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The crackling of fire was the first thing that he became aware of, followed immediately by the utter agony behind his eyes. The Archer groaned and buried his somewhat tender face into a surprisingly silky pillowcase. The covers over him were warm and sinfully soft against his bare skin. There was even a fur layer brushing over his cheek when he shifted lower into the warmth of the bed. He could smell juniper ever so faintly from the sheets and sizzling bacon from somewhere else. That, more than anything, was what prompted him to realize something was most assuredly off.
Clint jerked upright, unconcerned with the icy cold air that he exposed his upper body to. His sharp eyes scanned the room and found it relatively empty. Other than the oversized bed (it was definitely bigger than a Californian King) there was a large table made of thick slabs of polished wood with a pair of matching heavy looking chairs, a thick carpet over stone floors, the fireplace that was burning away unattended, and a large chest against one wall. On top of the table was: Clint’s bow, quiver, and other equipment. Clint jumped out of bed and crossed the room in a single leap to grab his weapons. He might be entirely nude, but he had fought naked before. It wasn’t fun. But it was doable.
Clint’s bow was instantly strung, and an arrow knocked, but the only door in the room didn’t open. Maybe he was a little paranoid. But, he’d rather be paranoid. Paranoid was much better than dead. Holding his bow back put too much pressure on his ribs, which he now noticed were bruised, and Clint reluctantly lowered his weapon, though he kept it ready.
How did he get here anyway?
Clint carefully made his way over to the window, which was hidden behind heavy draperies in a faded golden color. He peered through the gap in the fabric and made a face at the endless white he saw outside. That’s right. He was in the frozen Russian nowhere. For ‘reconnaissance.' Awesome.
Clint shivered and stepped closer to the fire. He really needed his clothes. Plus that bacon really smelled just too damn good. Still not releasing his bow, Clint circled the room. The bacon was found in a cast iron skillet near but not directly in the fire. Clint’s clothes weren’t anywhere.
Still feeling less than comfortable, Clint stabbed a strip of thick bacon with one of his knives and held it up to nibble on. He tried hard to not enjoy it too much, but he was suddenly aware of how incredibly starving he was. While Hawkeye had been on this mission, he’d been forced to keep to mostly rations because SHIELD didn’t know where the enemy base was and smoke could give him away. Clint devoured the bacon quickly even as he kept his eyes scanning. The room was of a good size but mostly empty aside from the furniture. There was a strange tapestry hanging on one wall and an empty bowl in the middle of the large table but nothing else decorative.
Clint did notice that all of the wooden furniture was heavily carved, however. The posts of the bed were particularly detailed with snakes braiding themselves up the length to then peer down at the room from near the ceiling. The eyes of the serpents were little flecks of emeralds and Clint couldn’t help but wonder just how expensive that piece of furniture was. Not to mention how it even got into the room. The frame was clearly larger than the door and windows.
Clint heard the door handle move, and he brought his bow back up into position. He barely even registered who came through the door before he was releasing his hold on the string.
There was a dull ‘thunk, ’ and then Clint was on the receiving end of a very unamused emerald stare not unlike those of the carved snakes. “It’s good to see you too, Barton,” Loki said as he shifted his book to look at the arrow embedded deep in the cover and pages. It had only been Loki’s superhuman reflexes that had brought the book up in time to keep the bolt from going through an eye. “Did you have to ruin my book, though?” Shock filled Clint even as he grabbed another arrow and brought it up.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” Clint hissed as he aimed right for Loki’s throat, but he begrudgingly had to admit, if only to himself, Loki would be able to block it again. That first arrow would have had the best chance of landing.
Loki rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t tell me you believed Thor… I thought better of you, Clint.”
Clint let loose again, and this time Loki batted the arrow away with his book without adding to the number of holes. “Don’t say my name like you know me!” Clint hissed as he grabbed another arrow, this time getting an explosive tip. The room was probably too small for such a weapon, but Clint didn’t care.
Loki was, rather surprisingly, quiet for a moment and then shrugged. “Very well. I see you found the bacon. You’re welcome, by the way,” he said as he walked forward. Clint suddenly realized that in Loki’s other arm he had what Clint was almost positive was his SHIELD issued survival suit.
“What’s your game, Loki?”
Loki gave an elegant roll of his shoulders in something far too graceful to properly be called a shrug. “No game. I heard the explosion. Imagine my surprise when I went to investigate and found a wounded hawk,” Loki said as if that really explained a damn thing.
“And so you just kidnapped me?” Clint demanded. “And stripped me naked?!”
“You have nothing I’ve never seen many times before, Barton. And it’s rather rich of you to say I kidnapped you when I then patched you up and fixed your clothes for you,” Loki said as he dropped the neatly folded bundle on the table. “Not to mention fed you.”
Clint’s eyes narrowed, and he really itched to let his explosive arrow fly. “It’s still kidnapping.”
Loki sighed heavily. “Fine. I kidnapped you if it makes you feel better.”
It didn’t frustratingly enough.
“Now, as I would have said… prior to your very ungrateful attempt to shoot me, I have scrambled the signal of the tracker on you but won’t keep you here,” Loki said as he grasped the arrow through his book and yanked it out easily. The ex-prince of Asgard held up the arrow to examine the razor sharp point thoughtfully. “Though I would adore it if you came back to me… I don’t think I have the resources to care for a pet right now.”
