The Devil You Know 3
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Conspire
“We need to tell Fury.”
Thor, Clint, and Natasha all looked at Steve at this proclamation. He met each measuring gaze, and his lips pressed thin.
“Sure,” Clint grunted around his cheeseburger. “If by 'tell Fury' you mean, 'move to Mexico before the shit hits the fan'.”
Steve's eyebrows lifted incrementally, but he looked more resigned than surprised. “I'm serious,” he said, and Clint rolled his eyes. “This is dangerous.”
Natasha stole one of Clint's fries. Thor frowned and fiddled with his hammer.
“Yeah, well, tell that to Tony,” Clint muttered. He glared at Natasha's wandering fingers but knew better than to complain.
“In all fairness, my friends,” Thor rumbled, “my brother has not caused as much mischief since Tony Stark has started courting him.”
Clint coughed and snickered at the word “courting”, and Steve shot him a glare.
“It's a fair point, Thor,” Steve said. “But how long will that last?”
“Well, if he keeps staying here, we can keep an eye on him,” Natasha rejoined. She twirled a french fry around her fingers and then nibbled at the end. “'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer', and all that.”
“Yeah,” Clint grumbled, “except that when they have their first lovers' spat, they'll probably take the east coast with them. Mexico is looking better and better.”
Natasha tilted her head. “Why Mexico?” she asked.
“Well, I'm not going to Canada!”
“No one's going to Mexico,” Steve sighed, rubbing his temples. “And it's really not our place to interfere right now, anyway. I'm just saying that we should give Fury a head's up.”
“We should probably give the east coast a head's up,” Clint muttered.
“Clint.”
“Whatever, fearless leader.”
Loki waved his hand, and the image of the conspiring Avengers in the kitchen melted back into thin air. He leaned back, using Tony's taut stomach as a pillow.
“So much faith your friends have in us,” he said wryly.
Tony frowned at the air where the image had been a moment before, his brows furrowed in thought. “What were you expecting?” He tilted his chin to direct the question at the tuft of black hair against his stomach.
“Oh, pitchforks and torches, honestly. Your friends are taking it much more in stride than I was expecting. How dull.”
Tony crooked an eyebrow and carded a hand through Loki's sleek black hair. “Try not to sound so disappointed,” he said. “There's still the issue of Fury, anyway. I doubt he'll take it 'in stride'.”
Tony felt Loki's lips curl into a smile against his skin. “You'd be surprised,” he said. Tony stared at the back of Loki's head and frowned, trying to decipher that.
After a moment, Loki rolled so that he was facing Tony, green eyes flickering as they studied his face. It still wasn't easy for Tony to hold such an intense stare, but he forced himself to not look away.
“Does it bother you?” Loki asked softly. Tony tried to figure out what he was thinking, but Loki's face was masterfully blank.
“Does what bother me?”
“That your master considers me your enemy.”
“Okay, first off, Fury isn't my 'master',” Tony replied automatically, letting his mouth run while he tried to figure out how to answer that. He had been dreading this conversation. It was like the super-hero/super-villain equivalent of “The Talk”. He let his gaze trail over the beautiful lines of Loki's face and down the graceful curve of his throat. His hand followed a moment later, his thumb lingering over the seam of the god's lips.
“And... yeah, it - it does bother me a bit.”
Loki's eyes glittered, and the Trickster parted his lips to nibble at the tip of Tony's thumb. Tony lost his train of thought for a moment.
“Uh.” Tony cleared his throat and looked into those wickedly smiling eyes. “I mean, I don't want to change you - never that - but.” Tony cupped Loki's cheek and molded his palm to fit in the hollow under his cheekbone. Loki eyed him with guarded amusement. “But I don't want to be your enemy, either.”
Tony held his breath and stared at Loki, waiting for a reaction - any reaction. Instead Loki kept his poker face and continued to regard him in silence. Eventually he frowned and rolled to face the ceiling instead. Tony lowered his hand to Loki's chest. He could feel the even tempo of his breathing, the expansion and contraction of his lungs, and he sat, transfixed, in silence for a while.
