BLACK LEATHER GLOVES
OLIVIA HAS BEEN ACTING A LITTLE… OFF, THIS WEEK. The biggest tell is that she’s recently become nocturnal; only really seeming to sleep during normal business hours. On the occasion that Loki does catch her sleeping at night, she seems mostly normal.
Aside, of course, from just about all of her body language.
He makes up his mind to confront her about it the next time he catches her— for now, though, he has business to attend to.
***
The opportunity to confront Olivia comes quickly, in the form of her passing out on the couch after 6 straight hours of work.
Their dreamspace isn’t exactly conducive to relaxing, so Loki does feel a little bad for cornering her when she’s exhausted like this.
Not bad enough to let her rest in peace, though.
“Darling,” he hums, looking up at her from his book, deeming her guard sufficiently down. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
She snorts from her place laying on the couch.
“Subtle,” she compliments sarcastically. He rolls his eyes.
“Subtlety is lost on you,” he reminds her. “So, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” A brief pause passes, then she sighs heavily.
“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I didn’t mean to… avoid you. I’ll try to stop.” He raises his eyebrows.
“Well, yes, I’m sure you will,” he acknowledges, “but why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?” She shifts, sitting up.
“It’s really nothing important,” she dismisses, shuffling a little.
“Ah,” he nods in acknowledgement, “it’s about MEDUSA.” She blinks at him, surprised.
“What?” she wonders. “How did you get that out of ‘it’s really nothing important’?” She stares at him like he just grew a third head, and he half-smiles, deciding to take pity on her.
“You rub your hands,” he advises her. “When you’re upset, thinking about MEDUSA.” She looks down at her hands, pulling them apart like she hadn’t noticed them together in the first place. Which, to be fair, she hadn’t.
“…okay,” she sighs, conceding, “yeah. It’s about MEDUSA. I just— I don’t like to talk about it. It’s hard to explain anyways.” He sighs, shutting his book and striding over to her. He sits down on the couch cushions, his knee brushing hers.
“If anyone is going to understand,” he advises her, “it will be me.” She stays silent for a long moment.
Her head falls back.
“Okay,” she relents, softly. “Okay, fine.” He nods patiently, being sure to give her his full attention.
“I didn’t like wearing the gloves again,” she admits softly. “I never… kill people without my gloves on. I used to wear them a lot. So…” she pauses to take a deep breath. “After a while, it started to feel like they were more my hands than… well, my real hands. And I— I don’t know, wearing them now, killing people when I’m supposed to be done, I’m out— maybe I just feel like…” she trails off.
“It’s like,” she decides, “no matter how hard I try or how much I don’t want to, I can’t ever stop killing. You know? And I do it because I want to live. But, eventually, I just start to wonder if that’s… a good enough reason.”
“Don’t say that,” Loki interrupts. “Don’t ever say that— your life is worth more than all of them combined. And you can’t be blamed for protecting yourself, not by Tony Stark or anyone. You survived. That’s what matters. And someday, the bloodshed will end.” Olivia watches him, searching his face for something, but he meant every word.
“…thanks,” she whispers. He nods, brushing his palm over the side of her face. She smiles halfheartedly. “You know, that was almost sweet.”
“Only for you,” he pledges, a half-huffed chuckle escaping him.
***
Having walked to and entered a store on the outskirts of MEDUSA’s main territory, Olivia is now reasonably certain that her message was received. If it wasn’t, she probably would have been shot at or stabbed by now.
She’s pretty happy to be getting out again, admittedly. She probably shouldn’t go back to her apartment for at least another month, but for now, this is enough.
“Wheat thins,” she repeats dubiously, raising her eyebrows at the box in her hand. Bruce’s voice crackles out of her phone’s speakers, laying in the baby seat of the cart.
“Yes, wheat thins,” he replies, sounding a little offended. “Why did you say it like that? What’s wrong with wheat thins?” Olivia snickers, dropping the box into the cart.
“Nothing, nothing,” she dismisses, “…if you’re a nerd.” Bruce squawks briefly in indignation, then scoffs, and finally just settles on a long-suffering sigh.
