Chapter Eighteen
"Did you steal Pepper's hairbrush?"
Loki doesn't put up much of a fight when they find him in the tower. He's still on the ground-given the damage to the area around him, she can only assume he had a run in with the Hulk-and when he looks up to find himself surrounded by the Avengers, he doesn't seem to miss a beat.
"If it's all the same to you," he says instead, "I'll have that drink now."
Leila doesn't bother asking for context.
"Alright, get him on his feet," Tony demands. "We can all stand around posing up a storm later. By the way, feel free to clean up."
While Thor hauls Loki to his feet by his shoulder, Leila turns to Natasha, who's still holding the scepter. "Who gets the magic wand?" she asks.
"It's STRIKE's problem," Leila replies, remembering Steve saying something to that effect on their way to the tower. "They're on their way."
She glances around the room and her eyes land on Clint, who's busy pouring himself a drink at the bar. She smiles a little at this and walks over to join him, reaching over the bar to find an empty glass. She holds it out to him, and he wordlessly pours something orange into it. They clink their classes against each other.
Leila tries to take a moment and just enjoy the drink, but she finds her eyes keep straying back to Loki. He's handcuffed now, with Thor not letting him out of his sight, but it's still unnerving. Maybe because she's used to a certain procedure after fighting. After STRIKE ops, there's medical checks, post-op briefings, power checks, a million things to mark the end of the mission. She's not used to lounging around with her targets in the room.
"You okay, kid?" Clint asks, and she turns her attention back to him.
She's too tired to come up with a one-liner, so she deflects instead. "Are you?"
"I asked you first."
"I asked you second," Leila returns in a childish, mocking voice, and Clint grins. She smiles back a little.
"Are you guys drinking triple sec straight?" Tony calls from across the room. He's standing guard over the tesseract by a table in the center of the room, with Nat hovering nearby with the scepter. "You're not allowed to drink my alcohol if you're gonna drink it like that."
"Cheers," Leila replies, and without breaking eye contact, downs the rest of the drink.
Before Tony can respond with anything other than that tiny smirk he keeps giving her, equal parts impressed and entertained, the elevator doors open with a ding. Brock Rumlow walks in, holding a silver case with a handle; Jasper Sitwell follows, holding something similar, and two men she doesn't recognize file in after him, empty-handed.
Leila locks eyes with Rumlow for a moment as he enters; his eyes glance from her chest back to her face, and she remembers that the front of her suit has a chitauri sword-hand-thing shaped hole in it and is covered in her own blood. Right.
She nods at him. I'm fine. He gives a slight nod back. Good.
Leila's always liked Rumlow. He's easy-going, approved her chosen codename, and most importantly, he doesn't press her to "open up." When Coulson tells-told-her that her yearly psych evals are coming up, he always made a point to encourage her to be honest during them, as if being honest with a psychiatric official isn't going to end with Leila in a straightjacket. Rumlow never does that, just reminds her to get the paperwork sent in by the end of the week.
Besides which, his preferred mode of communication with her is something dancing on a knife's edge of flirting. Flirting is always easier than talking for her.
"We can take that off your hands," Sitwell tells Nat.
"By all means," she says, and hands over the scepter before wandering over to the bar with her teammates. "Be careful with that thing," she adds over her shoulder.
Clint hands her a drink and chimes in, "unless you want your mind erased, and not in a fun way."
Rumlow sets the box on the table and opens two clasps, opening it into a case. "We promise to be careful," he says, in a slightly sarcastic tone.
Natasha takes a drink of whiskey, leaning against the bar between her teammates, and then nudges Leila. "When are you gonna ask him out?" she asks under her breath.
Clint makes a face at this.
"I'm not having this conversation again," Leila says, ignoring Clint. "He's my boss."
"So? There's no rule against it."
"There's paperwork. There's nothing less hot than paperwork."
Clint takes a huge gulp of triple sec at this.
"Besides," Leila adds, "I don't date."
"Who said anything about dating?" Natasha has this mischievous smile on her face, ignoring Clint's not-so-soft "Jesus Christ" as he pointedly downs the rest of his drink.
Before Leila has to respond, Steve-thank god-walks by, touching his earpiece. "On my way down to coordinate search and rescue," he says over comms.
