Helpmeet (3/3) Avengers crackfic NC-17
Story: Helpmeet
Author: Cincoflex
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Avengers, post-movie
Pairings: Loki/OC
Summary: The Avengers hope they've seen the last of Thor's brother, but destiny thumbs her nose at them. Slightly crack-fic.
A/N: And we're done! Man it's nice to have a story just FLOW. My Betas,VR_Trakowski and Lovellama are amazing, patient and mine all mine! Seriously--they rock!
She wanted to kill him. Realistically Cynara knew she couldn’t; at least not bare-handed. He was a god-or an alien with far more technology than she ever would have-and therefore pretty much invulnerable. Nevertheless, if she’d had an AK-47 within reach, an attempt at instant widowhood would be hers.
Loki lounged against the padded headboard, studying the rack of antlers overhead, his smile infuriatingly smug. “You should be proud to be my bride.”
“I was tricked!” she hissed, pulling the sheet around her, for all the good it did. Thank God she was on the pill. “You fucking bastard, what did you do to Theo? Did you kill him too, like Phil Coulson?”
“Coulson?” Loki shot her a quizzical look. “Remind me-there have been so many . . .”
She glared at him. “Quiet guy in a black suit. You stabbed him; he shot you.”
“Oh. THAT one,” Loki murmured. “He had-how do you say it? Pluck. He would have made a good slave. And no, I did not kill Doctor Theoric Simon. He is still alive at 894 Cardinal Way in Boston Massachusetts, smoking his pipe and making notes-incorrect ones-about the Brísingamen episode. Regrettably, I decided to let him live despite his erroneous research and questionable hygiene.”
“What did you DO to him? He was supposed to be here! I CALLED him!” Cynara wailed. The night had taken on a new level of unreality, and she fought not to beat her head against the wall.
Maybe she should, she thought. If she pounded hard enough the antlers might fall and kill the bastard on the bed.
“He is alive, he simply does not remember you, or your relationship,” came the calm explanation. “A simple memory wipe; very common among Asgardians, and far better than he deserved.”
“He was going to be my husband!” Cynara hissed. “This was supposed to be our wedding night!”
“It IS our wedding night.”
“Not OURS! HIS and ours. His and mine-you aren’t supposed to be in the picture!”
“We were destined,” Loki told her with a knowing smirk. “And it’s clear to me that passion of your caliber would be wasted on that Rune chipper. You were meant to love through the whole night, my bride, and he would never be able to last.” To demonstrate his point, Loki extended a finger and then let it dangle.
Cynara bit her lips, forcing herself NOT to react, but it was difficult. “Well you’ve had all the loving you’re going to get. I want a divorce.”
“A second round? I thought you’d never ask,” Loki purred, reaching for her.
She glared at him. “Find yourself an ice giantess, asshole.”
He gave her a wounded look, his face as gaunt and melancholy as a lonely greyhound. “Did I not please you? Was I too selfish, not giving you enough of your pleasure before my own?”
Cynara took a deep breath, feeling a blush roll across her face. “You did fine, but that’s not the point.”
“So I did do as a good husband should,” Loki murmured, “and I am prepared to keep you happy and oh so very satisfied in our marriage bed to the best of my considerable abilities. What we have shared so far is not a tenth of what is to come, my Sigyn. Believe me as you have never believed anything else in your life.”
Cynara clutched the sheet more tightly and tried to scoot away from him without exposing any flesh. “Look, I know you have a huge reputation for um . . . you-know-what, but this isn’t going to work out. I’m human, you’re a god. You’ve got stuff to do, out there, away from Earth. Mythic . . . cosmic . . . stuff . . .” she found herself leaning towards him, caught by his smoldering green eyes and dimpled smirk. The desire to kiss those dimples rose up in her and she scowled. “Why do you want to be married anyway? It’s not as if you need a wife . . . or do you?”
“I need nothing. However, a wife in marriage-you in particular-has its advantages,” Loki admitted, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “For instance, the plane.”
“The plane?”