He came back to himself when Loki threaded long fingers through his and closed his eyes in sleep.
Steve tried not to fidget under Fury's stare. It was like the man made up for missing an eye by staring with twice the intensity out of the one. That stare managed to make Steve feel small in a way he hadn't since his pre-serum days... or since he had last argued with a certain Peggy Carter.
Steve blinked and shook himself, forcing down the ache that came with memories of brown eyes and red lips. He could still see her face if he closed his eyes...
“Agent Coulson says you have something you wish to tell me.”
Steve looked up at Director Fury, and memories splintered under the weight of reality. He glanced around the concrete bunker and exchanged looks with Natasha and Clint before setting his jaw and staring back at that one eye.
“Yes, sir, we do,” he said, ever the soldier. Fury tilted his head in a silent question. Steve drew in a breath, hoping that Tony would forgive him for this. Really, he hoped that Tony would see reason and stop fraternizing with the enemy altogether, but he knew that Tony didn't always think with the right head. “It has come to our attention that Loki and Tony are, uh... canoodling.”
Steve did not appreciate Clint's derisive snort. Fury's expression tightened. His gaze slid to Clint and Natasha. “And by 'canoodling',” Clint helpfully supplied, “Cap means 'fucking like rabbits'.”
Natasha rolled her eyes but said nothing.
“Thanks, Clint,” Steve all but snapped. This whole thing was awkward enough as it was.
He waited for the explosion. It never came.
Instead, Fury sighed and rubbed his forehead. “So I've heard,” he groused.
The Avengers exchanged leery glances. “Heard?” Steve echoed.
Who could have told him?
“Oh, Captain, my Captain!”
Steve knew he shouldn't have been so surprised to hear Loki's voice. He turned to see the Trickster leaning against the door-frame, lips twisted in a cat-like smile. Natasha muttered something in Russian.
Steve fought the urge to reach for his shield. He settled for a narrowed glare. “Loki,” he said lowly, evenly. “What are you doing here?”
Loki's gaze slid to indicate Fury. Steve shot a questioning look at his superior. Fury met his gaze with a look of long-suffering.
“We've struck a deal with Loki,” he said. “He'll give us information and occasional backup, and we'll ignore his previous crimes.”
Steve's mind whirled at this. What?
“Sir.” He leaned over Fury's desk until they were face to face. He whispered, “You know that he'll break his end of the deal the moment it becomes inconvenient to him.”
“Yeah,” Fury replied, “but considering the dirt he has on the rest of the world's villains, even a temporary truce with Loki will have lasting benefits.” Fury's single eye searched both of Steve's, and for a moment Steve felt like the scrawny little asthmatic he used to be. “Besides,” he added, arching an eyebrow, “do you want to deal with him and Tony?”
Steve frowned, pausing to consider this. After a moment he pushed himself upright and stalked to the doorway, pausing to glare into Loki's amused green eyes. “What are you gaining from this?” he growled. “SHIELD's forgiveness of your crimes never mattered to you before.”
Loki cocked his head to the side, and Steve realized that Fury's stare had nothing on Loki's. He tried not to shuffle his feet like a little boy.
“And don't tell me it's for Tony.” Steve's nails bit into the palms of his hands. The thought of Loki, of this manipulative little... little... whatever messing with Steve's best friend set his teeth on edge. He never doubted for a moment that Loki had ulterior motives for “dating” Tony Stark.
Loki frowned. “Oh no, it's for me,” he answered blithely. “Not so that I can 'date' Tony, as you humans would say, but that so I might have the freedom to choose to date Tony, if I so desire. Plus your confusion amuses me.”
Steve squinted at Loki and tried to sieve through these words, tried to see through to the core of his motives. There were always too many variables where Loki was involved, and he was quickly getting a headache.
Loki chuckled and patted Steve's cheek. “Ta,” he said, and when Steve blinked, he was gone.
Behind him, Clint muttered, “There is no way in Hell this is going to end well.”
Steve was inclined to agree, and, he suspected, so were Natasha and Fury.