The arrow flew, but Loki had disappeared in the blink of an eye. The arrow hit the wall and exploded. Clint was sure he was dead, but a sparkling green wall held the blast back. Clint scowled at the dark char mark on the wall and grabbed his clothing off the table. As Clint took stock of everything and found it surprisingly intact, he cursed Norse psychopaths the whole time.
Once he had gotten dressed and kitted up, Clint stormed out of what turned out to be a small castle nestled in a heavily wooded area. Clint would have to make sure to tell SHIELD the general area that Loki was hiding out in. Thankfully, although very suspiciously, Clint didn’t see Loki at all as he left. He didn’t remotely trust the asshole, but Clint couldn’t exactly shoot someone who wasn’t technically there or visible or whatever the hell trick Loki was pulling. Clint very much expected to be stopped from leaving at some point but he never was. The whole thing made him uneasy.
Clint was more than a little annoyed as he watched his interrogators argue with each other in some African Dialect he didn’t know. Though Nat probably would have known. She knew like a million languages. Not that it really mattered what they were arguing about. The others would be coming to get him any time now. He’d missed his check in two days ago so that meant the Avengers would be notified by now.
Clint was expecting to hear repulsor blasters any minute. Maybe thunder if Thor happened to be on Earth to join in. He was bored waiting. Though these interrogators were hardly gentle, they weren’t anything like the worst Clint had dealt with. A few beatings and some electroshock had been all that Clint had gone through so far. Not even remotely enough to get him to talk. Although, he was definitely going to need the infirmary after this little misadventure. He could tell he had a few broken ribs, his nose was crooked, and one of his eyes so swollen he couldn’t see through it. Not to mention the cuts and burns littered across his body. The worst wound was definitely the slowly bleeding gouge in his leg from when they’d first captured him. He was very glad Tony hadn’t been around to see him take a wrong step off his sniper's perch and land in a bunch of crap and get skewered by some random piece of metal.
He’d have never heard the end of it. He was Hawkeye, dammit. He didn’t… fall. This was supposed to be an easy sabotage mission with some lowbrow weapons dealers that were starting to try and grow way too obviously. Clint should have easily been able to destroy their organization. But then he was betrayed. By gravity.
Whatever the two interrogators were talking about, they apparently reached some agreement and turned back to Clint. One pulled a rusty blade around the size of a machete from his belt and approached where Clint was strung up between the ceiling and floor. Clint narrowed his one good eye and hoped the idiot wasn’t creative. That sized blade could do permanent damage, and Clint would really rather pass on that.
The brute grabbed Clint by the hair roughly and yanked his head back. “You will talk now,” the man said with an incredibly heavy accent.
Clint scowled and kept his mouth shut. The machete was brought close to his face, but Hawkeye remained stoic under threat. Any time now, Avengers. You could assemble right now. Really.
Suddenly, spiders erupted from seemingly nowhere, and the arms dealer panicked. He screamed and jumped back from Clint. He dropped his machete and started flailing as the spiders crawled all over him. Clint watched with a bit of amusement as the big tough torturer suffered an apparent arachnophobia-fueled meltdown. He screamed and begged and even cried. The other tried to help knock the spiders off his buddy, but ropes came from seemingly nowhere to truss him up like a turkey. The spider-covered smuggler fell to the ground in a dead faint while his partner slammed hard into the ceiling. The still awake man screamed but was gagged with a thick cord of rope that slammed his head against the metal roof again.
“They are so very boring…”
Clint glared at the corner where a certain trickster was sitting on a crate with his legs crossed and his chin resting on his hand. “What are you doing here?” Clint demanded as he pulled uselessly at the chains around his wrists.
Loki flicked his eyes away from the man he’d just tied to the ceiling… somehow down to Clint. “Keeping myself entertained… or trying to,” Loki answered. “I’d have thought you’d appreciate my self-restraint to not unleash a horde of dragons or something equally dangerous on your precious cities.”
“Oh, yes, you’re so mature,” Clint sniped sarcastically.
Loki’s lips curved upwards in a crooked, but still annoyingly charming, smile. “You hang around with both my brother and the Man of Iron… I don’t really think you have room to criticize my maturity levels.”
Clint would have snorted if he weren't sure that would hurt his broken nose too much. “What are you really doing here?”
“Saving your pretty face,” Loki replied flippantly. “Your nose is crooked, by the way.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Clint said, his voice utterly dripping with sarcasm now.
Loki feigned surprise. “Hadn’t you? I’d have thought you would… it must be hard to draw a bow with your nose out of alignment.”
“Fuck you,” Clint snapped.
Loki’s smile grew. “Not before the third date, darling. I’m not that easy. Show some commitment, and I might consider it.”
Clint was rather less than amused. “I hate you. And when the others get here you’ll be sent back to whatever crazy bin you escaped from,” he promised.
The Trickster God hummed and leaned back. “Straightjacket sex… quite the kinky suggestion, Barton. Can’t say I’ve tried it before.”
“Wake up the smugglers, I’d rather deal with them than you,” Clint ordered in annoyance. “This here is real torture. Don’t you have anything better to do, you psycho?”
Loki’s smile dropped a little. “Not particularly, no.”