“In the dream,” Loki nodded. “You were able to contact me there. That was never supposed to be possible for a human. I did not enslave you the last time I was on Earth; I did not even know of your existence and yet you arrived when I was bound, and admired my body.”
“Moving on,” Cynara muttered, blushing. “So the dream was . . . destined?”
“You ARE Sigyn,” Loki pointed out, running a finger down her nose and over her lips. “My savior with the bowl. The bride who keeps me from agony. You are of Earth; you are my link away from punishment.”
“But I just dreamed it. It was random!”
Loki pulled her over him, settling her in a straddle of his lap and Cynara felt the thick ridge of his shaft pressing along the seam of her sex. He locked eyes with her, and let his index finger slide from her lips down her chin and throat, coming to rest between her breasts, right on the tiny pink scab between them. “I do not believe in coincidences; I believe in undiscovered connections.”
She looked down. “The staff. I cut myself.”
“And in doing so, linked yourself to me,” he nodded. “Does that not strike you as far too much of a coincidence?”
Cynara was unwilling to admit that there did seem to be a line of logic to his words, and when the shaft she was straddling gave a throb, she gasped. Loki laughed seductively.
“Stop that,” she groused. “We’re having a serious discussion here.”
“You have having a discussion; I am waiting until you are done so that we might continue the intimacy of this marriage,” he purred, sliding his hands around her hips and grinding himself up against her.
“We’re not really married,” Cynara huffed, trying to keep her traitorous body from responding to his, damn it. “You signed the license under Theo’s name.”
“You are mistaken my bride; my own true name graces the document in question, but you of all people should know that the only binding that matters in this comes from Asgard. We have made our vows, shared mead and bedded one another on the same night; by that more exalted law we are married.”
Cynara leaned forward, bracing her hands against the padded headboard and tried to glare at him, but found herself kissing his arrogant smirk, which was a huge mistake.
Everything about Loki was huge and a mistake, she thought dimly. It didn’t seem fair that he should be so . . . good in bed. After a few breathless kisses she sighed. “I . . . demand a dower.”
He rolled with her, pinning her under him, teeth dazzling white. “But name it, my queen, and it shall be yours.”
Cynara opened her mouth, and just then the door to the suite blew open, slamming across the room to the far wall, followed by a deep baritone cry of “Loki!”
“And I was so very sure I put that little sign outside,” Loki grumbled, reluctantly rolling off of her to glare towards the doorway. “Brother, your timing as always is unacceptable.”
“Release the girl, Brother, or suffer my wrath anew!” Thor bellowed, striding into the suite. Cynara yelped and reached for the sheet, pulling it around herself as another man-this one with a drawn bow and a quizzical look stepped in. He took a stance, arrow at the ready. After him came someone else, and Cynara bit her lips, wishing for a gigantic hole to open up and swallow her.
“Special Technician Sigyn,” Nick Fury drawled as he strolled in. “Just what the hell are you doing?”
“I think that should be obvious, even to a one-eyed man,” Loki pointed out sweetly. “And from now on you will refer to her as Mrs. Laufeyson.”
“No!” Thor sighed, shaking his head sorrowfully. He looked at Cynara, blue eyes reproachful. “I warned you. Did I not warn you about his trickery? His willfulness?”
“Sir, yes. It started under false pretences,” Cynara began, addressing Fury, her hands in a death lock around her sheet. “I mean, I thought he was someone else-”
“Possessed,” this came from the man with the bow-Barton, if she remembered correctly--“I know the feeling.”
“I’m not possessed!” Cynara protested.
“In truth she possessed me,” Loki interjected dreamily, putting his hands behind his head and leaning against the headboard. “It was a glorious consummation; to be the first of many.”
“I don’t think so,” Fury replied. “In the first place, Special Technician Sigyn isn’t authorized to marry an off-world alien.”
“Authorized?” Barton asked quizzically. “What, do we have a form for that somewhere?”
“It’s in the regulations,” Fury admitted.
“A technicality,” Loki scoffed. “According to Asgardian law she and I are wed.”
“This true?” Fury turned to Thor, who gave a grimace and sighed.
