Even with her sunglasses on, Natasha still needed to shield her eyes from the sun's glare off the dark blue water. The submarine bobbed on the Atlantic's choppy surface, and she quickly checked her watch: two minutes to go. She liked to think Thor would be punctual like Steve. After all, they were both soldiers—of sorts, anyway—and time was usually a fairly important factor in day-to-day routines. Still, there was no telling if anyone was held up anywhere. From what she understood, Thor was able to take a ship out of Ireland, and was chugging toward them at top speed.

However, there were no ships on the horizon, and she didn't expect one to materialize out of nowhere. S.H.I.E.L.D. had excellent cloaking technology, but it wasn't that good. Another look at her watch. They still needed to get back to New York before the day was done, and there was a lot to fill Thor in on in the meantime. Joining forces with the Fantastic Four was an easy decision. She didn't know much about this Spiderman character, but his loyalties weren't exactly ambiguous. Loki, on the other hand, was a harder pill to swallow. Like Steve, Natasha had a tough time accepting that Thor's adopted brother was on the side of good, and over the last few days, she kept waiting for the guy to rear up and squash the city in one fell swoop.

It hadn't happened, but she wasn't ruling anything out. Thor's presence gave her confidence, and if anyone needed to knock Loki down a few notches, she was sure they could count on Thor to do the job properly. That is, if he ever showed up.

Their plan for tomorrow wasn't the best she had ever heard of, but the shipments of Starks serum arrived that morning through an underground network Steve's people had been working on, and it seemed like everything was a go. Steve would tackle Brooklyn and Queens, while the Fantastic Four were responsible for Manhattan. Abigail Brand would take their team up to the Bronx, and Natasha would lead a small division into Staten Island. The key was to plant smoke bombs in high-impact areas, set them off, and hope for the best. There were about two hundred hand-held spray canisters, and they'd be handed out to qualified personnel only: anyone lacking a few months of field experience wouldn't get one.

They'd get guns instead: bullets were easier to replace than the serum, and Steve wanted trained field agents handling their limited supply for maximum impact. They could only hope for optimal wind conditions at this point—and no rain. Thus far, the weather had stayed pretty clear. The sun was almost painfully bright that day, and the winds made the temperature almost tolerable. She had four men below deck: Abigail was back at Steve's base, acting for Natasha in her absence.

The submarine's deck was slick, and she grasped the railing for support. Eyes narrowed behind her shades, she scanned the horizon for a boat—any kind of boat, really. Her wristwatch started beeping, and she turned it off with a sigh. Late.

That was when she heard it. A humming sound tickled her ears, and it grew louder and louder with each passing second. Frowning, Natasha whirled around, trying to locate it, and then threw herself back when a shadow passed over her. Thor landed on the metallic deck of the small sub moments later, and the sheer force under his feet sent the sub completely under water. It bounced back moments later, and Natasha clung to the other side of the railing, soaked.

"Apologies, Agent," he boomed, setting down two brunette women—one she recognized as Jane Foster. "My ship was too slow, and I did not wish to keep you waiting."

"It's fine," she managed, crawling back over the railing. Her sunglasses had found a new home at the bottom of the Atlantic. She squinted up at the god: broad and tall, he was smiling. "Just glad that you made it in one piece."

"In theory," the unfamiliar brunette muttered. Jane Foster doubled over the railing and wretched into the ocean, earning a look of concern from Thor. He stepped around Natasha and placed a hand on Jane's back, rubbing up and down.

"I'm sorry." The small woman looked up at him, shaking her head.

"I'm okay," she told him, her voice trembling. "Really, I'm fine."

"Jane throws up on carnival rides," the brunette interjected. She then held out her hand to Natasha. "Darcy."

She appraised the woman slowly, her hands clasped behind her back, and Darcy's hand eventually fell back to her side. Based on first impressions, Darcy didn't look to have any special skills that might be useful for tomorrow. She didn't look like she was in particularly good shape either, nor was she armed. However, Natasha preferred to let people prove themselves before she made her judgements—judgements that were very difficult to change once made.

