Chapter 2

            Early the next morning, Natasha slipped through the back door of the bakery, locking it behind her. She climbed the ladder up to Clint’s workshop and opened the glass doors that led to the outer part of the balcony. Dodging the precariously balanced stacks of sugar flowers, gumpaste, food coloring, luster dust, and decorating tips, she dragged a small metal stool onto the balcony and perched on it to watch the sunrise. It wasn’t something she got to do very often. Most mornings at this time she was getting ready for her run, or heading to the gym. In the middle of the night, she woke suddenly and tossed and turned for hours, unable to fall back asleep. Finally, she gave up and started her morning routine a little earlier than usual. Half an hour later, she found herself at the bakery and she knew just what she needed. As the first lavender streaks poked at the horizon, she heard the back door open again. She reached back and shut the balcony door quietly, hoping to be left alone a little longer. The lavender faded slowly to pink, then to a firey orange. Natasha watched it all in silence, with the cornucopia of sounds that signaled morning in the city. When the sky had lit up completely, Natasha slid off the stool and peeked over the rail at the street.

            The balcony doors opened. “Morning, Tash.”

            She looked over her shoulder at Clint. “Morning. How long have you been here?”

            “About an hour,” he admitted. “You didn’t look like you wanted to be disturbed.”

            She gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Clint.”

            He beamed. “Hey, I’m just that good. So, are you ready for today?”

            “I suppose I have to be,” she sighed. “At the very least, it should be interesting.”

            At noon on the dot, the door to the bakery swung open. Within a few seconds, everyone was gathered around the front counter to get a glimpse of the interns, including Loki. The bakery was free of customers for the moment. Clint caught sight of them and choked on his laughter.

            “Oh, my…” Steve breathed.

            Tony burst out laughing, bending over and holding his sides.  “Holy shit! Yes! This is karma. I don’t know what I did, but thank you.”

            Natasha punched him between the shoulder blades. He straightened up and coughed to banish his chuckles. Standing just inside the door was a girl with long brown hair, gorgeous eyes behind a pair of glasses, and a beat up messenger bag littered with pins. This was Darcy. Next to her stood Peter, all gangly limbs and messy brown hair that was surely his trademark. There was one other thing that really stuck out about him.

            He looked about ten years old.

            Clint pointed at Peter. “How old are you?”

            A flush spread over his face in the blink of an eye. “Sixteen.”

            Clint shot Natasha a look. “I thought you said they were college kids.”

            “I am a college student,” Peter told him hesitantly. “I, uh, skipped a few grades. And I tested out of all my senior classes.”

            Tony grinned maniacally and walked over to loop his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “I like your taste, Natasha. Good pick, this one. I’m kidnapping him now. He’s mine. C’mon kid.”

            Natasha grabbed Tony as he pulled poor Peter towards his office. “Hold it, Tony. Peter needs to go through his orientation first. Go entertain yourself for an hour or two, and then he’s all yours.”

            Tony grumbled, but let go of Peter and retreated to his office.

            Peter shot Natasha a grateful look. “I know I’m young, but I really am capable of doing anything a college kid could do.”

            “You cannot buy mead,” Thor pointed out.

            “Or porn,” Clint added.

            Peter’s blush was slowly returning. Darcy stepped up beside him defensively.

            “Leave him alone, or I’ll douse you in kerosene and hire a troupe of fire eaters to dance around you and burn your eyebrows off, one hair at a time!” she threatened.

            Loki perked up and studied her, a small smile on his lips.

            Clint grinned. “You must be Darcy.”

            “Damn straight,” she nodded. “Let’s get this orientation on the road, shall we?”

            “Right,” Natasha cleared her throat. “I’m Natasha. I run the front of the house. I take care of the orders and the display case. The smartass in the apron is Clint, the head decorator. Then you have Bruce and Steve, our bakers, who are the nicest of the bunch, and then there’s Thor and his brother Loki. Thor runs deliveries for us. Loki doesn’t technically work with us, but he’s always here, so you’ll have to get used to him. The creepy guy was Tony. He owns the bakery and pays the bills, so we try to keep our assassination attempts to a minimum. Any questions so far?”

            Peter shook his head, not meeting Natasha’s eyes. Darcy shrugged.

            “Good. Follow me into the kitchen and I’ll teach you how to use the equipment,” Natasha ordered.

