Loki and Natasha spend the reset together watching the fireworks and eating snacks on top of the Magic Kingdom
castle.
⚠
Brief discussion of death
The Realm of Disney might not have been the Happiest Place on Midgard as it claimed to be, but that didn’t mean it didn’t have its moments. After his little meltdown, Loki wasn’t certain that he wanted to join Natasha for their prearranged rendezvous on top of the Magic Kingdom castle. Once he was there, however, sitting beside her comfortably (thanks to a little magic on his part) he was glad he decided to keep his promise. High above the meandering crowds, he could make out most of the park. The different regions glimmered in their night lighting. In the distance one of the roller coasters roared downhill, the sounds of laughter and amused screams following after. Loki didn’t understand it. Not really. It was an illusion and everyone knew it, save for perhaps the children, and yet they all accepted it. They chose to believe it for the brief time they were there.
They loved it.
They loved something that wasn’t real. Surely there was a lesson in there for him to learn, but he hadn’t figured out what it was. All he knew was that he felt a little better now that he accepted that, while this was a place of lies and fake dreams, it was also a place that could provide a small measure of comfort. Even to him.
A long platter of treats from various areas of the park hovered in the air before them. Loki was pretty Dole Whipped out after the last week. He’d had far more than was ever intended for a single person to consume. So the tray contained other treats. Candies. Chocolates. Even one of those infamous turkey legs from Frontier Land. Loki had tried a bite earlier but didn’t like how the grease permeated his finger tips. And the smokiness of the meat reminded him of Asgard.
Boom! The first firework of the evening lit up the sky in a brilliant display of shimmering gold. Yesterday he’d been melodramatic about the fireworks. Tonight he was trying a different perspective. Nostalgia.
“It must be a ghastly cost to do all of this every night without magic,” Loki said. “The Mouse King must have riches beyond belief.”
Natasha's boots had grips and they were centered against the angle of the roof, giving her a way to lean back against the roof to look upwards. It was more comfortable than it looked, and given her newfound superpowers, she figured she could do this the entirety of the show and for however long it took for the Derleth clock to reset.
She'd enjoyed her time in Disney World. She'd never gotten to do any of this stuff when she was little, and then when she was older, there was too much to do. It had been a nice week of stunt shows (that were obvious in how they were enacted) and rides (that couldn't compete with falling out of the sky without a parachute). The food was overpriced, but good. Seeing so many people smiling and being happy was a serotonin boost in itself.
"Well, you should see the cost of tickets. These people pay for it." And that didn't even begin to cover the many movies, TV shows, and products the Mouse had.
Natasha paused. "It's something off my bucket list. When I was younger, they made us watch a lot of Western — propaganda they called it. So we could learn various accents, expressions — those little things that tie you to a place in this country. So you could blend in. I always wanted to go."
All of this was incredibly foreign to Loki. There was nothing like Disney World on Asgard. Not that they needed it, of course. Magic was real in their realm. Gods didn’t require amusement parks. They sought out simpler pleasures. In many aspects of their culture they probably appeared old fashioned and traditional. But once a civilization was advanced enough not to need tricks for entertainment, the old pleasures became the cornerstones of intellectual and artistic passion.
“When I was younger all I wanted to do was go to Midgard. Thor, too. It became something of a rite of passage for us. The All-Father didn’t approve, of course. He always had to clean up after us.” Loki gave a small laugh at the memory. Odin always blamed Loki for the trouble, albeit rarely directly. But it was almost always Thor who instigated the adventures to Midgard. The trouble, too. In that way they weren’t all that different from each other.
Two gods with too much time on their hands.
It was interesting to hear Natasha’s story though. Loki tried to imagine what it might have been like for her. As much as he complained about being lied to by his family at least he had a family. He sometimes forgot about that. Well, maybe forgot was the wrong word. But he underplayed it a lot. He had a mother, a father, a brother, and a home. That was more than a lot of people got. He should have appreciated it more.
“And if you could go anywhere now?” Loki asked, watching as the sky lit up a brilliant blue. Then green. “If you could pick where we ended up tomorrow, anywhere in the universe, where would you choose?”
