dreamsofpoison | 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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He levels a stare at Loki.

"Great planning, Sherlock," he says. "Real brilliant move. I'm not your servant. Get out there and get the keys, and melt them yourself, if you're so eager to go back to SHIELD."

Loki laughs and leans his chin on his hand. "SHIELD is my best option but I am in no hurry. We can wait until they find us," he says then glances out the window. It stopped snowing outside. "Or spring."

He pauses, a long moment.

"Christ," he says, finally, and he storms outside. It doesn't take long to turn up the keys and the ice. It's not mobile. And it's actually an enormous block of ice.

This sucks.

He storms back in. Shakes the snow off. "You're an asshole."

"I've been told," he says and smiles far too brightly and perhaps a bit too fake.

He slumps down on the sofa. He just needs to rest first. He's ... completely wrung out. His arms still ache.

He twists his shoulder around in the socket, testing it.

Fuck.

"Cold first, I think," Loki says abruptly then stands. He heads into the kitchen to retrieve to small bags of ice. He tosses one, then the other at him.

"The blankets here produce heat if plugged in."

"I know what an electric blanket is."

He simmers, angry, but presses the ice to his shoulders.

"A thousand years," he says -- "You have to have learned how to massage at some point." He's thinking aloud, not actually asking for a massage. He realizes, belatedly, how it sounds. "Not that I want your hands on me."

"All Asgardians learn," Loki says, "It's something of a necessity with a race of warriors." He'll leave out that as brothers he and Thor would massage each other after training, he doesn't want to completely break him.

"I can," he confirms then carefully adds, "If you wish."

No. That's his instinctive response. And then he reconsiders, pauses. Loki messed him up this way. He should fix it.

Clint takes a breath, and says, "Hell no."

Well, there goes that idea.

"As I thought," Loki says with a laugh.

"Oh, go jump in a lake."

This all sucks.

Clint turns a glare on Loki. "So what was that all about? You just wanted to fuck with my body as well as my mind? You wanted to hear me beg?"

A small smile tugs at his lips, he did enjoy the begging. He considers how to answer before speaking. "Consider it... payment."

"Payment?"

His voice is cold, and furious. He discards the ice bags, stalks closer to Loki.

"Payment? For what, services rendered? I think it was you taking exactly what you want. Kind of a habit of yours." Which he punctuates with a sharp poke to Loki's chest.

Loki is careful not to move when he stalks forward. He keeps his expression blank aside from a little twitch around the eyes at the poke.

"You're right," he says simply, "I will be killed or kept imprisoned until death. I wanted to do what I never could before."

'You're right' takes the wind out of his sails, not that there ever was much wind in the first place. Pretty much fueled by anger, he is.

He splutters --

"The fuck is wrong with you?" Saying one thing, then saying another, and Clint has no clue which one is a lie. He tentatively decides that both are. He turns away, then rounds back on Loki. "If that's right, then why let me go? Why not toy with the mouse for another few rounds?"

Not that he's a mouse.

Bad comparison.

"Would Fury not grow suspicious if you where too intimately damaged?" He asks back.

"I had my fun. You had yours whether you choose to admit it. I'd rather avoid making what's left of my life too miserable."

He swings his fist straight to Loki's face. Can't help it. This smug asshole --

"You don't even know what you've done to me, do you?"

The punch is startling and makes him jump out of his seat. It still clips him before he can completely avoid it.

He works his jaw and somehow manages to laugh. "Do enlighten me," he says airily.

"Like fuck I will."

The words are right there on his tongue. You ruined my life. You ruined me. Made him useless for anyone else.

The punch isn't satisfying enough. He wants Loki to hurt.

"Small consolation," he says, "that you'll never manage to keep someone loyal to you. And that's what you really want, isn't it?"

His eyebrows raise a fraction then his eyes narrows. "You know nothing of what I want," he says dangerously.

One of his hands disappear behind him, a concealed weapon. "Do not touch me again."

"Don't take my loyalty again." He pulls back. "It's the only thing I have to give." And it's all broken into pieces, thanks to Loki.

He leans back like he didn't expect that response. For once, he doesn't seem to have a reply to that. Saying he doesn't want it would be a far too obvious lie even for him. He sizes him up for a second then moves away.

"And what do you want, Barton?" he asks, finally.

"Someone who's worth giving it to."

He intends it as a backhand to Loki -- you're not worth it -- but it comes out angrier, darker, more hurt.

He shows no signs that comment hurt. Instead he looks somewhat surprised. "Really?" he says like he doesn't expect an answer.

"Yes. Really."

He sighs. "Got any place around here I can take a shower and get some rack time before I take a blowtorch to those keys?"

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dreamsofpoison - 2012-09-16 00:41 (UTC) - Expand