You spend the next several days in much the same fashion. Weapons training in the morning with Natasha, followed by lunch, then combat training in the afternoon with either Steve or Tony. You end each evening with dinner in Loki's quarters, outside of his locked door. While he hasn't spoken since pizza night, he has routinely started coming to the door and sitting on the other side during each of your visits.
You would eagerly tell him about your day, sharing both the exciting and boring parts. And each time you'd be sure to leave enough food for a meal or two, usually finding empty plates or empty boxes in the kitchen the next evening.
It provides some relief, knowing he eats what you leave. But you can't help but feel a twinge of frustration that Loki is still completely shutting you out. As you push a few leftover pieces of fruit around your breakfast plate, you wonder if there's anything else you can do to get him to open that damn door - short of having Tony blast it open for you. He'd probably enjoy doing that, come to think of it.
"Look alive, squirt. I have a job for you."
Speak of the devil.
You glance up from your breakfast to spot Tony's Iron Man suit float in through the entryway. Excitement ripples through your chest.
"A mission?!" you ask eagerly, leaping to your feet, breakfast forgotten.
"Yup," Tony says, his voice metallic as it filters through his faceplate. "Get down to the lab. 5 minutes."
"Wait," you say, noticing how strangely stiff the suit is - and the fact that it's the Mark III. Tony hasn't used the Mark III in weeks. "Are you actually in there?" you ask, remembering how a few days ago Tony's suit had been flying around on its own as Tony tested a new feature.
"Nope," Tony answers. "Now get down to the lab."
Tony's suit turns to fly off - you're not sure where, since you're pretty certain the elevator and stairwell are the only ways off the floor. But it doesn't matter. What does matter is that you've just been invited to your first mission.
Your first mission.
"W-wait!" you shout as the suit disappears around the corner. "What do I need?!"
"Just get down to the lab!" he calls back through his suit from somewhere far away.
Giddy with excitement - and anxiety - you run to your room to change out of your pajamas and into your tacsuit. You double check your utility belt and sprint to the elevators, making it down to the lab to find it...dark. And empty.
"Uh, Tony?" you call out. "Hey, I'm here...where are you?"
Confused, you wander into the lab. The moment you step past the glass doors the lights flicker on, and the whir of machinery kicks up.
"Tony?" you call out again.
"Good morning, miss," JARVIS says.
"Oh, uh, hi," you say, glancing up at the ceiling. "Where's Tony?"
"He's out on assignment, miss," JARVIS answers. "I have been instructed to direct you to the center podium."
"Center podium?" you question, glancing around the eerily quiet lab. Without Tony's blaring rock music and the standard stream of curses he lets out when working on new projects, it feels...dead. But as you inventory the lab, you don't see a central podium. "I don't know what you're talking about," you frown.
"Here, miss," JARVIS says as in the center of the lab a small, circular platform raises out of the ground, surrounded by a ring of blue light. "Please step on," he instructs.
"Okaaaay," you muse, stepping onto the platform. As soon as your second foot lands, virtual screens and projections pop up all around, surrounding you in 360 degrees of what looks like camera footage of the same forest, but from different places. "Woah," you exhale. "What the hell is this?"
"Hey, language," Steve says from...somewhere. His voice clear, and close.
"About time, squirt," Tony's voice says.
"Tony?" you question. "Steve? What's going on?"
"Questions later," Tony huffs. "Squirt, I need you to get eyes on Banner for me."
"Uh...how do I do that?" you ask, gaze flitting from screen to screen.
"Just find his feed," Tony says. "I can't access it from here."
"Feed?" you question.
"You didn't prep her?!" Natasha's voice comes through, winded.
"Way to go, Rocket Man," Clint snarks.
"Hey, she can do it," Tony says. "Can't you, squirt?"
"Uh sure," you answer. "If someone would be so nice as to tell me what the hell is going on?" you shout.
"Hey, Y/n, everything's okay," Steve's voice comes through, calm and reassuring. "We're out in the field. We're not far from the city, but we've lost track of Bruce. He was supposed to stay with the jet, but he fell out of contact about forty minutes ago. We need you to see if you can tell where he is."
"Yeah, yeah okay," you say, fingers twitching with adrenaline.
"Bottom right of the screens," Tony says. "There's a - HEY, WATCH IT!" Tony's voice cuts out as a serious of loud blasts and metal ricochet fill the line.