Conspire
“We need to tell Fury.”
Thor, Clint, and Natasha all looked at Steve at this proclamation. He met each measuring gaze, and his lips pressed thin.
“Sure,” Clint grunted around his cheeseburger. “If by 'tell Fury' you mean, 'move to Mexico before the shit hits the fan'.”
Steve's eyebrows lifted incrementally, but he looked more resigned than surprised. “I'm serious,” he said, and Clint rolled his eyes. “This is dangerous.”
Natasha stole one of Clint's fries. Thor frowned and fiddled with his hammer.
“Yeah, well, tell that to Tony,” Clint muttered. He glared at Natasha's wandering fingers but knew better than to complain.
“In all fairness, my friends,” Thor rumbled, “my brother has not caused as much mischief since Tony Stark has started courting him.”
Clint coughed and snickered at the word “courting”, and Steve shot him a glare.
“It's a fair point, Thor,” Steve said. “But how long will that last?”
“Well, if he keeps staying here, we can keep an eye on him,” Natasha rejoined. She twirled a french fry around her fingers and then nibbled at the end. “'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer', and all that.”
“Yeah,” Clint grumbled, “except that when they have their first lovers' spat, they'll probably take the east coast with them. Mexico is looking better and better.”
Natasha tilted her head. “Why Mexico?” she asked.
“Well, I'm not going to Canada!”
“No one's going to Mexico,” Steve sighed, rubbing his temples. “And it's really not our place to interfere right now, anyway. I'm just saying that we should give Fury a head's up.”
“We should probably give the east coast a head's up,” Clint muttered.
“Clint.”
“Whatever, fearless leader.”
Loki waved his hand, and the image of the conspiring Avengers in the kitchen melted back into thin air. He leaned back, using Tony's taut stomach as a pillow.
“So much faith your friends have in us,” he said wryly.
Tony frowned at the air where the image had been a moment before, his brows furrowed in thought. “What were you expecting?” He tilted his chin to direct the question at the tuft of black hair against his stomach.
“Oh, pitchforks and torches, honestly. Your friends are taking it much more in stride than I was expecting. How dull.”
Tony crooked an eyebrow and carded a hand through Loki's sleek black hair. “Try not to sound so disappointed,” he said. “There's still the issue of Fury, anyway. I doubt he'll take it 'in stride'.”
Tony felt Loki's lips curl into a smile against his skin. “You'd be surprised,” he said. Tony stared at the back of Loki's head and frowned, trying to decipher that.
After a moment, Loki rolled so that he was facing Tony, green eyes flickering as they studied his face. It still wasn't easy for Tony to hold such an intense stare, but he forced himself to not look away.
“Does it bother you?” Loki asked softly. Tony tried to figure out what he was thinking, but Loki's face was masterfully blank.
“Does what bother me?”
“That your master considers me your enemy.”
“Okay, first off, Fury isn't my 'master',” Tony replied automatically, letting his mouth run while he tried to figure out how to answer that. He had been dreading this conversation. It was like the super-hero/super-villain equivalent of “The Talk”. He let his gaze trail over the beautiful lines of Loki's face and down the graceful curve of his throat. His hand followed a moment later, his thumb lingering over the seam of the god's lips.
“And... yeah, it - it does bother me a bit.”
Loki's eyes glittered, and the Trickster parted his lips to nibble at the tip of Tony's thumb. Tony lost his train of thought for a moment.
“Uh.” Tony cleared his throat and looked into those wickedly smiling eyes. “I mean, I don't want to change you - never that - but.” Tony cupped Loki's cheek and molded his palm to fit in the hollow under his cheekbone. Loki eyed him with guarded amusement. “But I don't want to be your enemy, either.”
Tony held his breath and stared at Loki, waiting for a reaction - any reaction. Instead Loki kept his poker face and continued to regard him in silence. Eventually he frowned and rolled to face the ceiling instead. Tony lowered his hand to Loki's chest. He could feel the even tempo of his breathing, the expansion and contraction of his lungs, and he sat, transfixed, in silence for a while.
