The theme song for this chapter is "Feel" by Matchbox Twenty.
This chapter earns the Mature rating, and it's pretty dark. Just so you know.
Chapter 64: Desperate Measures
Loki and Natasha strolled down the busy city street, holding hands. A few weeks ago, Natasha would have found this part of the ruse uncomfortable, but now it felt natural. They chatted as they walked.
"I'm not saying we can't do anything of that sort, I just don't like the head games, ok?" Natasha smiled, it felt good to finally speak openly about it.
Loki's eyes swept the surrounding crowd, but they were all lost in their own lives and not listening. "Are you sure Barton doesn't have the radio on?" he asked.
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, he won't turn it on until you signal him. And anyway, if he's eavesdropping then it's his own fault if he hears something he doesn't like."
He smiled a little at that. "Alright, then. I promise not to tease you anymore," he murmured low next to her ear. Her hand tightened around his, and he suddenly pulled her into an alleyway. She recognized the shift in attitude and played along.
"Where are we going?" she giggled, putting just a hint of nervousness into the shallow sound.
"You'll see," he promised.
She followed him around a few corners. Out on the main streets, the evening had been alight with marquees and LED screens, here, it was nearly dark, with only a dim light coming from the sliver of azure sky that showed between the canyon of buildings. Satisfied that they were far enough away from the crowds, Loki pressed her up against a rough brick wall and crushed his mouth against hers.
"Hey," she gasped, when he moved to kiss her neck. "Knock it off," she joked, but now her voice was more serious.
"Oh, do shut up," Loki quipped irritably. "You can pull the school girl routine all you like, but I know what you really want," he growled into her hair.
"Luke, seriously. Stop," she pushed against his chest ineffectively.
"I said shut up," he said through clenched teeth, and shoved a hand up her shirt, thrusting his hips into hers roughly.
"N-no, wait," she pretended to resist him a little more forcefully, but her gasp at the feel of him, at the hard force of his thrusts even through the layers of clothing, was genuine. "You really are enjoying this, aren't you?" she breathed, remembering Thor's warning and carefully controlling her voice so it didn't betray her alarm.
Loki's eyes fluttered shut and he made a sound in low in his throat, almost a growl. "Yes," he hissed in her ear. "Now be a good girl and call for help before I make this ruse a reality." To emphasize his point, he slid his hand down the scarce gap between her skin and her jeans, running a finger along the lace edge of her panties.
"Help!" she shouted, before she lost her nerve. "Somebody help m-"
Her words were cut off as Loki clamped his hand over her mouth, all but silencing her. His other hand quickly undid the fly of her jeans, slipping a few fingers inside to stroke her most sensitive spot. Natasha's muffled cries quickly became muffled moans, and Loki chuckled, feeling the shift in the air as the spell was activated.
"Keep up the act, darling," he scolded her gently. "We're going to have an audience soon."
Closing her eyes, Natasha struggled to remember things she usually chose to forget. What it really felt like when someone unwanted touched you there. A face swam up from memory, her dance instructor from the Red Room, his overlarge and greedy hands squeezing her small, sensitive, new breasts. It was enough.
She bit Loki's hand-although not very hard-and he cursed, pulling it away. "Stop!" she shouted, and tried to shift herself so she could get a leg between his, but he had her pinned securely against the wall, the rough bricks scraping her back through her clothes.
"Shut your mouth, Natalie, or so help me I will shut it for you," Loki said, raising a threatening hand.
Before it could fly, his wrist was caught by another hand, strong and masculine.
"Didn't you hear the lady?" the perfectly polished voice said, and Loki turned to see the face that matched it, handsome, blonde, and impossibly close to the ideal. "She said No."
Definitely glamour, Loki thought, just before the man smacked him hard across the face with his walking stick. Although he could have easily dodged it, he chose to take the hit and sell it, flying back with the force of it.
"Ohmigod, Luke!" Natasha put her hands over her mouth, carrying the act easily. That looked like it really hurt.
"He's not worth your concern, ma'am," her would-be rescuer said sincerely.
Natasha stared openly at him, and used this opportunity to study her quarry. He wore a full tuxedo and carried a fancy walking stick. Who dresses like that to go walking? she thought, struggling not to smile. Loki was right-this guy was definitely a fake. "Thank you," she said in a shaky voice, turning away from him a moment to shakily zip her fly back up.
"You bitch!" Loki spat, peeling himself off the gravel of the alleyway.
