Finkle
Loki still had trouble sleeping—or at least getting to the level needed to contact Cynara. After talking with him and his brother, I developed a theory that the Ice Giants and Asgardians had the ability to use astral projection, and that Odinsleep was a probably a part of that. Whoever had grabbed Cynara had used some sort of anti-sleep agent on Loki, though, and neither I nor Doctor Agrino could figure out what it was, although it seemed to be wearing off, gradually.
It wasn't fun being around him. Not that he was mean all the time, no. Loki brooded. It was like having a tall green Heathcliff pacing around, all gaunt cheekbones and sulks, getting more dangerous by the minute. Thor and I were in some untouchable category, but I didn't like the idea that the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, particularly Phil, were vulnerable.
Still, some of our best soporifics were working a bit, and Loki was dipping into REM for a few minutes at a time a week later. I took notes and saved test results, building a file on him that I hoped would help.
And I was worried about Cynara too, but I wasn't going to stress out over what I couldn't change for the moment and put some faith in that we'd all find her eventually. It's weird how just being around people like Fury and Thor can do a lot to build a sense of confidence.
Sneaking around is not really my style. However, I have to admit that it was a lot of fun. Practically the only fun up here in Saskatchewan in fact. A couple of weeks after Nick had left I received instructions to show up at La Ronge Hotel by ten AM for a 'debriefing' to be held in one of the suites overlooking the lake.
Stepping through a door and being pounced on by the head of S.H.I.E.L.D. never gets old, and we didn't come up for air for about fifteen minutes. When I did, I tried to chide Nick about using taxpayer's money for personal reasons but he assured me it was all on his own dime and was I going to waste time talking or was there a bed that needed two bodies on it, pronto?
And then the devious bastard had the audacity to spend the next two hours in the longest, slowest screw I've never had. Drove me out of my mind to be taken to the edge over and over like that, but my spluttering threats must have finally worked because by the time he decided to finish things off I was raking gouges in his muscled ass.
And he laughed, the gorgeous schmuck. Honestly, if Nick Fury wasn't so damned good in bed I probably would have yelled at him but by that point I was too exhausted and blissed out, so I had to settle for making him sleep on the wet spot again. Not that he ever seemed to care, so I asked him about it.
"I've slept on a lotta other fluids in my years, Jo-seph-ine, and at least semen means I had a good time," he assured me. "Washes off, no harm done."
We slept for a while, and when I woke up he was watching me, looking unusually thoughtful. That scared me, for a lot of reasons. I was getting to know Nick pretty well, but under all the Nick I already knew and even under the Nick was going to get to know was a core that I'd never be able to reach. Part of it had to do with his age; he'd been through a lot of life I hadn't, of course. And part of it had to do with what he did, which was to make the kinds of decisions nobody should have to make.
And Nick had to make them over and over all the time.
I thought being a doctor was hard. Yes I've had to deal with life or death decisions, but they're not an everyday occurrence for me, not even up on the helicarrier. Nick on the other hand, has to cope with so much responsibility that I'm surprised he's still sane.
So I reached up to touch his face. "You okay? Sorry about your ass . . ."
That got a little smile. "It did seem like you were going all Champawat back there. Might have to do a lot of standing once I get out of here."
"Well if someone wasn't taking his time in the slow lane . . ."
"Hush your mouth, woman; you loved it," he murmured indulgently, but his expression was still serious.
"I am pleading the Fifth on that," I sighed. "What's bothering you? Is it Cynara?"
He looked like he wasn't going to answer, but then he sighed. "Partially that. The longer she's missing the worse things look. Thor's got some of the folks in Asgard looking too, but space is one big damn nothing for the most part. Officially I can't request help beyond S.H.I.E.L.D. resources unless and until there's a threat to the planet."
"Not good," I ventured, running a hand over his chest, because I get distracted easily, "and the other part?"
I could see him hesitate again, but instead of speaking, he reached out and splayed one big hand on my hip, fingers wide. "Nothing."
It was the tone that got to me; I had a pretty good idea of what was going on through his head so I laid my hand over his and squeezed. "I missed you too, sweetheart. It's okay-I know sentiment isn't your style."
For that I got a skeptical look, and he pulled me up against him, tucking me against his side, good and close. "You want the whole hearts and flowers thing? Boxes of chocolates and motherfucking poetry?"
I laughed. "If you ever write me poetry, Colonel Fury, I'll do anything you want."
That was a mistake, of course, because when I looked at him he was grinning again, and in a way that had my toes curling and my stomach clenching. "Nick-" I tried, but he shook his head to cut me off.
"Oh you are in a world of trouble now, Josie. Not only can I write poetry like Pablo fucking Neruda, but I've also been considering an entire repertoire of filthy and deviant acts we need to try."
He was teasing of course. He had to be, right? I mean when you look at a six foot plus warrior with an eye-patch and a goatee, the first thing that springs to mind is generally not 'poet.' "You're serious?"
