The Unquiet Thought, Chapter 1
Fun Fact: "The Unquiet Thought" is actually one of Loki's more obscure kennings.
News: I am participating in the SciFi Big Bang this spring/summer (writing 25,000+ words) using part of this story. That means that it will theoretically be completed by August (the end is in sight), it also means that an artist could claim the story and create artwork for it, which is super exciting for me because I have done fanfic fanart, but never gotten any. More updates as they come.
I am also kind of sad that not all letter accents are translating into livejournal. I had to remove one.
Chapter 1
It is left alone.
It stands in the middle of the room. With no instructions, it shifts. It will wait until Sire returns for it.
The room is dark.
-
Eitri stands in the middle of the room; his fist clenches hard, there is bile edging up the back of his throat. He does not move until his brother rests a solid hand on his shoulder, and then it is in a violent burst that propels him to the agent by the window. In the time it takes the man to blink, Eitri is there, and the mortal is held suspended by the collar of his ‘armor’ against the clear material. There he stops; a tingling of annoyance reaches up through the anger and mocks him for having no clear idea what he wants to do (what he could do, considering the circumstances) now that he has the man in his grasp. Behind him there is motion and layers of voices that are all undistinguishable, save one.
“Stoðve, bróðir.”
The agent crumples to the ground, plasters himself backwards and, as the dwarf turns and walks quietly to the door, scrambles away as quickly as he can. Brokkr grips Eitri’s tunic and moves him past the Midgardians who have stood, drawn their weapons; his brother’s voice a whisper in his ear.
“Not now. There will be time yet.”
Eitri snarls. The doors shut behind them.
-
Steve watches Agent Davis scramble along the floor to ceiling windows. The man shuffles, straightens his uniform, and then hesitates by the door that leads to the elevator until he scrapes himself together and another agent smacks him on the shoulder (a quiet ‘idiot’ passes between them); they disappear into the hall.
He doesn’t realize he’s staring at the door until his own voice breaks him out of his daze.
“Jesus.”
A wave of cold runs through him and he rolls his shoulders, tenses and relaxes his muscles again before turning. Clint is leaning back as far as he can without tumbling off of his perch on the arm rest; he doesn’t shift back, even though Steve can see his muscles twitch, until Natasha moves around to the back of the couch, her arm barely brushing against him as she moves.
When her eyes meet his, Steve feels a (not unexpected) unnerving sense of wrongness, both in general and at the fact that his first thought (after What did they just do?) had been a creeping sort of resentment toward Clint.
He shakes the thought out of his head.
“Well that’s that then, I suppose.”
Neither of them move.
He hefts his shield up, adjusts it in his grip, and then lets it hang again for a moment before attaching it to the holder on his back.
The room feels unnaturally quiet, and then he realizes why.
“Where’s Tony?”
Natasha looks at him, eyebrows drawn up just slightly.
“Stark removed himself shortly after Loki was reactivated.” She runs her hand through Clint’s hair, who is silently staring in the direction of the bar, where Loki had been standing. If he notices the touch he doesn’t show it. “He’s probably down in his lab by now.”
“I should-” Steve looks in the direction of the doors the dwarves had left through, heading up to the roof and the S.H.I.E.L.D. transport that would take them to a secluded bifrost contact point. “We should probably tell-” He exhales. Shit. “JARVIS?”
There are a few beats of silence before a response comes. The voice is flat.
“How may I help you, Captain?”
“Where is Thor?”
“In his quarters, Captain.”
“Alright, well-”
“Fuck, he’s staying?”
Steve ignores Clint’s outburst and focuses on the seam where the wall meets the ceiling.
“Does he know that the dwarves are leaving?” Did you tell him goes unsaid.
“No. Shall I open the audio for you?”
“Wait-”
“Why the fucking hell is that-”
For a second Steve is worried that Thor will hear Clint’s raging, the last thing they need is more tension between the team, but Natasha takes care of it for him with a quiet “Shut up, Barton.”
Clint buries his face in his hands, Natasha resumes petting his hair.
“Thor?” Steve feels incredibly awkward, he can’t tell if he’s patched through yet, and awful because he hopes Loki isn’t the one to respond. Something sounds like it’s moving, so he continues. “I, uh, thought you should know that the dwarves are being escorted back up to the landing pad. JARVIS patched me through.”
Thor’s voice booms through the speakers.
“Thank you, my friend.”
“I offered to see them up, but they were- they declined. Should you-?”
“Our business is concluded. Heimdall will return them to their realm.”
“Alright then, how is- I’ll just- um, leave you two alone to… uh-” There is dead air. “Am I still connected?”
“No, Captain.”
