#either way I can't wait to see where clown takes this the update is so good!!!!

[darkacademicfrom2021]

The Dark Team (part 11)

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Warnings: Cookies and idiots. You might get diabetes.

N/A: I'm on a family trip right now so I'm being a little unactive but I'll do my best to be still updating on here. Thank you so much to everyone who reads and comments, you truly make me want to write twice as much.

The Dark Team: (Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman, @idontknow296, @beksib, @spythoschei, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 @toe-vind-ek-jou @joscelyn02, @t00-pi )

“Are you sure that’s how you should be sending those?”. His nosy ass telling you how to do your job in your midgardian electronics was just amazing, truly. “It would be faster for them if you send it with that link instead of…”.

“Listen, Mischief”, you interrupted his unnecessary corrections “I don’t tell you how to levitate, what about you don’t tell me how to do this?”.

“I don’t levitate”.

“Not the point. This is my deal. Besides, since when and how do you know how to handle midgardian tech?”.

“I… I’m bored”.

“Do I look like an entertainment to you right now?”.

“What do you mean right now? Are you planning on entertaining me later?”.

“I will choke you if you keep doing that”.

“Do you promise?”.

"Yes, my dear".

"Can't wait, then", he smirked. You rolled your eyes, about to answer something snappy, but the work was more important at the moment.

Your phone beeped, pulling you out of the very one sided discussion. You went back to your work in silence, getting your full focus and concentration on it. If it weren’t for Loki, you would’ve already done a thousand more other things. But, as a bug on the lenses, he was stuck to your side. It seemed like you were babysitting him.

Peter was staring at the roof from the couch. A pile of homework laid by his side, untouched, and his unlocked phone seemed to be waiting for him to make a call he didn’t want to. Loki observed him, unsure if it was a good idea to ask. You looked at his uncertainty from over your shoulder, and watched him finally give up on the idea of socially interacting with the kid, sitting down by your side on the big, big (and, exaggeratingly pointing out, big; yet he sat in the nearest chair from you) table.

The compound certainly was a boring place when uninhabited, and the sun was already teasing with coming down, making the common room’s lights turn brighter and warmer. Maybe it was automatic, maybe it was Friday. You couldn’t care less, for you were too distracted by Loki’s gaze on your work.

“Loki, for fuck’s sake, would you stop staring, my dearest?”, you asked, imitating his tone of voice, hoping it’d make it less aggressive and a bit more fun. He rolled his eyes and smirked, understanding your intentions. You sounded as tired of him as you were.

“I’m...”.

“Bored, I know. What about you go entertain Pete? He looks equally, if not more, bored as you. And you’re interfering with my work, which I do not appreciate very much”.

“How am I supposed to entertain him? I’m not a clown”, he argued, slightly offended but just wanting to make time and conversation. You sighed.

“Then why do you act like one?”.

“What is that supposed to mean? Is that a midgardian insult I’m not aware of, pancake?”.

“Stop calling me that, it’s not derogative”.

“It wasn’t intended to be deroga…”.

“I’d kill for some pancakes”, interrupted Peter, trying to pull you two out of your quarrels. “Or something sweet”.

“Oh, the kid got peckish. This is perfect; you can go get him something sweet and leave my workspace alone”, you said, patting his back with an exhausted grin.

He rolled his eyes, but walked down to the kitchen looking for whatever could satiate Peter. There wasn’t anything. One would think that a billionaire would have the fridge full of chocolates, wouldn’t you?, he thought, exhausted by the idea of having to actually leave the compound to get him something. Last time he tried to buy something in Midgard, he accidentally paid three salaries to the workers in the name of Stark. He was so embarrassed, he said it was on purpose and called it an act of mischief. But it was, in fact, pure and raw unawareness of midgardian’s use of money.

“What about we bake something, Mr. Loki?”, proposed Peter, with a flaming interest in seeing what those magic hands could do with food. You chuckled, pretty sure they could do nothing; he had been a prince for over a thousand years, when could he have learnt to bake by himself?

Loki lowered his gaze, confronted with both thoughts of his companions, and their respective expectations. Truth was, you were right. But he couldn't disappoint the kid like that, he had to at least try. Peter's eyes shone brighter than ever, and you wondered if Loki was actually enjoying his company. They looked fine. And, finally, you had some space to work without distractions.

“In normal circumstances I’d reject you, spider boy, but since y/n seems to be about to hang me by the neck on the tip of the tower, might as well do this”, he said, stealing a glance at you and smirking.

“It’s an honor you decide to spend your last moments baking with me, Mr. Loki”.

“Sure, let’s go, child”.

“I’m not a child”.

“Alright”.

And just like that, they left the working area and moved to the kitchen. Both rooms were connected by a huge glassless window and a counter, so you were able to peep in and make sure they didn’t actually burn down the compound (which was the only rule Tony had) and work peacefully at the same time.

After what seemed like an eternity, they still couldn’t accept they were failing miserably, and kept stirring the mix in a bowl. Flour formed clouds around them as Peter sneezed it away, and Loki’s hair had some cream on his (now not so) impeccable hair. Peter laughed at Loki’s commentary and poor baking skills, and Loki playfully mocked how his stickiness wasn’t helpful at all.

“Have you ever baked before, Mr. Loki?”.

“I haven’t but I’ve seen people bake, I figured I could imitate them”.

“Your mum, right? I used to bake with my aunt May a lot, but just now I realize maybe she was doing everything and I was eating the dough by her side”.

