Author's notes: It's official. None of Thor's friends can visit Asgard without Loki messing something up.

lxxi.

Loki stood at the door into the feasting hall after everyone else had already entered, almost resorting to crossing his fingers in hopes that he could get through the meal without his mistake being noticed. Normally he would have just skipped dinner, but earlier that day he and Frigga and had a… talk. He would not be skipping dinner.

"Something wrong, sir?"

Loki twitched, looking over his shoulder at the man who had not been there a second before. "For the Norns' sakes, Barton, must you stand so close?"

The archer blinked slightly luminescent blue eyes up at Loki before giving a short nod. He took a step back, falling into an at-ease position once again. "Sorry, sir."

"Just go join your friends for dinner," Loki ordered him. It was strange to know that, no matter what he commanded, Barton was going to do it. "Say nothing of what's happened. The less they know, the better."

"Understood." Barton passed Loki and strode into the feasting hall, calling a loud greeting to his teammates. He didn't sound any different than he had before. Loki sighed, nervously pinching the bridge of his nose. How in the Nine Realms was he supposed to deal with an accidental mind-slave?

The prince took a breath to steady himself, smoothed his hair back, and moved out of the shadows and into the palace's great feasting hall. Though the meal had only begun some minutes ago, everything was already in full swing. The hall holding hundreds of Asgard's greatest had never been Loki's favorite place—it was hard to have fondness for a time and place of telling tales, when he rarely got to tell any of his own.

His plan to get through the evening without Barton's condition being noticed almost worked. In fact, Loki thought everything was going well until Natasha Romanoff pressed a knife against his throat and calmly demanded what he had done to her comrade. All eyes in the hall went to the younger of Asgard's princes.

"Ah," said Loki, carefully pushing the assassin's blade away. "Well."

"I'm fine, Nat," Clint insisted. He seemed remarkably even-tempered, considering his 'master' was currently in peril.

"You're eating salad, Barton," Natasha responded flatly. Loki winced, slowly lifting a hand to his face as he realized that Clint's dish was identical to his own. What ridiculous sort of situation was this?

"Also, your eyes are kind of glowing," the cat added. Tony echoed it without knowing.

"Really?" Clint's eyebrows lifted, and he made a surprised noise in the back of his throat. "Huh. That's weird."

"Loki." Loki winced again as he heard his mother's deeply disapproving tones, and he turned his head to look down the table at Frigga. "You made Clint Barton your slave?"

"It was an accident!" Loki protested. He kept himself from growling his aggravation as he saw total lack of belief from all around. Thor seemed puzzled by this turn of events, clearly waiting for Loki to go on. "I had completed a certain project of mine, and Barton sort of… walked into it. Now he does my bidding, and believe me, I didn't know the spear could do that. I designed it as a weapon, not a puppet-maker."

"I resent that," Clint called from up the table. Tony snorted, remarking that even if Barton had been brainwashed, he definitely still had his personality.

"Well, I resent it, too," Loki called back. He scowled. "I have better things to do than take care of a mind-slave." He would have continued, but the Avengers had started doing what he had seen them do a few times before: talk over each other in increasing volume. Perhaps humans and Asgardians were more closely related than he had thought.

"Leaving?" Loki twitched again, looking over to the man standing behind his shoulder. It was Thor this time.

Loki sighed. He could feel a headache coming on. "Yes," he replied.

"Now would be the time to do it," Thor told his brother. He had somehow caught onto Loki's stress. "You can get this mess all sorted tomorrow."

"Hm. Shouldn't be difficult." Loki leaned on the bench slightly, and a second later he disappeared. Clint was watching his debating teammates with an amused expression, seemingly unconcerned with their alarm for his current condition. His eyes flicked over as Loki left, but he didn't move.

The cat noticed the sorcerer's departure as well. Its expression turned slightly befuddled. "He didn't even finish his apples."

lxxii.

Loki found himself sitting up yet again, frowning as he looked across the room at the cat's empty bedbox. He had been trying to sleep for hours now, yet it always came back to this. He had grown accustomed to falling asleep while exchanging a last few lines of banter with the cat.

This wasn't the first time it had been absent through the night, of course. But it would be the second night it had spent curled up on top of Steve Rogers' feet.

