Loki Misses the Asgardian Prison System

Chapter 65

A/N this chapter has a target audience of one (1) person and he's not on wattpad so basically by posting it here this chapter has a target audience of literally no one

Loki's taking a walk.

It's a pretty shitty walk.

He used to go on great walks in Asgard. He had the whole realm to explore, and all the time in the world to do it. He can't count the number of times he's left the palace with nowhere to go but not returned until hours later, perfectly content to just meander around his world.

He can't do that anymore. He can't go outside. He can't enjoy the fresh air and the wind in his hair. But he can still walk. He can still explore. He just has to explore inside instead of outside.

So that's what he's doing. He's walking around the tower, exploring the halls one floor at a time. He'd thought he knew the research and development floors like the back of his hand, but he's beginning to realize there are entire floors up here that he's never been to. He'll have to come back later to really look around, when he's not just looking for a chance to stretch his legs.

After those few floors, he's in the quartering section of the tower — or, at least, that's what he assumes, because most of these floors look fairly similar to his own. He wonders briefly if he should skip these floors. He doesn't know where most of the Avengers' bedrooms are, and he really feels like he should stay away from them. He'd be surprised if they're in their rooms right now in the middle of the day, but he doesn't know for sure, and he'd like to avoid any awkward conversations with them if he can.

But he has no idea how many floors have bedrooms and it's so quiet out here that he'd feel weird asking JARVIS, so he keeps walking anyway. He'll just go up and down the halls, staying out of anywhere he's not sure he wants to be. He keeps his eyes peeled for any movement, any sign that he's not alone, but the hallways seem to be empty, much to his relief.

Loki's made it down a few more floors when he hears it. It's faint at first, a quiet clicking noise from afar. His first thought is that it's a sign that he should stay away, but his first instinct is to check it out. Ultimately, the latter wins out, and Loki heads toward the noise. He's not entirely sure where it's coming from, but he's sure he'll find it. It can't be too hard.

He slowly walks down the hall, listening carefully for where it could be coming from. It gets louder as he walks, a slow but encouraging change. And finally, he thinks he's found the door, partially because the clacking is the loudest it's been but also because it's the only room on this floor that has any light shining through from under the door. Behind all the clicks is the faint sound of music – or what he assumes Midgardians would consider to be music, not that it would pass as such in Asgard – in the background. Overlaying it is the quiet sound of an unfamiliar woman's voice, though he can't make out the words; only the rhythmic vocalizations.

He should probably leave. He knows where this noise is coming from now, so he could easily stay away from it. Whatever it is, whoever's responsible for it, he's sure they don't want him here. He should really leave.

And knowing that he should probably leave is the reason he does not, in fact, leave.

He teleports to the other side of the door, shielding himself from view with a little bit of magic. It seems he's found Natasha's room – or he'd assume it's hers, given that she's in it. It's not much more decorated than his own, but it's definitely more full. The closet door rests open, revealing a wide variety of mostly-black clothing hanging inside, and a few pairs of shoes sit beneath them. Also unlike Loki, she was afforded the luxury of a bureau, presumably holding even more clothing. A hamper lies against the wall, folded up and entirely empty. God, why doesn't he get these kinds of things in his room? (Probably because he doesn't have much more clothing than what he wears at any given moment, honestly.)

Sitting on Natasha's bed is her laptop, its screen facing her. On it is a video of a woman, moving her feet as she speaks to the camera. Natasha seems to be copying her, her eyes glued to her computer as she moves her feet in near-unison with the woman. And, finally, Loki figures out what's making that noise: it's the tap shoes she wears on her feet – the same ones Tony got her for Christmas.

Loki cracks a smile, amused. He didn't think he'd ever see something like this. It's oddly satisfying, watching her attempt something she's not yet perfect at. She always seems to know what she's doing. This is a nice surprise, seeing her less than sure of herself. It's kind of captivating.

Natasha stops tapping and walks up to her laptop. She rewinds it a little bit, then returns to her spot in the middle of the floor. She begins copying the woman on the screen again, this time a bit smaller at first, marking the movements until she gets a better handle on it. She rewinds it again and gives it another chance, this time doing the movement fuller. A smile plays on her lips as she gets the hang of it.

Loki returns to the other side of the door as though he'd never been inside. A smirk on his lips, he says, "Now, I know those aren't the shoes you swore would never leave the back of your closet."

The tapping stops.

And then it resumes, this time very forceful marches until Natasha pulls open the door. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Loki just shrugs, a small smirk on his face. "Walking."

"By my room?" She makes no secret of her disbelief.

"I hadn't realized this was your room until I heard you within it," Loki tells her. "Though I must say that it is very amusing now that I do know." His gaze drops to her feet, still donning her tap shoes.

Natasha kicks her shoes off in frustration, making her impossibly shorter than she was before. She kicks one behind her, but she kicks the other at him, snacking again his shin with enough force that he's bound to wake up with a bruise in the morning. "What do you want, Loki?

"What, am I not allowed to make conversation with my housemates?" Loki asks, exaggerating his innocence.

"No," she deadpans.

Loki smiles to himself, undeterred. "I must admit, I'm surprised to see you taking up dance again, given your previous experience with it."

She clenches her jaw. "Tread carefully, Loki."

"I mean it with the utmost respect, of course," Loki assures her. (He did not mean it with the utmost respect.) "It's a very brave thing to do. I applaud you for it."

Natasha rolls her eyes. "Seriously, what do you want?"

"Entertainment," Loki says. "And this is probably the most entertainment I've had all day."

She shakes her head at him. "Your life is so boring."

"Well, it is a prison sentence," Loki says with a dismissive shrug. He's not here to dwell on that. He'll do that late at night when he's half-asleep and questioning the validity of his life instead. "Are you also bored, or do you do this dancing thing often and not only in fits of desperation?"

Natasha just closes the door in his face.

Loki chuckles. "It was nice talking to you, too."

Well, that was fun. Now to resume his walk.

Around the building.

Because that's fun.

He sighs. His life really is boring, isn't it?