Chapter 3
Blood splatters all over the floor when a third robot appears behind me, leaving a gash on my shoulder from one its bladed appendages.
I cry out painfully as I topple over to the right, leaning against one of the pale, metallic walls of the training pit. Two robots already in front of me followed—preparing to strike again. “Time out, time out!!!” I scream at the walls, where I know the cameras are watching.
Nothing happens.
Shit. The lesson immediately pops into my head—I might get injured on duty, but there’ll be no ‘time outs,’ and I’ll have to keep fighting.
Wetness spreads across my backside, and I ignore the mind numbing pain and stinging as I fork out several more maneuvers, ending the fight just as quickly as I possibly can—still a few moments too early, and my shoulder burns as blood trickles down my backside.
The double doors open as soon as the last robot hits the ground, and I collapse with it to the floor. My hand hovers over my left shoulder as it burns, but I don’t dare to touch it, and there’s no comfortable position that I can assume to assuage the pain. So I wait as a couple of the agents come and help me up, and take me to the medical wing of the facility.
It takes a bit of time and delicate effort to replace my suit with the medical robes, and Nat and Clint don’t come to visit until after I’m all stitched up and perched on one of the small beds—ready to leave, after they come talk to me. I look over at them as they cross the small hall toward me, following them with my eyes as I cross my legs underneath me.
“Well, that was sloppy,” says Nat. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I nod. “I know, it was stupid, I should’ve been keeping an eye on my surroundings.”
“Yeah you should’ve. Mistake like that can cost you a whole lot more than a cut on the back of your shoulder.”
I frown as I look down at the floor, and in the corner of my eye, I see Clint tilting his head slightly. “What’s the matter with you?” I blink up at him, seeing his disapproving expression as he crosses his arms. “You’ve got your first mission in a week's time and, what, are you freaking out or something?”
Nat turns and looks at him over her shoulder. “What mission? That thing’s not going to heal overnight, we can’t send her out there.”
Damn. I forgot about the mission—my first ‘undercover’ gig with A.I.M. Of course, given that A.I.M thinks I’m also working undercover for them, it’s more of a sting operation on S.H.I.E.L.D’s part. Earning A.I.M’s trust was a tricky manner, and I have no doubt that they continue to watch over me, but my dalliances at Stark tower and at the facility are much more plausible to them now—especially with the carefully controlled ‘insider’ information that I provide them.
Both of them are quiet for a moment, until Clint looks over at Nat again. “What about that serum stuff that Stark mentioned? The regenerative one?”
She shrugs. “It’s only a prototype.”
“Does it work?”
“Worked on who they’ve tried it on so far.”
“Okay,” Clint nods toward me. “Let’s try it on her too, then. Do they have some here?”
Nat shakes her head. “There wasn’t much after the trial was done, and I think Stark took it with him. If anything it’ll be in the tower now, but he’s still out of town, I think.”
Clint glances at me. “Alright, well let’s stop by there anyway. We can drop you off after,” he says to me. “But Thor’s staying there, we can catch up while we’re at it.”
“Yeah, so is Loki,” Nat murmurs, and tension flutters through Clint’s jaw as he opens his mouth to speak.
“No,” I interject, shaking my head. “No, I’ll be fine.”
I know exactly what serum they’re talking about, and even know exactly where Tony keeps it. In fact, I’d go as far as saying he was stashing some of it.
They both furrow a brow at me. “What?” says Nat.
“I don’t want to go to Stark tower and take something without Tony or Pepper being there,” I lie, sliding my legs off the bed. “I’ll just ask Pepper to bring me some later.”
Clint narrows his eyes at me. “They won’t back for a few days, and that thing’s going to hurt like a bitch until then. I seriously doubt that Stark will care, it’s not really even his to take-”
“I’ll deal with it,” I murmur. “Just take me home.”
Nat and Clint exchange confused glances before conceding. “Fine, whatever,” Clint shrugs.
***
It took a stupid amount of energy to get into a t-shirt when I got home. Every little movement had me feeling like the stitches would come apart, even though the medic assured me that it’d be fine. Not to mention the pain—which is obviously the worst part, and the toughest to deal with, while pretending I had a perfectly normal day.
Tonight was supposed to be movie night at home—it still is, but I can’t even hold up my bowl of take-out udon noodle soup properly, so I’ve ended up sitting on the floor beside the coffee table, scooping out noodles with my right hand. My left arm droops motionlessly at my side, and the knowledge of Lalita sitting just behind me on the sofa becomes more nerve wracking by the minute, since the thought of her accidentally kicking my shoulder is beyond disconcerting.