"Tony?" you call out.
"He's fine, Y/n," Natasha says. "Find Bruce."
"O-okay," you stammer, eyes flitting from screen to screen.
On one, the forest flashes by in unbelievable speed. Suddenly Steve's shield goes flying into the trees, and two bodies clad in dark black fall from the branches.
"Nice toss, Cap," you mumble, gaze flitting across the others, looking for any sign of Bruce. Growing more anxious by the second, you finally find a dark screen. No signal. "Uh, guys? I think his signal's out."
"Damn," Natasha seethes.
"What do I do?" you ask.
"Keep watching," she says. "If it comes back online, let us know."
"Okay," you answer, watching as each feed shows a unique perspective. One lurks up high, hidden in the branches. That must be Clint. Another looks down on what seems to be a small compound from somewhere in the sky. That's Tony. Steve and Natasha both seem to be in a forest of some kind, dealing with guards and taking them out one by one in a flurry of shield strikes and roundhouse kicks.
"Who are these guys?!" you shout.
"From what I can tell? Bosnian special forces," Steve grunts, swinging from a tree branch and taking out a dark-clad figure with a strong kick. "Fury's doing the US Government a favor and loaning us out on this one."
"What are they doing here?" you ask.
"We don't know," Clint answers as he looks down his bow and lets an arrow fly. "Part of the problem."
"I thought we were allies with Bosnia?!" you gasp, closing your eyes as Natasha fires a round straight through a man's head.
"Yeah, us too," grunts Tony. "And Sarajevo is lovely this time of year. Real shame."
"We don't know if they're sanctioned," Steve says. "They're probably a rogue militia bought and paid for by someone else."
"Yeah, don't sweat it Stark," Clint says. "Your summer home is probably just fine."
"Can we please focus!" Natasha urges. "Bruce is missing."
"Yeah, yeah okay. Sorry," you say, returning your attention to the single dark screen where Bruce's feed should be. But it doesn't blink. Doesn't flicker. Doesn't do anything.
I have to be able to do something.
"JARVIS," you say out loud. "Can you rewind the footage on Banner's feed?"
"Yes, miss."
Suddenly that dark screen comes to life, the footage playing quickly in reverse. "Okay, stop," you say as the quinjet comes into view. You narrow your gaze, studying the landscape. Bruce is on the ground, looking at the landing gear of the jet. His camera shifts as he stands, and walks to the front of the ship. Suddenly the angle changes, as if Bruce had turned out of surprise. But there's nothing there. Just an empty field, and the lowered ramp of the quinjet. Slowly, his field of vision turns again to look back at what he had been studying on the front of the ship, when suddenly, the feed goes dark.
"Damnit," you mumble to yourself. "JARVIS, rewind again. There has to be something there." JARVIS rewinds the footage. Over and over you watch the feed - at least six times. But you spot nothing. "Can you slow it down?" you ask. JARVIS puts the footage in slow motion. "Wait, wait what's that?" you question as this time, when Bruce turns around, something flashes off the chrome siding of the jet. Like a camera flash. "JARVIS, what was that light?" you ask.
"Unidentified," JARVIS answers.
"Slow it down more," you say.
The footage creeps ever slower, but you can't make anything out behind the flash.
"Can you filter out the glare?" you ask.
"Processing at 40% granularity," JARVIS says.
The footage grows fuzzy, before sharpening once more. This time, the colors are dull, and the footage is darker.
"Okay, try again," you say. "Rewind it and play it slow."
You hold your breath, and wait in anticipation as Bruce's feed turns. The flash. But this time...you can make out a figure in the reflection of the quinjet, behind the flash. Something long. Pointed.
"Tony," you say in horror. "Tony something bad happened."
"Speak up, squirt," Tony shouts.
"Someone took Bruce," you say.
"Who?" Natasha barks.
"I-I don't know," you say. "But...I think they shot him. That flash...it was off a rifle scope. Close proximity. I-I only saw one, but...Tony he could be hurt."
"No," Natasha snaps. "No, we landed far enough away. They wouldn't have armed guards out there."
"Unless...this isn't the real base," Steve says, grunting as in his feed his fist goes right through a man's jaw.
"Damnit, this is the proxy station," Tony barks. "Avengers, regroup. Back to the jet and start a grid pattern search. Well done, squirt. Excellent work. That's all we needed. We'll see you back at the tower."
