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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Despite the situation, Loki let's out a little breathless laugh.

"It was not the scepter I communed with. It was the conduit to those who granted me the scepter and the true masters of my army," he says, fairly easily. It is the truth but its somehow made easier knowing that there is no way to prove or disprove it. Well, not in a cabin in the middle of no where.

"The scepter effected us all differently."

"Made you crazy." He lets up, a little. Maybe enough for Loki to turn and sit up, so long as it's not any sudden moves. "Not that it needed to push all that hard in that direction."

Loki's not rational. He knows that. But he's not being rational either, so why the fuck should he care?

"Tell me what they had on you."

He makes no sudden moves. He's actually very sore from their on and off fighting. So he slowly pushes himself up. He wipes a spot under his nose to make sure he hadn't started bleeding again. Oh good. No blood.

He gets himself comfortable because this isn't exactly a short story. Maybe Barton won't ask many questions.

"As an exiled Prince of Asgard with no means to return or means to go elsewhere," he says then shrugs, "They had everything. My one chance was to endear myself to them, gain some measure of trust then gain the means to escape." He leaves out their threat to him if he failed them.

"Not an exiled King?" Funny, that's the thing that he picks out. Loki calls himself Prince here, not King, where their pretensions are stripped away. He'd always wondered if Loki really believed he should be the rightful king.

A short nod. "I know what that's like." He's retreated back, a little, though Loki's legs are still pinned under his. A long time ago, Clint was an orphan and he didn't have anywhere to go. He made his way by pledging himself to someone else, too.

His eyes snap up to meet his, it wasn't a slip he was aware he made until it was pointed out. "I was a King," he confirms, "While the Allfather slept and Thor was exiled."

He shifts a little, half testing how much give he has half just getting comfortable. He doesn't say anything else. He would rather skim over that part of his life, thanks. No time to think about monsters more terrible than himself out to get him.

His hand goes back to Loki's belly. He's not ready to let Loki up yet.

"I don't care about Asgard," says Clint, softly. "You made yourself my king. And you can't -- you can't just cut and leave me to pick up the pieces after that. You can't kill my people and wreck a city and leave me alone." Better that Loki never meet him in the first place.

He pulls away, then. Moves to his feet. "If it was a fight for survival, that's -- better. Than if it was just you giving your brother the finger."

Just a little flinch, ignore that.

He gives him a confused wondering look. He really looks like he had no idea. "I did not cut and leave. I intended to stay. I was defeated and you had a part in it. You were amused at how I was led off."

He doesn't address the last part. Taking something of Thor's just made it sweeter.

"I was mad."

He's still mad. Still twitching with the impulse to beat Loki into the ground.

"But you," and he fights to explain what he felt. "Did you ever even want to win? You didn't care about what you destroyed, you just --"

He's had time to think about it, since then, to parse through Loki's motivations, to feel something other than free. He's still not free. He'll never be fucking free.

Slowly, cautiously, he gets to his feet again. He doesn't stay on them long, opting for a chair a few seconds later.

The funny thing is, he's not sure he has an answer for that. He thought he wanted to win. Looking back he isn't as sure. He rubs his face like that would help clean the matter.

"I knew what awaited my failure," he answers finally. He appears somewhat nervous, his fingers twitching needlessly. "There are... worse punishments than those you can think of. They will come."

"Then you'll survive it or you won't." Tends to be Clint's attitude about missions these days. He'll make it or he won't.

He shoots him a glance, gives a little laugh. It can be refreshing to have someone around with a simplistic approach to problems.

"I wished to see you," he jumps topics. He lightly gestures about the room. "You have most effectively ruined my plans."

"Nice change of pace," he shoots back. As opposed to him fixing Loki's plans, or making Loki's plans, or obediently following them. Ruining them feels pretty damn satisfying, actually. He likes it. He should inconvenience Loki a lot more.

Loki goes quiet. He is not used to a mortal body in the slightest. It tires so easily. Then something occurs to him, Barton hasn't gone to get the keys. He also realizes his shirt is still unbuttoned.

"Are you staying here?" he asks bluntly.

Yeah.

Yeah, he is. Someone has to keep an eye on Loki. Maybe bring him into SHIELD, later. This isn't gonna look good, if Fury finds out before Clint has a chance to tell him. Not gonna look good at all. He needs a plan. That's a good enough reason to stay.

"Why?" he asks. "You gonna try and dangle me from the ceiling again?"

Loki gives a shrug and smirk like he was considering it. He did like the look of it, the way Clint was forced to use every muscle in his body. He should have never let him have that key -- the thought makes him bring his bitten fingers up and look them over. Slight swelling made them feel stiff but the bleeding has long since stopped.

He pushes himself back up and heads to the bathroom. He hadn't cleaned the bites, however small, he shouldn't leave them. Mortal forms are far too fragile.

"Let me." Hasn't let go of the urge to take care of Loki. And he doesn't know if he can.

He gives Loki a nudge, pushes him back so he'd sit on the counter.

Loki complies because -- well, he didn't think about it he just did it. It felt easier. Not as if Thor had been trying to help him, that he would have fought.

Instead he just gives an annoyed sigh. Fitting that he should take care of it. He did inflict it. And there is still that little nick on his throat, it's only an inch long and not at all deep.

And he'll take care of that damn thing too. Two little adhesive strips, like mini-stitches.

It brings him a lot closer to Loki, close enough that he can feel the god's breath on his skin. Sends a thrum through him, like something deep inside telling him this is where you belong.

No. No, he doesn't. He's his own damn person.

"Try not to let the Hulk toss you around," he says. "You're not as durable this time around."

"I intend to avoid it if at all possible," he says, fixing his gaze on the wall. That was Thor's reasoning behind the Asgardian first-aid kit, since he was not allowed to return with him. He pushes that thought from his mind, he does not want to picture what Thor would say to using it on a mortal.

It's easy for him to just sit there and be tended. No protests. He's completely pliant. It does faintly concern him that he does so easily. Clint no longer served him after all. He swallows once, the only outward sign of what he might be thinking.

Maybe the ownership goes both ways. When Loki's vulnerable, when he's down, he falls into the same pattern: letting Barton keep him alive. Trusting him. Just like Clint thought: there's no one else that Loki trusts. That's why he was called here.

His fingertips brush over Loki's Adam's apple, feels it shift under the skin.

Loki swallows again, at the touch. It at once both comforting and terrifying. He would like to think he let neither feeling translate to his face.

"Have you finished?" he asks, his voice hoarser than he'd like.

"Probably not," says Clint. Won't discount the possibility that either of them will strike in the next few moments. That it'll be deeper this time, closer to fatal.

Well, to be fair Loki isn't planning on attacking him again. The last two were purposeful. That and Barton took all his throwing knives. "Done for now," he clarifies.

He pushes away from the sink to leave the bathroom. He lets himself brush up against him more than he strictly should.

Clint catches him, around the waist. Doesn't let him go.

"I'm going to take you into SHIELD," he says. "We're going to do this right." If they don't, it's entirely likely that someone will find out about Loki and take a shot at him. Fury will give a contract that doesn't say if they want him dead or alive, knowing that the Avengers will pursue with more force than necessary.

He draws in a breath when he's grabbed. At first, he doesn't seem that bothered. Then Clint opens his mouth.

Loki's expression hardens instantly. "So I may be executed or so Fury can extract what information he pleases?" he asks in a darkly mocking tone. It really is what he expects or some variation therein. He tries to push him away with as much force as he can muster.

It would be one thing if he still had powers but as he is SHIELD is the last place he wants to be.

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