“Oh,” he blinks. “Oh, okay…” That’s odd.
JARVIS remains quiet, and Steve shifts because it’s as though he is being stared at and judged. He thinks he’s sees Clint do the same, but Natasha is like a statue (he’s hard pressed to believe anything makes her uncomfortable).
The air around him is stagnant, he needs to move.
Natasha’s head is bowed close to Clint’s, Steve heads toward the lab.
-
“No way that worked. It’s never that easy,” Clint whispers. Natasha hums faintly in return. “You think he’s fucking with us?”
-
When Steve walks down the stairs, Tony is half slumped over a table, restlessly tapping a screwdriver against the edge. The tinny sound that results echoes through the room and sets Steve’s teeth on edge.
“Tony?”
No response. He taps on the wall. Nothing happens. For a moment he wonders if JARVIS won’t let him in and thinks, surprisingly, of Peggy turning her gun on him in Howard’s lab. Of the annoyance on her face and the feeling of his stomach dropping out of his body when she pulled the trigger.
(Yes, I think it works.)
The door slides open.
Tony doesn’t look up until Steve is at the edge of the table. He’s not sure what he was expecting (the heavy bite of alcohol in the air), but it’s missing and a breath falls out of him that he didn’t realize he held.
“Hey, how are you doing?”
“Fucking fantastic. Why wouldn’t I be, nobody ate my soul today.”
“Tony-”
“I don’t want to hear it, Rogers.”
Away on the far side of the room, You buzzes around and looks in their direction. Steve gives a small wave out of habit (You whirrs and hides again) before catching himself. Tony looks moodily out into the open space of air where his holograms are usually projected, content to ignore him.
When the length of the silence is finally too much for him (no music, he is in the lab and there is no music), Steve grabs a stool and sits down beside the other man.
“Can I ask you a question?” The screwdriver is waved in his general direction. “Is JARVIS alright?”
“What? Yes. Why?”
“He just seems… tense? I don’t know.”
The look he gets is like Phillips and Peggy and Bucky before Steve was… just Before, all rolled into one.
“I’ll look into it.”
“Yeah? Okay. Let me-” Steve’s eyes shoot up to the ceiling. “Let me know if I can do anything.” Tony grunts.
“You can go now.” He rests his face in his arms again; the screw driver resumes its tapping.
Steve rubs his palms against his thighs, then walks to the gym. He’s there until he goes to drag Tony out of his workshop the next morning.
Interlude 1
News: I am participating in the SciFi Big Bang this spring/summer (writing 25,000+ words) using part of this story. That means that it will theoretically be completed by August (the end is in sight), it also means that an artist could claim the story and create artwork for it, which is super exciting for me because I have done fanfic fanart, but never gotten any. More updates as they come.
I am also kind of sad that not all letter accents are translating into livejournal. I had to remove one.
Chapter 1
It is left alone.
It stands in the middle of the room. With no instructions, it shifts. It will wait until Sire returns for it.
The room is dark.
-
Eitri stands in the middle of the room; his fist clenches hard, there is bile edging up the back of his throat. He does not move until his brother rests a solid hand on his shoulder, and then it is in a violent burst that propels him to the agent by the window. In the time it takes the man to blink, Eitri is there, and the mortal is held suspended by the collar of his ‘armor’ against the clear material. There he stops; a tingling of annoyance reaches up through the anger and mocks him for having no clear idea what he wants to do (what he could do, considering the circumstances) now that he has the man in his grasp. Behind him there is motion and layers of voices that are all undistinguishable, save one.
“Stoðve, bróðir.”
The agent crumples to the ground, plasters himself backwards and, as the dwarf turns and walks quietly to the door, scrambles away as quickly as he can. Brokkr grips Eitri’s tunic and moves him past the Midgardians who have stood, drawn their weapons; his brother’s voice a whisper in his ear.
“Not now. There will be time yet.”
Eitri snarls. The doors shut behind them.
-
Steve watches Agent Davis scramble along the floor to ceiling windows. The man shuffles, straightens his uniform, and then hesitates by the door that leads to the elevator until he scrapes himself together and another agent smacks him on the shoulder (a quiet ‘idiot’ passes between them); they disappear into the hall.
He doesn’t realize he’s staring at the door until his own voice breaks him out of his daze.
“Jesus.”
A wave of cold runs through him and he rolls his shoulders, tenses and relaxes his muscles again before turning. Clint is leaning back as far as he can without tumbling off of his perch on the arm rest; he doesn’t shift back, even though Steve can see his muscles twitch, until Natasha moves around to the back of the couch, her arm barely brushing against him as she moves.
When her eyes meet his, Steve feels a (not unexpected) unnerving sense of wrongness, both in general and at the fact that his first thought (after What did they just do?) had been a creeping sort of resentment toward Clint.