"Wait, I can still help!" you plead. "Where are you?"
"No time, too dangerous," Tony snaps back.
"Then I can...I don't know - watch? Wait to see if the feed comes back on?"
"Can't leave these lines open, they'll jack in," Tony says. "Gotta go dark. We'll be home in time for dinner."
"Tony, wait! I can-!" Suddenly, all the feeds go black, and the platform starts slowly sinking into the floor. "Ugh," you groan. "That is SO not fair," you pout. "JARVIS, can you patch me back in?"
"Negative, miss," he answers. "Master Stark has locked his communication channels to avoid enemy interference."
"Just great," you groan. "Now what am I supposed to do?"
"You could engage in an extracurricular activity until they return, miss," JARVIS answers.
You glare up at the ceiling. "Oh go fry your own circuits," you grumble.
"I have logged your request, miss."
With an exasperated groan, you throw yourself into a chair nearby, and simply wait.
And wait.
And wait.
As you absentmindedly start doodling on your fifth piece of paper torn from one of Tony's notebooks nearby, a commotion from down the hall toward the garage catches your attention.
"I said I'm fine," Bruce's voice floats down the hall.
"And I said I'm going to take a look at you," Tony says sternly.
You jump up out of your chair and run to greet the team at the entrance from the garage. In strolls Tony and Bruce, both without a scratch. Natasha follows closely behind, with a single rip in the sleeve of her suit, but otherwise unharmed. Steve comes next, a little sweaty with a dirt streak across his cheek. Clint ambles in last, chowing down on some kind of granola bar.
"Hey Y/n," he grins, taking the last bite. "Nice work on those feeds. Saved us hours."
"Uh, what the hell?!" you frown, crossing your arms in petulance.
"Hey squirt," Tony says, escorting Bruce over to the bioscanners. "Good job today."
"Yeah, thanks," Bruce says bashfully. "They, uh...got the drop on me."
"We wouldn't have found him so quickly without you," Natasha smiles, wrapping you up in a massive hug. "Thank you," she whispers in your ear.
Your cheeks warm, and suddenly your frustration from earlier is gone. "Oh," you say. "Yeah, it was no problem. I'm just glad he wasn't hurt."
Natasha offers you a warm smile before following Tony and Bruce across the lab as they turn their attention to the bioscans.
"I'm starving," Clint grumbles. "Any eggs left in the fridge?"
"About two dozen," you answer. "But that might not be enough for you and Steve, I'd get up there."
Clint books it to the elevator, casting a glance at Steve over his shoulder as he goes. Steve just laughs, and places a friendly hand on your shoulder. "You made a difference today," he says. "Good job."
"I could have been more help if I was actually there," you pout. "I didn't even hear the mission alarm."
"It was early," Steve says. "And we didn't have enough intel to make a solid plan. It wasn't the right time to bring you out. Besides...you might have saved Bruce today."
"I'm just glad he wasn't hurt."
"Me too," Steve grins.
"Captain Rogers?" JARVIS' voice comes over the intercom. "A private message was left for you during your departure."
"Patch it through in my quarters," Steve answers.
"Very good, sir."
Steve reaches out and ruffles your hair. "Be patient," he says. "Tony will get you out there."
As Steve heads for the elevator, you cast one more glance over to Natasha and Tony, who are in the process of scanning Bruce. While you're relieved he's okay, and proud of yourself for helping, you're still frustrated by not being let out into the field. With an exasperated groan, you leave the three Avengers behind, and take the elevator up to the balcony, in desperate need for some fresh air.
As the warm rays of late autumn hit your face, breathing gets a little bit easier. For a moment you simply bask in the late afternoon light. There aren't many warm days left. As you turn your face to the sun, you wonder if Bruce would have been taken if Thor had been here to help. Since the blonde god's appearance in your quarters two weeks ago, you hadn't seen him. Not once. Which, according to Natasha, isn't all that rare. Thor rarely spends time on Earth when there isn't an emergency. Technically, he isn't supposed to be on Earth at all - some sort of weird Asgardian law about not interfering in other realms.
You walk over to the edge of the balcony, resting your elbows on the glass half-wall that separates you from a 34-story drop onto the city below. Breathing in deeply, you cast a glance up to the upper floors of the tower, and spot the bottom of Loki's balcony about 12 floors above.
I wonder if Thor misses his brother.