The prince's frown turned into something he would never admit was a pout. What was it about Steve Rogers that the cat liked so much, anyway? It had never been this way with Darcy. Although, for most of the time that she had been here, the cat had been in human form.

Whatever. It wasn't as if it mattered. Loki huffed and fell back down to his pillows.

lxxiii.

Loki stared at Clint in shock as the archer burst out laughing. He hadn't used any effort to make his joke obvious, yet the human had still caught it. And thought it was rather hysterical, going by his laughter. Loki's bewilderment didn't hold, because the nature of laughter is catching. Somehow, after that, everything became funny to them. Particularly each other's faces.

Clint and Loki ended up sitting on the floor with their backs against a wall, still giggling on occasion. Loki smiled. "I haven't laughed like that in years," he admitted.

"Me neither." Clint smiled too, but his was more subdued. "Most of my coworkers aren't exactly the laugh-out-loud type."

"Most of my acquaintances don't understand my sense of humor."

"Well, it is pretty twisted, sir." Clint snickered. "That's why I like it."

"Hm." Loki's eyes went to the open balcony across the way. He could see the flickering edges of the barrier that kept the chill out, and although the sky was gray, he knew the sun would be reaching its noontime peak in the next hour or so. "You know, Barton, I'm not feeling so inclined to release you from this spell."

"Nice to have someone who can't stab you in the back, huh?"

Loki stood up abruptly. He knew with the morning approaching its end, it was only going to be a matter of minutes before Thor and the other Avengers started checking in. "Let's go to Alfheim," he said. "They are the greatest practitioners of archery in the Nine Realms. Perhaps you could learn a few things there."

"Sounds good to me," Clint replied. He rose up to his feet, too. "Is it gonna be cold where we're going?"

"No." Loki turned to the laboratory table he had set up earlier and stowed everything away. Clint watched him do so with a curious expression. "Many say that Alfheim is locked in eternal summer, but the truth is much more logical than that."

Clint's head tilted curiously. "Logical how?"

"Well, you see, Alfheim isn't so much locked in summer as it is in a naturally heated environment. Rather likes the territories along your planet's equator, but slightly different…"

lxxiv.

"Okay, raise your hand if Asgard is nothing like you were expecting."

Every Earthling in the room lifted a hand. Tony shot both of his up into the air. The gathering of Avengers in Steve's room was lacking only Thor and Clint. Bruce, sitting on the bed, seemed embarrassed to have lifted his hand. "It's certainly regal here, but…" His voice trailed off.

"Loki," said Steve.

Everyone except for Natasha groaned. "Loki!"

"I know he's the god of mischief or whatever," Tony said. "But man, he's a jerk. It doesn't help that he's still so charismatic."

"No kidding," the cat chuckled as it slipped it. It rubbed against Steve's legs, and the soldier crouched down to fondle its ears. "He may be quite the antisocial Frost Midget, but on the occasion he actually does go for charisma, there's few who can resist him."

Bruce leaned over to pet the cat as well. "Did you know he's trying this little guy?" he said to Steve. "He fired some sort of bazooka at him—while he was on my head!"

"I live dangerously. More towards the left ear, Steve. Mm, that's what I'm talking about."

"Now there's this business with Barton," Bruce continued. "It's been three days now. I think Loki's enjoying it."

"They're both enjoying it," Natasha stated. She frowned down at the blade she was sharpening. "At least, Barton believes he is."

"Loki's not even looking for a solution anymore." Steve stopped petting the cat, brow creasing worriedly. The cat bumped its head against his palm to get him going again. "And how do you even get someone like him to cooperate? It's like you said, Natasha: Barton believes he's enjoying this. Those two are always around each other these days."

Natasha froze for a second, her eyes widening briefly as she remembered something. Bruce asked what was on her mind. "Something Darcy Lewis once said about Loki and his cat," she replied. "'Loki despises that cat, but they're always around each other.' Where are they now?"

"Well, the cat's right here—Steve."

The soldier blinked up at Tony, puzzled by the horrified look his friend was currently directing at him. A moment later he realized that Bruce and Natasha were doing the same, though Natasha seemed more irritated that horrified. "What?"