“If he has taken vows and shared both mead and bed, then by my people’s laws he is joined to Sigyn until death,” he admitted heavily.
“Asgardians don’t get divorced, I take it,” Fury grumbled.
“Death is easier,” Thor gave a sheepish shrug. “Although there is still the matter of her bride price.”
“Dower,” Cynara broke in loudly. “It’s my right.”
“Could somebody let me know if anything needs shooting?” Barton called out. “Getting impatient here.”
Fury let his gaze sweep around the suite as he stepped closer to the bed. “So let me get this straight, Special Technician Sigyn. You are willing to stay married to this . . .” he waved at Loki, “mass murder from space, and for what?”
She took a deep breath, lifting her chin and looked at Fury even though her words were directed over her shoulder. “I want Phil Coulson back. Alive and well, just as he was before you killed him. That is my dower.”
Nobody spoke. Barton relaxed the tension on his bow, as Thor cocked his head.
Loki smiled. It was a strangely tender one, Cynara thought; touched with sardonic sweetness, as if he understood exactly why she’d asked for this. He slowly reached over, long, elegant finger squeezing into her cleavage to touch the healing cut there.
“His blood was on the staff. Just enough of it . . .”
Slowly a glowing column flared out of thin air at the foot of the bed, sparkling green and silver in faint swirls that looked like strands of DNA. Cynara stared, as did the four men as the pillar of light re-shaped into the slim, slouch-shouldered shape of Phillip. J. Coulson.
Naked.
The light faded, and no-one spoke. Coulson blinked and dropped his hands to cover his crotch, clearly confused and doing his best to assess his situation. Blushing everywhere, he looked at Fury, his voice fairly steady. “Boss.”
“Phil,” came the quiet whisper. “Damn.”
Still staring with his one good eye, Fury pulled off his leather coat and tossed it over; gratefully Coulson pulled it on and closed it, then looked around. Thor came over and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Son of Coul. It is very good to see you again.”
“Ah, thank you,” Coulson replied, clearly confused. “You too.”
Cynara scrambled off the edge of the bed, pulling the sheet with her. “Phil. You’re okay? You’re all right?”
“I’m fine. Last thing I remember was . . . a big gun.”
Fury was staring at Loki now, his expression bleakly grateful. He gave a slow nod that Loki returned. “It seems we have . . . an agreement,” Fury murmured.
“This wasn’t for you,” Loki pointed out with quiet intensity, “even though you and others will benefit by it. I have taken a bride by my world’s laws and yours. She has joined with me willingly and I have given her dower in accordance to tradition; therefore I expect her to be treated well.”
“She won’t be detained, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Fury agreed.
“Our business is unfinished,” Loki nodded, “but she remains outside of it.”
“Bring me up to speed,” Coulson murmured to Barton under his breath as he stared at the bed.
“From what I can figure, she married him and asked for you as a wedding present. It’s . . . a little kinky.”
“Yeah,” Coulson agreed. “That doesn’t generally happen to me.”
“Sir,” Cynara broke in, “it’s just a personal relationship. I’m not going to take his side against the earth or anything.”
“Damn right you’re not,” Fury nodded. “Considering it’s where you live and all. All right, we’ll get the form filled in and handle matters from there. I don’t like it, but I won’t argue the point.” He turned and gave Coulson a long glance, then turned and walked out.
Barton let one arrow fly, burying it into the headboard between the top of Loki’s head and the antlers above before he followed Fury and Coulson out. Thor retrieved the door, coming over to look at them and Cynara felt herself blush all over again.
“You chose well,” Thor told Loki. “Treat her as your queen, Brother.”
Loki inclined his head and Thor lumbered away, propping the door shut behind him. Cynara watched him go, feeling a peculiar twist of happiness at seeing Phil again and a sudden sense of serious doubt.
Shit. She was married. Not only married, but to a capricious temperamental god who could kill her without blinking an eye. A malicious force determined to overthrow his world or destroy it, and here she was, a frail little being with no particular defense and a nebulous future at best.
“Okay, so here’s the deal. I don’t think we should have kids, I like my career and maybe separate bank accounts would be a smart idea . . .” Cynara muttered.