"Agent Romanoff," she offered in return. "Welcome aboard."

"Now," Thor rumbled once Jane finally stopped throwing up. "What have I missed?"

Natasha arched an eyebrow. "A fair bit."

"Then I will need you to tell me," he insisted. "Shall we?"

Thor gestured to the arched doorway on the floor of the deck, propped up and ready for them to climb down, and they let the two women in first. Natasha showed them both to the main command center, which had interesting glasswork that had the potential for beautiful views in lighter waters. She introduced them to the crew, showed them where the bathrooms were, and offered them free use of the fridge if they needed something. When everyone was set and comfortable, they turned on their cloaking device and submerged.

Ears popping slowly, Natasha took Thor aside and gave him the run-down on the assault plan for tomorrow. There was no sense in formalities here. She wanted the god's honest opinion about things. People seemed to underestimate Thor. They saw him as muscle and old-age brawn, just like they saw Bruce's other side as a walking ball of destructive strength. Natasha saw something more than that in both of them, and she wasn't going to waste time by ignoring their talents. Thor had proven himself to be an excellent strategist in his region, and their talks had left her with the impression that he was more insightful than people gave him credit for.

"So?" She waited in the silence that followed her speech, watching him for a reaction. "What do you think?"

He was seated, elbow propped by on his knee and his head in his hand. Eyebrows furrowed, he seemed to give it genuine thought. Before he spoke, his gaze shifted to Jane, and Natasha's followed it. Both women were seated on either side of the sub's captain, talking and pointing excitedly at various monitors.

"I think we should have pressed Stark for more sooner," he said finally. He straightened up, both hands resting on his knees now, and shook his head. "Has he any idea the chaos this realm has suffered? Hundreds of thousands are dead… It was irresponsible."

"I'm not going to defend his actions." She folded her arms with a sigh. "I don't know what was going on inside his head."

And that bothered her. Natasha liked to think she knew how each of her teammates ticked, and Tony's actions over the last few years veered off from her initial assessment of him—and her second, third, and fourth.

"All that aside, I think we will need to move as quickly as possible with the toxin," he continued. "When aircrafts are available, you should move beyond the New York borders. If what Captain Rogers says is true, the rest of the nation is in dire need too."

"I can talk to Steve about that tonight." That was a good point. Maybe no one had bothered to discuss it with her, but Natasha was unclear about what the plan was beyond New York. She liked to think Steve had something else in mind, especially when she thought back to all the death camps he had mentioned. "How would you feel about helping with that?"

"Of course." He nodded. "I should like to provide any assistance that I can."

"Good."

"And I can ensure the favourable weather conditions you spoke of," Thor added, smiling a little. "Well, I can keep the rain away by any means."

"That'd be helpful, yes."

They lapsed into silence after, watching the dark world wash over them. No fish, no creatures of the deep to keep the sub company. Somewhere nearby, a radar beeped its constant tone, alerting everyone that things were as they should be. Her eyes swept over Thor once more, and she felt a guilty tug in the pit of her stomach. She had kept something from him, purposefully, and she knew she couldn't hide it for long.

"I have some information about Loki." He looked up at her quickly, and Natasha took a step back when he shot to his feet.

"Tell me." It was difficult to gauge his emotional reaction to the news: Thor kept his face neutral, his tone steady. "Tell me everything."

"According to Steve, he's working with the Fantastic Four in Manhattan." And then she saw it: the smallest hint of a smile, one that hit the man's eyes before his lips. "He was, apparently, kidnapped and used as the figurehead for the invasion, but Steve's been assured by reputable sources that he's not with the aliens anymore."

Thor nodded, his smile more obvious now. "This is good news, Agent Romanoff."

"My… concern…" she started. Thor raised his eyebrows. "My concern is that Loki may have people under an… illusion, like he did with Clint."

"Loki drew his power from the tesseract before." Thor settled back on the chair, which seemed far too small for him. "He was misguided and foolish… He was used then as he has been now."