            A few hours later, the bakery was left in the hands of Thor, Loki, Steve, Clint, and the interns. Tony had a meeting with the mayor, who was interested in hiring the bakery to cater the community fair next month, and he insisted that Natasha and Bruce come along to negotiate the culinary part of the deal. Steve patiently taught Darcy and Peter to make the bakery’s second-best selling cupcake, a simple vanilla cupcake with a honey and ginger glaze. He slid the tins into the oven and left Peter to watch over them. Steve and Darcy moved to the front of the bakery to take over the counter. Loki wandered into the kitchen a short time after that. Peter was leaning against the wall, watching the timer slowly tick down. The smell of the cupcakes wafted through the kitchen, and Peter had to admit they smelled pretty good for plain vanilla cupcakes. The timer finally went off and Peter moved toward the oven.

            Loki shifted to block him. Peter caught himself before he plowed into the somewhat eerie man.

            “What are you doing?” Loki demanded.

            Peter blanched. “Getting the cupcakes out of the oven.”

            Loki glared at him. “Not correctly. What are you missing, boy genius?”

            Peter thought hard, trying to remember if he’d forgotten anything. The lightbulb flashed on and swallowed hard.

            “The honey spritz?” Peter guessed.

            Loki’s eyes narrowed.

            “The honey spritz,” Peter repeated with more confidence.

            Loki moved out of his way. Peter let out a sigh of relief and opened the oven. He sprayed the cupcakes with the honey mixture that Steve had given him and reset the timer for two minutes. He returned the spritz to the shelf and waited for the timer once again. Loki was standing right next to the oven, watching the cupcakes intently. The timer beeped and Loki turned it off with a violent slap. He spun around and stared at Peter.

            “Well?” he demanded. “Aren’t you going to get them? Or do you want them to burn? To be ruined. Inedible. Vanilla flavored briquettes. Products of your first failure.”

            “N..no?” Peter squeaked, inching towards the oven.

            Loki huffed dramatically and took a large step away from the oven. Peter edged toward it, remembering to grab the oven mitts from the drawer Steve had shown him earlier. He started to slide them on, but Loki’s icy voice stopped him.

            “No,” Loki commanded.

            Peter froze and looked up at him, wide eyed.

            Loki crossed his arms. “Retrieve them without the gloves, child. You have no need of them. Do you?”

            Peter gulped and glanced at the oven.

            “Do you?” Loki repeated viciously. “Or would you rather fail on your first day? To have wasted a whole day in this hell house without receiving one iota of a credit.”

            Peter squelched a groan and removed the gloves. He started toward the oven like a condemned man, feeling Loki’s eyes on him the whole way. He wrapped his hand around the handle of the oven and hesitated only a beat before pulling it open. He reached for the first pan, bracing himself for the searing pain that he was almost positive he was going to be experiencing pretty soon.

            The kitchen door burst open and Steve nearly tackled Peter. Steve kicked the oven door closed and turned toward the front of the bakery.

            “Thor get your brother right now!” he shouted.

            Loki smirked and sauntered away, sending Peter a little wave. He passed Darcy on his way towards the counter. He paused and nodded at her, a more friendly gesture than anyone had ever received within twenty-four hours of making Loki’s acquaintance. Steve slid the oven mitts on and removed the cupcake tins, leaving them on the cooling racks.

            He turned to Peter and sighed. “You okay, kiddo? Loki can be a bit…much, sometimes.”

            Peter swallowed hard. “Yeah, I’m fine. He’s not that bad. If he hadn’t reminded me to spray the cupcakes-“    

            “Spritz,” Darcy corrected. “Hey, these actually look really good. What’s next?”

            Clint stuck his head in the kitchen. “Now you’re mine. We’re gonna dunk them in the glaze and then dip the rims in rock sugar.”

            Darcy grinned. “Awesome.”

            Clint looked at Peter. “Don’t feel bad, man. Loki’s a dick to everybody. You get used to it, after a while.”

            “I’ve dealt with worse,” Peter shrugged.

            Steve’s brow furrowed. “Worse than Loki?”

            Peter looked at the ground. “Yeah, these kids I went to school with…Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Let’s rim the cupcakes.”

            Darcy and Clint glanced at each other. Clint bit his lip hard. Darcy let out a hysterical squeak. Steve looked at them, confused.

            Peter groaned. “Grow up! That’s not what I meant!”

            Clint and Darcy were howling now, holding onto the counters for support. Steve rescued a pot of caramel from their flailing limbs and shot them both a disapproving look. Clint finally got control of himself and elbowed Peter in the ribs.

            “Learn to laugh at yourself, kid,” Clint suggested. “Or you’ll spend a lot of time here watching other people flailing on the floor in fits of hysteria.”

            “He’s being serious,” Steve said over his shoulder. “And he’s right.”

            Clint winked. “Always am.”