I couldn’t tell her to be careful either, since I haven’t told any of them about what happened today. I have no idea how I’d even explain it to them, so I’d decided on the way home that I would do my best to keep it a secret—hopefully until Pepper finally came over with the regenerating serum…
With the pace I’m going at, the soup has already cooled to a lukewarm temperature halfway into the movie. I stare blankly up at at the TV perched on the wall, while the Haunted Mansion blares from the surrounding speakers. No one can dissuade me that it’s a timeless classic, and with all my roommates and the noodles combined, this makes for a pretty nice ending to a shitty day.
It’d be better, of course, if my shoulder wasn’t secretly burning—but I suppose that’d just be greedy.
A quiet knock appears at the door, shocking us all briefly as Andy gets up to answer it—since it’s probably the pizza he ordered, without offering to share. I glance over my shoulder momentarily, and turn back to the TV. I hang my head over slightly as I continue watching Eddie Murphy’s movie wife get chased down the hallway by a lovesick ghost, when somewhere in my distant attention, I hear Andy stutter. “Oh—hello,” he says.
As I scoop another spoonful of soup into my mouth, I furrow a brow at the odd change in his tone. I turn my head toward the door, while a familiar voice answers him unexpectedly—“Hi.”
Amidst the flash of emerald green and blazer coated-figure standing at the door, I suddenly choke—allowing a fine mist of chicken-flavored udon soup to erupt from my mouth. My roommates grimace while my shoulder stings violently as I double over, coughing up the half-mouthful of liquid that went down the wrong pipe. My eyes water as I try to cease the sharp movements immediately, digging my fingernails into the carpet desperately as I calm my spasming chest, and turn glaringly toward Loki’s plain expression staring at me from the doorway.
Loki raises a hand and gestures to me casually, donning a small, cardboard box in his hand. “I’m here for Cerys.”
“Oh,” Andy nods, stepping to the side. “Oh sure—and you are…?”
“Loki,” he responds politely as he strides into the apartment.
I glare up at him for a moment—trying actively to prevent my eyes from widening with shock—and then glance down in horror at my decidedly silky, thin pajama shorts and fuzzy socks. Andy closes the door behind him as he saunters toward the living room, while Janie, Lalita, and Rita all stare at him mesmerized.
With his hands in his pockets, he strolls over to the couches, and his legs appear in the corner of my vision, drawing my attention toward. I turn and look up, blinking a few times just to be sure that I’m actually seeing Loki standing just a few feet away.
“Wh—what’re you doing here?” I murmur, trying to stifle the shock in my voice.
He holds up the cardboard box, and rattles something inside it. “Barton and Romanoff send their regards,” he says.
My jaw drops a little, and I look between him and the box a few times before mustering a sound.
“Um…” I pause, looking around at the mess I’d made on the table, and nod decidedly as I scramble to my feet—using one arm. “Okay, just, okay—come on, this way…” I murmur, pulling my shorts down imperceptibly as I step around the couch where Lalita is, aiming to avoid brushing past him.
Loki turns as I walk around his backside, and follows me toward the hallway. Panic bolts through me as I suddenly realize that the last time I turned this corner with him, I was still living in the big room. Now I’m about to turn the corner again, with his heavy footsteps trailing behind me—to his old bedroom? Not a chance.
“Bathroom,” I murmur sharply as I turn to my right, opening the door to it.
Loki follows me into the rectangular space without the slightest hint of confusion or question, and he pushes on the wood of the door, closing it gently behind him as he steps inside.
“I heard you were injured,” he says matter-of-factly, turning toward me.
I shake my head irritably. “Occupational hazard,” I answer sharply, lowering my voice so the others don’t hear. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Loki responds calmly, “Interesting story, really. Barton wasn’t particularly thrilled to see me when he and Agent Romanoff made their unexpected visit. The situation was rather tense, made more so as they explained your strange aversion to joining them for the occasion, so… Two birds, as they say.”
Color tinges my cheeks. “Swell,” I murmur, I look away, feeling a pounding headache start to rise with the pressure of bending my head downward.
As embarrassing as it is to have my avoidance outed, it does nothing for making this current setting feel the remotest bit okay. Hell, if I caught wind that Michael’s ex-girlfriend showed up to his apartment, and that the two of them disappeared to the bathroom for some time… God, I wouldn’t know what to think, but the idea of making Michael feel that kind of discomfort is abhorrent.
Granted, Michael knows nothing of my history with Loki, the Avenger’s brother, nor do any of my roommates. One statement alone would lead down so many conversational tangents… too many.
“Alright,” he sighs, snapping my attention back as he pulls the box from his pocket, and opens it. “I suppose I should administer what I’ve come here for, shouldn’t I?”
I stare at him for a moment and finally nod, crossing my arms carefully as I step closer to him.
