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Clint watched as his sparring partner’s staff skidded across the floor, echoing around the training room along with equally strained breathing. Tension building in nearly a flat second, as if burning cold energy snapped through the room. He was only mildly surprised to have gained the upper hand against the mildly arrogant prince. Said prince was a lot better at close combat than his physique gave off.
The archer had paced a bit, trying to even out his breathing as he walked over to pick up the dropped staff. The whole time he felt those eyes tracking his movement, he glance up to meet those green eyes that held that same burning cold sensation that was still filling the room. Clint kept his staff up in a defensive manner as he twirled the other staff and stood before the god again.
There was a huffed sigh as the lithe god brushed the hair that fell out of his braid back out of his face and looked to his captured weapon with a disdain that he glared at things that seemed to minorly inconvenienced him. Stark was typically the person centered at that disdain. Loki didn’t say anything as Clint walked closer, didn’t try to take the held up weapon. Only watched the other man and silently contemplated how he had lost hold of his staff.
Clint held out one end of the staff, offering to him to take it back. “C’mon, princess. Take it or give up.” There was a distinct sort of smugness in his voice that matched the self satisfied smirk he had in place. It wasn’t often that he somehow gained the upper hand during training sessions.
What should probably be considered a growl escaped the dark haired god as he directed his glare to the archer. He snatched it out of his hand and twirled it back into a comfortable hold. Obviously irritated by the no magic rule that had kept him from being able to not drop the staff at all. It was a sparring handicap that made it fair for anyone who happened to spar with him.
“Alright, again. Though this round you could, y’know not, pull your punches.”
Loki only raised one dark eyebrow and looked at the bruised mortal. “No mercy then?”
Clint seemed to pale a few shades and took a few cautionary steps back. “I didn’t say that.”
The god now grinned, canines appearing too sharp, and a mischievous glint flickered through his eyes, slipping back into a starting position for the next round. “Careful what you wish for, little Hawk.”
The archer hid his uneasiness and mimicked the same position. Sure he wanted a real fight and for the haughty prince to seem less board with his day, but he didn’t exactly know the extent of the god’s strength alone. So maybe this started as away to do something else, but it had quickly turned into a trust exercise on Clint’s part, to actually feel comfortable around Loki without the underlying desire to run. Knowing what he could and couldn’t handle when it came to a fight seemed entirely necessary. He wanted to know he could protect himself if he had to. He had done the same with Natasha after recruiting her and Phil had done the same for him when he had picked him up out of the circus.
“No magic.”
Loki nodded, rolling his eyes. “Agreed, no magic. Now let’s start.”
Clint nodded back, steadying himself. “Alright, on three then.”
“Whatever seems to make you feel better about your ultimate defeat this round.”
It was Clint’s turn to glare as he counted down and lunged at him to try and get the first hit in. Only to find himself stumbling as one leg was caught by the other staff and he was sent to the floor. He rolled to the side to avoid getting hit again and pushed himself back to his feet. He took a few steps back to try and regain his stance and analyze his options.
They got into a steady rhythm after that first fall, each getting in some pretty good hits. Their staves hit with a harsh sound and they both pushed back against each other, trying to throw the other off. Clint felt his feet slip some and in the second it took him to glance down and correct himself Loki knocked his weapon aside as he threw him back across the mats.
Clit breathed out a curse as he was tossed back across the mat, body hitting the wall as the staff flew off and landed somewhere else. It took a few seconds for his vision to clear to realize he was laying on the ground, head pounding. During that time he didn’t know where he was, disoriented and coming to the fact that he only had one aid in now. He coughed through a rattling breath as he tried to prop himself up only to have his own body light up in pain. He groaned and dropped himself back down, squeezing his eyes shut and tried to find his breath again.
Loki had seriously meant no mercy.
Loki sighed softly as he walked over to his fallen partner, leaning against his staff when he stood next to Clint; one foot crossed over his ankle. “I believe you had more fun when… How you say? I “pulled my punches” ?” Green eyes, that still sparked with mischief and slight amusement, and looked down at him. Though his features drew down in a slight pout. WIth Clint officially done and unable to continue he would be out of entertainment.
