Finding something to wear had never been this hard.

The invitation to the party said semiformal,but the semi part was tricky. It opened up too many possibilities for the night. The boys had it easy. All white, shirtsleeves, a jacket and collar, no tie, long coats, or really nice sweaters. For her though, along with other women that were attending the party, the definition of semi exploded with different possibilities and options. It always did for New York parties. Especially ones that were made for the Avengers.

Natasha preferred formal, black tie or white tie, even if the clothes were less comfortable and it took quite some time for everyone to get drunk, at least getting dressed wasn't hard.

Her eyes drifted over her open closet, tongue clucking against the roof of her mouth as she quietly muttered in Russian.

"Semiformal, semiformal."

Do you require assistance, agent Romanoff? The room asked.

Natasha eased herself to the corner of her bed and glanced at the ceiling for only a moment. It was stupid, getting all worked up over a simple word. "Is semi even a word?" The agent asked herself, a dainty hand rubbing her face as the room seemed to spin.

If you add formal it will. The AI must have thought it was clever.

Last night, she and the Avengers had gotten the invitation. Truthfully, Natasha would have rather been in the workout room then going to some fancy party tonight, one where people would dart around her like nervous water bugs. She sighed and looked at the half closed window of her room that overlooked all of New York, thanks to Tony who had given her the room with one of the best views. The fireworks exploding behind the window made it glow like some kind of schizoid stained glass that would flicker to new colors every second.

"Hey."

"Clint," Natasha sat up as he cracked the door open.

The male agent smirked, his eyes shimmering a metallic blue, reflecting the fireworks like tiny mirrors, and something behind them made her feel safe. Not like she'd need any help being protected. The Black Widow could easily take care of herself.

"You seem stressed, and tired."

Natasha looked at her open closet. Clothes of different fabrics and colors were sprawled everywhere that made her want to twitch. It was a habit; she liked to have everything in place.

"I'm fine."

"What are you doing?"

"Getting ready for that stupid party."

Clint cocked his head. "Wait, what? Didn't Tony tell you?"

"…Tell me what?"

"The party, it was cancelled," Clint recoiled back at her narrowed eyes. His lips pursed themselves together as if he was holding back that all familiar smirk. "Oh, he didn't tell you. The guy is probably busy with Bruce in the lab."

Natasha was already kicking her clothes back into the closet. Quiet curses of Russian filled the air. The nerve of Tony Stark. Could he have not just walked to her room and politely inform her about the cancelled party? Or at least have Jarvis tell her?! How hard could that be?! The booming sounds of fireworks were almost as loud as the ringing in her ears. Almost as loud as the thunder. Huh, thunder… She looked over at the window, Clint following suit. Sure enough, a bright white line of lighting was struck behind the fireworks. Another streak appeared, this one more crooked and jagged like half of a man's tooth.

Mr. Odinson has arrived.

"What a coincidence! I think Steve just bought some poptarts," Clint's voiced floated out of the room.

Usually Thor would go see Jane Foster first when arriving in Midgard. She hadn't had a full conversation with the scientist yet. From what she knew, Jane was a petite, smart and pretty woman. Though, Natasha couldn't really see the two as a couple. They probably balanced each other out. Jane didn't seem like the kind of girl who liked a parade when arriving somewhere. Or the kind of person with a voice as loud as thunder. But, as they say, positives attract negatives. Exiting her room, the agent couldn't help but inwardly smile at the saying. It was true. How else could the Avengers come together? How else could they be a team? All so different, yet connecting and being able to live in the same house.

…Barely being able to live in the same house.

Thor had broken more microwaves than she could count, Tony had triggered Bruce into letting out the 'other guy', and a few weeks ago Steve and Clint were sparring, leading to the archer having to deal with a broken arm. Natasha would never be able to forget the way Captain America followed Clint around, asking if he needed anything, following any command and always having the forlorn puppy dog guilt look.

Mr. Odinson has a guest.

She frowned, opening her mouth to ask Jarvis who, but rounded the corner and bumped into Clint's stiff form. Ready to push the clumsy agent, she stopped herself, eyes widening at who stood in the living room. It took a lot to break and crack her stone cold expression. She was always prepared for the worst, the best, and the surprising. But, this time, Natasha wasn't at all prepared.

Vibrant colors of fireworks reflected of the glass door, dancing along two figures in the center of the room, making them look like a TV screen. It was Thor, tall, baring his usually dark red cape that swept to the floor. His blond hair looked slightly longer and small braids tumbled out from behind his ears. His blue eyes were rimmed with red as if he had gotten no sleep and deeply set, eyelashes brushing against his skin. Natasha was used to seeing the Norse God happy. Even in battle, he was like Steve, hopeful and joyful, especially when pop tarts were present. But now he was hardly recognizable. Those hundreds of years he had been alive seemed to have caught up with him. The wrinkles around his cheeks from smiling were dark and his forehead was crinkling in concern.

Next to him was Loki. Loki, the God who had stormed into their planet with an army.

She remembered Loki as the tall stone statue. Golden plates of armor were planted along his body with green fabric in the gaps where his joints moved. A golden helmet with extravagant horns that curled at the ends, sharp enough to pierce through skin. She remembered that smile. The smile that would stretch all the way across his mouth, showing off perfect white teeth. His bony long piano hands that'd curl around a scepter. Natasha had nightmares about him stabbing that scepter through her chest, letting her scarlet red blood fall to the floor, along with her ledger that exploded, painting streets with its ink. God knows what type of nightmares Clint had about this man- No, this monster.

Except, this was an entirely different Loki than she remembered, not a God. This Loki had one arm draped across Thor as his feet were tangled in a heap, legs so thin they might have snapped holding his quivering frame up. He was skinnier, much skinnier. His ribs thrusted from his sides while his pelvic bones and elbows looked as sharp as needles. The Tricksters head was lolled against Thor's shoulder, and under his cropped black hair that stuck to his face from a shining sheet of sweat, she could make out the deathly pale hue of his face. It was as white as paper, maybe as white as the lighting that struck outside. Arrow heads looked to have been under his skin and made his cheeks bones look pointy enough to cut through glass. Dry, cracked, and pale lips hung open, his old 'perfect' white teeth now stained in red velvet blood, like his tongue. His collar bone sharply protruded from his chest and thin yet deep knives marks were littered across his neck. Mixing in with the sweat was blood. The Black Widow couldn't tell if it was from the wounds on his neck or someone else's blood, she just knew there was a lot.

"Friends," Thor's voice shook as much as Loki's unconscious body, "I need help."