Work Text:
They sit together on the terrace, staring out at the ocean. The pool sparkles at their feet, but the weather is still too chilly to justify swimming, though Tony has assured them the water is heated. He will have to ask Aeslin or Barton, if he remembers later; they have been the only ones to test it. She had been thrown in after losing a bet with Barton, and she had emerged shivering, Venus from the foam, with her shirt clinging to every curve and teeth chattering. Seconds later, when Barton had unwisely opened his mouth, he had been unceremoniously blown backward into the water himself with a flick of her fingers. Three tablets of ibuprofen, she had later told Loki with a grin, was a small price to pay for the perfect memory she would have of the archer’s face.
Sam takes a long pull from his bottle; the sounds of music and chatter inside are muffled by the glass behind them. It sounds like Pictionary again, though if it is like any of the other rounds, it will devolve into something completely different before the players get three rounds in. A side effect, Aeslin has told him, of geniuses with short attention spans trying to be people. It’s not unexpected, and Loki would be lying if he said he is not looking forward to what they end up creating.
“A few things up front,” Wilson says. “Confidentiality. What you tell me stays with me. I don’t even admit we’re talking unless you give me the go-ahead, and I certainly don’t share what we talk about. If you want me to be able to answer anyone’s questions, we can figure that out. There are forms.”
“Understood,” Loki replies.
“Second. You tell me whatever you want to tell me, however you want to tell me. I’ve got guys who paint, some who create masks, some who write journals, and some who just talk things out. Whatever works for you. It’s going to be messy, at first. That’s completely normal.”
“Anything else?”
“You need to be willing to work, however we figure that out. I’m not here to solve your problems for you. I’m here to help guide you. It has to come from you, otherwise it won’t be effective.”
He takes a sip of his drink, swirling the ice in his cup. “Where do we start?”
“Wherever you’d like.”
Most of the activity seemed centered around the large kitchen; Loki could hear the music clearly the moment he stepped through the doors. A smooth piece, instrumental. He didn’t recognize it. Tony and Pepper were dancing across the floor, weaving around the others; Rogers seemed to be showing Aeslin a different type of dance. He dipped her in his arms, and she caught sight of Loki.
“Hey,” she said, practically upside down.
“What’s all this?” he asked with a smile.
“Gala,” Stark broke in. “Two and a half weeks. You’ll need to brush up on your dance steps; you two are invited. I think it’s the best way to get your face out there."
“Gala.”
“Charity something or other. Pepper’s got all the details; I just show up. College?”
The redhead smiled as they coasted by. “Museum.”
“Museum,” Tony amended. “I remember now. I think I bought them art or something. Anyways, it’s going to be a blast.” He switched partners, smoothly insinuating himself between Rogers and Aeslin and sweeping her away. “Don’t they dance where you’re from?”
“Well, yes. It’s just a little more… vigorous, as a general rule. Aside from what I’ve seen Parker do, I’m not really familiar with your styles.”
“Twenty minutes,” Stark said to Aeslin. “I give him twenty minutes before he knows exactly what he’s doing and has every blue-hair in the place lined up for their turn.”
She regarded Loki thoughtfully as she and Stark sidled past. “Twelve, easy,” she replied and laughed at Tony’s mock-skeptical look. “He’ll get it. Just you wait.”
“Does anyone else know the extent of what they did to you? What you’ve been through? Have you talked to anyone else?”
“Only Doctor Kindle.” He stops himself. “Aeslin. She knows all of it. No one else.”
Sam’s face is curious. “I have to ask. I mean, you’ve talked about her some, but not as much as I might expect you to. Most people talk a ton about about their spouses, partners, significant others. They see them as a strength, or at least something to talk about besides what they don’t want to. You rarely talk directly about her. Why is that?” Loki looks at him, but Sam is relentless. “She’s a huge part of your healing process; anyone can see that. What is she to you?”
How does one explain the sacred? Describe something that defies understanding? He merely shrugs. “She’s everything.”
Rogers and Pepper spun by, and the redhead peeked into the pot on the stove as she went past. She accepted the spoon that Barton held up, gracefully taking a bite, then wrinkled her nose. “Needs salt.”
Wilson punched the archer on the arm. “Told you so.”
“I want you to make a list.”
“Of what? Sins? Atrocities? Favorite foods?”
“People. You don’t have to tell anyone anything you don’t want to. You’ve got that right, but what I do want you to have is a list of people who will help you without question, without hesitation, who will listen and be there for you any second, day or night. We’re getting a good foundation going, but I don’t have a lot of time out here. We can Skype, talk on the phone, do whatever you need to. I’m still going to be on your team, doing whatever I can, but you need to have others. What if I’m unavailable? What if my phone’s dead? Where will you turn then? Put down my name. Put down her name. Then I want at least three more.”