“How pathetic for you,” Hawkeye said nastily.
Loki was surprisingly quiet as he studied the suspended SHIELD Agent. After a moment, the ex-Prince got to his feet and walked over to where Clint was hanging. Clint recoiled as much as he could as Loki brought his hand up towards the archer’s face. Loki grabbed Clint’s bent nose, and though Clint tried to pull away, he wasn’t fast enough. There was a painful crack, and Clint let out a stream of curses that would make sailors blush.
Loki stepped back with a slight smile on his face and examined the blood on his hand. “There, all straight again. You’re welcome,” he said with a far too pleasant tone. As if he’d just straightened a picture on a wall or something.
Clint cursed a few more times, and the glared up at the Trickster. “I don’t thank you!” he hissed.
“Nobody ever does,” Loki replied casually. “I’m quite used to it.”
“Is that supposed to be a ploy for sympathy?”
Loki gave Clint a surprised look, but the spy knew better than to think that a genuine reaction. “No, it’s merely fact. I am capable of telling plain facts. I do it a lot actually… It’s just nobody listens,” Loki said as he lowered his slightly bloodied hand to his side. “Now… I would let you down, but you’d no doubt attack me again, so I think I’ll leave that to your little gang of annoying do-gooders.”
Hawkeye rolled his one normal sized eye. “It’s not like I really expected you to be helpful,” he said. Maybe if he kept Loki talking, he’d stall long enough for the others to get there and catch the crazy god and take out the smugglers. Two birds and one stone and all that. “How did you even find me anyway?” Clint demanded.
Clint recoiled sharply as Loki leaned far too close. Their faces were only a few inches apart. “I’m desperately in love with you and stalk you day and night,” Loki breathed with his emerald green eyes smoldering under his half-closed lids.
Clint growled and swung himself to force Loki to back away a step. “Ass. Fine, keep your secrets,” he snapped. “It’s not like it matters. Whatever you’re planning won’t work. We’ll stop you.”
Loki’s eyebrow went up. “What makes you think I’m planning anything?”
“You’re always planning something,” Clint replied instantly.
Loki smiled again. “Well, yes, that’s true.” Off in the distances there was the rumble of thunder and Loki froze entirely with the single exception of his eyes, which flicked to the side. “Ah… that would be my cue to leave…”
“But we’ve been having so much fun,” Clint said sarcastically.
“Mm, weren’t we though? Don’t worry, my hawk… I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon,” Loki said before he disappeared in a flash of green light.
Hanging from a parachute over a massive cliff to inevitable death was not exactly the most fun in the world. Clint tried to not be too annoyed. He wasn’t currently in any immediate danger, and the others had their hands full with the Doombots that had taken down their jet. He could still hear Tony rambling about that in his earpiece, so he was fairly sure that nobody was injured from their emergency bailing from the now crashed jet. The wind came gusting up the cliff face, and Clint grabbed the straps of his parachute to brace himself as he spun and got more tangled in the cords. He hated that Doombot that had torn his chute and made him miss his target of the forest above him where everyone else was still fighting. Natasha assured Clint they’d get him once the current swarm of bots was dealt with.
Clint glared at nothing as he spun awkwardly over the open air. He heard tearing and looked up to judge just how much more the thin fabric of the chute had torn. The tree he’d caught on had nearly fallen from its precarious perch when he hit it and was now practically horizontal, and he was well below the small ledge it had grown on. He was going to get laughed at once Tony got his act together and came to pick him up. If he didn’t die from falling first. He wasn’t super convinced that wouldn’t happen. The wind jostled him again, and Clint fought the urge to curse.
The explosions of Doombots being destroyed were getting fainter, and Clint really hoped that wasn’t as bad a sign as he thought he was. He knew the others wouldn’t just forget him here but who knew how long it would take for them to get back and save him from this mess.
Hawkeye looked back down at what appeared to be a plush green shag carpet but was actually dense jungle well below terminal height. “You guys better not forget me here,” Clint said into the communicator.
“Don’t worry, Katniss! Just- hey! I’m talking here! Just let us take care of this right- whoa, nice tank, but you totally ripped off my old design you hack job!”
Clint sighed and glanced back at the tree. Maybe he could climb up to it and then get to at least a less dangerous position. Probably a good idea. Clint reached up and grabbed the parachute cords above him to try and carefully climb up. He winced each time he heard fabric rip and strain. He was keeping a particularly close eye on one rip that was almost entirely clean through the whole length of the chute. He had about a half inch of fabric holding the damn thing together.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Clint pulled himself up the lines. He was trying his best to not jerk his weight around too much and cause more damage. He had just grabbed hold of the not nearly thick enough branch when he heard a clapping noise beside him. Very confused, Clint looked over his shoulder to see long legs clad in black leather right beside him. His head shot up, and he scowled at the smiling face of Loki. “I wasn’t at all sure you’d make it to the tree,” Loki said casually. “Well done.”
“What the hell are you doing here!?”
Loki shifted to lean over Clint. “Watching a hawk learn to fly.”
“Asshole. Get out of the way!”
Loki tilted his head to the side and then looked to the ledge. “It’s not a particularly stable piece of ground. You’d be better off waiting for the Metal Man to come back for you.”
“Like hell am I doing that!”