She wondered if the idea of Earth was romanticized in the way that animals were in a zoo. Ooo, look at the strange and bizarre creatures of the planet. They weren't endangered, just a curiosity. See them learn to make tools! Now they're painting! Coal has propelled them into the future. Technology. What must it be like to watch Midgard grow from one millennia to the next?
How little the Asgardians must think of them with their insanely fragile bodies and exceedingly short life spans!
His question was a welcomed distraction.
"Well, we've been to places other people have lived or spent time in. So maybe something fantastical like that." She thought about it as the red fireworks lit up her face. "Maybe Alice in Wonderland — but the real place, not this stuff." Gestured out to the park somewhere. "Or just a James Bond type setting. Super secret spy stuff. Love 'em and leave 'em. Pens that double as guns."
“Aren’t you sick of secret spy stuff?” Loki leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and glanced down at the garden which lined the side of the castle. Pristine bushes, perfectly manicured to match the symmetry of the rest of the park. Not a twig out of place. Not a strand loose on any of the employee’s garments. And behind it all, hours and hours of well-timed maintenance and mechanism. It was a contraption, the cogs always oiled, spinning in place. If only he’d thought of this. New York might not have been necessary.
“And you hardly need a pen to indulge in flagrant one-night affairs of the flesh. Any setting will do in a pinch for that.” Loki grinned, but not deviously. In fact, there was a fleeting fluster in his features, only partially masked by the flashing colors reflecting off his face.
Loki watched as a family of four sat down on a bench. The father placed an arm around his wife. The children squealed in delight. Primitive? Yes, at times. Like animals in a zoo? Perhaps, a long time ago. But now? There was something envious in the lives of the people of Midgard. A kind of envy that Loki couldn’t quite put into words.
Maybe there was something to be said of ignorance and naivete. Knowledge could cut a deeper wound than a blade. And, despite everything wrong in their world, these people — these Midgardians — were happy. And that was more than Loki could say for himself.
“Perhaps I’m boring, but I think I’d just like to see home once more.”
"You've never seen a James Bond movie," she countered dryly, pretending not to notice the color change on his face. She had studied him, after all. Gotten insight from Thor back during the Battle of New York, and from her own interrogation. She was probably the Midgardian who knew the most about him.
After all, he had mind controlled her best friend, and that wasn't something she took lightly.
"I thought about saying something cheesy like, I like being here right now. I can think of a lot worse places to be, with a lot worse people." She flicked a damp lock of hair from her forehead. The Florida heat was stifling. She'd heard someone call it a wet armpit, and she couldn't disagree with that assessment. The afternoon showers only gave a brief respite. "I'd like to see Asgard though. Only been to three places out there. Some planet Thanos retired on, Morag to drop off Rhodey and Nebula, and Vormir. Guess there's not a lot of people who can say they died at the very center of celestial existence."
“I have not. Although I am familiar with the persona. Some things are grand enough to cross universes, you know.” And Loki had been to Midgard enough times to pick up on a few cultural icons here and there. Not all of them. Some things about Midgard were still a mystery to him. But on most subjects he could feign a general familiarity. He’d just never had the time to sit around and catch a film while he was on Midgard. He was too busy doing other things.
Like mind controlling Natasha’s best friend.
Well, everyone made mistakes, right?
“People worse than me?” Loki laughed. Granted, he knew she was right. Was he a villain? Yes, absolutely. He wasn’t going to deny that. But he fell more in the shades of grey territory. There were people far worse than him. Some of them they even had in common. “Yes, the company could be far worse. Less interesting, too.”
When she mentioned Vormir, his lips drew in a thin line. A triple explosion of fireworks burst overhead. Most people would have given their condolences. But Loki knew that wouldn’t change anything. Nor did he think she wanted to hear it. There was only so many times a person could be reminded of the worst moment in their life. Loki was cracking himself. Every reset he felt like a piece of his sanity was snapping off. Fortunately he had his illusions to hide the physical effect it was leaving in its wake.
“Asgard might be too boring for you. A lot of warriors overindulging in mead and exaggerating the tales of their greatness. But it is the nicest of the Nine Realms. The rest are … How do I say it? Well, Midgard aside, Asgard is the only one with that spark. It shines.” Loki paused. “It did shine, I should say.”
