fel dreams

 

“You are shitting me,” Clint says deadpan, looking at Tony and Natasha. “We’re under your protection?”

 

“Why would I do that? This is much more fun,” Loki says, lounging as if he owns the place, smirking at them. Which, come to think of it, he probably does own the place, at least enough no one in Asgard is going to contest it.

 

“And why can’t you just whisk us back? Or your brother–”

 

“Thor.”

 

“–or your brother; we fight with him, all the time, why the hell doesn’t that buy us at least a free ride home?” Tony asks. “For that matter, if humans need a sponser or some nonsense to stay, where is the rest of the team?”

 

“You died,” Loki says as he sits up, eyes glittering. Delighted, they realize. “You died in battle most glorious, and the Valkyries were so pleased with your service to Thor and Midgard, they decided you would make fine einherjar. It has nothing to do with being human, and everything to do with being dead.”

 

“Doom managed to kill all of us?” Natasha asks.

 

Loki waves a hand.

 

“Those that matter,” he says. “You three, your Captain. The doctor is still quite alive, though not unexpectedly. He seems to have made quite the mess in the aftermath.”

 

“You helped him,” Clint accuses.

 

“How?” Loki says, laughing, making a gesture around the room. “I am here, and have been for some time. Unless you imply I can suddenly escape?”

 

“Where’s Steve?” Tony asks before Clint can say anything else.

 

“With Thor, no doubt, or perhaps Baldr.” Loki’s nose wrinkles slightly in distaste. “He’s golden enough for either of them, certainly.”

 

“We were sorted,” Natasha says.

 

“What, like some sick Viking Harry Potter?” Clint asks.

 

“Are all your Valkyries dumb blondes by chance?” Tony says. “Because last I checked, you tried to take over our planet and pretty actively hate us.”

 

Loki smiles, eyes crinkling, but stays quiet.

 

“Skillset,” Natasha says.

 

“Oh.” Tony frowns, thinking. “That would make sense, wouldn’t it?”

 

“Could someone fill me in?” Clint says.

 

“Sneaky bastards go to the sneaky bastard,” Tony explains. “Two spies, and a guy who favours his brain over brawn. All chatty and obnoxious as hell when they want to be, willing to defy authority to get the job done–or because they feel like it. Am I close?”

 

“Very good, Stark,” Loki says, folding his hands over his stomach. His eyes flick to the rest of the group. “Which begs the question what ever shall I do with you?