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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The soup is finished and Loki first eyes the fireplace then the kitchen. "Will this fire do?" he asks, indicating the fireplace.

"It's not traditional. But it'll do."

A few minutes later, Clint is demonstrating the proper way to toast a marshmallow, and the correct ratios of chocolate squares to graham cracker squares.

The hell is his life.

Learning the finer points of proper smore construction has absolutely nothing to do with his long term goals. Well, it may, if it serves as another way to gain Barton's aid in the future.

Incidentally, they are much better than both the soup and crackers alone. When he is not consistently setting marshmallows on fire.

"So this is what you want to do for three days. Act like my boyfriend?"

Loki's expression darkens. "No," he says regretfully. What he wants hasn't been working out quite according to plan. Barton is harder to control than he anticipated.

"Then what's stopping you?"

He's full, he's relatively content, he's pretty sure Loki's not going anywhere. This doesn't mean that he's discarding all caution, but he's determined to act more casual than he feels.

"Conspire," he says. "Devise. Trick. Whatever it is you do."

Still wearing a blanket, Loki stands and moves away from the fire. He could tell the truth that is but it's better to allow him to think otherwise. There are two answers to his question that are true, one more damaging than the other and neither are ones he's willing to give.

He gives a sigh then carefully crafts his expression into something like defeat. "No, not now."

Then a quick change of the subject, "Will you sleep or am I fated to rude awakenings whenever I attempt it?"

"Try it and see." A challenge. Even though Clint knows that he can't stay awake forever.

"Hm," Loki nods, expecting the answer. He doesn't hide the calculating look then selects a piece of furniture furthest away from Clint but still somewhat comfortable. It turns out to be a padded chair. He draws his legs up into it and draws his blanket around protectively. Some shifting later he closes his eye and tries to sleep there.

Clint rolls his eyes.

He steps away. Finds the stairs up into a kind of loft upper floor attic thing, and, whaddaya know, there's a guest bed up there. So he doesn't have to sleep with the scent of Loki around him, and he doesn't have to see Loki looking like a fucking vulnerable child. The kind of guy who needs Clint's protection.

Never mind that Clint was programmed to protect him, before.

He lies back and closes his eyes, but doesn't sleep.

Loki does appear to sleep but he could just as easily be faking it. He stays in the chair for some time but he eventually moves to the couch. Even there he doesn't stretch out. He curls into a tight ball and tells himself any soreness that results is worth it.

A while later -- when he's sure Loki is asleep and not just sitting quietly, though he could be a really dedicated fake and Clint can't really prepare for that -- Clint approaches Loki, and crouches down. He shakes Loki's shoulder.

"Loki," he says.

Can't help it. Can't help the protective instincts.

If Loki doesn't move, he shifts forward and gathers Loki, wedding-style, into his arms. He'll carry him into the master bedroom.

Loki is asleep this time but he does wake as he's lifted. His eyes remain closed but he tenses. Other than that he lets himself be carried and doesn't struggle. If he's honest, which is rare, he's too exhausted to care.

He settles Loki on the bed, and spreads the blanket over him. ...Avoiding the wet spot. Well, that might be an unpleasant surprise mid-REM cycle.

He resists the urge to touch or settle Loki, and instead goes back to the attic.

He sleeps, this time.

Loki sleeps the rest of the night and most of the morning. He had always been an early riser before but then he never slept much before.

When he does finally wake he's sluggish and sore. Events of the night before catching up with his mortal form. He's still more resilient than average but not used to this. He stumbles out of bed and straight to the bathroom. Food can wait, bathtub is the most important thing in the universe right now.

Clint's found some oatmeal in the pantry. Not instant oatmeal, which is the only kind he really knows how to use, but there's directions on the outside of the can and he makes a fair show of it. Some maple syrup. No butter, but you can't have everything.

He doesn't bother Loki.

Loki, in turn, doesn't bother him.

It sometime later when he drags himself out into the kitchen. Despite the bath he moves stiffly. He acquires some food all on his own and only burned one slice of toast badly, though that could be the toaster and not his lack of midgardian cooking ability. Once the basics of life are taken care of he pauses in the main room at the edge of a rug. He toes the edge of the rug like he's considering something then moves back into the bedroom.

"There was enough for you," Clint calls, after him. He hadn't soaked a triple-serving of weird-ass oatmeal for nothing.

Or maybe he had.

Loki peeks back around the corner into the kitchen suspiciously, not unlike a child would(a child that had just been told he has to eat his vegetables.). He glares at the mush that is supposed to be oatmeal. "The burnt bread has more flavor."

"And I don't believe that to be food," he says, pointing to the oatmeal accusingly.

"It's got maple syrup in it -- it's -- listen, it's good, you'll like it, sit your ass down."

Now he has something to prove.

"I'll even put raisins in it."

He somehow manages to look even more suspicious but he comes back into the kitchen. Another glare to the oatmeal but he sits.

"It does not look like food."

He drops a spoon onto the table. "Take a fucking bite. And anyway, the charcoal you ate before is not nourishing. I'm not going to let you starve yourself."

He gives him a dirty look. He stabs the oatmeal with the spoon. He puts on the most disgruntled look as he eats. The first bite, he expects to be bland and flavorless, when it's not he tries to hide the look of surprise. It's still not great but it's not as bad as he expected.

After a few more bites he asks, seriously, "Why not?"

Clint really, really doesn't want to examine his own motivations. He looks away, grits his teeth. "You're going to be a hell of a SHIELD asset." They can milk him for information for years. Even given the way he's no doubt planning on tricking and manipulating them. He trusts Fury to get it right.

Unfortunately, he doesn't think Fury trusts him.