Loki ran his fingers back through his hair. “Do you think we’re dead?”
"I don't know. Asgard seems a lot like Russia. Drink as much as you can and tell tall tales about the things you've done." She could think of one very particularly Russian who fit that bill to a tee. Alexei and those stupid prison tattoos. His tall tales about fighting Captain America who was still on ice the entire time Alexei was alive. "Just a little more Slavic than Asgardian/Norwegian."
Natasha exhaled at his mention. Were they dead? For a while she thought maybe everyone here was dead, that this was some sick purgatory. But… No, not anymore. She didn't think so. Maybe in their worlds, they were gone and buried. But there were people here who didn't remember dying, people who were from earlier on their timeline that she knew would die later.
"No. I think we're in some shitty experiment, like the voicemail said. Somehow we got pulled into this bubble dimension experiment, and someone's watching us run on our little wheels, taking notes." The idea turned Natasha's stomach. "Do you? Think we're dead?"
“If it came down to a drinking contest, nine times out of ten I’d put my money on the Asgardian.” Thor, in particular. His brother had an unnatural ability to hold his alcohol. Well, they all did. But Thor was well-practiced. Must have been all of those battles won. In that respect Fandral would know better than Loki. Loki joined them on some of their adventures over the centuries, but not all of them. Brute strength on the battlefield had never been his thing. He preferred the shadows.
Loki didn’t know the answer to his question. That’s why he asked Natasha. He was simultaneously of two minds about it. One on hand, he knew he was dead. He remembered the few seconds after his neck snapped. He was dead. No tricks. No masquerades. No illusions. Dead. And yet, here he was. And here he could hurt and he could bleed and he could die again. How could that be possible if he was dead? And if he wasn’t dead, then why did the Derleth Experimenters bring him back? What purpose was he supposed to serve as a man with one foot in life and the other in the grave?
Hel, did he even have a grave?
“I don’t know. I suppose it doesn’t matter.” But it did. It mattered to Loki very much. “But everyone believes that the people who disappear return to the place they were. What does that mean for us? If the experiment decides it’s finished with us. If it decides we’re not useful to whatever they’re trying to achieve, where do we go?”
That’s what really bothered Loki. What was the point of building friendships and relationships if at any moment he could be swallowed up by nothingness again? What was the point of playing nice and trying to be good if it wasn’t going to spare him Thanos’s grip on his neck?
“I…” Loki hesitated, uncertain if he wanted to admit this. But after a moment he looked down at the castle roof. “I struggle with the resets. When I wake up I...” He shook his head. “Nevermind. It’s not real. It’s just a memory.”
"You ever have that falling dream? The one where you really feel like you're falling and you wake up as if you've hit the ground?"
It wasn't rhetorical. Natasha had that dream every reset. She woke every week feeling like she'd thrown herself off the side of a cliff and was waking up in her bed, safe and sound in Derleth. For however long she had here, she was alive.
The question: what happens if the experiment is finished with them? That one was rhetorical. She knew what happened when Derleth decided it was done with her. She'd disappear into a dreamless sleep. Where Loki went? Maybe Valhalla awaited him. Maybe it didn't. She couldn't really say.
Natasha turned her head to look at him. "I have that feeling every week at the reset. I'm not — dreaming it, exactly? But I feel it. The fall. Over and over." She laughed mirthlessly, dryly. "What do they say? It's not the fall that kills you? It's the sudden stop at the end?" She sniffed, reining in all of her emotions, and swiping at her face
Loki nodded. He’d experienced the falling dream before. There was a period for a while when he had it quite often. Until he was struck by another, more traumatic event in his life and then falling into the abyss of space didn’t seem quite so bad to him anymore. But he did know how it felt. Yet, for Natasha it was real. He couldn’t add that component to his own memories but Loki had a good imagination. And he could imagine that it was horrifying.
“I wake up with…” The sensation of thick weighty fingers wrapped around his neck. Crushing. Crunching. The dampness of blood trickling from his nose and eyes. The air collapsing. And the fear. The unknown of whether what he was doing was going to help. The peripheral image of Thor fading from sight. And then—he cleared his throat with a small cough. “The memory is worse than the pain, I think. I can’t get that out of my head. It follows me for the rest of the day. Sometimes the entire week.”
