Unfettered (Loki x Reader)

Chapter 7 - Playing With Fire

You leave the training room after Thor and Steve's wrestling match hopeful. Determined. 

Tony is right. Being "nice" won't be enough to get Loki talking. But from what you can tell, it will certainly disarm him. Maybe even confuse him long enough to let you get another read of his emotions without giving away your powers. Now, you just need to figure out how to approach him.

How the hell am I supposed to be nice to an imprisoned god that clearly wants to kill me? 

As you wander the halls - heading nowhere in particular - you let your mind wander, turning over possibility after possibility. Maybe honesty would work? Maybe you should just tell Loki what you're after?

No, you snap at yourself as quickly as the thought arises. As soon as he knows what I want, he'll play me for it. Stupid, Y/n. 

Fighting a never-ending cycle of thinking of an idea only to shoot it down a millisecond later, you almost bump into Clint as you round a corner. He grabs your shoulders at the last second to keep you from stumbling.

"Someone needs some coffee," he chuckles, readjusting the strap of his backpack. You eye it suspiciously.

"You going somewhere?" you ask, nodding toward the bag.

"I'm headed out," he answers, reaching for the duffel bag he had dropped in your collision. 

"Out?" you question, perking up. You haven't left the tower since your arrival a month ago. "On a mission? Where to? What are you doing? Is it reconnaissance? Can I come?" you ask.

Clint smirks. "No way. Tony hasn't cleared you for field ops yet."

"Ugh," you groan. "Come on. If it's not too dangerous I'll just watch! And we don't have to tell him."

Clint shakes his head. "Unless you want to help defrost dino nuggets and split some firewood, no, you can't come, Y/n." 

Confused, you tilt your head and take one more look at the archer. He's not in his gear. Just jeans and a plain, blue t-shirt. Even his sneakers are untied - the dirty laces dragging on the ground. He's definitely not going out into the field.

"I'm going home," Clint clarifies. "Just for a few days. It's not a mission."

"I thought the tower was home?" you question.

"If my kids aren't around, it's not home," Clint answers as he strolls away.

Your jaw drops. You had no idea Clint has kids. "Wait a damn second," you say, jogging to catch back up with him. "You have kids? Does anybody else have kids? You don't live here full time? Does anybody else not live here full time? Does anybody else know you have kids?"

"That is too many questions for this early," Clint grumbles, rubbing his temples. "Pick one."

You have a million questions rattling around inside your skull, but one word slips out first. "Kids?" you ask.

Clint smiles. "Yeah," he says.

"Uh, okay," you say, awe-struck. "Are you coming back?

"Unfortunately," Clint says. "Until this Loki thing is taken care of, SHIELD wants me here. But Fury gave me the weekend. I'll be back in a day or two."

"But you're a superhero," you say suspiciously. "How do have time for family?"

"I'm not a superhero," he scoffs, almost sourly. "I'm just a guy with a bow."

"We both know that's not true," you frown. But for the first time you realize that in some ways, Clint is right. He doesn't have super endurance, stamina, or strength like Steve or the Hulk. He doesn't have enhanced senses or training like Natasha. He doesn't have the money or tech like Tony. And he certainly isn't a flying god of thunder.