Caffeine Rush (Avengers Fanfic)

Chapter 15: Progress

The next few days were remarkably relaxed, for me at least. I got to witness the chaos I'd sown as Rush play out around me through the small things. Bruce and Tony would come out from the lab to get something to eat and a drink and still be discussing the physics required for multiversal travel and the theoretical applications for someone with speedster powers. Their conversation only paused when Tony saw Loki brooding on the couch, book glued to his eyes and asked, "what's up with Reindeer Games?" He asked me because Loki and I were usually the only ones who hung out in this space on a regular basis and we were civil with each other, unlike most of the rest of the team. They hadn't warmed up to him yet, still wary despite the confirmation of innocence from the Asgardians.

I glanced up at Loki, looking over his expression and body language and determined, "he's being moody again," before Tony could comment, I preemptively reprimanded, "do not make it worse." He closed his mouth and muttered something about finishing a speed equation in the lab, taking his macchiato with him.

I caught a peak at Steve's notebook once and saw him working on a sketch of my suit. It was pretty accurate too, I don't know why that surprised me so much. Nat and Clint walked in after a sparring session in the gym looking sweaty, in the worst way, to grab waters. I found myself grateful that I didn't sweat like they did, looking like I'd drowned, no thank you. They made a few mentions about my rate of healing as Rush with a rather disturbing and hopefully theoretical side comment on how they would take down a speedster. Thankfully none of the proposed methods that I overheard would work, but that was uncomfortable to eavesdrop over.

Thor and Sam were relatively unaffected, though Sam still preened unexpectedly once in a while, probably thinking about him being one of my favorites. Thor left for Asgard after a day or two with a mention of asking Heimdall, which made me curious about exactly how much he could see and what exactly he would tell to the princeling god.

Of the heroes who had been there, Wanda and Loki seemed to take it hardest. Wanda because she had to deal with me being related to her without being related, which in itself was a lot to unpack, but having our shared relative being dead in both worlds and having the same powers as he did made it harder. I had been told a few times back in my universe just how much I looked like him and acted like him, maybe it was different in this universe, but I couldn't imagine that it helped. Loki because he had a hard time wrapping his head around something. He hadn't voiced it, but something was bothering him and it started the hour following the battle, there had to be a relation. I brought him his preferred tea and sat with him in his Asgardian and cat forms, but he only seemed to close off more.

I thought back over the interactions we'd had on the Quinjet, trying to determine what exactly was bothering him. He had been confused how I knew about the frost giant thing but hadn't been distraught over it, being called a peacock would be a pretty easy insult to ignore, I'd ignored his question but that couldn't have set him off like this. Then it occurred to me, the Stan Lee conversation. Of course, why didn't I think of it sooner?

Must need more coffee, lack of caffeine made my brain work slower. Ignoring the enhanced metabolism, obviously.

Loki was having a godly identity crisis, I concluded. Now how does one fix that? I had no frickin' clue, that was not in my repertoire of skills. I consulted CASS but apparently AI's weren't so good at predicting the behavior of gods any better than a round of screw, marry, kill could.

With no other higher power to consult with, I turned to the coffee gods. I pulled two espresso shots, put three pumps of vanilla and four pumps of white chocolate in a mug, poured in some milk, stirred the two together, added the double espresso shots, stirred again, drizzled a bit of honey, and splashed in a few ice cubes. A fresh vanilla white chocolate mocha with honey drizzle and no chance of watering down that sweet sugary goodness. I practically buzzed with anticipation as I brought the mug to my lips, a prayer to the coffee gods in my heart.

One sip; nothing.
Two; nada.
A large gulp; goose egg.

I put the mug back on the counter and stared into it in confusion, the coffee gods had never failed me before. Was the offering not potent enough? Was it too sweet for their tastes? I made myself a straight shot and braved the bitterness in a single gulp. I waited one moment, then two, then five, I got to twelve before I'd decided that it hadn't worked and drank more from my mug to wash out the taste. Blasphemous maybe but coffee was an art to be perfected by perfect ratios of flavor the same way painters would to create just the right color. The straight stuff was like un-pigmented gloop in that sense, I couldn't stand it, the coffee gods deserved better offerings than that. It had been worth a shot though. See what I did there? Never mind, that was dumb.

Loki's behavior was beginning to concern me, he would be totally despondent one minute and irritated the next and then relaxed enough to sip his tea as if nothing had happened even if he clawed someone rather viciously. The god was being damned moody and I wa—he was being moody, could it be that simple? No, surely not, but it was worth a look into at the very least, right?

I brewed him a fresh pot of earl grey and put a stick of peppermint in it, I'd noticed he liked candy canes, and the peppermint smell went perfectly with his crisp winter morning scent. I set the tea and saucer on the table in front of where he was sitting on his signature spot on the couch. Normally, I would just smile and leave, but this time? I snatched his book from him, which—if you've ever tried to do—is not a good idea. I was careful to mark his spot in the book and closed it just out of his reach.

There was a swirl of icy chaos in his eyes, I spotted the conjuration of a knife, and held up my hands in a placating gesture. I could avoid the dagger if I needed to, but I'd rather not be stabbed at. "I just had a question for you, please don't stab me." He disappeared the dagger and moodily gestured for me to speak. "How old are you?"

"You interrupted my reading . . . to ask me . . . my age?" I was not fooled by the false calm in his voice. Oh no, he was furious as a wintry gale.

"You're being moody," I observed, waving off his anger. "I have a hypothesis, your answer will help me determine if it's a theory or not."

"I'm one thousand and forty seven of your years."

I excitedly pumped my fists, I was right! "This explains everything!"

"Pardon?" He raised an eyebrow, not following, anger forgotten.

"Considering Asgardian lifespans, you're a teenager. Probably around twenty or so in a human's lifespan."

"Why is this significant?"

I wiped my brow in faux exhaustion, "I thought you were having some kind of midlife crisis, I'm relieved that it isn't the case." I retrieved his book and offered it back to him, scooting closer, putting my chin on my hand and smiling at his taller figure. "There is also more steamy options available."

"You may heat my tea to whatever temperature you like, I do not require it to be steaming." Loki reopened his book and proceeded to ignore me. Sometimes I hate Asgardians. I certainly was not going to explain the significance of steamy to him, it would probably go over his head as an Asgardian and might even be considered a negative thing because of his inherently cold nature.

I sighed, "you know, I like things steamy, but I prefer my coffee iced." I stood, about to turn away but stopped myself. My hand reached out of its own accord, I hesitated a moment, but then ran my fingers through his soft black hair once, twice, a third time before I retracted my hand and returned to my counter, the back of my neck hot with embarrassment. Good thing no Midgardian was around to overhear that. It was good that he wasn't dwelling too much on my Stan Lee explanation, there wasn't much I could do if he had a godly crises because of it.

Downing the rest of my sweet as hell drink, I glanced back over at Loki and was surprised when our eyes met. I was further surprised when his eyes widened and he quickly looked away. I continued to observe him; his face was cold and unchanged, but his ears were tinted red. Well, progress was progress. You couldn't gain a cat's trust overnight.