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Clint squinted as Thor’s rumbling snores echoed throughout the room. He had a feeling that, even without hearing aids, he’d feel the vibration, if he held still enough. If he gave it more than a millisecond of thought, he might’ve wondered how Loki tolerated it, but he refused to let that smarmy bastard’s comfort weigh on him.
The tiny fucker laid in Thor’s lap now, watching Clint with massive cautious eyes. He hadn’t taken his hand off of that pacifier since Clint sat down, and it was enough to make him worry Tony had installed some sort of panic button on the thing.
Thor snorted and fell quiet as Loki snuggled a little closer to use his belly as a pillow.
Did Thor know Loki needed a moment of peace to gather his thoughts?
Fuck that thought.
Fuck Loki.
He turned back to the television to watch silvery blue tones flicker around Tony’s hideous living room. Vibrant suits of armor bracketed the windows, though beneath the pale light, their vivid reds faded to stony, unfriendly purples. Their eyes were lit with an eerie blue glow, as if Tony didn’t trust Clint to be peaceful. No one trusted anyone anymore—not that they’d ever had an overwhelming amount of faith in each other in the first place.
How had Loki managed to win over Tony of all people? Then again, how had he not? Tony could be bought with any set of puppy-dog eyes sweet enough to warm his cold, metal heart.
He glanced toward Loki again, and narrowed his own eyes. “I don’t want to be here any more than you,” he hissed. “Stop staring at me and watch your movie.”
Loki suckled his pacifier and defiantly stared back.
Clint gritted his teeth.
Those massive eyes followed his every move. He’d have thought Loki would be more inclined to gloat about his new relationship with Thor, and how cuddly and loving they seemed to be these days. Instead, he just stared.
Loki’s fingers tightened around his pacifier.
Little fucker.
“Focus on something else,” Clint snapped, unable to keep his mind from the eerie similarity of Loki and Nate’s nervous ticks. Nate only recently began letting go of his pacifier, but he still had the tendency to put his fingers in his mouth. “Fucker.”
The suits of armor watched overhead, silently reminding Clint to sit back and unclench his fists.
Loki slowly blinked.
The characters in their movie crept into a shadowy forest, dropping the living room into darkness.
“I love that you think I can be bought by a pair of big eyes,” Clint whispered, hoping he spoke too quietly for Tony to pick him up on the audio. He doubted he had. “I have kids of my own though, kids you compromised, and they’re world’s better at this than you.”
Loki twisted to hide his face behind Thor’s sweater, eerily similar to how Nate hid his own face when he felt upset.
Clint dropped his hands over his face. He shouldn’t be stressing out infants, that wasn’t who he was.
He wanted to argue and say Loki was an adult in truth, but the visual seated just on the opposite end of the couch spoke otherwise. Cozy onesies designed to replicate Thor’s armor weren’t worn by adults. Adults didn’t often adore suckling on polka-dot pacifiers either, and though Clint had no tangible proof, he’d also heard Loki liked infant stimulation videos.
He couldn’t judge that overmuch, not when his own kids liked them.
“Fuck,” Clint muttered. He scrubbed his hands over his face and sat up.
Loki had pushed his face entirely into Thor’s belly,
“L—”
He sucked in a slow, soft breath. He didn’t know what Loki’s self-soothing looked like, given his mental and physical age.
The eyes above glittered as Clint climbed to his feet and very-nearly stumbled over brightly colored articulation books, a lovingly carved collection of wooden animals—monsters in Clint’s opinion—until he found the blonde bear Loki clung to whenever duty pulled Thor away.
He snatched the plush thing off of the floor and paused.
Plush stuffing puffed out the arms, body, and head, but the neck looked strangled, and wrinkled. Parts of the bear felt soft as silk, but his chest and arms grew matted, as if something came by and tended to pluck over and over and over at the fur.
“Loki,” Clint whispered, making his way toward where Thor sat before slipping to his knees. “Look.”
Loki’s curls flattened against Thor’s belly as he stayed firmly put.
Of course. Clint couldn’t just flip flop between snarling at Loki and trying to comfort him, Loki would think Clint wanted to insult him. Deep down inside, Clint did want to hurt him. He wanted to rip Loki’s rib cage open and find his heart; to see it beat and learn once and for all if he had any semblance of kindness within.
However, Thor said Loki had been twisted around, similar though not the same as Clint. Loki must have some kindness within if he hid when Clint made him feel rotten.
Ugh.
What would Tony do?
Clint almost smiled as he thought of Tony throwing back a bottle of whiskey and apologizing. Like hell would Clint be apologizing though; he’d rather die. He had nothing to apologize for!
He let out a slow breath instead.
Nat said to look for proof, and hiding from bad feelings ought to be some sort of proof, though Clint couldn’t be sure. He only knew Nate did the same thing.
“Loki,” Clint said as the living room flickered with light when the characters found a bright glen, “we both know we’re not going to…jump into each other’s arms anytime soon.” He sat back on his heels. “But…we can have a mutual friend.”
He held the bear up and turned his head as if to watch the movie. Dwarves—or trolls, Clint thought the longer he watched—danced around a woman who smiled at them from where she sat on a stone plinth.