"But—"

"Fear not," he said, holding up his two large hands in an effort to soothe her. She pressed her lips together, understanding his intention but disliking the thought behind it. She didn't need to be calmed like a hysterical little girl. "I will see to Loki myself. If I suspect any foul play on his behalf, I will deal with him promptly."

"Whatever you feel you need to do to keep him under control," she said after a brief pause. They stared at one another, both unblinking, until Natasha turned away and moved to the front of the sub. Thor stayed where he was for some time, and whenever she looked back at him, she noticed he was still smiling.

"You know my thoughts on shower sex!" Max giggled, squirming as Loki wrapped his arms around her, his head in the crook of her shoulder and arousal pressed against her. She adjusted the temperature of the water whizzing out of the nozzle, hitting them both in the face with just enough pressure to have washed the shampoo out of her hair. Loki groaned against her slippery skin, and then sighed.

"Your thoughts on the subject are absurd."

She grinned and turned her head to the side, and then squealed when he pressed his lips to hers firmly, sending them both directly into the spray of water. Max pulled away when she couldn't breathe, wiping her nose and eyes, and then wrapped her arms around his neck, chest to chest now, his lips running along her jaw.

It had to have been in Masonville where she made her thoughts on shower sex pretty clear: she wasn't a fan. She hated getting pelted in the face with water—no one looked even a little sexy squinting and snotty. She disliked having her hair pressed flat to her scalp—it was one of the few times she felt self-conscious physically—and there usually wasn't enough room in the shower itself to do anything. Then, if she turned the water off to avoid getting it in her eyes or up her nostrils, there was literally no point to being in shower. Previous partners hadn't ever been able to hold her up, and while she was sure Loki wouldn't struggle with that, she had a number of other reasons why they shouldn't bother trying.

Still, she hadn't exactly said no when he snuck in behind her that night, and she wasn't about to kick him out now that he was there and soaked. Despite his grumbling, however, she was certain that he wouldn't push her for more than she was willing to give, and even though he was clearly ready to go, he hadn't done more than kiss her thus far—which she appreciated.

Max needed the shower. She needed the heat and the suds and the quiet time after the day she had had. While Loki went into the subway systems with Ben, Peter, and Johnny one last time to promote tomorrow's attack, she stayed back to help Sue and Reed organize all the canisters they had filled over the last week. There were hundreds stacked up in the lab, and she was surprised that they managed to get so much done in such little time. They had several large explosives, along with a few smoke bombs and handheld grenades. Most of the devices they had made with a combination of prior knowledge, Youtube videos, and examples Sue stole from security stations around the city.

All in all, it was a highly impressive accomplishment, and while Max spent a long time singing both Sue and Reed's praises, neither seemed satisfied with the work they did. She did her best to help, despite lacking in super strength and whatever else the rest of them could have contributed. Max labeled and divided containers into different sections for the different areas of the city. She cleaned some guns, made lunch for the kids, and checked Valeria's arithmetic—though she needed a calculator to work through all the long division, which the girl had done in her head.

In the early afternoon, she helped move the boxes of gas canisters to the elevator opening by the kitchen, taking them all down several flights of stairs and going back up to get more. When Loki and the rest returned from the subway, they were met with the unfortunate task of loading all the boxes—close to one hundred and twenty in the end—in the basement. Tomorrow morning, Peter and Johnny would be down there to help with the distribution to Captain Plymyth's underground brigade, and Loki and Ben would deliver the rest through the city by hand later in the day.

Sue, in the end, would have one of the more important jobs for the day, even more so than Max's trigger shot. She'd plant the smoke bomb that would take out all the security in and around Central Park. She would then be in charge of moving captives out of the area to safety, and it was a job Max didn't envy. However, she knew every single other person's tasks for tomorrow inside and out, because when they finished moving boxes of Tony Stark's weaponized serum out of the tower and into the basement, they sat for hours going over every detail of the plan—repeatedly.