“How.. The hell do you look so good after kicking my ass?” Clint barely managed a laugh, that hurt immensely and cracked his eyes open some. Only to be greeted with the world spinning, though Loki seemed to be the only stable fixture through that. “But.. you’re wrong. Had fun.” He let out a slow breath, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain of that. Glad to feel that the energy in the room had changed.
“Was your fun worth a concussion and cracked ribs?” Loki questioned. From the way Clint had hit the wall the former was definite injury and he had felt his staff do damage to the mortal’s ribs. There had been a little too much give and Clint had taken a few too many seconds to recover, and from this angle it was easy to see the man was in pain.
“I’d jump off buildings for fun if people would let me.” Clint pushed himself up to sit slowly, only to wince at a sharp pain and have to lay back down as pain warmed his chest and made his head spin again. “Okay.. Okay.. that hurts.”
Loki tsked and looked him over. “Ah, yes your passive death wish. Always makes for an interesting day when it peeks its head about.” He knelt down next to the fallen archer. He cared for him, in some odd forming way that still didn’t make a whole lot of sense. For all that happened the man should hate him. Maybe he did. Rightfully so. “Oh, what will the Avengers think of me now? Harming their little Hawk so.” In reality he wasn’t actually concerned with the team. From the looks of it lately he and the spider were the only two who could keep Clint in check or in balance. Though the new Hawkling was doing surprisingly well when Clint wasn’t trying to drive her off. Loki liked the two women, he hoped one day to hopefully befriend them.
“I suppose to medical with you. Your dear Captain will attempt to have my head otherwise. Though the dwarves had little success in that themselves.”
Clint laughed again, sucking in a sharp breath when it stung. Like the Avenger’s could run Loki off. Clint had a soft spot for the god and Loki’s interest in him was too strong. “Think everyone would want you around after a month of me bein’ a pain.” At least he knew he was a pain in the ass and hard to deal with, A constant curiosity to Loki though. They fit together better than anyone realized, including themselves.
--
Loki sat off to the side of the room Clint had been assigned when he brought the injured man down to medical. Suspicious eyes watched the god during the initial check up on CLint, assessing his injuries. They asked about the cracked ribs when the discovered them along with a small list of other injuries the god hadn’t realized clint had suffered. He shrugged a shoulder. “Suppose he was drunk. Tripped over the mess that is his flat.”
The doctor clearly didn’t look convinced, but flipped back through Clint’s chart to check his blood alcohol again. He glacnced at Loki and then Clint. “Is he trying to avoid blame?”
“Not his fault, so no, he’s trying to get a rise out of me.” Clint shot him a glare, though it was super effective when his head still felt like it was going to implode and everything kept getting fuzzy around the edges. Loki rolled his eyes and looked away.
“Then what happened?”
“We were sparring and he’s strong than he looks.”
Loki huffed, “That’s rather boring.”
“Telling them i'm a drunk isn’t?”
“Is not a lie.”
This time when Clint leveled a glare at him, with building anger now, the god became immensely interested with the ceiling tiles. Riling the archer up was one thing, actually pissing him off was another. Loki didn’t try to make a habit of actually pissing the man off, he liked it better when they were getting along.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Are you having those types of thoughts again, Agent Barton?”
Clint’s attention snapped to the doctor, “What? No, this wasn’t another attempt.”
That gained Loki’s attention as he looked between the two. He knew the archer’s mental state was questionable at best, but he had no knowledge of active suicidal thoughts or attempts. He did worry for the archer, he was just unsure of how to help him.
“I was bored, he seemed bored, I have us something to do and he was the only one not busy.” Clint knew he said it to get back at Loki for the drunk comment. Didn’t make it right. He knew that. That didn’t stop him from wanting to get even. He did it with Natasha and Kate on an almost every other day basis. It was hard for him to let people in, to trust anyone.