"Hey Thor," you call out. "I mean, I know it's not really Thor who can hear me, but since I don't know who you are, I'll just pretend I'm talking to Thor."
For a moment, you roll your eyes at yourself, still not sure how all this exactly works. But over the past weeks you've sent occasional messages to Thor. When you're feeling frustrated or lonely, you'll sit on the balcony and simply...talk.
"I went on my first mission today," you say. "Well, I mean, I didn't actually go. But I helped. Which is a good start."
You mentally facepalm yourself, wondering if whoever gets these messages even bothers to relay them.
"Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I listened to your advice. And I spoke to Loki. I thought I had gotten somewhere with him, but...I guess I was wrong."
You trail off, sinking into the memory of how good Loki's presence in your mind had felt the last time you saw him. It had been warm. Soft. All encompassing. You snap out of reverie as a chilly wind sends a shiver up your spine.
"Anyway, nothing urgent," you say, continuing your monologue. "I just wanted to make sure you got the message that...well, that I'm trying. Because I do care for him, Thor. And I'll keep trying. I promise."
Letting out a therapeutic sigh, you stand for a while outside. Enjoying the fresh air. Finally, you turn to go back inside, and press the button for the elevator, which you notice, curiously, is stopped on Loki's floor.
Hmmm, I wonder who went up there to speak to him?
You wait for the elevator to descend, and are surprised to see Steve inside when the doors open - still in his uniform.
"Steve?"
"Oh! Uh, h-hi Y/n." Steve says, a slight blush crawling into his cheeks. Your eyes narrow as you stare at him suspiciously.
You enter the elevator quietly, and let a moment pass before speaking. "So...what were you doing up on Loki's floor, Steve?" You ask, staring straight ahead at the doors.
"What? Oh, I was uh, just...restocking the kitchen units."
"Really? That's weird. Pepper usually does that."
"Oh yeah, she had some things she needed to do today."
"And so you had to step in? Immediately after a mission?"
"Yep," Steve answers.
"Before even getting changed?"
"Yeah," Steve says, his gaze firmly averted.
"Before the debrief?" you challenge.
"Uh," Steve hums. "Yeah, well, it'll take a bit for Tony to look over Bruce. So I figured I'd just...make use of my time."
You scoff and cast a side-eyed glance at Steve who is staring straight ahead, unwilling to make eye contact. He's always been a terrible liar.
"So," you muse. "When I go up there later today, all the cabinets are going to be stocked?"
Steve swallows, and stays quiet.
"Yeah," you whisper. "That's what I thought."
"Okay listen," Steve says, letting out a massive sigh of relief as the doors open to the main hall. "He just wanted to talk. That's all. And it's really not my place to share what we talked about."
Steve starts hurrying down the hallway toward his quarters, which are down the opposite corridor of your own. You follow him, trying to keep pace without breaking into a jog.
"Wait, Loki spoke to you? He actually spoke to you?"
You feel a flash of jealous rage surge through your body as you reach out and grab Steve by his shirt, quickly stepping in front of him and shoving his shoulder so he's pressed up against the wall.
"What did he say to you? What did you talk about?"
Steve holds up his hands in surrender, his eyes darting about for an escape route.
"Steve...," you growl, whipping out the training baton from your utility belt and pushing it up against his neck.
His eyes flick down to the door handle immediately to your right. You follow his gaze, but react just a moment too late. Steve grabs the baton, twists your arm gently and gives you a shove, throwing open the door to his quarters and slamming it shut behind him, locking it.
"Sorry, Y/n. I'm really not at liberty to discuss," Steve shouts, his voice muffled through the door.
You pound on his door with each word. Hard.
"NOT. AT. LIBERTY. TO. DISCUSS?" You let out a roar of frustration. "So you have secrets with him now?!"
"Just go talk to him yourself, Y/n!" says Steve through the door.
"You don't think that's what I've been trying to do for weeks now, Rogers?!"
Suddenly, Clint peeks his head around the corner from down the corridor. "Hey, Y/n, everything all right?"
You let out a low, menacing growl, whispering quietly through the door to Steve on the other side. "We're not done here."
"Yep! All fine!" you holler back at Clint, who shrugs and disappears back into the kitchen.
Giving Steve's door one last solid hit for good measure, you walk off to the living room, and sit on the couch, not budging for the rest of the afternoon through dinner. Waiting for Steve to inevitably come into the kitchen for food.