Each person brought up 'what if' scenarios for the rest of the team to tackle. Loki contributed more than she expected to the discussions, and by the time the sun had set, they all realized they needed to call it a day. She'd explained her part almost six or seven times at that point: rooftop sniper, take out "Carl", watch the kids, don't leave the tower.

By the time Sue threw two of her last frozen pizzas into the oven, the kids were starved for attention, especially Franklin. Both were so high energy that Johnny and Max had to distract them before either one of their parents snapped. Stress was high. She thought superheroes would be gunning for a fight, but everyone was so focused and somber and fucking stressed out of their minds.

Everyone except Loki. He stressed for her. He listened sympathetically to her ramblings while blowing on a hot piece of pizza, which he let her pick all the pepperoni off of while they talked. He practically let her get away with anything that evening, and had made the trip between the kitchen and their bedroom twice because she was having nervous cravings—mostly of the dessert variety.

While the others seemed annoyed that he was nonplussed by the impending attack, Max wanted it—she needed it. His cool demeanor had a knack for calming her down. Max liked that he didn't show his nerves, if he had any at all, and when he wasn't listening to her unending rants about the possibility of missing her target, he seemed to be trying to distract her with conversation topics about anything but tomorrow.

And she knew he was doing it. He knew that she knew too, but they both went along with it anyway.

When she couldn't talk about nothing and everything anymore, she dragged her beat up, sore, tired body into the shower, and that proved to be just as therapeutic as Loki's voice.

It was late. They were all going to be up around six tomorrow, and she knew she needed to sleep, but she wasn't sure how she'd manage to at this point. The tile was too cold when it pressed against her back, and Loki's skin canceled out the spray of warm water almost entirely. She smoothed her hands over his hair, and then gently wiggled away from him. He watched her finish up, scrubbing down with the old loofa and rinsing off beneath the showerhead, his arm resting on the wall. When she was done washing, she handed the scrub to him, which he took, and then stepped out of the shower with a small grin.

Wrapped in her borrowed towel, Max combed through her hair with her fingers first, squinting at the foggy mirror in front of her, and then went to work on the tangles with her comb. Minutes passed slowly, and she tossed her black comb onto her toiletries bag when Loki shut the shower off. He stepped out, water droplets falling noisily into the puddle next to the toilet, and quickly toweled off. She watched him in the smear she made on the mirror fog, and when he tied the fluffy grey towel around his waist, he looked up at her expectantly.

"You're staring."

"It's a nice view," she said cheekily.

"You should try out some of your other senses," he mused, reaching for her as she danced out of the way. "I hear touch is even nicer than sight…"

"My virgin ears!" She clamped her hands down over her ears, and then giggled when he caught her, scooping her up with both arms and pinning her to his chest.

"Hardly virginal…"

"Hey, I don't like your tone," she grunted. She turned her head to the side when he went for a kiss, and he ended up planting one on her cheek instead.

"Oh, come now, Max."

She leaned around and kissed his cheek, and with that he set her feet back on the floor. Still noticeably hard, Max glanced down, lingering for a moment, and then looked up at him slowly. Smirking, Loki went in for another kiss, but she twirled out of the way, laughing at his irritated huff.

"Max…"

"What?"

"You know, there's nothing better for a warrior than a good bedding the night before a battle—"

"Ew!"

His eyes narrowed a little. "What?"

"That word…" She crouched down to turn on the small lamp in the corner. It was a desk lamp that no one was using in the lab, and she had snatched it when their previous lamp's bulb died and there wasn't a single spare one in the tower to match it.

"What word?"

"Bedding," she said with a shiver. Loki rolled his eyes.

"Regardless, the point stands true."

"You're totally making that up." She folded her arms, hip cocked out, and then shook her head. "Wouldn't you want to abstain from sex? You know… Feel all riled up and angry and whatnot?"

He seemed to mull it over for a moment, his hands at his side, and then shook his head. "Of course not!"