“That sounds more like it”, he chuckled. The mixing bowl trembled in his hand as he got distracted by the flying eggs coming at him, and it slipped out of him, smashing near half the mix onto the floor. “Oh, fuck”.

“It’s fine, we can use the one that’s left!”.

“Your positiveness astonishes me, spider boy”.

“Spider man”.

“Right, apologies”.

“We have already put in the flour, the sugar, the eggs, the milk… What else is in the recipe?”.

“I’m trying to remember, let me see”, he closed his eyes and muttered to himself “they used cinnamon, I think. And maybe butter? Yes, and chocolate chips”.

“Who?”.

“Ah, this recipe isn’t my mum’s. She didn’t bake either, you know, Queens don’t get their hands dirty” he laughed. “It was my companion’s”, he spat and suddenly realized what he had said. He lowered his head and sighed.

“Your companion?”, asked Peter. “As in partner? A spouse?”.

“Not spouse, just… you know, I’m just realizing I shouldn’t be talking to you about it”, he brushed it off, absolutely regretting it. Because Peter, unlike any other person, lacked filters.

So he would ask and ask and not realize where to stop. And at that point you could say Peter had become some sort of a weakness in Loki’s roughness. Peter was the softest, purest and better intentioned person he had ever met (or at least that’s how he saw him; of course, Loki had never seen him in action, fighting crime), and Loki was incapable of actually denying things to him. It didn’t matter how much Peter insisted on not being seen as a child, Loki was a thousand years older.

“No, please do. Now you’ve caught my attention”, he insisted, trying to clean some of the dough from the floor. Loki sighed, watching how the kid begged him to tell him more from his feet. “Please, Mr. Loki, I swear I won’t tell”.

“Well, my lover was the one who used to cook for us”, he explained as if he was telling someone else’s story. He clearly was trying to disengage his own emotions in order to tell them out loud. “And they’d usually bake some kick-ass cinnamon cookies”.

Peter had to grab the counter to steady himself from laughter, and you couldn’t help to snort at the conversation you were indiscreetly eavesdropping. Loki smiled.

“Then we have to replicate them, if they’re so kick-ass to make you say a midgardian expression”.

“We must, but I can’t remember quite well the next steps. It’s all sort of a blur now”.

“Can’t we ask them?”.

“No”, he said quickly. The air tensed, and untensed as fast as he realized. He especified again, trying to sound less affected by it “we can’t”.

“Oh”, Peter sounded so disappointed, Loki’s heart broke a little. “Are they dead?”.

“Oh my God, Pete, you can’t just ask…”, you intervened, trying to save Loki from further discomfort.

“It’s okay, they’re… well, they’re gone”, he said with a soft voice, raising his eyebrows as who tries to explain to a little kid why their fish is upside down, leaving to the imagination the typical trace of sadness that would follow. His eyes focused on the mixing bowl, reminiscing another time, another way. Eyes of someone who tries his best to never forget the little details from someone who’s not here anymore, because memories are all he has left. He immediately snapped out of his thoughts and tried to play it cool. “But guess who’s not gone? This dough on the floor. Let’s clean it up, kid”.

“Gone as in dead?”, insisted Peter, who had a very poor self control. You would’ve grabbed your face with eight hands if you could.

“Peter, don’t…”.

“Yes, they’re dead. Inside a coffin, rotting, getting eaten by worms. You know”, said Loki, this time jokingly, trying to scare off Peter. But it didn’t work, since Peter just kept asking about it. Loki was already too tired of having to take his brain yet again to places he didn’t want them to be.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Loki. Must be very painful”. The empathy in his eyes gave Loki the hint that he was not only being sincere, but curious about Loki's life. Interested, engaged. Not just morbidly curious, but wanting to get to know him better. Unfortunately, Loki couldn’t allow that. He would have to get the mission done, not make any friends, and go back to Asgard as alone as he came. It was the deal, the price he had to pay, the invisible handcuffs, the imaginary rope tying around his neck. Tightly, tightly, tighter.

“It’s alright, it was long ago”.

“Was they Asgardian, like you?”.

“I’m not actually Asgardian. I was raised there, but I’m from Jotunheim”.

Loki managed to move the conversation further than his lover (which he regretted highly to have brought the subject in the first place), and Peter got more and more interested in confirming how many of his mythology stories were true or not. The kitchen was the warmest place in the whole compound, and something started to smell like burnt sugar.

“So you did actually make Sif, Thor’s wife, bald? And did he make you go get her a wig in Svárthelfeim?”, he asked at the speed of light, and Loki laughed.

“Lady Sif’s not actually Thor’s betrothed. And no, I didn’t make her bald”, he said, and then muttered “she just happened to have a very low quality shampoo”.

“Ah, the cookies!”, Peter turned off the stove and took them out carefully, as to not get burned (again).

Loki peeped through the window to check on you. Your head, laying tiredly over your hands, seemed to be about to give up on you out of exhaustion. You haven’t slept properly since the mission started, and you couldn’t get your head off work for a moment. He approached you from behind and left a fresh cup of coffee and a couple of warm cookies by your side. You smiled at him gently and thanked him. If it wasn’t him you were talking about, you could’ve swore he blushed.

You have gotten so tranquil after one simple gesture, you hoped to get all your nerves down before going to sleep. Maybe it wasn’t that bad to have been stuck with them in the compound. They seemed to be having a good time, and Loki had nothing on his mind more than to have a rest after such hectic days.

“How long until you finish there?”, he asked with a low voice, a raspy, almost groany voice, that made you want to shut your computer down and throw it out of the window. You didn’t, instead, you checked your clock.

“Very soon, I’ll join you guys in a bit”.

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