Loki draws a small vial and deconstructed syringe from the box. I shift uncomfortably as I watch him take out the contents, and open the twist-off vial. His face contorts as he takes a whiff of the serum, and shakes his head. “This is putrid.”
I furrow a brow at him. “So?”
His eyes flicker up to me. “Well,” he mutters. “I’ve seen this serum used before, it will take several more days to regenerate the tissue fully.”
I shake my head. “…okay—so what?”
Loki’s brow rises as he slides his gaze down to it. He presses his lips together knowingly, and then releases them. “I might offer a counterproposal.”
I narrow my eyes. “What counterproposal?”
His eyes dart back up to me. “The injury—as Barton described it, I could probably regenerate it myself in a matter of minutes,” he says casually, re-packaging the components without consulting any further.
“How?”
“Magic.”
My brows knit together. “Magic?”
“Yes,” he answers briskly, nodding without a hint of jest or amusement in his expression. “Magic.”
My headache throbs, and I raise a hand up to rub my temple as I stare at him warily. “Um…” I shake my head, dropping my arm back down. “Alright, well… okay, go ahead then,” I pause irritably, gesturing to myself. “Have it.”
“I’ll need to examine the wound first,” he answers sternly, sliding his hands back in his pockets.
I press my lips together, and my face sinks uncomfortably. “It’s, um…” I murmur protestingly. “It’s on my shoulder, toward the back.”
“Alright,” Loki shrugs as he cross his arms, loosening a hand to motion to my shirt. “Off you go, then.”
Silence.
My eyes harden as I stare at him dumbfounded. He returns the look with an annoyingly blank expression, and for a moment, I could swear we were having a staring contest.
“No,” I assert, shaking my head. “Just use the potion.”
Loki lowers his chin. “You understand that I can handle this much more efficiently, don’t you? And there’ll be no need to hide your movements from your roommates.”
“Loki,” my voice drops menacingly, and I tilt my head at him. “Do you seriously think that I’m about to take my shirt off in front of you?” my cheeks tint involuntarily at the thought, but Loki’s remain pale and composed.
With his hands still in his pockets, Loki’s expression is taut as he raises his chin responsively. “Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he says matter-of-factly.
I shake my head, rubbing the bridge of my nose as my cheeks flush red—whether from anger or… something else, I just don’t know.
“Okay, you know what, just…” I let out a breath, and motion for him to step aside. “Ugh. Just wait here,” I say as I stalk past him, closing the bathroom door slightly as I step out—enough so that he won’t see which room I’m about to go into.
Robe. Got to find my robe.
I sigh at my only option hanging in Loki’s tiny, old closet—the short, fluffy robe that came with these shorts. I might’ve invested in a bigger one if I ever thought I’d need it, but I’ve always changed into my clothes straight after showering.
It takes several more minutes to actually get the shirt off, but having the robe on instead turns out to be a considerable improvement—so much lighter and easier to put on. I saunter back toward the bathroom, where I find Loki leaning against the wall between the towels and the shower curtain.
“Okay,” I murmur as I step in, and he straightens up from the wall. I turn and face the mirror, raising my chin as I watch his reflection like a hawk. I loosen the belt of the robe slightly, and his eyes remain appropriately fixed on my shoulder—save for one fleeting moment, when he glances down at the empty counter.
I wince as I slide the robe off my shoulder, while simultaneously raising the front side to cover myself up. Loki’s eyes narrow at the wound as he comes up behind me, and he tilts his head slightly, hesitantly reaching up to my neck with a hand, and then lowering it again.
“Please move your hair,” he mutters, glancing decidedly at me in the mirror.
I curl my fingers around the left side of my neck, pulling my curls forward. My breath hitches in my throat as Loki takes my arm, steadying me while he observes it carefully.
“What type of threading is this?” he asks, and I swallow hard as I feel his thumb rub the skin just below the wound.
“What do you mean?” I ask, briefly scanning his tall stature standing just behind me in the mirror.
“I must heal the tissue surrounding it, but I would need to remove it first.”
“I think it’s the self-absorbing kind.”
He pauses. “If that’s the case,” his thumb disappears as he raises his hand, and hovers it above the wound. “Then I shall leave it.”
I nod, exhaling heavily through my nostrils, and trying to get some semblance of the breeze to blow under my cheeks. All the while, the rest of my concentration veers toward not clenching my newly toned shoulder muscles, as well as my biceps under his grip.
My shoulder begins to burn as heat emanates from the center of his hand, which is fully ensconced by a pale, green light. As the warmth grows to a blisteringly hot temperature, Loki’s evaluating eyes flicker up to meet mine in the mirror. I remain expressionless, and only shift uncomfortably when the heat becomes truly unbearable—at which point, he looks back down at my shoulder, and the heat abates a bit.