"Uh huh." The nerves made her giddy now, now that she was clean and fresh feeling and not quite as sore. She sauntered over to her pile of clothes in the other corner, which she had basically claimed for her own when her bag of personal items exploded and mixed with the pieces Sue continued to lend her. Loki's borrowed clothes, on the other hand, were folded up in neat piles at the end of their bed, far from her disaster.

Loki soon joined her, and her eyes threatened to drift closed when he ran his hands up and down her back, and then wrapped himself around her again. His lips drifted along her neck, and he tucked her wet hair to one side. His arousal stirred again, and—

"What do you think I should wear tomorrow?" she asked suddenly, shattering the mood with a few choice words. Loki groaned in her ear.

"Max!"

"I'm serious." Loki stepped away from her as she whined and rooted through her pile of clothes. "I've never done this before… Is there something I should be wearing?"

His sigh was much longer, more drawn out this time, and she whirled around to shoot him a glare.

"I'm serious!"

"I was afraid of that," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. When he looked up, he wore a forced smile, and Max rolled her eyes. "It really doesn't matter, Max."

"Everyone's going to be in a uniform," she said absently, pushing her piles of clothes this way and that. "I mean, should I try to match? Should we look unified? Not that I'm really part of the team or anything, but—"

"Wear what you're comfortable in," he told her. This time, his tone was gentle, filled with less snark. "Your most important part of the day will be shooting, and I think you should be able to move comfortably. You don't need to wear any sort of armor or protection…"

"I guess you're right."

"Of course I am."

She pulled aside a pair of loosely fitted shorts, black, and a white t-shirt. Basic. Simple. She'd be able to move in them, and if she had the nervous sweats, no one would notice because nothing was too tight. Perfect. Her eyes drifted to a longer pair of black pants—those would look more professional…

"What are you going to wear?" she asked, spinning on her heel to face him. He was busy picking at his nails as she asked, and he rolled his eyes.

"Max."

"Loki." He looked up quickly when she said his name, and then sighed again. Her lips pursed: the sheer volume of carbon dioxide in this room could fuel an entire rainforest.

"I will wear my traditional uniform," he insisted. "I'll alter the clothing magically tomorrow morning."

"Oh, do it now!"

"No, Max, not now—"

"Please? I've only ever seen it in pictures," she said, dragging out the last word just enough to make his lip twitch. "Unless… Was it the same thing you were wearing when I first saw you?"

He shook his head, one hand tightening into a fist. She decided to tread carefully. "No, that was… tailored by someone else."

"Okay, then let's see the real one?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Please?"

"You're a wretched woman."

"You like me wretched," she said softly, her tone laced with something extra that wasn't lost on him. His lips quirked upward, and she watched, mesmerized, as the towel transformed into something much, much more. Black, green, metal and leather—she wondered why he didn't wear it more often. It seemed easy to do: in the blink of an eye, he was wearing something else. Why bother with borrowing Reed's clothes? Her eyes lingered on the gold curved horns atop his helmet—totally camp and unnecessary, but she couldn't stop looking at them.

He watched her watch him, hands clasped behind his back. When she finished gawking, Max mimicked his stance, puffing her chest out and taking slow, long strides to circle him.

"Hmm."

She heard him mutter, "Not only wretched, but ridiculous."

He twitched when she pulled the side of his overcoat open.

"Very impressive, sir," Max said snootily, looking down at him over the tip of her nose.

"The correct term would be lord."

"My lord," she cooed, adding a faux-British accent for good measure. He smirked, expelling a puff of air through his nose as he chuckled, and Max dropped the act as she reached for his horns. "I like these…"

"Why?" He winced as she grabbed them by the base and tugged down.

"They're like… really solid anchors for me," she told him. Finally, she pulled him in for a kiss, standing up on her tiptoes to meet him halfway. There was no teasing this time, no turning away with a girlish giggle. She gave in completely, desire making her skin sensitive to his cool touch.