"The cat's right here," Tony repeated. He shook his head as he crossed his arms. "Steve, you home wrecker."

"Home wrecker? I haven't been wrecking any homes!"

The cat's purring was cut off, and it tuned out the continued chatter between the present Midgardians. "'The cat's here,'" it echoed thoughtfully. The feline shook its head, faintly amused. "Oh Loki, Loki, Loki. You're such an odd little biped."

It slipped out from under Steve's hand and walked away from the soldier as though he didn't even exist. Steve chuckled softly—he was accustomed to the ways of cats.

lxxv.

"Hey, Frost Midget."

Loki didn't look up from the chessboard set between himself and Barton. The archer didn't have near as much skill as Loki, of course, but he was adapting quickly. Given some more time, he could prove to be an actual challenge to beat. Loki liked that idea.

The cat jumped down on the chessboard, sending pieces flying. Loki and Barton protested simultaneously. The cat sat, curling its tail neatly around its paws. "Hi, Loki."

Loki scowled at it, using a gesture to lift the chess pieces off the floor. "Go back to your Avengers," he said snidely. "Barton and I were in the middle of a game."

"Our seventy-fourth," Barton supplied. He started plucking chess pieces out of the air and putting them back in their places on the board.

"And how many times has he won?" the cat asked.

"None," Loki replied. He shoved the cat off the table and helped Clint in resetting the board. "He's a fast learner."

"Oh, enough of this silliness, Loki. Free Barton and let's get back to our old routine."

"But the Avengers suit you so much better," Loki answered scathingly. "Particularly that soldier, Captain Rogers. Besides, Barton really thinks I'm the world-dominating sort."

"There's definitely some supervillain potential," Clint agreed.

"Pff." The cat rolled its eyes. "Steve is nice. Tony would be a lot more entertaining if I could actually converse with him. Bruce is a kind soul unless he gets particularly vexed. Natasha, however… eh." The cat shrugged. It wasn't a gesture typically associated with felines, and so was a very odd thing to see. "Anyway. It gets boring, hanging out with mortals."

"Are you so sure? They seem awfully sincere."

"Do I have to plant live eels in your bed to prove my sincerity?"

Ugh. Loki remembered the eels. "I assure you, that won't be necessary." He looked across at where Clint had finally finished setting up the chessboard. The archer was watching the exchange between Loki and the cat with great interest. "Barton, I'm afraid our time is at an end."

"Figured."

Loki grabbed the back of Clint's head and slammed his face into the table. The man groaned, blinking naturally blue eyes as he cradled his skull. "Ohhhh… oh god, I hate you."

"Welcome back, Agent Barton," Loki said politely. "In answer to your question three days ago, I believe Agent Romanoff is currently gathered with the other Avengers, at—"

"Steve's room."

"—Captain Rogers' quarters."

"Ow. Thanks. Ow ow ow." Clint slowly stood up and walked out of the room, still holding his head. His path didn't resemble a straight line in the slightest.

"Satisfied?" Loki asked the cat.

"Positively overjoyed." The cat jumped back on the table and methodically knocked each of the chess pieces down to the floor. "I think you gave Barton quite the concussion, though."

"Not my fault humans are so fragile."

"Mm." The cat settled down on the chessboard, tilting its head up to look at Loki. "Say. What do you think of stealing something? According to the Avengers, the Tesseract is awfully important."

"The Tesseract is awfully important." Loki then quirked an eyebrow. "And you're suggesting that we steal it?"

"Not stealing if it's already yours, right?" The cat rose up to all fours, stretching. "And Asgard is nice and all, but I've been here for years now. It's getting boring."

Loki felt a smile spreading across his face. Naturally he would never say so, but he had missed having this bother of a feline around. "Well then, cat, what are we waiting for?"

.

The Avengers were more than a little relieved to finally have Clint Barton back. The archer certainly had some stories to tell, lacking injuries except for the concussion resulting from the cognitive recalibration it had taken to break the effects of the spear.

While he was just as glad as everyone else that Clint had returned to his natural self, Thor couldn't help but wonder. The cat had gone back to its usual position of antagonizing Loki, obviously, but how had it convinced him to release Barton? More importantly…

"Where is Loki?"