“Fine. Don’t take my advice. I don’t care,” Loki said with another of those too elegant shrugs of his.
Clint growled and carefully shimmied away from Loki and towards the ledge. “When I get up there I am putting an arrow through you.”
“Promises, promises…”
“You think I won’t?” Clint demanded as he tried to hurry. The tree was creaking unsteadily, and he’d really prefer to not be hanging over a chasm anymore. “Just wait, you bastard, I’ll enjoy making you a pincushion.”
Loki just hummed and watched Clint climb along with an absolute disinterest. “I keep forgetting how much you enjoy showing affection through aggression…”
“You turned me into a slave, and you think I have affection for you!?” Clint nearly lost his grip on the tree as he shouted at the crazy demi-god. “What fucked up reality do you live in!?”
“Well, if that was widely known I would no doubt be getting psychological help by this point,” Loki said lightly. “Out of pure curiosity though… why is it you that continually has unfortunate run-ins with gravity?”
Clint growled and decided to not answer that. He finally managed to shimmy along enough to transfer his grip from the tree to the ledge and hauled himself up. He quickly shed the harness of the parachute and whipped around to fire an arrow at his enemy. Loki caught the arrow and tossed it over his shoulder casually. The tip exploded, and the debris rained down into the jungle far below. “You know I’m not going to fall for the exploding arrow trick twice. It was commendable you got the one in.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t stop trying,” Clint hissed as he let loose another arrow. This one went through Loki entirely to sail into the distance harmlessly.
Loki raised an eyebrow and then smiled. “Yes, I think I will forgive you,” Loki said. “It is very entertaining watching you try so futilely.”
“I’m going to enjoy it so much when we capture you again,” Clint growled.
“And what will you do when you do, Clint?” Loki asked in a near purr that didn’t seem to fit the threatening tone of the archer at all.
“I’ll make you pay,” Clint swore. There was a sudden crack, and Clint felt the front of the ledge crumble beneath him. He swung his arms out to try and keep himself from tumbling forward.
A pair of slender but far too strong arms wrapped around his chest and pulled him back. Clint couldn’t quite help but freeze at the chest he bumped against and the confining hold he was in. A warm breath brushed over his ear. “I look forward to it, my hawk. Truly, I do.”
Clint shot his elbow back and spun with his knife already in his hand. The blade cut through nothing but air, and when Clint looked around, he saw that he was again alone. He cursed and stepped further from the ledge to get an easily defensible position with his back to the cliff face. No way was he allowing Loki to sneak up on him again.
Clint let his eyes scan the crowd of fancily dressed diplomats and businessmen. This party was more Natasha’s roll, but after the rather embarrassing smuggler incident, SHIELD hadn’t wanted any operative going out alone for the immediate future. So, Clint had been dragged along to give Nat backup while she did most of the work. Unfortunately, that meant that Clint was not really enjoying himself. He hated monkey suits and these sorts of parties. He couldn’t even drink more than enough to keep the illusion up since he was working. All in all, it sucked.
Nat was in her element, of course. Clint kept an eye on his partner as she charmed some King or another in a truly remarkable slinky blue dress. Clint sighed and made his way through the crowd towards the buffet table. He wasn’t really hungry, but it made a decent distraction and seemed a reasonable enough thing for a guest at a party to do.
When Clint got to the table, he started putting small bits and pieces of the expensive food on a tiny plate while keeping his eyes jumping over the crowd for any threats. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere than here,” a sweet voice said from right beside him.
Clint nearly dropped his plate and turned his attention to the woman that he’d stepped up beside without even really looking at. She was a gorgeous thing, like mostly all the girls here, with her raven black hair pulled up into an intricate hairdo that still allowed a cascade of curls and tiny braids to tumble down her elegant neck. She was in a black dress with just the tiniest hints of dark green embroidery at the waist and hemlines. All of her jewelry was gold and looked like genuine antiques. Suddenly, Clint remembered she’d said something. “Er… I don’t go to parties very often,” he tried to excuse. Damn, he was so bad at this blending into high society thing.
“I can tell,” she said although it wasn’t particularly unkind. “Do you want some advice?”
“Is it good advice?” Clint asked before he could help himself.
She laughed, thankfully, and waved her hand off to the side slightly. “Most people don’t think I give very good advice, but I like to think any advice is better than none at all.”
Clint snorted. “Alright, what’s your bad but better than nothing advice?”
“Loosen up,” she said. “You look like someone who’s out of place.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sure you were born to this sort of life. I wasn’t. It’s hard to ‘loosen up’ when I feel like a misfit,” Clint muttered. He knew he probably shouldn’t be saying this, but he also didn’t recognize her as someone from the briefing to watch for. She was probably just a highly paid escort so there wouldn’t be much harm in talking to her. Plus, he was pretty sure it would help him blend in.
She shrugged very elegantly. “You would be surprised how few people born with silver spoons are actually unable to seem natural in such a setting,” she said as she hooked her arm in his and led him away from the buffet table as if it were entirely natural. Clint found himself going along with her. “Social skills are still a skill and not one that is easy to exercise.”
“What do you mean?”