He dispensed with her towel as he walked them back hastily toward the bed, and she felt her nipples rub against the terse fabric of his uniform. Her abdomen clenched, lips parting at his forceful insistence. Straddling his hips, Max moaned when he wandered down, kissing and biting and sucking her sensitive flesh until he reached her pert nipples. She had to duck out of the way of the horns, but she didn't say anything, not wanting to spoil the mood as she had done repeatedly already.

Unfortunately, when she tried to slip down and get inside his pants, she was forced to ruin the mood slightly with a frustrated grunt.

"Where the hell is the button on these things?" she muttered, her cheek pressed to the cool metal of his helmet, his face buried in her neck. She leaned back to assess the situation better, and Loki hastily undid the drawstrings holding everything together near his hipbone. "Well, that's a stupid place for it."

"I could get rid of the entire outfit," he said, hissing an intake of breath when she ran her hand along his length, gripping it at the base and pumping her hand.

"No, no, I like it," she purred, biting her lower lip when his eyes darted up her. She nodded a few times. "I really like it."

"Oh…"

He pressed his lips together tightly when she ran her thumb over the tip of his shaft, and he breathed out her name in surprise when she slid to her knees and took him in her mouth. She wasn't sure why he'd never asked for blowjobs before, but she liked the effect they had on him. Sure, they left her jaw a little stiff the next day, but everything was stiff these days—what did it matter? She liked to watch his face while she worked him over, running her tongue up and down, always careful to mind her teeth. For a few fleeting seconds, she could see earnest affection in his eyes.

He dragged her up when her knees started to ache, and he settled with his back to the wall, Max across his lap. It was a tight fit, but she didn't need his fingers to get her ready—no, she was slick with need and lust all on her own. Still, she slid down his length slowly, gripping his shoulders at the small twinges of pain here and there, face screwing when he pulled her too quickly.

Loki groaned when she started to rock against him, those little twinges of pain molding easily into pleasure. Tightness. Each clench of her muscle encouraged a quick build-up, and she gripped the bottom of his horns as he took hold of her hips, thrusting into her sharply.

"You have no concept of how difficult it is sometimes…" He took a sharp breath when she clenched around him. Max moaned shakily at the sensation. "To… To remember to be careful with you."

"Thanks, I guess," she murmured, and she cried out when his thrusts quickened, lips claiming hers in the process.

She came first, as per their usual routine, and when she couldn't hold those horns anymore, when her limbs were too weak and trembling with pleasure and relaxation, Loki rolled her onto her back and had her until he was through—carefully and gently, just as she wanted, with a lot of effort on his part.

The horns and uniform disappeared when they went for a second quick shower, and after, Max fell asleep faster than she would have ever anticipated.

Completely unaware that this would be the last night of peace for quite some time.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

IT'S HAPPENING. I REPEAT, IT'S HAAAAAPPENING!

So, I managed to persuade my fantastic bf to make us scallops last night, and then derp me didn't wash the lettuce properly for our salad, and I ended up with a stomach flu. So, through bouts of nausea and just general sluggishness, this chapter was born basically between today and yesterday. So. There's that.

I had a really good time writing Loki and Max in this chapter—more fun than I expected when I went into it initially. Their conversations always flow well, but it's nice to write an interaction between them that isn't a fight, or leading up to one. They make my heart and feels go all mushy.

Also, don't you judge me for the song choice that led to the chapter title. NO SHAME, BRO, NO SHAME.

Now, the battle will take place over the course of two chapters—potentially three, but I'm trying not to stretch it out for that long. I'm going to start work on it in the next few days, but I'm pretty sure it'll be out for next week.

Thank you to the people who still review! Some of you have been reviewing since the first chapter of The Sky is Falling, and I genuinely appreciate it. I know it's hard to provide feedback when something's been going on for this long, but I really love it when people do. I don't know if people read the reviews, but if you EVER want to read the most meta, insightful ones ever, read Potkanka's reviews. They are insane and awesome and like mini-chapters for me to read with each update.

Anyway. I love everyone who takes the time to read, whether you review or not. I see you crazy bitches on my stats page. YOU ROCK MY WORLD.

SEE YOU SOON!