Loki seemed to bristle at the comment anyway. Whether Clint meant it or not it still hurt and part of the god wasn’t so sure that Clint hadn’t genuinely meant it. That he was only called around when the archer had no one else. “I was a last choice?”
Clint heard the offended tone and wished he hadn’t said it. But at this point it was too late to take it back. “Loki..” That didn’t mean he didn’t want to try and make it right. He knew was a dick.
The dark haired god huffed and sulked down in his seat, arms crossed and venomous glared narrowed at the floor tiles now. Which was an improvement from him simply storming out to ruin someone else’s day to match his mood.
Clint let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Genuinely glad that Loki hadn’t rushed off like he had in the past. They were both touch at best and a little vindictive at worst when they happened to fight. “Y’know, it got a little intense, so what? I’m basically paid to go out and get hurt.”
“You shouldn’t.” Loki bit out, however mad he was currently it didn’t change the fact that he never liked seeing the archer come back looking worse for wear.
The doctor sighed, “We would still like you to reduce your visits when you’re state bound.”
Clint rolled his eyes. He had his own work outside of SHIELD. They didn’t own him, so he wasn't going to listen to them willingly.
“I’m instructing Agent Romanoff to look after you until you’re healed.”
Loki glanced at Clint, he knew he liked the Spider better. It was easier to ignore being a second choice when the first wasn’t around.
“I don’t need to be watched.”
“It’s an order.”
Loki looked away again and made himself appear preoccupied was the doctor wrote a script for Clint’s pain and gave him a list of things he shouldn’t do during his recovery. There were times that the god felt that maybe Clint liked him beyond a passing entertainment, but often he wasn’t so sure. Especially when the spider or hawkling were around. The archer seemed to look at them like he were a lost puppy. The most Loki had gained in terms of affection were passing glances or drunken confessions.
“You can take him now.” The doctor hesitated on what to call Loki before not adding anything at all.
The god gave him a tight smile and stood, staying somewhat close in case Clint wasn’t steady enough to walk of his own accord.
“You can stop playing kicked puppy.”
“Who says I’m playing, hm?” Loki said it with a cold tone and walked Clint back to his floor in the tower. That seemed to keep Clint quiet now and left Loki in a dark meditative sort of thought. He didn’t follow Clint inside when he spotted Natasha waiting. He did give her a short smile before heading back off to his unfortunately shared floor with Thor. he wasn’t allowed to be truly alone and it was by far the most inconvenient thing he had to deal with.
--
Natasha helped Clint to lay back on his couch. “He’s touchy and yet you feel like pushing his buttons. I’m starting to wonder if you even like him.”
Clint shot her a look and she pushed his head despite the concussion. “Ow..” He closed his eyes against the world becoming blurry again and laid his head back against the couch. “Don’t do that. And I do like him, just.. Working on trusting him.”
Natasha knelt down next to him and read over the pill bottle he had been given. “He’s got the impression you’re only around him because everyone else is busy. You’re last little stunt with Stark didn’t exactly help either.” She set the bottle on the coffee table and lightly ran her fingers through his hair in a form of apology for pushing his head. “Well, last few stunts. I understand that Stark is attractive but if you are wanting to get closer to Loki you need to stop messing around.”
Clint groaned and rolled his eyes. “I’m not dating the god. Who cares who I sleep with.” He wouldn’t admit that he liked the gentler contact from her.
“Hm, he might. He doesn’t care for Stark but he likes you and you have a soft spot for him. So maybe stop trying push him away. And stop going to Tony any time you’re a little drunk or horny.”
“Not drunk when I sleep Tony.”
“Okay, fine, but drunk when you smell of sex and pour your drunken heart out to a god with a serious jealous crack and a well of insecurity to rival the marianas trench.”
Clint sighed, “I’m into too much pain for this conversation.”
Natasha rolled her eyes and stood to make him something to eat. “Uh-huh, get your act straightened out before you mess up enough to shove him away for good.”