Chapter 7
At this point, I had been in my new position for about a month. Things, in my opinion, were going well.
Tony had yet to throw a party, and part of me thinks deliberately, so we hadn’t had a chance for Loki to be observed in a semi-public space yet.
But even without that, Loki was slowly becoming more social. The first time he came out of his apartment, it was to watch Thor teach me some sword-fighting techniques.
The whole time me and Thor were working together, he stood in the corner and watched. I admit it was distracting, as even when my back was to him, I could feel the burn of his eyes on me. He wouldn’t say anything, just stand and observe. Then, as soon as we were done, he went directly back to his apartment.
The next week, though, when me and Clint and Nat were practicing our hand-to-hand, he and Thor walked into the training room together. We had been just about done, and when we left I paused in the doorway to the locker room, Clint and Nat already inside.
I saw Thor roll out his shoulders, and I saw Loki remove his jacket and pants. I panicked, not sure what was going on, until I noticed that he had on shorts and a tight fitting black tank-top on under his outfit.
I could feel my cheeks heat up, both in embarrassment and something I didn’t quite want to put a name to.
***
On a Monday, after spending some time with Steve (we like to talk about life in the 1930’s; him to reminisce, me out of curiosity and a genuine love for history) and checking stuff out in the lab with Bruce, I was ready to do something that involved physical activity.
My body, at first, had hated the continuous assault, but after a few weeks of training, I was actually craving some cardio or some martial arts.
I was in the training room, in front of the punching bag, when I heard the door open.
I turned to see Loki striding in.
“Harper,” he simply greets me, nodding his head.
He brushes past me and goes straight for the shooting range.
I can’t help but huff, blowing some hair that had fallen in front of my face away.
I continue my training at the punching bag, getting back into it.
That is until I hear simultaneous loud thuds in the other room.
Confused, and worried, I run towards the shooting range where I know Loki had gone.
When I enter I notice that there are five knives buried in the center of the nearest target, one used for archery practice (put here mainly for Clint), but that we sometimes use for knife throwing.
Standing across from the target is Loki, appearing nonchalant. But I can see the tug of a smile at the right corner of his mouth.
“Where did you get the knives,” I ask, confused and somewhat afraid. It was one of the conditions of Loki staying in the tower, that all weapons needed to be kept locked away and only certain people had the passes to access them.
“Thin air,” he replies, waving his hand in an encompassing gesture.
“Uh huh,” I mutter, unintelligently.
Ignoring him, I walk over to survey the scene. The knives themselves are buried deep in the target, indicating that much strength was used to throw them. But what I notice most is the hilt of them. Shiny gold, black leather wrapped strategically around the center, and shining emeralds. They’re beautiful. Too beautiful to be used for target practice, and too beautiful to be any weapon from the tower.
They are ornate, well-crafted, and luxurious.
Which just about describes Loki himself. What a fitting metaphor.
“These are beautiful,” I remark, pulling one out of the target and running my finger over the blade.
The blade itself is black, made with some form of dark metal. Some type of material I haven’t seen before.
Curiosity gets the best of me, and I push my finger harder against the blade.
It doesn’t take much to cleanly slice through my skin, blood welling up from the wound.
“Ouch,” I exclaim, sucking my finger into my mouth to stop the bleeding.
I hear a sharp gasp, and look up towards Loki, almost forgotten in my fascination over the elaborate craftsmanship.
He’s resolutely looking away from me, ear tips pink again.
“Where are they from,” I ask, curious.
“Asgard,” he replies simply, still looking away from me.
“I’m guessing they’re a secret then,” I pointedly look at him.
“Yes,” he murmurs, finally looking at me.
I can feel my eyes widen, and my mouth drops open a little in shock.
His eyes are dark, green almost completely lost to the black of his pupil.
“Okay,” I reply, panicking yet again, and bury the knife back into the target.
Then I turn and hurry out of the room.
***
After the confusing, and frankly mortifying, incident with Loki, I was sure to plan out strategic times to be alone in the training center.
It’s not a big deal to be with other people when he shows up, but I just keep getting weird feelings whenever we’re alone. Ones I don’t want to think about.
I tend to blow things out of proportion. Things that are not as important as I make them out to be.
But in this job, this position, I know I can’t avoid Loki forever, whatever the reason.
I manage to go two days before I get called out on it.
“What’s going on Vanek,” Tony asks, frowning at me from across the desk, “ I haven’t gotten any Loki updates from you in a few days.”
“I’ve just been using the last few days to go over what I have. To make sense of it and to see what I should be trying to do next,” I reply, not lying but also not completely telling the truth.
“I’m sure you are, but there’s more to it than that. I know you can do those things and still visit Loki at least once a day, so I know there’s something else going on,” he ponders, until something akin to enlightenment dawns on his face.