And it wasn’t until someone or something distracted him that Loki was able to forget for a bit. Perhaps that was why he was so needlessly aggressive with many of the others. He needed them to help him forget. Not that anything really helped in the end.
“Perhaps we will find our way to Valhalla together.” But it was clear from Loki’s tone that he had his doubts that such a possibility was in the cards for either of them.
There was a long moment of silence. There was something Loki wanted to say. Something honest and weighed down by a heavy heart. But it was something he might regret allowing Natasha to hear. It was a vulnerability. It was a weakness. He wanted desperately to tell someone, but he’d never been that open with someone before. He couldn’t even tell Fandral and they had become surprisingly close over the last few weeks. Fandral would lose his mind. Fandral would worry and coddle him. Perhaps Loki thought Natasha would be harder on him. Maybe give him a shove or tell him to get his act together. Anything to remind him that the God of Mischief had no business feeling sorry for himself.
Or maybe just remind him that he wasn’t alone.
He opened his mouth to bare his soul, but something else came out instead. He was too weak to even say the words. And so he fell back on something at the far other end of the spectrum. Something safe. “Which ride was your favorite? And don’t tell me you didn’t try them all. You’re not the type to forgo an adrenaline rush.”
Natasha was a firm believer that no matter what you did, there was no guide book to tell you that your feelings were wrong. There was no road map to how to get over a thing that was done to you, that you did, that you watched happened. There were steps to take to try to make amends, but at the end of the day, what happened still happened. You had to learn to live with it.
Mistake. Happiness. A good deed.
All of it.
That didn't mean you weren't allowed moments of self-pity, or self-doubt. It didn't stop you from feeling owed because of the things that happened to you. For the misdeeds done to you. You were allowed to wallow, she thought, and then when that was done, you worked toward making the world around you a better place.
She hadn't gotten over the wallowing just yet. There were tiny, bright spots in her life, places where she'd felt the lightest she'd ever been, but most of her life had been pain. Suffering. Murder.
Pain only makes you stronger.
Maybe it had kept Natasha alive, but in retrospect, it also meant letting people get away with causing you pain. It meant that you didn't deserve a better life because to be strong, you had to have the suffering with it.
The stillness between Loki's talk of Valhalla and his question. Some of it, she didn't need to say. She knew how Loki had died, with the mad Titan's fingers around his neck. Thor had told her, had told everyone. Natasha didn't need to be a mind reader to know how he woke up every reset: clutching his throat and gasping for air. Imaginary weapons were the worst; there was no fighting them.
But she was grateful for the change in topic.
"I'm gonna go with the classics: Haunted Mansion and Tower of Terror. The Tower because you have no idea how many drops the damn thing is going to do. The Mansion because it's just amazing, and I still can't work out how they did some of that." She grinned a little. "What about you? Did you have any fun this week?"
Loki wouldn’t have known what to think if he’d realized Thor had told everyone of how he’d perished. Part of him would be proud to know that Thor had shared his tale across the universe, establishing him as another legend among their people’s vast collection of stories. It would be nice to be remembered for something good, after all. Even if it was foolish. Even if it hadn’t resulted in anything more than saving a few lives; only one of which really mattered to him. But part of him would have been angry. This reaction would have been more difficult to explain. Why would he be furious? Because he hadn't succeeded? Because it was a death given to Thor and not a story to be spread freely across the universe? Because it was embarrassing? Loki should not have fallen so easily or so carelessly.
He was Loki. He should have had a plan. Why hadn’t he had one then when it mattered most?
He wished he could be more like Natasha. He wished he didn’t sometimes regret his decision when he was laying in bed at night, staring at a broken ceiling, listening to the sounds of Sam snoring beside him. It was a small regret. Fleeting. Hardly noticeable. And, in truth, he probably wouldn’t have done things differently if he had a second chance. No, he knew he wouldn’t. He would have done what he had to in order to protect Thor. But that didn’t change the fact that he sometimes wished it could have been different. That he could have lived.
Did that make him a horrible person or just an honest one? The hypocrisy of that question wasn’t lost on him.