“Most people stay among their tiny groups, and there you don’t have to actively try to appeal to anyone,” she explained. “Then, once you are thrown into a place with people you don’t know… you no longer know how to act. Some are, admittedly, better at the adjustment than others but it still takes an adjustment. In some ways, it is those of us with no friends that are the most successful in situations like this.”
Clint frowned in confusion. “How do you figure?”
“No expectation of gaining friends means we don’t try as hard,” she said. “And for me at least, that does take the stress off.”
“Sounds lonely,” Clint muttered. Not to mention he was pretty sure a lot of people with no friends found social gatherings very uncomfortable.
She waved her hand again before laying it on his shoulder. “Or safe. I’m never hurt by friends since I do not have them… I also don’t hurt any friends since I don’t have them… But that’s really more of a side effect.”
“That sounds pretty skewed to me…”
She hummed and led them out onto a balcony. Clint glanced around and was relieved that he could still see Nat where she was standing at the bar working the King. Clint turned back to his new companion. “And why does someone like you not have any friends in the first place?”
“I do very bad things,” she murmured. “Very very bad.”
Clint couldn’t help but snort. “And that means you can’t have friends?” He was a master assassin that was here spying on a King with another assassin friend. “I doubt whatever you do is so bad to not have even a single friend.”
“You say that now, Hawk, but I know you don’t really mean that,” she said.
Clint almost replied to that before what had she said actually registered. When it did though, he pulled away quickly. There was only one person who called him ‘Hawk.' “Loki… what the hell?” he hissed, doing his utmost best to not be too loud. Now that he was looking, the woman was obviously Loki. The brilliant green eyes were a dead giveaway.
Loki smiled and leaned back against the wall. “Now that is quite the expression on your face…”
“What the fuck are you up to?” Clint demanded.
“I was bored,” Loki said as he picked up a hand to examine his flawlessly done nails. Clint suddenly noticed they were the exact same shade as blood. “And you were bored too. Don’t try and deny it.”
“I’m working,” Clint said as he reached into his pocket for his nearest knife.
Loki hummed. “Yes, but you were still bored. And we were having such a lovely conversation. You didn’t insult me once before you figured it out… I shouldn’t have called you Hawk… slip of the tongue.”
“Like you do anything by accident.”
“Why, Barton… I was unaware you had such a high opinion of my skills,” Loki said lightly. “It’s quite flattering.”
Clint moved and all but slammed Loki against the stone pillar and pressed the knife against his side though he didn’t stab the god yet. Blood would cause quite the scene, he knew that much at least. “Stop trying to mess with my head,” he hissed.
Loki raised a sculpted eyebrow and lifted an arm to wrap around Clint’s neck. “Careful, Barton… you might blow your cover,” he all but purred. “If you really didn’t want me messing with your head… you wouldn’t make it so delightfully entertaining,” Loki shifted again, bringing their faces uncomfortably close.
Clint did his utmost best to remember who he was pinning to the pillar. It wasn’t the beautiful woman that it appeared to be. It was Loki. Psycho and apparent stalker. Clint had thought Loki was joking about the stalking thing, but now he wasn’t so sure. The crazy Norse sorcerer just kept showing up everywhere for no damn reason. “Come near me again, and I’ll kill you.”
“You can’t, Barton…” Loki murmured. “But I welcome your attempt. Surely it would be more entertaining than goading my brother.”
“You’re a masochist aren’t you?” Clint accused. That was the only way continually doing these sorts of things that never worked made any sense.
“No… I’m an eternal optimist… painfully so. I keep hoping things will be different even though I know it won’t be,” Loki said, finally pulling back enough so that Clint couldn’t feel the curves of his cheek and nose. “I just can’t help myself.”
“You are insane…”
Loki hummed and pulled back, breaking Clint’s grip easily. “That is the popular opinion, yes. Have a nice evening, Barton… and remember to loosen up,” he said before disappearing into the shadows. Clint grabbed for him, but the blasted sorcerer was already gone.
Clint woke up staring at the sterile white ceiling of the Avenger’s medical wing. He had been stuck in bed for a week, and he still felt like death warmed over. The oxygen mask was hanging nearby for when he would need it, and a huge pitcher of water was nearby for him. Nobody was allowed in without hazmat suits since they had yet to get a cure for the virus he’d contracted. He was miserable. Everything ached, huge welts had appeared on his skin, his vision faded in and out, and that was just a few symptoms. The nausea was also a real pain, especially since he couldn’t get out of bed without getting too dizzy to stand up.
“Whoever did you piss off this time?”
Clint let out a raspy sigh, somewhere between resignation and annoyance. “Hydra,” he answered even though it wasn’t any of Loki’s business. He was getting too used to these surprise visits. Clint turned his head to see Loki peering down at his chart curiously. “Why are you here?”
“My favorite toy is broken… I feel compelled to try and fix him,” Loki replied without looking up. “Finding new entertainment is so tedious. This planet is severely lacking in tolerable individuals.”
“I’m not your toy. And I’m not broken,” Clint rasped.
“Of course, you’re not,” Loki said. Clint wasn’t sure if the sarcastic response was meant for the first statement or the second. Loki was quiet for a moment as he flipped through the pages in front of him. Once he was done, he put the clipboard back in its slot and turned entirely to Clint. “You’re dying.”
Clint laughed, but it changed to a cough. Once he managed to get control of his breathing again, he gave the unmoved Loki an unimpressed stare of his own. “Your bedside manner sucks.”