“You’re avoiding him,” he exclaims, poking his finger in the air like he’s had a major revelation.
“No,” I lie. Badly.
“Don’t bullshit me Vanek,” he says, not unkindly, “I get enough bullshit from everyone else in this company. But from you, with what you’re handling, I can’t allow it. It’s too important.”
“I understand,” I mutter, looking down at my hands clasped in my lap.
There’s a moment of silence, and then Tony asks, “did he do anything to you?”
He sounds angry, and I look up to see both concern and contempt in his expression. It’s almost funny, if you disregard the situation.
“No. No, he didn’t do anything to me,” I reply, sighing.
“Did he say something,” he asks, gentler.
“Well, he says a lot of things, but nothing I can’t handle. It’s not him,” I mutter.
“Don’t tell me, it’s the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ situation,” he sighs dramatically, making me crack a smile.
“Something like that. Sounds corny, I know. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again,” I say with conviction, more than I feel.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” he replies dubiously, ending the conversation.
***
“Are you even trying today Vanek,” Clint laughs, grabbing my hand and helping me off the mat.
“Yes,” I grumble, rubbing at my lower back once I’m up.
“Not that I don’t enjoy watching people fall over, and beating people of course, I can tell that somethings up with you. You’re not giving it your all like you usually do. You’re distracted,” Nat muses, watching me.
“Or maybe I’m just bad,” I glower.
“No, you’re actually kind of a natural,” Clint points out, “but even naturally gifted people need to be fully present mentally to do their best.”
“So what’s going on then,” Nat asks, crossing her arms and looking at me.
Cling follows suit and then I’m suddenly on the receiving end of a double spy stare down.
No pressure or anything…
“It’s nothing guys, really. I’m just tired is all,” I lie, something I find myself to be doing more and more of lately.
Which I hate! I’ve never seen myself as a liar. I’ve always been that person people go to when they want brutal honesty. Of course, because of what some people say about that, it has given me somewhat of a complex about it.
But that’s a discussion for another day.
“Oh it’s the whole ‘I’m tired’ excuse now,” Clint mocks.
“I AM tired,” I snap, bringing my hand up to wipe sweat from my forehead.
Which in and of itself is true, as I haven’t been sleeping well the last few nights.
“Yes, but there’s still more to it then that,” Nat says, a little gentler, “you know if you need to talk about anything we are here. And we ARE spies, so we know how to keep a secret.” With this she winks at me.
I can’t help but crack a smile.
“I know,” I blow out a breath, “it’s really nothing. It’s just my brain being a flat out idiot. I’ve always been an over-thinker, and lately it’s been bad even for me.”
“Well what are you thinking about. That’s the main thing we have to look into. If we see where your original thoughts are coming from, maybe then you can try and control how they spiral,” Nat suggests, pulling me to sit on the floor.
Clint follows suit and then we’re sitting in a circle in the middle of the training room.
How did I end up here?
“It’s just Loki,” I seethe, “he gets into your head so easily. And he doesn’t even have to try.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see Clint tense up, and I see Nat put her hand on his knee to calm him.
“What do you mean,” Nat asks carefully.
“Well, I consider myself pretty good at reading people. Maybe not spy level, but pretty close,” I throw them a wry smile, “I’ve always been very intuitive and instinctive. But with Loki, it’s like none of that matters. I might as well throw it all out the window! I can never get a read on him. The things I think I’m sensing can’t be true, and things I’m not sensing are probably going to come back to bite me in the ass one of these days.”
“And you need to get a read on him for your new job, correct,” Nat asks, and I can hear a smirk in her tone.
I look up and she’s smirking just like I thought.
“How’d you find out,” I sigh, knowing now that they know, and have maybe even known the whole time.
“Girl, come on, we're SPIES. Even if you and Stark think you are good liars, we have our ways of finding out,” Clint points out.
“And you guys aren’t mad,” I ask, confused.
“Of course not,” Nat replies, “we know that in our lines of work there are going to be secrets, and reasons for those secrets to exist.”
“Yeah, like Nat said. And while I’m genuinely bummed that no one is really trying to make us look better to the world, I understand that your job needs to be done. And why there needs to be the secrecy behind it,” Clint reassures me.
“Why do you think Clint and I insisted on training you? We knew that if you were going to be diving into the snake den, you needed to have some tricks up your sleeve,” Nat explains.
“And we are kind of mad at Stark for putting you in this job untrained, but that’s why we took it upon ourselves. And will continue to, because you still have a lot to learn,” Clint gives me a goofy grin, and I smile at them.
“But still, if Loki does anything to hurt you, I will come and cut off something important,” Nat remarks, sounding perfectly calm and serious.
“Remind me not to mess with you guys,” I giggle, “anyone who does is certifiably crazy.”
“You got that right” Clint chuckles.