He shakes the thought out of his head.
“Well that’s that then, I suppose.”
Neither of them move.
He hefts his shield up, adjusts it in his grip, and then lets it hang again for a moment before attaching it to the holder on his back.
The room feels unnaturally quiet, and then he realizes why.
“Where’s Tony?”
Natasha looks at him, eyebrows drawn up just slightly.
“Stark removed himself shortly after Loki was reactivated.” She runs her hand through Clint’s hair, who is silently staring in the direction of the bar, where Loki had been standing. If he notices the touch he doesn’t show it. “He’s probably down in his lab by now.”
“I should-” Steve looks in the direction of the doors the dwarves had left through, heading up to the roof and the S.H.I.E.L.D. transport that would take them to a secluded bifrost contact point. “We should probably tell-” He exhales. Shit. “JARVIS?”
There are a few beats of silence before a response comes. The voice is flat.
“How may I help you, Captain?”
“Where is Thor?”
“In his quarters, Captain.”
“Alright, well-”
“Fuck, he’s staying?”
Steve ignores Clint’s outburst and focuses on the seam where the wall meets the ceiling.
“Does he know that the dwarves are leaving?” Did you tell him goes unsaid.
“No. Shall I open the audio for you?”
“Wait-”
“Why the fucking hell is that-”
For a second Steve is worried that Thor will hear Clint’s raging, the last thing they need is more tension between the team, but Natasha takes care of it for him with a quiet “Shut up, Barton.”
Clint buries his face in his hands, Natasha resumes petting his hair.
“Thor?” Steve feels incredibly awkward, he can’t tell if he’s patched through yet, and awful because he hopes Loki isn’t the one to respond. Something sounds like it’s moving, so he continues. “I, uh, thought you should know that the dwarves are being escorted back up to the landing pad. JARVIS patched me through.”
Thor’s voice booms through the speakers.
“Thank you, my friend.”
“I offered to see them up, but they were- they declined. Should you-?”
“Our business is concluded. Heimdall will return them to their realm.”
“Alright then, how is- I’ll just- um, leave you two alone to… uh-” There is dead air. “Am I still connected?”
“No, Captain.”
“Oh,” he blinks. “Oh, okay…” That’s odd.
JARVIS remains quiet, and Steve shifts because it’s as though he is being stared at and judged. He thinks he’s sees Clint do the same, but Natasha is like a statue (he’s hard pressed to believe anything makes her uncomfortable).
The air around him is stagnant, he needs to move.
Natasha’s head is bowed close to Clint’s, Steve heads toward the lab.
-
“No way that worked. It’s never that easy,” Clint whispers. Natasha hums faintly in return. “You think he’s fucking with us?”
-
When Steve walks down the stairs, Tony is half slumped over a table, restlessly tapping a screwdriver against the edge. The tinny sound that results echoes through the room and sets Steve’s teeth on edge.
“Tony?”
No response. He taps on the wall. Nothing happens. For a moment he wonders if JARVIS won’t let him in and thinks, surprisingly, of Peggy turning her gun on him in Howard’s lab. Of the annoyance on her face and the feeling of his stomach dropping out of his body when she pulled the trigger.
(Yes, I think it works.)
The door slides open.
Tony doesn’t look up until Steve is at the edge of the table. He’s not sure what he was expecting (the heavy bite of alcohol in the air), but it’s missing and a breath falls out of him that he didn’t realize he held.
“Hey, how are you doing?”
“Fucking fantastic. Why wouldn’t I be, nobody ate my soul today.”
“Tony-”
“I don’t want to hear it, Rogers.”
Away on the far side of the room, You buzzes around and looks in their direction. Steve gives a small wave out of habit (You whirrs and hides again) before catching himself. Tony looks moodily out into the open space of air where his holograms are usually projected, content to ignore him.
When the length of the silence is finally too much for him (no music, he is in the lab and there is no music), Steve grabs a stool and sits down beside the other man.
“Can I ask you a question?” The screwdriver is waved in his general direction. “Is JARVIS alright?”
“What? Yes. Why?”
“He just seems… tense? I don’t know.”
The look he gets is like Phillips and Peggy and Bucky before Steve was… just Before, all rolled into one.
“I’ll look into it.”
“Yeah? Okay. Let me-” Steve’s eyes shoot up to the ceiling. “Let me know if I can do anything.” Tony grunts.
“You can go now.” He rests his face in his arms again; the screw driver resumes its tapping.
Steve rubs his palms against his thighs, then walks to the gym. He’s there until he goes to drag Tony out of his workshop the next morning.
Interlude 1