“Of course it does,” Loki said as he pulled a chair closer. “You’re the first bedside I’ve ever been to.”
Clint stared for a minute before snorting. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not,” Loki denied. “Nobody’s ever cared to have me close by while they were ill.”
“I don’t either,” Clint pointed out sourly.
Loki’s lips curled into a crooked grin. “I know… but I decided to ignore you for your own good.”
“You have no idea what’s good for me,” Clint said.
Loki leaned over. “I know everything that’s good for you, Clint. I promise you that.”
“For God of Lies… you suck at lying,” Clint growled.
“No, I don’t,” Loki denied. “I’m an expert… but it’s not because I’m lying that you disbelieve me, Hawk… it’s because you’re in denial that I might have more to me than just lies and plots.”
Clint narrowed his eyes and grabbed for his call button. “Get out of here, Loki. Before I call the rest of the team on your ass,” he threatened.
Loki eyed the call button for a moment. “I can help you, Clint.”
“I said get out. I don’t want your help.”
“Why haven’t you called them already?” Loki challenged. “Why even give me a chance to flee if you hate me so much? You cannot lie to me, Clint.”
Clint growled and pressed the button hard. For a moment he swore he saw hurt flicker over Loki’s face, but Clint knew he had to be imagining it. Loki just stared for a moment. “You disappoint me, Barton.”
The first door in the airlock opened with a hiss and Loki vanished. Clint stared where Loki was for a few minutes before dropping the button. The others came in to check on him and for some reason that Clint couldn’t adequately explain he decided to not tell them that Loki had been there. Not that he really cared if Loki got hunted down or chased. But Clint didn’t want the others knowing that the Norse god was stalking him for some reason. They’d get all protective, and that was beyond irritating.
Three days later, Clint wasn’t getting even a little bit better. In fact, he was pretty sure he was just a shred away from dying like Loki had predicted. Not that admitting the psychopathic god had been right helped his mood any. Clint was dozing off more often than not, and he knew it worried the others, but he was just so incredibly tired he couldn’t do anything else.
He vaguely became aware of someone leaning over him. Clint blinked to try and clear his vision, but the dark shapes just wouldn’t resolve into anything, so he let his eyes close again. Something that felt like pure ice slid under the skin of his arm where his IV was, but he didn’t have the strength to look and see what it was. Probably yet another symptom of this virus. Because clearly, the gamut of ones he was already dealing with wasn't yet enough.
Clint felt a cold hand on his unshaven cheek and couldn’t help but shift more into it. The smooth, cool palm felt wonderful against his own fever-heated skin. “Shh, rest and let the treatment handle the virus.”
“Brother. What are you doing here? Step away from Barton.”
“Quiet, Thor. You don’t want to wake him, do you?”
There was a tense silence. “I said, step away from him. He is ill and does not need your presence to agitate him further.”
“Calm yourself. I have no intention of ‘agitating’ him or even harming him. He’s not even awake to enjoy it.”
“Why are you here?”
“I found an antivirus. I decided to test it on your little bird here.”
There was another longer silence. The cool hand brushed Clint’s hair back and then traveled down to feel his far too fast pulse. “Why?” There was a questioning hum. “Why would you help friend-Clint? This is not like you.”
“Isn’t it?” That wonderful cool hand pulled away, and Clint frowned at its loss. “Do not pretend to know me now, after all this time of proving that you don’t.”
“Then why are you doing this? Explain yourself!”
“Hush, you oaf! I owe him a debt, as you well know… now I’ve repaid it, and I can kill him along with the rest of you with no fear of leaving that debt behind.”
“… you lie. That is not why you do this. You have never felt a need to pay a debt before.”
“How would you know? I’ve never owed you one!”
“Loki-”
“There are more treatments for Barton there on the table. His heart rate is beginning to slow, but I doubt it will be a fast recovery. Give him a new vial of it each day, and he should not die.”
“Loki-” There was a strange noise and the room somehow felt more empty. There was a heavy sigh. “… I wish I knew if this meant you were not as beyond hope as I feared, brother…”
Two months later Clint had fully recovered from the virus although his doctors had absolutely no explanation for it. They hadn’t been able to come up with anything close to an antivirus for him.
-----+-----
Clint trudged through the snow and tried his utmost to not remind himself how incredibly stupid he was being. So what if Loki had suddenly stopped randomly showing up in his day-to-day life? It was a relief to not have the asshole hanging around and mocking him always. So what if something might have happened to the bastard? He didn’t care. Nobody in their right mind would care! Loki was an insane alien wannabe overlord! Who cared if something happened to him? And yet here Clint was, finding his way back to the castle that he knew Loki lived in at one point or another.
SHIELD had never caught Loki here, but Clint doubted that Loki just abandoned the place. He didn’t know why he even thought to look here for the psycho, but he had, and now it was bothering him. And really, he might have disappeared to plot the destruction of the world again. Clint should really make sure so that they could avoid the deaths and destruction Loki would no doubt cause.
Clint ended up searching for half a day before he found Loki’s castle in the thick snow-covered woods. The castle seemed a little more in disrepair than Clint remembered it being the last time he was there, but then again, it had been over a year since the archer had been here and snow and ice were hell on buildings. That and Loki didn’t seem the type for fix-it projects around the house.