“All I wanted was some wheat thins and mayonnaise,” he complains. “Why are you hassling me over wheat thins and mayonnaise?”
“You know,” she advises, “I already put them in the cart. I’m just messing with you.” He laughs, though it comes out as a half-whine.
“Why couldn’t mom and dad have stopped at one kid?” he ruminates aloud. “They didn’t need two. Two is one too many. We should go back to one.” Olivia snickers, but does an overdramatic scandalized gasp.
“And while I’m buying your wheat thins,” she tuts. “The disrespect.” He sighs.
“You’re a hazard,” he replies plainly. She grins.
“Good.”
***
The coffee shop next to the grocery store is good, but it has a long line. Luckily, Olivia is more than willing to wait. She’s still on the phone with Bruce, although he’s threatened to hang up at least three times so far and she had to take him off speaker.
“—hopefully a sign that he’s gonna let it go soon,” she sighs. “Not thrilled I have to buy him coffee to apologize for staying alive, but it is what it is.”
“I can talk to him. If you want me to,” Bruce offers. “If you want me to stay out of it, I can do that.” A small smile forms on Olivia’s face.
“You don’t have to talk to him,” she denies, shifting in place. “Worse comes to worst, I can do that myself.” There’s a brief pause.
“Uh— sorry. Yeah. I got it,” he says hastily, as if suddenly remembering to speak. Olivia grins; he totally nodded, didn’t he?
“You nodded,” she points out, endlessly amused by his small blunder. He sighs.
“Yes,” he admits, “I nodded. Don’t make a thing about it.” She can hear the exasperation in his voice already, and decides to cut him some slack.
“Okay, okay,” she relents, “I won’t. So, have you and Tony finally started on that project you’ve been losing sleep about?”
Bruce groans.
“Don’t get me started,” he laments. “Tony’s smart, he really is, but he wants to start at the finish line, and I keep telling him we have to start small. I mean it’s—,” he groans. “I don’t even have the words.”
“Rome wasn’t built in a day?” Olivia suggests, shrugging.
“Yes!” he agrees enthusiastically. “Exactly! Yeah! I am—,”
“Liv?” a voice calls from behind her. Olivia’s attention is stolen instantly, and she tunes out her brother.
“Hey, Bruce, gimme like five,” she requests, not waiting for a response before she pulls her phone away from her ear to look at the woman in front of her. “Hannah. Hey. What’s up?”
“Oh, just getting coffee, same as you,” she replies, smiling. “You never texted me; is everything alright?” Olivia shifts. She honestly almost forgot about that, with everything going on.
“I’ve been busy,” she deflects. “Work and stuff. You know how it can get.” Hannah laughs, nodding.
“Yeah, yeah, I do,” she agrees. “Hey— do you still have my number?” Olivia nods, although she’s now fully certain that she won’t be texting her. The last thing she needs is her ex-girlfriend trying to get her into a pyramid scheme, and those are the vibes she’s giving off.
“Yeah, pretty sure,” she confirms. Hannah nods, as though she was expecting that.
“Okay, yeah, well just to be sure,” she hums, pulling a scrap of paper out of her pocket and handing it to Olivia. “I really would appreciate it if you’d text me.” Olivia nods reluctantly, pocketing the paper to be tossed away in the nearest trash can.
“I’ll see if I have the time,” she claims, knowing that’s a lie. Hannah smiles, though it rings false.
“You really should,” she suggests. “I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say— before anyone else does.” Olivia’s attention snaps to her.
Olivia examines Hannah critically, with fresher eyes. She’s smiling a little too wide, standing a little too confidently, like she knows something that would make Olivia’s call a certainty.
“And what do you have to say?” she challenges, searching her to see what she knows. Hannah grins, shaking her head with a small laugh.
“My number,” she reiterates, pointing to Olivia’s pocket. “Text me.” With that, she turns and vanishes from the store. Olivia notices that she didn’t get a coffee.
She pulls Hannah’s paper out of her pocket, unfolding it. On it is Hannah’s number, as expected, along with two words.
‘I know’.
…shit.