One and the Same (Loki Fanfic)

Chapter 14: Close Calls

"C'mon, doll, I know your boyfriend is gone, but you can't mope around all day."

The glare Taylor shot her friend could quite possibly evaporate the polar icecaps and by all rights, Bucky should have been barely more than a pile of ash. Loki had left in the morning with Thor, to speak to the ruler of Helheim, and all the Avengers had risen to see their comrade off. In the process, Taylor had realized the Loki didn't exactly have anyone to see him off or worry for him—except, of course, her. While no one (except Bucky and perhaps Natasha) had been looking, she'd taken his hand, a form of contact that had apparently become acceptable, and met his intense emerald eyes.

"Good luck," she'd offered, and then earnestly added, "and be safe."

Then she'd dropped his hand and cleared her throat, looking away with exaggerated casualness. Tony had appeared just after that and slung an arm around her shoulders, cutting off any response Loki could have given. The two Asgardians had departed directly after that, and the uneasy feeling in Taylor's gut had only increased while the Avengers had spent the last several hours goofing around and keeping themselves busy.

At that moment, Taylor and Bucky were sitting in the stadium-style seating over the training arena while Clint tried to teach Steve and Tony how to shoot a bow and arrow with some accuracy. Natasha was learning how to sword fight with Sif, the sharp sounds of clashing metal an amusing companion to Tony and Steve's light-hearted bickering. Bruce was sitting just a seat below them, citing that physical activity beyond yoga and jogging was an unnecessary risk. Taylor was too tired and sore to even think of exercise, and Bucky had simply opted out because "he could".

"I'm not moping," Taylor grumbled, feeling a light flush bloom across her cheeks, "and he's not my boyfriend."

"Funny how you chose to deny one before the other," the super soldier pointed out slyly, nudging her in the ribs.

He couldn't let it go, could he? Of course not—not that it really bothered her as much as she was pretending it did. Taylor knew he didn't really mean anything by it. He was just teasing her, like always, so she didn't take it personally.

"Shut up," she snorted, shoving him lightly.

Bruce, unable to keep from hearing the conversation, glanced back at her.

"You two do seem rather close," he pointed out.

"Saying we're 'close' is kind of a stretch," she mused, "we just sort of...hang out and bicker and occasionally get along."

Bruce smiled and patted her knee in a gesture that made her feel as though he was condescendingly saying "sure, sure, sweetie" which made her squint slightly. Only he could make himself seem like a smug seventy-year-old grandmother without uttering a word. It was like he'd caught her with some secret high school crush or something. Jeez...

"I thought you were against me being around him," she pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I'm concerned, but I'm not 'against it'," he admitted, "Tony wanted 'backup' yesterday and I wasn't about to argue with him. You know how he is when he gets into panic mode like that."

She nodded sagely, turning her jewel blue gaze to the arena where the billionaire was doing a rather comical, but still somewhat accurate impression of his sharpshooter instructor, posing with his bow and arrow in hand. Tony was the one that had taught her how to get through her panic attacks and found her a way to work through her nightmares.

After the attack on New York, his PTSD had plagued him. He had a tendency to fly into "panic mode" and it was sometimes better to go along with him rather than try to talk him down. She supposed that her fraternizing with Loki would make him uneasy, considering the god was the cause of the alien invasion in the first place. Taylor resolved to talk to the genius about it later, to set his nerves at ease and reassure him. It was the least she could, after all.