The large front doors were practically frozen shut, but Clint managed to force one of them open enough to slip inside the building. The temperature inside the castle was almost as bad as outside. The only plus was that there wasn’t as much wind chill to deal with. There was still a rather unpleasant breeze through the halls but not to the extent of the wilderness he’d just come in from.
Clint readied his bow and made his way to the stairs. Ice made the stone stairs more treacherous than they really should be, so Hawkeye took them slowly. He couldn’t hear any signs of life in the place, but that didn’t mean that nobody was home. Even going slowly, Clint made his way up to the hall that led to the bedroom that Clint had woken up in all those months ago. Why he was heading there right off the bat, he had no idea, but the Archer decided he had to start somewhere and that wasn’t such a bad place.
Clint kept against the wall as he moved down the hall. He was suddenly struck by how empty the castle actually was. True, it had been really very empty before, but that was so long ago now. Hadn’t Loki put any effort into his own hideout? That seemed terribly odd. From what Clint remembered in the admittedly hazy period where he was being controlled by Loki, the God had absolutely hated living in ‘squalor’ without all of his creature comforts. Why would he now care to live in an empty somewhat rundown castle?
Shaking his head a little, Clint sneaked along until he reached the door at the very end of the hall. He moved as quietly as he could to turn the handle and push it open. Thankfully, it didn’t creak, and Clint was free to slip inside silently.
At first glance, the room looked entirely abandoned, but Clint wasn’t called Hawkeye for nothing. On the ground, just barely poking out from behind the large bed, Clint saw a thin, pale hand. Without thinking, Clint hurried across the chamber to see what or rather who was on the ground.
He didn’t know why he was surprised to see Loki collapsed on the floor. He’d been expecting to see Loki here despite having no proof he would be. But still, Clint was shocked. Maybe it was because he hadn’t anticipated the way Loki actually looked. He hadn’t even looked this horrible when he stumbled out of a portal and proceeded to ruin everything.
The Norse God had lost so much weight Clint was half sure he was already dead if it weren’t for the rattling breath that was visible from the way Loki’s uncared for hair moved. Dark circles telling of no sleep in much too long rimmed his closed eyes and his lips were so chapped and cracked that they looked as if someone had taken a grater to them. Clint was utterly stunned. He’d seen healthier looking corpses. The archer stood there just staring for almost five minutes before putting his bow and quiver down on the table.
Getting Loki into bed was awkward due to the god’s long and now bony limbs but Clint managed it without too much fumbling. He tucked Loki under the luxurious covers of the bed and then straightened. Loki hadn’t even stirred. The archer huffed a little and glanced at the fireplace. Coals weren’t even smoldering within it, which meant there hadn’t been a fire burning in ages. With a little bit of annoyance, since he had no idea why he was even doing this, Clint left the room to go and find some wood for the fire and something to eat for both him and the obviously deathly ill maniac upstairs.
The firewood was easy to find. There was a room on the ground floor full of it already dried and stacked. There wasn’t much in the way of food in the place though. Some dried meat and a few stale pieces of bread. Clint was sure that his rations would be more nutritious. Too bad they were so hard to eat. Well, time to improvise.
He had a fire going and a soup made of crushed up ration bar heating up over it in twenty minutes flat. The meal wouldn’t be the most appetizing, but that wasn’t the most important thing right now. The chill of the room was slow to go away, but Clint made sure to keep the pile of wood beside the door high so that the fire wouldn’t be going out anytime soon.
Clint was stirring the soup he’d made in a little pot over the fire and pondering yet again why he was even doing this when he heard a thin voice from behind him. “I was not expecting company…”
Clint turned in his seat to see Loki was staring at him. He looked unsettling with his sunken face and dark bags under his almost glowing eyes. Some sort of horror movie demon. “Well, you make so many friends I can’t imagine why not,” Clint said. Loki frowned and Clint felt a little bad, but not overly so. He wasn’t lying or anything. “So what happened to you? You look like death.”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” Clint said as lightly as he was able. “Just curious. Kinda wanna know who I should thank.”
There was a long silence, and Clint glanced uneasily at the ex-Prince. “That would be Odin,” Loki finally answered. “My punishment was a slow death rather than a quick one.”
“Ah… why’d he wait so long to do it?” Clint asked as he poured some of the soup in a roughly hewn wooden bowl he’d found along with the few scraps of food in the kitchen and went over to sit on the edge of the bed.
“He didn’t… my seidr is simply depleted enough that you can finally see it,” Loki answered. “Though he said the curse can be broken, both he and I knew that the chances of that were entirely unlikely,” Loki added. His voice was still raspy and sounded painful, but Loki didn’t seem to notice that.
Clint grunted a bit. This was far more awkward than he wanted to be. Sitting at his enemy’s deathbed after an execution that apparently had been taking years. Still, he supposed the least he could do was offer the doomed a last meal. He’d already made the stuff and all. He held out the bowl to Loki. “Here. You look like you could use it,” he said.
Loki just stared for a long minute. “I appreciate it… but it is also useless.”
“What?” Clint was very caught off guard by that and couldn’t help but blink in confusion. “What do you mean ‘useless’?”
