dreamsofpoison | for halfassed

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for halfassed

Just how and why Loki was back on Earth was a mystery. There had been no communication from Thor any Asgardian representatives. It wasn't obvious that Loki was back, in fact, his presence could have gone unnoticed if not for, well, mischief.

He'd somehow taken something belonging to one Clint Barton. Something very dear to him. His bow. Said bow now sat on a mantel above the fireplace in his current residence. It was a stone and log cabin. Lodge would be a more appropriate description. Logs make up A frame structures to support the roof. They also provide an excellent place to suspend someone from. Which inevitably happened when Barton followed the little trail of bread crumbs to find his bow and ultimately, Loki.

He's suspended near the fireplace, which is lit. Turned so he can see his bow sitting there on the mantel. He's hung high enough his toes barely brush the ground and apparently Loki took great care in securing his wrists in a specific type of cuff. The kind that would ensure he could keep him there for quite some time without much damage to his hands or wrists. He was stripped of his weapons and all his clothes save for his pants. Hence why he choose the beam close to the fire. It was the dead of winter outside.

As for Loki himself, he stood by the window, watching the snow fall and waiting for the subtle signs his captive has awoken. He's far removed from the armor and leather of before. Instead he's in simple mortal clothes but they still had a certain Loki-esque flair to them.

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Shit. Something's wrong. This isn't normal, or otherwise Loki wouldn't be freaking out.

"Hey," says Clint, flattening his hand on Loki's chest. He's not going to let Loki get up and freak out outside the blankets. He'll bodily pin Loki down if he has to. "Hey, it's okay. What's going on? Talk to me."

Loki just shakes his head. He tries to push more of the covers away to see how far it has progressed. He lets out a little strangled sound. How could they have done this?

No. No. He has to calm down. He locks eyes with Clint, still panic. From where Clint is touching him, the pale flesh tone is slowly creeping back over him. It's not until he sees the color returning does he start calm.

"So touching helps."

Well, this might be something weirdly manipulative. But it's not worth the risk. Clint tugs Loki down, draws him back against Clint's chest, his arm around Loki's waist. More skin-to-skin contact.

Yes, touching helps. It also serves to further calm him. Soon pale flesh retakes his body in a slow crawl. After a long silence he finally speaks, slightly muffled against his chest. "As I child, I was told of the Frost Giants. They were creatures to be feared. Hated. Monsters that mothers told their children of at night."

A shift and he curls into him, closing his eyes. "They kept the truth from me."

Not entirely following here, but he'll keep with it. Maybe it'll start making sense in a little bit.

He did read Norse mythology. There were frost giants. They were the bad guys. He remembers that much.

"What truth?"

Loki can't help it, he gives a little humorless laugh. "My true parentage," he says simply. He obviously doesn't want to continue talking about it. He holds out a hand to watch the last of the blue fade away.

Clint exhales a long breath.

"So that's what the file meant," he says. "It had that Thor called you adopted. I wasn't really sure what to believe." Not really Thor's brother. Would explain a thing or two.

"Imagine my surprise," Loki says flatly. His skin has returned completely to pale flesh color but he shows no sign of moving.

"So that's... another reason to hate him?" Why? Why would it be? Because Thor hates Frost Giants? But he loves Loki. Despite the fact that Clint doesn't believe Loki is much worth loving.

Of course, that doesn't explain his own fucking feelings.

"Or another reason to hate yourself," he says. Without thinking.

He had actually started to enjoy just staying like that until Clint said something. Loki pushes away and gets up. He starts digging through the pile of clothing taken from the main bedroom. He slept in his clothes but he wants another layer now.

"How long will the food last? Do you know?"

"Loki." He hit a nerve. "Loki, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." He meant it. He just hadn't meant to say it. "Well, if I was thinking, I wouldn't have put it so bluntly." Another pause. "I think the blue is cool." I fucked an alien. "It's ... stylish." I fucked an alien.

He needs to give up on this train of conversation right now.

"Should last for another few months, if we stretch it right."

That wins him a puzzled look. As far as he's concerned, it was left as a punishment. He is not having this conversation with a mortal, let alone him. Besides, something more important got his attention. "How many months, exactly?" he asks urgently.

"There's even a thing on Earth called the Blue Man Group." Oh god, he just can't shut it off, can he?

He clears his throat.

"If you count the storage outside," he says, "I'd guess up to six. There's also a cellar door outside, and we should check that. Whoever lived here looks like a survivalist, and that kind generally stocks up downstairs like a bomb shelter." A beat. "Why?"

Loki glares when doesn't drop the topic right away. Meanwhile he moves on to the new one. He looks thoughtful over that information. So much so it's like he didn't even hear the question. He glances toward the window. "If you see any ravens outside. Shoot them."

"Why?" He'll do it, without an explanation, but he'd like one. If at all possible.

"I do not wish to be spied upon by the All-Father," and that's as much of an explanation as he's giving.

Well, that's creepy as fuck.

"Got it," he says. "No ravens."

He sighs. "If I make breakfast, will you just... stay under the blankets?"

Loki shoots him a sharp glare. He looks like he has a scathing remark to say but it doesn't come out. He moves back to the mattress and gets under the blankets.

Fine, he needs to think of a way to salvage his plans anyway.

Well. He wasn't expecting that to work, but okay.

He slips out of the blanket, immediately pulls on a sweater and two pairs of socks -- he looks ridiculous, but who gives a shit. He gets a fraction of a stick of butter that's pretty much solid ice, and he gets a pan that's supposed to be suspended over the fire. Some eggs. Some jerky. Not as good as bacon, but it's a decent substitute.

Soon, he's by the fire, making four sunny-side up.

Because Loki isn't causing trouble now can only mean he has plans for some later. So Clint will have to sit through Loki intently watching him. He can practically be heard thinking.

"What will you tell Fury?" he asks, finally.

"I'll burn that bridge when I come to it." In other words, he hasn't decided.

The eggs are somewhat burned on one side and somewhat undercooked on the other side. But hey! The whites are pretty much solid, they should be safe.

He scrapes a couple up, slides them on a paper plate (fuck doing dishes) and passes them to Loki. Grabs his two, and then carefully sets the pan down on the brick by the fire to cool off a little.

"He will have questions," Loki points out.

He still watches him but he spares a glance down to the eggs. He frowns at them but he does start to eat them.

"The tesseract works both ways, you know," he says, jumping subjects abruptly. "It left an... imprint that I find rather hard to ignore."

"It made you crazy," says Clint. "I think we've discussed this." He has his opinion, and Loki's not gonna change it. Loki might have detoxed, but it still has its appeal.

Loki shakes his head. "It did more than that. What we haven't discussed," he spits the word. For once, Loki is tired of talking and it shows.

"It left a link between us. It must be resorted or severed completely or neither of us can move on."

"Oh, thank god."

Somewhat of a paradoxical reaction. But really, Clint is just relieved that he's not completely nuts. That there's a reason he's not going kamikaze on Loki's ass. Connection.

"I'm glad I'm not crazy," he says. "So, what's the link?"

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