“Day or night?”
“Any time. You’ve got kind of an ace in your pocket, though. I’ve spent some time with the team out in DC, and let me tell you, I’ve never met a nicer group of people who never freaking sleep. But that doesn’t matter. You can pick people that sleep, too, because I mean, for instance, if you put Barton on your list, there’s a very real possibility he’ll be on assignment and unable to pick up. That’s why you have more than one or two.”
A final twirl, and Stark deposited Aeslin safely in Loki’s arms. He twined his hand with hers, hand going automatically behind her back as he watched Rhodes break into Roger’s dance, stealing his partner away with a grin. He looked down at Aeslin as he followed Rhodes’ lead in his peripheral vision. “So,” he said casually, “any hints on what I should be doing?”
“Hell, no,” she replied with a grin. “Have you seen me dance?”
He reads the list. “Good,” he says. “This is good. You’ll want to let them all know that they’re on your list, so they’re prepared. Maybe give them tips on what will help you get through the moment that made you have to call them.”
“I will.”
A faint breeze gusts, bringing with it the smell of the sea, and the paper in Sam’s hand flips upward. He turns it over, intrigued by the image on the back. “What’s this?”
Loki is determined to not be embarrassed. “It helps to clear my mind,” he says. “She gave me one of her empty books. They’re just rough sketches.”
“They’re amazing,” Sam tells him, clearly impressed. “And not just as a coping mechanism. What are they?”
“Designs,” he replies simply.
“Showed them to anyone? Tony? Steve?”
“No.”
“You should,” he says, handing the sheet back. “You really should.”
***
Loki adjusted his tie in the hallway mirror. There was a footstep behind him, and he turned to see her in the doorway. He stared for a moment, unable to help himself. She gave him a grin as she came closer, flicking an invisible bit of dust from his lapel and straightening his scarf.
“You’re… taller than I remember,” he said, trying to recover a bit of dignity. It didn’t sound any better this time around.
“Just because I don’t wear heels doesn’t mean I can’t.” She pulled a wrap around her bare shoulders and kissed his cheek.
He slid his arm around her waist, marveling at how much easier it was than usual and kissed her back. “I could get used to this.”
“I hope not,” she said. “The look on your face was just too adorable for words, and if I never see it again, it will break my heart.”
Loki offered her his arm. “Well, then. Shall we?”
“Absolutely,” she replied. “Let’s go ogle some art.”
***
“Donated by Stark Industries. It’s one of our newest acquisitions,” said the docent in an excited whisper. “The Muster at Valhalla. We’re not sure of the artist; there were so many copycats during the Mannerism period. But whoever did it…” she trailed off, and Loki could see the worship in her face. “It’s exquisite.” She led them to the gallery, arranged them in front of the painting to show its maximum effect, and then stepped back. “Take all the time you want,” she said, leaving them in the middle of the room. “It really is amazing.” Her heels clicked discreetly on the floor as she walked away.
They stared in silence for a long moment, and then Aeslin delicately cleared her throat.
“It’s… lovely,” she finally managed.
Loki took a deliberate sip of his champagne. “No.”
“Breathtaking?”
“Not that either.”
“Mindblowing.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘inaccurate.’” He sighed. “Honestly. Who goes to battle wearing nothing but strategically placed silk? No one who plans to survive, that’s who. Not to mention that none of them look like they could take on a flight of stairs, much less an army. Which I suppose is fine, since it’s abundantly clear that this is the first time any of them have held a weapon.”
“How do you figure?”
He gestured slightly with his champagne flute. “Hers is upside down.”
Aeslin tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowed slightly. “Huh,” she said after a moment’s inspection. “It is.”
“Told you so.”
She slipped an arm through his. “It’s art,” she argued as they made their way back to the ballroom. “It doesn’t require accuracy.”
“Yours does,” he replied, handing his glass to a waiter. “And I’d pay much more for it.”
A gentle nudge. “You’re biased.”
“Not true. As I recall, I loved your work long before I loved you.”
That earned him a look. “Really. How long?”
“Oh, darling.” He brought her fingers to his lips with a playful smile. “Hours.”
“Liar.”
“Days?”
“Hmm.”
“Have I mentioned how ravishing you look this evening? I’ve half a mind to corner you on a balcony and quote inept love songs at you.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” she said, coming to the edge of the crowds. “Dance with me.”
A sigh. “Must I?”
“Yes,” she told him, walking her fingers deliberately up his lapel and stroking them along the back of his neck until he had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from grinning like a fool. “Because this, you handsome devil, is one bet I do not plan to lose.”