The blond man stepped forward between Loki and Natasha, brandishing his walking stick. "Leave, before I call the police," he threatened.
"Fuck you," Loki stood up, looked between the two of them, as if assessing the situation. "Fucking hell," he muttered, and quickly backed out of the alley, turning to run.
Once he was gone, the imposter turned and smiled at Natasha, who still appeared to be in shock.
"Thank you," she said again, because it looked like that's what he wanted her to say. She leaned against the wall, catching her breath and starting to tremble.
"You are welcome," he said benevolently, and gave a little bow. "My name is Trent Ashburn," he announced.
Even if she hadn't already known it was a fake name, she could have told from the care and pride in his voice when he said it. "Natalie Rushman," she replied, much more convincingly. "Oh god. Luke, he-" she turned on the waterworks, as easy as flipping a switch after all these years.
"Shh, it's ok," Trent closed the distance between them and enfolded her in an awkward hug. "May I offer you a ride home?" he suggested.
Natasha sniffed and nodded. "I live in Queens," she said absently.
He stepped back and offered her his arm, which she took with a shaky laugh. "You're such a gentleman," she observed.
Trent smiled and led her out to the main street, where an impressive black town car already waited. "We do exist, I assure you. Please do not take the actions of that ruffian as a representation of all my sex."
Natasha wiped the tears off her face and got into the car, sliding along the supple leather seats. Inwardly, she assessed his strange way of speaking. It was unlike the way Thor or Loki spoke, where the complex words and patterns of speech tumbled out effortlessly. Rather, it sounded very put-on, and reminded her of kids who played fantasy-based role playing games.
He got into the car after her and shut the door. "Queens," he told the driver, turning to her.
She rattled off the address for one of the SHIELD safe houses not currently in use. The driver nodded, and then the dark glass partition slid up to give them privacy. As the car pulled out into traffic, she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, doing a fair imitation of shock.
"Here," Trent leaned forward and opened a compartment to show a well-stocked crystal bar. He pulled out a glass and a bottle, put some ice in the glass, and poured several fingers of dark amber liquid. "This will steady your nerves," he held it out to her.
Really? Natasha thought as she took it with shaking hands. Do they really fall for something so obvious? "I don't usually drink," she said warily.
"It's alright. You'll be home soon," he smiled, and there was something not quite right about it.
This guy is seriously creepy, she thought, and looked down into the drink. It's probably drugged, which won't work on me. Oh well, I guess I can pretend to be knocked out. She took a delicate sip, and coughed meekly at the strong peat whiskey.
"It's easier if you drink it all at once," he suggested.
"Ok," she said uncertainly, and downed the whole glass. Trent looked suitably impressed, but watched her carefully.
It must kick in quickly, she thought, and then frowned as a wave of dizziness washed over her. As the interior of the cabin started to spin, she belatedly remembered Clint's objection at the meeting.
Natasha, this is magic we're talking about. You might be invulnerable to poison and drugs, but...
"Oh, shit," she mumbled as the world went black.
A few blocks away, Loki hopped into the jeep that Clint was driving, having activated the beacon for him to be picked up.
"They're in a black town car," Loki said quickly, and rattled off the license plate.
"I see it," Clint agreed, and maneuvered his way through traffic so he could follow at a good distance. With the other hand, he was fiddling with the radio that Tony had provided.
"Anything?" Loki asked.
Clint scowled. "They chatted for a bit, but now she's gone quiet. Sounded like he offered her a drink."
Loki raised his eyebrows. "You think he drugged her?"
If possible, Clint's scowl deepened. "Tasha is usually immune to that sort of thing, so she could be faking it."
Loki cursed. He hoped she had faked drinking it, too. Who knew what sort of potion this man could have given her? He rubbed his sore jaw, and matched Clint scowl for scowl. "Just follow them."
"Hey, I'm the commanding officer here," Clint jabbed.
Loki looked at him sidelong. "Remind me again why I have to take orders from you?"
"Because as far as espionage goes, you're still a total noob. And," here Clint grinned, "because payback's a bitch."
Loki sighed. This was going to be a very long stakeout.
A/N: This chapter was surprisingly hard to write, which is weird because I was really looking forward to writing it. It was difficult to make clear what was the ruse and what was genuine, especially since the lines are a little blurred. I hope it came out clearly enough.
As always, thanks for your reviews, and I'll see you on Wednesday for Chapter 65: Hocus Pocus.