Loki suddenly turns into a mirror image of Steve, repeating his words in an exaggerated tone. The Hulk next to him watches this with wide, confused eyes-his expression would almost be cute, if Leila wasn't fixated on Loki, her eyes narrowed. Then the Hulk growls, annoyed as Loki turns back into himself.
"I mean, honestly," Loki says, "how do you keep your food down?"
Thor pulls out a weird little gadget that turns out to be something akin to an electric muzzle, which he promptly shoves onto Loki's mouth. "Shut up," he demands, and Loki has no choice but to comply.
Leila doesn't feel like she can really breathe until that moment. Maybe it's because she's so used to talking herself out of trouble, but she can't really trust that he's powerless until he's silenced. That's when her exhaustion hits her like a train.
Natasha gives her a look that says this conversation isn't over before setting her drink down. "I'm gonna go help Tony with the tesseract," she says, graciously avoiding the words babysit or supervise. Clint goes where Nat goes, leaving Leila alone by the bar. Tony doesn't really seem to need help with it; he's locking it into the silver box Sitwell brought, punching in some code-it's more his venue than Nat's, really-but Leila doesn't question it.
It's a welcome solitude, really.
She closes her eyes for a moment, raising her arms above her head and lacing her hands in a stretch, before landing back on the heels of her feet. She reaches up to undo her bun, pulling pins out and letting her hair fall down her back-Stark has to have a brush somewhere. She glances around, makes sure no one is looking, and then wanders back past the living area into the hallway.
The bathroom is the first door on the right, and the door is slightly ajar when she finds it, so that's as far as she pushes it once she's inside. It's disgustingly luxurious. She makes a note to ask Stark where he gets his bath mats as she flips on the lights.
She almost doesn't recognize herself in the mirror. Her suit looks worse from a front view, the tear more noticeable, and the bloodstains seem to pop in the vanity lighting. Her face is dirty, her eyes have dark circles under them, and her hair is a mess of rats and tangles. She can't stand it. It's not even about looking pretty; it's about feeling in control.
She starts by washing her hands, getting the dirt out from under her nails. Then she takes a washcloth, runs it under hot water, and gets some of the dirt off her skin. She doesn't spend as much as she does on skincare products just to walk around with dirt caked on her face.
Finally, she finds a hairbrush in a drawer, and starts to untangle her hair. Throughout the entire process, she keeps an ear out for what's going on in the main area, making sure she doesn't miss anything big.
She starts with the front, carefully brushing out the dyed parts of her hair so they lie in a straight line like highlights should, instead of chaotic pink strands fanning out independently from the root.
Then she starts at the ends, carefully wetting her hair with the washcloth and then combing through the knots, careful not to pull at her hair or tear it out. Not that she can't afford it; Leila has always had nice hair. It grows out thick and curly and strong. It's dark brown, with a depth to it, red and caramel strands that light up in the sun, but looks inky black in the dark, and it takes very little coaxing to get it to shine.
She wears it longer than average, around halfway down her back, and takes better care of it than she does herself, refusing to bleach it aside from those two colored strands in front. Her shampoo is sulfate-free and costs thirty dollars for an 8 ounce bottle. She never wears it in tight buns or ponytails except on sudden missions, refusing to pull at it. If she has the luxury of choice, she'll choose a loose bun or a french braid every time, even if it isn't her style.
It's a lot, but it's worth it. She can't stand it otherwise-can't stand it dirty, or messy, or tangled. It's a physical itch that she has to scratch. Aside from having to set aside her own interests and minimizing her interaction with other gifteds with STRIKE Team Delta, the messy hair is probably the worst thing about working for SHIELD.
She's about a third of the way up her hair when she hears people leaving, and shuffles back into the room, tucking the hairbrush into one of her pockets. The end of it sticks out of the corner. She ignores it, and seamlessly steps into the elevator with Tony, Thor, Loki, and a few SHIELD members. Rumlow and Sitwell are not in attendance; Tony is holding the tesseract in its little silver case.
The Hulk tries to enter the elevator.
"Hey. Hey!" Tony says, while Thor says, "Whoa, whoa!"
"Buddy!" Tony elaborates, "what'd'ya think? Maximum occupancy has been reached!"
The Hulk growls as the elevator doors start to close.