“I must leave in the morning,” Loki told her, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her to him. “My escape has not gone unnoticed, and Thor will share the news of our marriage. Freya will be glad; I doubt Odin will much care. It is not much time, but let us make it memorable.”
Cynara felt his lips against her temple, his long arm around her and sighed. “Oh it’s already memorable, baby. I guess we need to see if it’s survivable.”
He laughed. She pushed aside any further considerations and kissed his bare shoulder, appreciating the silky warmth of it, and whispered into his ear. “Is that an enchanted staff, or are you just glad to see me?”
“Both,” Loki purred, and pulled her to him.
EPILOG
Her new badge was waiting for her on her desk; she picked it up and studied it for a second before clipping it onto her breast pocket. Cynara Sigyn-Laufeyson--that was going to be a mouthful.
When Cynara looked up, Phil Coulson was in the doorway, holding out a steaming cup from Starbucks in her direction.
She took it.
He cleared his throat. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Cynara told him quietly and added, “He uh, won’t kill you again. Just FYI.”
“I appreciate that,” Coulson nodded. “So . . .”
“We’re . . . working things out,” Cynara confessed. “I’m still pissed about Theo, and of course there’s the whole gallivanting around the universe and consorting with evil deities thing. I did get a ring, though, and some property in Svalbard, so I guess that’s good.”
“Svalbard,” Coulson echoed. “Nice, I think.”
An awkward pause filled the moment, and then Cynara sighed. “Phil . . . we missed you. I had the chance and I took it, and I would do it again, okay? Me, I’m just a little cog around here, but you . . . you kind of matter to S.H.I.E.L.D. and to the director and the Avengers and you sure as hell matter to Holly up in Portland.”
He gave her a crooked grin and Cynara slipped into his hug, feeling that for the moment, all was right with the world.
“You DO know you work for the Agency that’s dedicated to taking your husband down?” Phil whispered.
Cynara pulled back and grinned. “Job security. Come on, I’ve got this cool algorithm for Futhark translation to show you . . .”
END
Author: Cincoflex
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Avengers, post-movie
Pairings: Loki/OC
Summary: The Avengers hope they've seen the last of Thor's brother, but destiny thumbs her nose at them. Slightly crack-fic.
A/N: And we're done! Man it's nice to have a story just FLOW. My Betas,VR_Trakowski and Lovellama are amazing, patient and mine all mine! Seriously--they rock!
She wanted to kill him. Realistically Cynara knew she couldn’t; at least not bare-handed. He was a god-or an alien with far more technology than she ever would have-and therefore pretty much invulnerable. Nevertheless, if she’d had an AK-47 within reach, an attempt at instant widowhood would be hers.
Loki lounged against the padded headboard, studying the rack of antlers overhead, his smile infuriatingly smug. “You should be proud to be my bride.”
“I was tricked!” she hissed, pulling the sheet around her, for all the good it did. Thank God she was on the pill. “You fucking bastard, what did you do to Theo? Did you kill him too, like Phil Coulson?”
“Coulson?” Loki shot her a quizzical look. “Remind me-there have been so many . . .”
She glared at him. “Quiet guy in a black suit. You stabbed him; he shot you.”
“Oh. THAT one,” Loki murmured. “He had-how do you say it? Pluck. He would have made a good slave. And no, I did not kill Doctor Theoric Simon. He is still alive at 894 Cardinal Way in Boston Massachusetts, smoking his pipe and making notes-incorrect ones-about the Brísingamen episode. Regrettably, I decided to let him live despite his erroneous research and questionable hygiene.”
“What did you DO to him? He was supposed to be here! I CALLED him!” Cynara wailed. The night had taken on a new level of unreality, and she fought not to beat her head against the wall.
Maybe she should, she thought. If she pounded hard enough the antlers might fall and kill the bastard on the bed.
“He is alive, he simply does not remember you, or your relationship,” came the calm explanation. “A simple memory wipe; very common among Asgardians, and far better than he deserved.”