“Ah, yes. The house of spectres. I enjoyed that as well.” Mostly because of the air conditioning. Loki had ridden it four times in a row and slept through the last three. He might have had a natural coolness thanks to his Frost Giant physiology, but even Florida’s weather tested the limits of his lower temperature.
Did he have any fun? Loki shrugged, but there was a playful smile on his lips. “I liked the Tiki Room. And the spa at the hotel.”
He wasn’t going to point out that he lost his lunch on the teacups, however.
Natasha hadn't wanted to die, not even when she'd told Clint it was okay and pushed off the side of the cliff. She'd just wanted her families back together, even if it meant she never got to see them again. She couldn't stand the idea of Laura and the kids coming back to find out that Clint was gone (and that Natasha could have stopped it).
And maybe, if she could help to bring back half the universe, she could finally find some peace with herself and the things she'd done in her life.
"The spas were nice." Cars and spas were a few of the things that Natasha indulged in. She didn't usually buy a whole lot of fancy clothes. Her money was usually spent on things like safe houses, weapons… But she did love a fast car (or motorcycle), and she enjoyed spas. When you spent most of your life as a walking bruise, a delicate massage was a nice change of pace. "I think I might miss those the most. Next time we're somewhere with fancy digs, I'll nick a nice bed. Maybe snag a few sets of nice sheets too."
She chuckled. "It's the simple things."
Loki gave a dramatic frown when she mentioned beds and bed sheets. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Because he’d been too busy trying to uncover a way of becoming King of Disney for a measly week, that’s why. Of course, he didn’t really care about that. Leadership and crowns were just a front. It was a show. A spectacle. And beneath that, it was a goal to help steady him so he didn’t collapse entirely into whatever mess was slowly brewing inside of him. Loki needed an external focus at all times. Without one he had to acknowledge his own unresolved issues. And introspection had never been one of Loki’s strong suits. Because once he delved deep enough to understand his problems, he found it near impossible to crawl back out with any semblance of the self he once knew.
Change was horrifying. Even if it was something he desperately wanted. And fervently needed.
“I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but if we awake in a land of hot springs, cucumber slices, and beautiful people at our every beck and call I won’t complain. All of this walking around the parks has given me leg cramps. Derleth needs to invest in a personal masseuse if it expects me to continue expending this much energy every week.” He grinned. It would never happen, but as Natasha said, it was the simple things.
Not that Loki had ever been known for being simple.
Though the fireworks were still ongoing, and the ooohs and aahs of families watching were sometimes louder than she liked, Natasha closed her eyes briefly. She imagined Blue Lagoon in Iceland or maybe the Széchenyi Baths in Budapest, empty of people except Derleth residents and staff. Just thinking about it was relaxing.
Then a particularly loud explosion of fireworks drew her out of her reverie and back to the here and now.
"I like the way you think. Add a fast motorcycle, more food options, and I don't think I'd mind sticking out these experimental weeks." At least she knew that death wasn't permanent here. Not unless you went back…. "Definitely easier than stopping a guy like Thanos set on destroying half the universe."
“Yeah, definitely easier than that,” Loki said, his voice just barely above a whisper against the backdrop of crackling fireworks. He liked the ones that burst in a semi crooked cant and fell from the sky like shimmering waterfalls, slowly fizzing out into the black of night.
If only they could find a way of making this last. If only they could discover how to stay in one of these temporary worlds. Loki wanted nothing more than to wake up on Asgard one week, but he knew the devastation of that would be having to leave it. Knowing that Derleth would rip him from his realm, fingers clenched and clawing in the ground he’d called home, made him not want to see it again. But if they could devise a means for staying — if they could figure that out — then that would open an entire new world of possibilities for Loki.
For all of them.
“Never been one for motorcycles. The helmets always crimp my hair. I could go in for a sports car though. Something sleek and obnoxiously loud. Or a horse.” Loki paused. “Not for that, of course. Just, you know, for the ride. For riding. For getting from one place to another. Transportation.”
Just in case there was any confusion as to why Loki might be interested in having a horse. He should have just stopped after sports cars.
Natasha worked her jaw, trying not to let the snort overcome her. She focused intently on the fireworks, taking a few moments to gain her composure. If Loki happened to look at her, he would see her struggling not to laugh, however tiny the quirk of her lip might be. He'd mentioned the horse on the network, so he couldn't have been that embarrassed.