Loki smiled, but he didn’t really look amused. “How long do you think it takes for a god to starve to this point?” the trickster asked with a vague gesture to himself. “A very long time. For a while, I managed to choke some things down, but I doubt I could do it now.”
Clint was still holding the bowl out. “I don’t understand.”
“It will taste so disgusting to me I will most likely vomit it back up,” Loki said with a nod to the bowl. “The curse is called the Withering… it’s quite good at sucking the joy and life out of someone. Everything tastes like the worst filth possible, and water chokes you with each sip… sleep is plagued with endless nightmares, and every touch upon your skin feels like knives scraping you to the bone… so thank you for the attempt, Clint, but I’d really rather not vomit in front of you.”
Clint shifted uncomfortably and put the bowl to the side. He wasn’t at all sure he liked this curse. Such a horrible description seemed the very definition of cruel and unusual punishment. If not outright torture. “You said the curse can be broken, though. You don’t strike me as one to give in.”
Loki shrugged a jerky motion that almost looked like a painful spasm. “There is a way to break the curse, but I know I won’t be able to do so. It is beyond my capabilities.”
“That definitely doesn’t sound like you,” Clint said with a frown. The Loki he knew was arrogant and more than a little self-assured. He’d never just say he couldn’t do something.
“It is realistic,” Loki replied.
“How so?”
Loki sighed and leaned back to close his eyes. He head tilted back to expose his throat, which seemed twig thin. “Forgiveness will break the curse.”
“Forgiveness?” Clint echoed. “What you have to forgive Odin or something?”
“No… someone I wronged must forgive me.”
Clint jumped to his feet instantly at that. “Is that why you’ve been hanging around me all this time?” Loki opened his eyes again just enough to see Clint’s furious face. “You’ve been trying to trick me into forgiving you!?”
“Hardly. I knew you never would,” Loki denied. “But as I’ve been slowly dying you’ve been quite a welcome distraction. I hope you don’t begrudge me that at the very least. And I will not be bothering you too much longer. Truly, I’m surprised you even came here. I was sure I wouldn’t see you again.”
Clint growled and stormed across the room. “I can’t believe you! You are such a… such a… ass!”
“So you have said… But I won’t apologize for my visits. They were the only things that made me forget, if only for a second, how hungry I was. How thirsty… how tired… how much I ached from nothing at all…” Loki was barely whispering, and Clint looked back over without fully turning. “You should probably go, Clint… unless watching me die would in some way make you feel better about all this. Personally, I would think you’d find it boring. It will still probably take me a few days to succumb completely…”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Clint ordered before grabbing his bow and storming out of the room. Clint made his way outside. Who was Loki to order him around again! The nerve. There was no way he was just going to mindlessly do what Loki told him to. Then again, Clint should leave. Let Loki die all alone. No less than he deserved.
Clint disappeared into the woods and spent half the night scouting around. There was very little to distract him and eventually he did make his way back inside. He stayed down on the first floor just poking around the castle. Loki had only furnished one room other than the bedroom it seemed like, and that was a library. Clint hung around there for a little while before reluctantly making his way back upstairs.
Loki was asleep right where Clint had left him. The sleep didn’t look in the least bit peaceful. The nearly dead god whined and shifted before settling into place. Clint watched for a long time, but Loki didn’t wake up. He just occasionally whimpered and let out little cries that were barely heard at all. Time seemed to drag on so unbearably slowly, and Clint couldn’t seem to make himself get up and walk away. He knew it was sick of him to just be sitting there watching Loki slowly die in a less than peaceful sleep but what exactly could Clint do besides that?
Well, Clint knew what he could do, but he wasn’t sure he could actually make himself do it. Forgiving Loki seemed… just impossible. After all that the god had done, forgiving him was an unreasonable expectation. Then again, Loki hadn’t asked at any point. Clint scowled and leaned back against the bed’s post and watched Loki’s pained expression. Not for the first time, tears rolled down Loki’s hollowed cheeks in his sleep, and Clint looked away. This was ridiculous. Why the hell would this be an execution method anyway? It was far too drawn out. Just kill him and be done with it, Odin! Damn!
Clint glanced back over and folded his arms over his chest. He should not be here. He would have thought that seeing Loki die would be a vindicating experience, but it wasn’t. At least, not when he was dying like this. It didn’t seem right. Loki hadn’t even been the biggest thorn in their side lately. And he’d saved Clint’s life a few times. Sure Clint doubted the altruism of those instances, but he couldn’t deny that they’d happened. Clint groaned and reached up to rub his face with one hand. Now he was trying to rationalize. This was ridiculous. Why was it even up to him!?
The skeletal form of Loki drew Clint’s eyes again, and he frowned. Damn it. He just couldn’t watch this happened, and he was more than a little bitter about it. Clint leaned forward and braced himself over Loki so that he could whisper into the god’s ear. “Alright, damn you. I forgive you. But only because I can’t stand to see you looking all pathetic like this. So I’m taking you back to the tower and we’ll… I don’t know. I’ll leave that up to Mr-I’m-So-Ethical-Rodgers. But I forgive you for what you did. I still don’t like you, though.”
As it turned out, recovering from near death took almost as much time as it did to die. Loki took months to not look like he would keel over any second and he spent most of that time annoying Clint to no end. Clint knew he should have let the bastard die…