“He…he likes this movie,” Clint continued. “He seems like the type too; black and white films, cigarettes and wine. Yep. That’s his vibe.”
Loki inched out of his hiding place.
“We can agree to be kind for our friend,” he added. “Do you think he has a favorite character?”
Loki glanced at the television, prompting Clint to turn his bear’s head toward him in mock play, before twisting his eyes to face the television once more.
A young woman in a pale dress hummed on the screen as she wandered around a cramped cabin, helping the trolls with their cooking. Steaming pies and dripping legs of ham layered the dining table.
“I think he likes the smiley one,” Clint said. “Probably because he’s like Thor.”
Loki watched the smiling troll, who’s hair wound around his ears and down his chin with complicated braids.
The smiling troll leapt onto a bench and sliced up the leg of ham with gusto, before playing each troll a neat, equal sized portion. His teeth glittered beneath his beard, prompting Clint to pull the bears arms up to cover his glassy eyes.
“Such pearly teeth,” Clint whispered. “Too bright for our eyes!”
Loki’s hand loosened around his pacifier and if Clint squinted, he might’ve said a smile curled around Loki’s lips.
“That’s a troll who’s drinking his milk.”
The scene shifted to the pies, where the woman cut into a tall pie filled with wild game, complete with twirling pastry decorations. He idly wondered if the artist who drew these scenes had been hungry.
“The smiling troll has two glasses a day,” Clint continued, swallowing a groan as he shuffled onto his bottom. He made sure to keep Loki’s bear halfway between the both of them. “He knows it helps the bones and teeth.”
Loki glanced at the screen as a new troll covered in dirt and leaves wandered in.
He gave his troll family a small smile, but held up a dirty box of what might’ve been potatoes, or rutabagas. Clint couldn’t be sure.
“Ooo,” Clint whispered, pulling the bear’s arms toward its mouth. “We could go for a snack ourselves. Do you think those are potatoes?”
The light in the living room shifted again, bright over dark, as Loki finally let go of his pacifier and patted his bear’s belly.
“Do you think he likes the troll that’s always working more than the smiling troll?”
“Smile,” Loki whispered.
Clint nodded. “Yeah, I agree.” He slowly leant back against Thor’s legs before realizing he hadn’t heard any snoring in a suspiciously long while.
He kept the bear as still as he could as he chanced a cautious glance at Thor, only to hold back a shiver when he spied a stony blue eye following his every move. In the back of Clint’s mind, he wondered why he thought Thor would truly have been asleep at any point during the movie.
Thor reached down with one massive, tan hand and gently carded through Loki’s curls before encouraging him back against his belly.
Loki quickly cozied up against him without a sound, as if he’d just forgotten he could snuggle in.
Did Loki forget Thor sat with them? He could see how some infants might, but Loki? Infants like a Loki knew where their care came from and in his opinion, one of the few perks of their age came from an unshakable belief that that care could never disappear. Most lacked the ability to conceive of a day when it might not be there in fact, which made it almost hilarious for Loki to forget about Thor.
Thor would burn worlds for Loki.
He blinked.
Thor would burn worlds for Loki.
Infants who have never experienced loss, can’t conceive of it.
Clint turned back toward the troll movie, and resolutely kept the bear between himself and Loki despite the sweat that began dripping down his back.
——
“How did it go?” Nat asked as Clint’s heart slowed to a more normal rate and he cleared the last few steps onto the balcony above Tony’s living room.
He waved an exhausted hand as Nat let out a kind laugh.
“Did you forget what Thor’s like in person?” she asked.
Clint nodded.
“He’s always more aware than he lets on,” Nat said, taking Clint’s arm and helping him toward the couch. “I think he learned it from Loki.” She passed him a tumbler filled with a fizzy drink.
“No shit,” Clint groused.
They glanced over the blacony’s edge together and watched as Thor gently tugged on Loki’s pacifier. He seemed to approve of Loki’s reaction and climbed to his feet without a sound, spurring Clint and Nat to dodge backwards, though neither could bring themselves to look away yet.
Thor pressed a soft kiss against Loki’s curls and folded him in his arms. A rolling sound rumbled up from below, though Clint couldn’t parse what Thor said.
“Bruce said he sings like this to Loki often,” Nat said, pillowing her chin on her palms.
Clint nodded and let out a rattling, shuddery breath.
A soft laugh echoed in his ears as Nat patted him on the shoulder. “We can’t compete with gods, Clint. We always knew what he was like, but now he’s not entirely on our side.”
His button-down clung to his back as the sweat began to cool and his heart rate returned to normal.
“I think you won some points though, you know?” she continued.
Clint couldn’t contain a strained laugh.
“I thought using the bear was clever.” She crept away from the railing and sat on the edge of the couch beside Clint. “How are you feeling?”
Clint dropped his hand over his eyes.
If he let himself, he had a feeling he’d fall asleep in seconds. Maybe Loki felt the same way? He wanted to say he didn’t care how Loki felt, but Nat’s curiosity bolstered him on.
“Less horrible,” he admitted.
Nat nodded. “I’m glad.”
Thor’s voice echoed from below, followed by a soft coo from Loki.
He wondered if Loki felt better at all, and couldn’t deny that a small—infinitesimally small—portion of himself felt as if his memories of the invasion might sit a little easier.