—usually with an intentional net loss—noticed, and gave him a little reluctant respect for it.
Between training sessions with Natasha and sometimes, grudgingly, Clint, Loki found a little time to speak with Thor.
"Is SHIELD still offering Miss Foster a position here in New York?" he asked.
Thor gave him a wary look. "She has turned them down, but I believe Fury said that the offer was 'still on the table.' Why?"
"She should take it," Loki suggested. "It's a good job, and you would be able to see more of each other."
Thor continued to stare at him suspiciously.
"What? Why does everyone assume I wish to do her harm?" he demanded.
Thor shifted uncomfortably. "Well, the first person you went after when you arrived here was Selvig, and—"
Loki rolled his eyes. "Selvig was working with the Tesseract. Did I maybe encourage him to do so? Yes. Was I maybe tickled at the chance to jerk your chain? Yes. But these were all secondary benefits to a much larger plan."
Thor frowned. "When we fought, in Asgard, you said... You threatened..."
"Ah yes," Loki said, remembering. "To pay her a visit myself." He shrugged and sat down on the couch next to Thor. "I meant nothing by it. I was upset. Jealous, a little, although of whom I am not sure. I never meant to follow through, I said it only to anger you."
Thor chuckled a little. "Well, it worked."
Loki laughed too. "In all seriousness, though, I mean her no harm. As far as I am concerned, she is an ally."
Thor furrowed his brows. "Against?"
He looked away, scowling. "Her," he said darkly.
One day, while taking a break during training, Natasha asked him about it.
"Why do you suppose she's fallen in love with Thor anyway?" she mused.
He scoffed. "She's not in love with him, She's infatuated. Which is worse."
She looked at him with one eyebrow raised.
"If she were in love, it wouldn't be half so bad. I could write her a letter, exposing all of Thor's flaws and worst attributes, painting a picture of how insufferable he would be."
"You would lie to her?"
He laughed. "Why lie when the truth does a better job? No, love is a lie. A lie to yourself, ignoring all the unpleasant things about the other person. To each other, pretending that there is some sort of mystical connection between you that will outlast any catastrophe." He spat out the words bitterly.
Natasha was surprised, although she quite agreed with him. "You seem to speak from experience," she guessed.
He glanced at her, sobered. "Experience is something I have in droves," he admitted, "Although very little on the subject of love. Infatuation, though," he smiled a little. "With that, I've had experiences even you can't imagine," he joked.
She rather doubted that. "How is it different?"
He shrugged. "It's a baser thing, a thing of instinct. It knows little of reason. Fortunately, once the thirst is slaked it usually abates."
"Well let's hope that doesn't happen," she joked.
Loki shuddered. "Indeed."
When Femme Loki returned, she found a lengthy note from Him, explaining the mission to Poland in detail. It also included a drawing, designs for a concealable naginata. She went straight to Natasha.
"Is this for real?" she asked, holding up the note as soon as Natasha answered the door.
She glanced at it, and nodded.
"You're seriously letting Him come on a mission with you?" she said incredulously.
Natasha folded her arms. "Sure. Do you want to pretend to be my pimp and then chase a car all over town on foot?"
Loki looked a little placated. "Still. You're letting Him carry a concealed weapon?"
She sighed and gestured for her to come into the apartment. "Loki, he is a concealed weapon. At least around water anyway. And so are you," Natasha pointed out.
She thought about that, biting her lip. "So what? You have no choice but to trust us?"
"Pretty much," Natasha agreed. "But you haven't given us any reason not to, and he seems to be playing along, at least." She took the note, studying the design, which she didn't quite understand. "What do you need to make this?"
Loki laughed a little, feeling the way her body buzzed with the extra magical energy she got from Him. "Nothing, at the moment." She held out her hands, frowned in concentration, and a black walking stick appeared above them. She caught it, and gave it a twirl. It had a large stainless steel ball-bearing at the head, and the body had faint swirls of matte and glossy lacquer.
"Nice pimp cane," Natasha commented sarcastically.
Loki grinned. "It does tricks, too." She twirled it again, and slammed the ball-bearing end on Natasha's kitchen floor. The ball popped into the body of the cane, triggering a spring-loaded device which shot a second half out the other end, complete with a thin blade at the end. "Tada! Concealable naginata."
Natasha was duly impressed. "That's... cool," she admitted.
Loki nodded. "Not too bad if I do say so myself." She gave the two halves a twist, and when she let go the smaller half shot back into the cane, pushing the ball-bearing back out.
Natasha chose not to comment on the fact that she had just taken credit for 'His' work. It was probably a good sign, anyway.
A/N: I have the worst time writing confrontations between Loki and Clint, I'm working on another one right now. Hopefully you guys like how it went—it's tricky to find that balance between them where they're willing to work together but still kind of hate each other.
I am SUPER excited about the next chapter—it's one of my favorites! Stay tuned for "The Polish Job" on Wednesday.
Oh yes, and reviews are the best thing ever.