She never thought about one of the worlds being their own. Even if it was, it might be years in the future. Or some alternative place without the Avengers or some "Superhero World" like Disney had. Planet Vegas was close enough, in her mind. The thing that made their dimension home was the people, not the places — which she knew was too sentimental to speak of out loud.
"I had a collection of sports cars." Unlike some of her friends, she couldn't fly or teleport. Running wasn't always the best solution either. Besides, she really just liked the smell of a new car, the feel of the road, and the rush of speed. Motorcycles were more maneuverable, so she preferred those in a fight or a chase situation, but for pure enjoyment? Absolutely a sports car. "Maybe we'll get lucky and end up in some place with nice cars and an abundance of open roads. You trust me to drive you around in one?"
Loki did look at her and he smiled in response to her expression. He was glad that he was able to move the conversation away from their usual Thanos-driven depression. Even if it was at his own expense. But she would have been right. He wasn’t really all that embarrassed. Well, maybe a little embarrassed. It hadn’t exactly been one of his finest moments. But it all worked out in the end. And for all his complaints, Loki was actually quite proud of his eight-legged spawn. It was probably the only thing Loki had done that genuinely pleased Odin. And while there was some awkwardness to that, it had been important to Loki at the time. All he’d ever wanted was his father’s attention, after all.
And his affection.
“Are you asking whether I trust you not to drive us off a cliff or into a wall in excess of 100 MPH?” Loki laughed. “I trust your respect and love for fast automobiles, let’s leave it at that.”
Trusting people was still something Loki was working on. But if he trusted anyone in Derleth, it would have been Natasha. She’d made her intentions and her opinions clear to him. And Loki believed her.
“If we end up in a world with fast cars and limitless roads then yes, I’ll let you drive me around. But!” Loki held up a finger to enunciate his point. “Only if I get a chance behind the wheel as well.”
As long as no one was shooting at her or trying to knock her off her motorcycle, Natasha was a fantastic driver. She had, after all, been trained from a very young age to be able to do that (as well as other dangerous things). She was as skilled as a stunt driver and took more precautions than most.
She left the comment about driving off a cliff to wither on its own, while she laughed at slamming into a wall. Sometimes, it was necessary. She couldn't help that.
"You'll have to take some driving lessons. I suspect vehicles on Asgard are much less complicated than they are on Earth." She smiled again. "And you'd be learning from me."
“I’m a quick learner.” And that was actually a true statement from our resident liar. Loki had a knack for picking up skills and he was already a decent pilot. And not just on Asgardian crafts, but those from other realms as well. A Midgardian sports car should have been a piece of cake.
And whatever he couldn’t do well on his own, he had magic to support him.
“But I look forward to your tutelage. Maybe one day you’ll give me the opportunity to teach you something as well.” Although Loki wouldn’t begin to presume to know what Natasha might want to learn from him. She was already an excellent fighter and tactician. And magic didn’t seem to be up her alley. But he wouldn’t put it past her to surprise him with an unexpected interest.
Loki looked back up at the sky. The fireworks were in full swing now and all of the park patrons stood in amazement at the brilliant display of colors. Loki watched each burst of twinkling lights with solemn nostalgia as his thoughts drifted to his mother. She would have enjoyed this. And she would have wanted him to enjoy it as well.
He gently flicked his wrist, a muted green glow emanating from his palm, and the next explosion resulted in a sparkling gold spider with a red dot on its back. A black widow. Perhaps a little on the nose, but Loki wasn’t about to give the Avengers any credence by filling the sky with a giant ‘A.’ Besides, he thought it was a nice gesture.
And Loki was trying to be nicer.
Natasha realized that for this one, brief instant, she was content. Watching fireworks, sitting next to Loki who had made a spider out of fireworks. There was sadness underneath, but for the first time since the Snap, Natasha couldn't think of a single bad thing at the moment. She wasn't looking backward, wasn't looking forward. Was just simply being present.
Her smile was gentle and genuine as she watched the fireworks.
