Loki Misses the Asgardian Prison System

Chapter 64

Loki is having a pretty decent night.

Steve bought him some new books the other day, and he's finally gotten around to reading them. He'd been rather skeptical at first to read a book centered around incorrect Midgardian takes on mythology, but he's grown rather attached to this Percy character. It's an interesting brand of humor, too. This Rick Riordan is truly an expert storyteller.

He's a bit confused by the knock on his door, but it wouldn't be the first time someone's come to talk to him at night. The Avengers had mentioned a game night of some kind. Maybe they've come to ask him to join.

He folds the corner of his page down — he should really ask for a bookmark so he doesn't have to decimate his novels like this — and puts it down on the floor by his bed. He picks Snowflake up off his lap, and she mews quietly in protest. He carefully puts her down by the foot of the bed so he won't have to disturb her when he comes back.

He makes his way to the door and pulls it open—

And it's Natasha.

Huh.

Weird.

"Hello?" Loki says uncertainly.

"Hey, Loki." She leans against his doorframe, but her shoulder doesn't quite make it and she stumbles to the side.

Loki immediately reaches out and grabs her waist, holding her upright. "You're drunk."

"I'm not drunk," she says, almost spitting the word back at him.

"I can smell it," Loki says. He tries to take his hands away, but Natasha puts hers on top, holding them there. He furrows his brows. "What are you...?"

"I'm not drunk," she repeats, more firmly this time. "I'm lonely."

"This tower is teeming with people," Loki reminds her. "You have your pick of friends to talk to."

She gives him a small smile. "What if I pick you?"

"Then you truly cannot convince me that you're not drunk." Loki takes his hands back, and though she tries to stop him again, she doesn't succeed this time. "Go talk to Barton."

"Fury called him in," Natasha says.

"Rogers, then."

She shakes her head. "He's in bed."

"Stark?"

She gives him a really? look. "No."

Loki cracks a smile at that. "Fair enough. What excuse do you have for Banner?"

"I don't know where he is and I don't care," she says. She doesn't even acknowledge that he called it an excuse. That alone seems to prove that's all it is. "Which, of course," she continues, "leaves me..." She takes a step closer, their faces only inches apart, and she drapes her arms over his neck. "And you." Her gaze flickers down to his lips, then back to meet his own.

"Uh-huh." He gives her a small smile. "Well, Ms. Romanoff, while I am flattered to find that there is a level of intoxication and desperation that could convince you that I am a worthy partner..." He gently removes her arms from him, leaving them down by her side. "I do believe it's about time for you to go to bed."

She gestures with her head to his room, a smirk on her face. "Well, your bed's right in there."

"Where's your room?" he asks.

She raises her brows, her smirk growing bigger. "Ooh, my room, then?"

"I'm bringing you to bed before you do something you can't take back," he says. "You'll come to regret this in the morning."