california 02 // loki's romanoff prelude

twenty-two // dreykov's prelude (the bad guys, but for real this time)

They were in a five-star hotel in Richmond (courtesy of a bank in Frankfort) when Natasha let slip it was her birthday. She didn't mean to; they were talking about anything and everything when she suddenly mentioned that she had turned nineteen that day.

'Are you kidding me?' Loki was lying on the hotel bed, but he turned his head to look at her. He held a cigarette between two long white fingers, and the smoke curled towards the ceiling. 'Why didn't you tell me earlier?'

She climbed up onto the bed and lay beside him. 'You don't have to get me anything.'

Automatically, his arm went around her shoulders. She loved it when his arms went around her.

He exhaled again. 'Don't be stupid, I've got to get you something.' They both watched the smoke spiral upwards towards the ceiling. Loki took another drag.

'Maybe you should stop smoking so much,' suggested Natasha, 'and that could be my birthday present.'

Loki laughed at her. She couldn't tell if he was agreeing or not. Then he took another drag, so she guessed he didn't.

'Seriously,' he told her, shaking his beautiful head, 'I've got to get you at least one gift.'

She leaned her head into his neck, and murmured against his skin, 'You know what you can get me.'

His head rolled in pleasure. It sent shivers through her skin - but he only laughed and said, 'You're a caution, Natasha Romanoff.' Then, 'I'm going out.'

She stared at him. 'You're going out?'

'Yes. I can't just not get you anything. No, you stay here,' he added, pulling on his coat. 'It's a surprise.'

It was sweet. It was the sweetest thing Loki could do, but she found herself frowning as he counted out a huge wad of money. She said, 'I'd be happy with anything - that's a lot of money.'

'We can always get more.'

(You mean steal more, Loki.)

He turned to her and smiled, and her doubts vanished. 'I'll see you in half an hour. An hour, tops.'

He kissed her before he left. He tasted like strawberries and cigarettes, and she would have dragged him back into bed, but he detached himself from her and left, his fingers raised in a little wave.

The door had only just closed behind Loki when she heard something click behind her.

The sound was familiar.

It was familiar, but it couldn't be ...

For three months, she'd woken to gnawing anxiety about being in this situation. For three months, she'd wondered why it had taken so long for Dreykov to find her. After a while, she'd started to hope ... maybe he really did let her go? He really didn't care anymore, that she was now free to do whatever she wished?

Ha.

As if.

The gun behind her clicked again.

'He seems like a nice boy,' drawled a voice. She recognised that voice; she knew that voice. 'Who is he?'

Natasha couldn't turn around. If she did, if she saw who was standing there, she would die - her heart would stop, she knew it.

She turned.

Dreykov - tall and thin and dark as ever - was leaning against the wall. His gun was aimed at her face, and his lips were curled in a smile.

Natasha backed into the table. Her and Loki's wine glasses from the night before smashed onto the floor, but she hardly noticed.

Dreykov was still as a stone. Ever watchful, ever controlled, ever calm. His face hadn't changed since the last time she'd saw him.