While Hawkeye and Black Widow had only ever been best friends, Natasha was keen for physical contact that wasn't forced or meant to lead to anything else. Clint would tell you that Natasha was a hand-holder, a hugger, and was often playing with their kids in a manner you'd never expect from a world class assassin.
So when she reached out to take Loki's hand, it was out of friendship. Out of the need to feel connected to another human being. Out of the desire to just be in the moment with that person.
"You've got a lot more years under your belt. There's a lot you could teach me." She gave his hand a squeeze. "What do you think should be first?"
When Natasha took his hand, Loki wasn’t surprised. He’d started that new tradition — that new emotional challenge — for them last week. But he was quite glad that she did it. That she held his hand. Because Loki missed that physical connection as well. Not the intense sexual connection of being physical with another person. That was something Loki could always find, in any world or any set of circumstances. That didn’t have to mean anything to him. But that deeper, intimacy that sometimes existed between two people who shared a truth was a rare gift. People who shared an experience or a memory or something which had inevitably changed them. An event which had put them on two entirely different paths from the one they’d been on; circumnavigating a new realm of possibilities and potentialities. That’s what had happened for Loki when he stood up to the Titan. He branched his existence. He became a version of himself he didn’t know. A version he was still trying to understand. And that Loki, that uncertain boy in the body of a god with a history of violence and mischief and misunderstanding, was the one who needed the intimacy that came with holding someone else’s hand.
It was a reminder that he wasn’t fully alone. And that was something Loki desperately needed. And something very few people could give him.
He didn’t know if Natasha recognized that. He barely recognized it himself. Or perhaps he was just scratching the surface, still too afraid of what he might find underneath if he dug too far. But it was something he appreciated. He appreciated her willingness to offer him her friendship. It was grounding for Loki. It was freeing.
So when she squeezed his hand, he responded in kind. But being Loki he left the sentiment unspoken. Because some things weren’t ready to be shared aloud.
“Traditional Asgardian drinking songs, for a start.” He grinned. “That’s something all good friends should know.”
"I am all about the sharing of cultures. Thor had a few that he'd sing when he got really drunk at Stark's parties." The days when Bruce and her shared an affection, one that Natasha had tried to tell him that it was mutual. She'd pushed him, though, like she'd pushed everyone and he ran. In retrospect, it was the best decision really. "I tried to pick up some of the words, but you know how Thor is when he's drunk; he can barely string together syllables, let alone entire words."
At the best of times, Natasha was not much of a hand-holding type. She wasn't keen on public displays of any sort of affection — platonic or otherwise — but this was a Natasha who had lost half of her Avengers family, and her little sister. For five long years, she's holed herself inside of Avengers Compound, leaving it only very rarely for the occasional visit to the Stark homestead. Almost all of her things were delivered via services.
She claimed it was because she didn't want to miss any incoming information from Avengers on- and off-world. While that was partially true — she'd become the center of the Avengers — the truth was that Natasha was so utterly broken by the loss and deprived herself of the friendships with those left behind.
It was a good setup for her plummeting off a cliffside.
"Your culture enjoys drink and song, and my original culture does too. More common ground."
“Thor can barely string words together when he’s sober,” Loki said without pause. He grinned. There was a lingering nostalgia in that smile. Not sadness this time. But genuine appreciation for the memory.
Loki didn’t know if Thor and Natasha had become close friends in the time since Thor joined the Avengers. He was a little curious about that. Natasha knew what had happened to Thor, at least, in the aftermath of Loki’s untimely death. He was curious about that, too. But he wasn’t quite prepared to ask for the gritty details. And, in a way, it felt like cheating to do so. It wasn’t as if he could do anything about it. All she could give him was the comfort of knowing that he was missed and she’d already done that.
But Loki wished he could have known more. He wished he could have seen more. He and Thor had always had such a tumultuous relationship. And the sad thing was that it never should have been that way. They were brothers, as true as any. And were it not for Odin’s manipulation they could have stood side-by-side forever.
They could have ruled the realms together.
But Odin wanted his secrets. And those secrets bred competition and jealousy.
Loki shook those thoughts away and returned to the moment. “Then let’s make that our plan for next week, shall we? Drinks and songs. I’ll make sure you get the proper pronunciation. Then if we ever end up on Asgard you’ll be able to convince the entire realm that you’re one of them.”