"As a heart attack. I minored in English Lit half a century ago on my G.I Bill. Back before Robert Frost was Poet Laureate," Fury informed me. "When Maya Angelou was living in Ghana and hadn't even written I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings yet."
"Geez, what did you major in?" I had to know as I tried to picture what he must have looked like in the early sixties.
Fury snorted. "International Economics."
Fury
It was a little scary how quickly Finkle was picking up on my moods. I know as a doctor she's adept at body language and non-verbal cues, but at the same time, my job is to be unreadable, so if my defenses were down, this wasn't good.
But on top of that, it was. I trust—truly trust- only a handful of people on the planet, and Finkle was now moving into that exclusive group. She was also smart enough to know I was changing the subject and letting me do it, so that made her tactful and compassionate as well. More and more this woman was getting to me, and I wasn't sure if I should let it continue.
I mean, by the rules she'd set down, Finkle and I were only going to be together for a few months more—probably fewer if things went bad with Special Technician Sigyn-Laufeyson. Now I'm a grown man and I understand the hard realities of the world. I've fucking lived through the hard realities of the world for decades, and I can tell you that as you get older, you appreciate the comforts a lot more. A whole lot more.
Not just the sex, although that was getting addictive. No, there were the texts and discussions and general time together when I didn't have to be a badass motherfucker keeping my one good eye scanning for trouble. Around her I could be less of a warrior and more of a man.
In a lot of ways.
So now it was up to me to . . . change the rules. Not like I didn't have experience with doing that. If you balanced out the majority of my decisions, it probably weighs more on the side of me taking the initiative over what I've been told to do, which is fine by me.
In this case, it was personal. Choosing to shake things up between us wasn't going to change any world politics as far as I could tell. The big risk would be how she would take it, and how I would deal with things if it all went bad.
And That did not bear thinking about, not while I was lying there with Finkle with my hands all over her sweet ass. She was gorgeous, hair all tangled and over her shoulders, pink-faced and full of sass.
"You really like my butt?"
"Like you have to ask?"
"You could . . ." and then she blushes. All over, because I can see it. "Um, like it a lot more, you know."
Not gonna lie; not only did I know exactly what she was talking about, but the thought of it definitely put some rebar into my personal infrastructure.
I didn't want to give away my enthusiasm though, so I gave her a gruff look. "Is that so?"
"Not right this minute!" Finkle warned me. "I'm going to need a hot bath and a reasonable amount of alcohol first. I'm not exactly an expert at . . . it, and you're not exactly small, Nick."
"True." I was trying not to gloat but not having a lot of success with that. "So, you're seriously offering a booty call?"
"Down the road, yes," she admitted. "Not something to be rushed, but the offer's on the table. Or bed, in this case."
"And is this something you want as well, right? Not just suggesting it to please me?"
"Nick Fury, since when have I ever done anything just to please you?"
Yeah, that was more like the Finkle I knew . . .
And loved.
Shit.
Before I could say anything stupid and have that luscious offer rescinded I rolled her over and went for the 'take no prisoners' zone on her neck. She squealed and tried to retaliate, which made things a lot more fun.
"Want me to write a sonnet about dat ass?" I asked her, just to hear her laugh.
"What—Shall I Compare Your Butt to a Summer's Day?" she snickered. "I don't think Shakespeare was into big round thangs, Colonel."
"Literature's loss, my personal gain. I'm good with it, hear?"
Whatever else Finkle might have said got lost because both of our cell phones went off at the same time. She looked confused, but I knew damned well what THAT meant, and I picked up mine first, shaking my head so she knew not to pick up hers yet. "Fury here."
Knew it would be Coulson, and I knew it would be damned important.
"Loki's gone, sir. He managed about ten minutes of REM and then took off. Said he knew where Sigyn-Laufeyson was."
"I will be there in fifteen minutes. Have surveillance footage ready for review and move everyone into the underground rooms. Make sure Hill is on stand-by."
"Yes sir. We're trying to reach Doctor Finkle as well."
I could hear it in his tone and winced a little. Phil had said he didn't hold a grudge; that he could replace the blood-smeared ones, but the guilt was still there and he knew just how to use just a splinter of it in the right place.
"Fury out," I grumbled, just to let him know that I knew he knew.
I gave my girl the nod and she picked up. "Hello? What? Yes, okay, okay, I'll duck out and get back," she murmured as I headed to the can for the quickest shower on the planet.
Made sense for Josie to get there first so I gave her a twenty minute head start, and checked in with Hill in the meantime. Summer was coming and the late afternoon sun made the drive towards the outpost a bitch. As I drove, I hoped like hell that Loki at least had the advantage of surprise on whoever the son of a bitch was who'd grabbed Special Technician Sigyn-Laufeyson; at the very least whoever it was had made a damned big mistake.
I also spent some time thinking about iambic pentameter, and exactly how I was going to pull off an ode to my baby's glorious tuchus.