“He was going to be my husband!” Cynara hissed. “This was supposed to be our wedding night!”
“It IS our wedding night.”
“Not OURS! HIS and ours. His and mine-you aren’t supposed to be in the picture!”
“We were destined,” Loki told her with a knowing smirk. “And it’s clear to me that passion of your caliber would be wasted on that Rune chipper. You were meant to love through the whole night, my bride, and he would never be able to last.” To demonstrate his point, Loki extended a finger and then let it dangle.
Cynara bit her lips, forcing herself NOT to react, but it was difficult. “Well you’ve had all the loving you’re going to get. I want a divorce.”
“A second round? I thought you’d never ask,” Loki purred, reaching for her.
She glared at him. “Find yourself an ice giantess, asshole.”
He gave her a wounded look, his face as gaunt and melancholy as a lonely greyhound. “Did I not please you? Was I too selfish, not giving you enough of your pleasure before my own?”
Cynara took a deep breath, feeling a blush roll across her face. “You did fine, but that’s not the point.”
“So I did do as a good husband should,” Loki murmured, “and I am prepared to keep you happy and oh so very satisfied in our marriage bed to the best of my considerable abilities. What we have shared so far is not a tenth of what is to come, my Sigyn. Believe me as you have never believed anything else in your life.”
Cynara clutched the sheet more tightly and tried to scoot away from him without exposing any flesh. “Look, I know you have a huge reputation for um . . . you-know-what, but this isn’t going to work out. I’m human, you’re a god. You’ve got stuff to do, out there, away from Earth. Mythic . . . cosmic . . . stuff . . .” she found herself leaning towards him, caught by his smoldering green eyes and dimpled smirk. The desire to kiss those dimples rose up in her and she scowled. “Why do you want to be married anyway? It’s not as if you need a wife . . . or do you?”
“I need nothing. However, a wife in marriage-you in particular-has its advantages,” Loki admitted, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “For instance, the plane.”
“The plane?”
“In the dream,” Loki nodded. “You were able to contact me there. That was never supposed to be possible for a human. I did not enslave you the last time I was on Earth; I did not even know of your existence and yet you arrived when I was bound, and admired my body.”
“Moving on,” Cynara muttered, blushing. “So the dream was . . . destined?”
“You ARE Sigyn,” Loki pointed out, running a finger down her nose and over her lips. “My savior with the bowl. The bride who keeps me from agony. You are of Earth; you are my link away from punishment.”
“But I just dreamed it. It was random!”
Loki pulled her over him, settling her in a straddle of his lap and Cynara felt the thick ridge of his shaft pressing along the seam of her sex. He locked eyes with her, and let his index finger slide from her lips down her chin and throat, coming to rest between her breasts, right on the tiny pink scab between them. “I do not believe in coincidences; I believe in undiscovered connections.”
She looked down. “The staff. I cut myself.”
“And in doing so, linked yourself to me,” he nodded. “Does that not strike you as far too much of a coincidence?”
Cynara was unwilling to admit that there did seem to be a line of logic to his words, and when the shaft she was straddling gave a throb, she gasped. Loki laughed seductively.
“Stop that,” she groused. “We’re having a serious discussion here.”
“You have having a discussion; I am waiting until you are done so that we might continue the intimacy of this marriage,” he purred, sliding his hands around her hips and grinding himself up against her.
“We’re not really married,” Cynara huffed, trying to keep her traitorous body from responding to his, damn it. “You signed the license under Theo’s name.”
“You are mistaken my bride; my own true name graces the document in question, but you of all people should know that the only binding that matters in this comes from Asgard. We have made our vows, shared mead and bedded one another on the same night; by that more exalted law we are married.”
Cynara leaned forward, bracing her hands against the padded headboard and tried to glare at him, but found herself kissing his arrogant smirk, which was a huge mistake.
Everything about Loki was huge and a mistake, she thought dimly. It didn’t seem fair that he should be so . . . good in bed. After a few breathless kisses she sighed. “I . . . demand a dower.”
He rolled with her, pinning her under him, teeth dazzling white. “But name it, my queen, and it shall be yours.”