He came back to himself when Loki threaded long fingers through his and closed his eyes in sleep.
Steve tried not to fidget under Fury's stare. It was like the man made up for missing an eye by staring with twice the intensity out of the one. That stare managed to make Steve feel small in a way he hadn't since his pre-serum days... or since he had last argued with a certain Peggy Carter.
Steve blinked and shook himself, forcing down the ache that came with memories of brown eyes and red lips. He could still see her face if he closed his eyes...
“Agent Coulson says you have something you wish to tell me.”
Steve looked up at Director Fury, and memories splintered under the weight of reality. He glanced around the concrete bunker and exchanged looks with Natasha and Clint before setting his jaw and staring back at that one eye.
“Yes, sir, we do,” he said, ever the soldier. Fury tilted his head in a silent question. Steve drew in a breath, hoping that Tony would forgive him for this. Really, he hoped that Tony would see reason and stop fraternizing with the enemy altogether, but he knew that Tony didn't always think with the right head. “It has come to our attention that Loki and Tony are, uh... canoodling.”
Steve did not appreciate Clint's derisive snort. Fury's expression tightened. His gaze slid to Clint and Natasha. “And by 'canoodling',” Clint helpfully supplied, “Cap means 'fucking like rabbits'.”
Natasha rolled her eyes but said nothing.
“Thanks, Clint,” Steve all but snapped. This whole thing was awkward enough as it was.
He waited for the explosion. It never came.
Instead, Fury sighed and rubbed his forehead. “So I've heard,” he groused.
The Avengers exchanged leery glances. “Heard?” Steve echoed.
Who could have told him?
“Oh, Captain, my Captain!”
Steve knew he shouldn't have been so surprised to hear Loki's voice. He turned to see the Trickster leaning against the door-frame, lips twisted in a cat-like smile. Natasha muttered something in Russian.
Steve fought the urge to reach for his shield. He settled for a narrowed glare. “Loki,” he said lowly, evenly. “What are you doing here?”
Loki's gaze slid to indicate Fury. Steve shot a questioning look at his superior. Fury met his gaze with a look of long-suffering.
“We've struck a deal with Loki,” he said. “He'll give us information and occasional backup, and we'll ignore his previous crimes.”
Steve's mind whirled at this. What?
“Sir.” He leaned over Fury's desk until they were face to face. He whispered, “You know that he'll break his end of the deal the moment it becomes inconvenient to him.”
“Yeah,” Fury replied, “but considering the dirt he has on the rest of the world's villains, even a temporary truce with Loki will have lasting benefits.” Fury's single eye searched both of Steve's, and for a moment Steve felt like the scrawny little asthmatic he used to be. “Besides,” he added, arching an eyebrow, “do you want to deal with him and Tony?”
Steve frowned, pausing to consider this. After a moment he pushed himself upright and stalked to the doorway, pausing to glare into Loki's amused green eyes. “What are you gaining from this?” he growled. “SHIELD's forgiveness of your crimes never mattered to you before.”
Loki cocked his head to the side, and Steve realized that Fury's stare had nothing on Loki's. He tried not to shuffle his feet like a little boy.
“And don't tell me it's for Tony.” Steve's nails bit into the palms of his hands. The thought of Loki, of this manipulative little... little... whatever messing with Steve's best friend set his teeth on edge. He never doubted for a moment that Loki had ulterior motives for “dating” Tony Stark.
Loki frowned. “Oh no, it's for me,” he answered blithely. “Not so that I can 'date' Tony, as you humans would say, but that so I might have the freedom to choose to date Tony, if I so desire. Plus your confusion amuses me.”
Steve squinted at Loki and tried to sieve through these words, tried to see through to the core of his motives. There were always too many variables where Loki was involved, and he was quickly getting a headache.
Loki chuckled and patted Steve's cheek. “Ta,” he said, and when Steve blinked, he was gone.
Behind him, Clint muttered, “There is no way in Hell this is going to end well.”
Steve was inclined to agree, and, he suspected, so were Natasha and Fury.