My legs start to tire after a few moments of tense silence, and Loki finally murmurs, “So…” he pauses. “Settled in my old room now, are you?”
Tension ripples through my neck and jaw. My eyes widen slightly as they dart up toward him, and waves of adrenaline rejuvenate every inch of me that they bolt through. I stare up at him as he continues looking at his work—face and voice completely void of any emotion. “What?”
Loki merely raises a brow in response, giving me a pointed look through the mirror, indicating the futility of trying to deny it. My heart races with a fell panic as I look away from him, trailing my eyes down my own robe as I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Naturally,” he says smoothly. “I assume you haven’t discussed it with anyone else, either.”
Resentment seeps throughout my chest as I cast a glare up toward him. “I don’t talk about it.”
Loki lowers his chin as he turns his attention back to my shoulder, and a faint limpness sweeps through me as his breath fans my neck.
“There,” he finally says. “All done.”
I turn my shoulder slowly, cringing at the small, tugging bits of string left unabsorbed under my skin. Uncomfortable as that is, at least the pain is gone.
I pull the sleeve back up my shoulder as I step away, and in the corner of my eye, I watch his face turn slowly as he watches me.
I saunter over to the door, and turn slowly to look back up at him. “It feels better—thanks,” I say as I lean back against the counter.
Loki bobs his head approvingly, studying my face for a moment. “How are you?” he asks suddenly, with notes of sincerity sweeping through his baritone voice, and he gestures toward me with his hand. “Apart from this.”
I glance down at his chest, and shrug my healthy shoulder. “I’m good,” I answer simply, and we fall back into silence. “What about you? And… Thor, Sif? Heimdall?”
Loki nods. “Also well,” he pauses, parting his lips hesitantly as he holds my gaze. “I’ve grown tired of hearing how they’ve missed you terribly.”
I drop my eyes to the linoleum floor. “Yeah, I’ve missed them too.” I murmur, turning my head to my right—as if there’s something for me to look at along the wood of the door.
“You ought to come see my brother,” he says, and I slide my gaze back to him. “He told me to ask you.”
I nod, swallowing lightly. “How long are you guys going to be in town?”
“Not sure yet,” he answers briskly. “We were hoping to stay some time.”
Sounds familiar.
The timeline of our relationship zips through my mind sharply, re-hashing the painful disappointment of having them leave, ‘some time’ after their arrival on earth.
“Let him know I’ll come see him,” I say, turning and reaching for the doorknob. Loki hesitates for a moment as he watches me step out into the hallway, but he follows me out all the same.
“I’ll do that,” he mutters as he steps past me at a brisk pace, and stalks down the hallway without looking back. I follow after him with a cool, purposeful stride, and he pauses at the front door, looking back.
His emerald eyes snap coldly toward mine, and I nearly stumble to a stop behind him as I hold his gaze.
“Good seeing you, Cerys,” he says, and nods to the rest of the company before opening the door for himself, and disappearing over the threshold.
I sigh as I lock the door behind him, still hearing his heavy footsteps trailing down the hall on the other side. My eyes widen as I turn toward the silence in the living room, at the four pairs of eyes staring at me intently.
“What?” I shrug freely.
“Who the fuck was that?” Andy asks firsts, in a deeply flustered voice.
“That was…” I pause. “My old roommate.”
“That hot piece used to live here!?” Rita asks. “Did you jump his bones?”
“Nope,” I lie as I shake my head, and saunter through the kitchen, turning my head far to the right while grabbing a paper towel, and running it under water on my way back to the table.
“Whose room did he live in?”
“Um…” I mumble as I stare down at the bright, glossy table, and wipe down the faintest hints of my misty outburst. “Mine.”
Andy raises a brow as he exchanges a glance with Lalita. “Ohhh, shit…”
I give them a pointed look. “What?”
Lalita raises a glass of water to her lips as she gestures to the door. “You sure you were just roommates?”
My faces reddens. “What does that mean?”
An amused grin tugs on the corner of her mouth. “Ehhh, just saying—roommates don’t check out each other’s asses,” she says, stifling a laugh. “Or choke on their soup when they see each other.”
“What?” my brows bolt up. “Was he…?”
“I saw him do it,” she nods.
“Okay, well, I check out people’s asses too, and I’d choke for any of you guys too, if I hadn’t seen you in two years. Doesn’t mean anything. We’re just friends.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rita and Andy exchange glances. I look between them pointedly, shaking my head as I lower myself down onto the carpet, and gesture to the remote on the other side of the table.
“Play the movie!” I say casually, trying to disperse the atmosphere as thoroughly as my appetite’s been dispersed.