Cynara opened her mouth, and just then the door to the suite blew open, slamming across the room to the far wall, followed by a deep baritone cry of “Loki!”
“And I was so very sure I put that little sign outside,” Loki grumbled, reluctantly rolling off of her to glare towards the doorway. “Brother, your timing as always is unacceptable.”
“Release the girl, Brother, or suffer my wrath anew!” Thor bellowed, striding into the suite. Cynara yelped and reached for the sheet, pulling it around herself as another man-this one with a drawn bow and a quizzical look stepped in. He took a stance, arrow at the ready. After him came someone else, and Cynara bit her lips, wishing for a gigantic hole to open up and swallow her.
“Special Technician Sigyn,” Nick Fury drawled as he strolled in. “Just what the hell are you doing?”
“I think that should be obvious, even to a one-eyed man,” Loki pointed out sweetly. “And from now on you will refer to her as Mrs. Laufeyson.”
“No!” Thor sighed, shaking his head sorrowfully. He looked at Cynara, blue eyes reproachful. “I warned you. Did I not warn you about his trickery? His willfulness?”
“Sir, yes. It started under false pretences,” Cynara began, addressing Fury, her hands in a death lock around her sheet. “I mean, I thought he was someone else-”
“Possessed,” this came from the man with the bow-Barton, if she remembered correctly--“I know the feeling.”
“I’m not possessed!” Cynara protested.
“In truth she possessed me,” Loki interjected dreamily, putting his hands behind his head and leaning against the headboard. “It was a glorious consummation; to be the first of many.”
“I don’t think so,” Fury replied. “In the first place, Special Technician Sigyn isn’t authorized to marry an off-world alien.”
“Authorized?” Barton asked quizzically. “What, do we have a form for that somewhere?”
“It’s in the regulations,” Fury admitted.
“A technicality,” Loki scoffed. “According to Asgardian law she and I are wed.”
“This true?” Fury turned to Thor, who gave a grimace and sighed.
“If he has taken vows and shared both mead and bed, then by my people’s laws he is joined to Sigyn until death,” he admitted heavily.
“Asgardians don’t get divorced, I take it,” Fury grumbled.
“Death is easier,” Thor gave a sheepish shrug. “Although there is still the matter of her bride price.”
“Dower,” Cynara broke in loudly. “It’s my right.”
“Could somebody let me know if anything needs shooting?” Barton called out. “Getting impatient here.”
Fury let his gaze sweep around the suite as he stepped closer to the bed. “So let me get this straight, Special Technician Sigyn. You are willing to stay married to this . . .” he waved at Loki, “mass murder from space, and for what?”
She took a deep breath, lifting her chin and looked at Fury even though her words were directed over her shoulder. “I want Phil Coulson back. Alive and well, just as he was before you killed him. That is my dower.”
Nobody spoke. Barton relaxed the tension on his bow, as Thor cocked his head.
Loki smiled. It was a strangely tender one, Cynara thought; touched with sardonic sweetness, as if he understood exactly why she’d asked for this. He slowly reached over, long, elegant finger squeezing into her cleavage to touch the healing cut there.
“His blood was on the staff. Just enough of it . . .”
Slowly a glowing column flared out of thin air at the foot of the bed, sparkling green and silver in faint swirls that looked like strands of DNA. Cynara stared, as did the four men as the pillar of light re-shaped into the slim, slouch-shouldered shape of Phillip. J. Coulson.
Naked.
The light faded, and no-one spoke. Coulson blinked and dropped his hands to cover his crotch, clearly confused and doing his best to assess his situation. Blushing everywhere, he looked at Fury, his voice fairly steady. “Boss.”
“Phil,” came the quiet whisper. “Damn.”
Still staring with his one good eye, Fury pulled off his leather coat and tossed it over; gratefully Coulson pulled it on and closed it, then looked around. Thor came over and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Son of Coul. It is very good to see you again.”
“Ah, thank you,” Coulson replied, clearly confused. “You too.”
Cynara scrambled off the edge of the bed, pulling the sheet with her. “Phil. You’re okay? You’re all right?”