"Take the stairs!" Thor tells him, with Tony nodding and "yeah"-ing behind him. Loki's cuffed hands raise as he gives a small wave to the Hulk just as the doors close. God. In another world, Loki would make an amazing drinking buddy.
The Hulk punches the elevator doors just as they close.
It's silent for a moment before Tony turns to Leila, glances at her forehead for a moment, and then says, "Did you steal Pepper's hairbrush?"
When the elevator doors slide open and they enter the lobby of Stark Industries, it's less chaotic than Leila expected. There are a few civilians talking to whom Leila assumes are either Stark employees or SHIELD agents, and a large group of men and women (mostly men) in tac gear are clustered around the front set of doors. A few people in suits are mixed in, and at the front of the army is Alexander Pierce, a man Leila's only ever seen in photographs in the SHIELD academy.
Pierce sees them, straightens up even more than he already was, and approaches them, followed by his entourage or whatever. "Um, may I ask where you're going?"
"Bit of lunch and then Asgard," Thor says. "I'm sorry, you are…?"
"Alexander Pierce," Tony says, without taking his eyes off the man in question.
"He's Secretary of the World Security Council," Leila elaborates. "Fury's boss, basically."
"My friends call me Mister Secretary," Pierce says. God, what a tool. "I'm gonna have to ask you to turn that prisoner over to me."
"Uh, Loki will be answering to Odin himself," Thor says. He seems confused by this turn of events, and annoyed at the interruption. He's standing his ground. Leila respects him for it, even if part of it is because the person he's standing against is someone she's just decided she hates.
"No, he's going to answer to us," Pierce replies, equally annoyed. "Odin can have what's left." Then, to Tony, he adds "And I'm gonna need that case, that's been SHIELD property for over 70 years."
Pierce reaches for it, and Tony holds it behind his back. "I'm not gonna argue who's got the higher authority here-"
"I need the case," Pierce insists, and the men in tac gear start to get closer.
"I know, you got a lotta pull," Tony continues, "I'm just saying, jurisdiction-"
"Okay, then give me the case." It's like watching two toddlers fight over a toy, with Pierce continually reaching for it and Tony constantly moving it out of his reach.
"Well, jurisdiction-"
The men in tac gear are surrounding them now. One of them gets too close to Leila, and she digs her nails into her palms to stop herself from leveling him.
Pierce reaches forward to grabs Tony's free arm, while an agent who's made his way behind them reaches for the case. "Hand it over," he snaps, and suddenly there are several hands on Tony, trying to separate him from the case.
"Get your hands off me," Tony manages to get out, squirming as he plays keep-away with the tesseract.
Leila doesn't hesitate before shoving her way into the fray. "Leave him alone," she snarls.
Suddenly Thor enters the fray, pulling agents away like picking off flies to get to Tony.
"Give me the-" Pierce's words are cut off as the sound of metal hitting metal rushes through the lobby, followed by the Hulk roaring as he steps out of the stairwell. The door is crushed like a soda can, crumpled against the wall and barely hanging on by one hinge.
"HATE STAIRS," he screams, and the civilians on the other side of the room scramble, a chorus of terrified gasps and cries hitting the air.
As the Hulk drags his fists along the wall, Leila looks around to see that the almost-fight has mostly broken up, the people involved spread out, and everyone's attention locked on the Hulk.
Leila elbows Thor, who looks down at her. She glances, very pointedly, at Loki, whose eyes are wide as he watches the Hulk's rampage, and then at the tesseract, and finally at the front door.
Thor smiles.
Tony, after handing the tesseract to Thor, runs over to talk down the Hulk, and Thor quietly makes his way outside. By the time Pierce has noticed his absence, it's too late; he runs outside to see Thor already swinging his hammer; lightning strikes as he disappears with his brother.
Pierce looks furious and turns to Leila, who shrugs. Before he can question her, Tony rounds the corner followed by the Hulk, who's sulking but not currently inflicting any damage, property or otherwise. They must have come out the other set of doors.
Tony locks eyes with Leila and she nods just slightly.
"Oh man," Tony says, looking up at where Thor disappeared, using his hand as a sunshade, "he's gone?"
"Apparently," Pierce says.
"Just like that? Wow. Sorry about that, Mister Secretary." Tony looks over at Leila. "So. Shawarma?"