“I’m fine. Last thing I remember was . . . a big gun.”
Fury was staring at Loki now, his expression bleakly grateful. He gave a slow nod that Loki returned. “It seems we have . . . an agreement,” Fury murmured.
“This wasn’t for you,” Loki pointed out with quiet intensity, “even though you and others will benefit by it. I have taken a bride by my world’s laws and yours. She has joined with me willingly and I have given her dower in accordance to tradition; therefore I expect her to be treated well.”
“She won’t be detained, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Fury agreed.
“Our business is unfinished,” Loki nodded, “but she remains outside of it.”
“Bring me up to speed,” Coulson murmured to Barton under his breath as he stared at the bed.
“From what I can figure, she married him and asked for you as a wedding present. It’s . . . a little kinky.”
“Yeah,” Coulson agreed. “That doesn’t generally happen to me.”
“Sir,” Cynara broke in, “it’s just a personal relationship. I’m not going to take his side against the earth or anything.”
“Damn right you’re not,” Fury nodded. “Considering it’s where you live and all. All right, we’ll get the form filled in and handle matters from there. I don’t like it, but I won’t argue the point.” He turned and gave Coulson a long glance, then turned and walked out.
Barton let one arrow fly, burying it into the headboard between the top of Loki’s head and the antlers above before he followed Fury and Coulson out. Thor retrieved the door, coming over to look at them and Cynara felt herself blush all over again.
“You chose well,” Thor told Loki. “Treat her as your queen, Brother.”
Loki inclined his head and Thor lumbered away, propping the door shut behind him. Cynara watched him go, feeling a peculiar twist of happiness at seeing Phil again and a sudden sense of serious doubt.
Shit. She was married. Not only married, but to a capricious temperamental god who could kill her without blinking an eye. A malicious force determined to overthrow his world or destroy it, and here she was, a frail little being with no particular defense and a nebulous future at best.
“Okay, so here’s the deal. I don’t think we should have kids, I like my career and maybe separate bank accounts would be a smart idea . . .” Cynara muttered.
“I must leave in the morning,” Loki told her, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her to him. “My escape has not gone unnoticed, and Thor will share the news of our marriage. Freya will be glad; I doubt Odin will much care. It is not much time, but let us make it memorable.”
Cynara felt his lips against her temple, his long arm around her and sighed. “Oh it’s already memorable, baby. I guess we need to see if it’s survivable.”
He laughed. She pushed aside any further considerations and kissed his bare shoulder, appreciating the silky warmth of it, and whispered into his ear. “Is that an enchanted staff, or are you just glad to see me?”
“Both,” Loki purred, and pulled her to him.
EPILOG
Her new badge was waiting for her on her desk; she picked it up and studied it for a second before clipping it onto her breast pocket. Cynara Sigyn-Laufeyson--that was going to be a mouthful.
When Cynara looked up, Phil Coulson was in the doorway, holding out a steaming cup from Starbucks in her direction.
She took it.
He cleared his throat. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Cynara told him quietly and added, “He uh, won’t kill you again. Just FYI.”
“I appreciate that,” Coulson nodded. “So . . .”
“We’re . . . working things out,” Cynara confessed. “I’m still pissed about Theo, and of course there’s the whole gallivanting around the universe and consorting with evil deities thing. I did get a ring, though, and some property in Svalbard, so I guess that’s good.”
“Svalbard,” Coulson echoed. “Nice, I think.”
An awkward pause filled the moment, and then Cynara sighed. “Phil . . . we missed you. I had the chance and I took it, and I would do it again, okay? Me, I’m just a little cog around here, but you . . . you kind of matter to S.H.I.E.L.D. and to the director and the Avengers and you sure as hell matter to Holly up in Portland.”
He gave her a crooked grin and Cynara slipped into his hug, feeling that for the moment, all was right with the world.
“You DO know you work for the Agency that’s dedicated to taking your husband down?” Phil whispered.
Cynara pulled back and grinned. “Job security. Come on, I’ve got this cool algorithm for Futhark translation to show you . . .”
END