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Near Mint	By : OmniaVanitus Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 2735 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story. No money is being made from this story.

Chapter List
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The early morning light shone brightly against Coulson's eyes making him throw a careless arm over his face to shield them.
He was back in his bedroom again, having been dragged there by Loki after round two on the couch. But no sooner had he hit the bed than the god pounced again, sucking him to hardness and preparing his body while his mind was lost in the warmth of the god's mouth. He had been flipped over then, his hips cushioned and propped up by pillows, and before he knew what was happening Loki was pressing into him.
He would have fought him off, but his arms and body had felt so heavy he could little more than moan and whine and come so hard he passed out. He still felt tired, but deeply sated and he wasn't quite sure how to feel about that.
Coulson's hand drifted up to the scar on his chest, his fingers lightly trailing over the raised edges, and shivered at the memory of Loki's mouth. He felt the bed shift next to him suddenly and tensed as the god tucked into his side firmly, curling a long pale leg up over his hip as he propped his head on a slender hand. The picture of a seductive pose.
And Coulson's reaction was immediate.
His hands flew to the edge of the sheet that lay bunched up around his groin, barely covering his manhood, and pulled it to his chest, kicking himself internally for the very unmanly shriek that he was fairly certain had come from his own mouth.
Loki's eyes crinkled with laughter and his wide mischievous grin was in danger of devouring his face. "I could help you with that," the god offered, his voice tinged with clear amusement. His free hand snaked its way up under the covers to brush over his half hard cock and flat stomach until he finally reached the prominent scar, letting his fingers trace over its edges. Coulson's breath hitched as a wave of tingles swept over him and settled along his spine.
They laid like that for several minutes, with Coulson sprawled out and motionless save for the slight tremors that ran through his limbs as Loki's long fingers played over his scar. It was oddly soothing, and he didn't like it.
"You can't possible hope to earn my forgiveness like this do you," Coulson asked bitterly.
"Not like this, no," Loki agreed, his laughing green eyes turning dark with thought as the mood shifted.
"Then what possible reason could you have for doing all of this?"
"I needed time," the god answered, his fingers still smoothing over the ugly patch of skin. "Time to figure you out and to decide on how to proceed."
"To figure me out," Coulson echoed. "And have you?"
"I may be the god of lies and chaos, but I am also considered by many to be the god of change."
"Ragnarok."
"Exactly. And in my opinion, dying builds character. I've done it myself a number of times."
The agent's blue eyes narrowed. "Not everyone is capable of reincarnation."
"True enough, but you humans are surprisingly adaptive. And trust someone who knows," the god said emphatically, tapping a finger against the scar. "You're being lied to."
"Everyone lies."
Loki gave a halfhearted shrug, and then he was gone. No puff of green smoke. No crack of magic. Just nothing.
The agent sighed tiredly, letting the tension that had been building up in the god's presence uncoil and drain out from his body. It was too damn early for this crap.
He laid in bed for awhile longer, not quite willing to leave its warmth despite having shared it with his murderer. Eventually though Coulson rolled out of bed carefully, wincing at the lingering burn of stretched muscles that still had his legs feeling rubbery, and limped his way to the bathroom to shower. He stayed under the spray of hot water, letting the pulsing showerhead beat against his skin until the water ran cold. Even then he was reluctant to leave, not quite ready to start his day. He would be leaving soon, departing sometime that afternoon on the Bus, one of SHIELD's state-of-the-art airplanes, and he wasn't sure when he would be able to return to his apartment.
Not that it really mattered. He lost his real home when his death certificate had been signed.
Back in his room Coulson pulled on a blue pinstripe suit. It was one of the few things he had managed to retain from his predeath days and only because it had been on the helicarrier at the time, along with a handful of his other belongings. Everything else was gone, having been left to his mother to sort out and donate. And now she was gone too.
Coulson walked out into the living room as he straightened his tie, pointedly ignoring the couch Loki had fucked him through the night before. He moved to the kitchen for his customary breakfast of coffee and donuts, powdered this time, and hesitated only briefly before returning to the living room to retrieve his gun.
He found it quickly, the gun having somehow made its way onto the coffee table, but what caught his attention was the little black box sitting next to it.
Realistically, he should have called SHIELD the moment Loki had vanished into thin air.
Realistically, he shouldn't have opened the box.
But everyone lies and everyone has secrets and neither stopped him from carefully pulling off the lid and peering inside.
Nestled inside amongst the crisp white tissue paper was a set of Captain America cards and his chest tightened as he pulled them out. They were his, the some ones from before with the slight boxing around the edges and Steve Rogers' very own signature adorning them. But they were unbent and free of any bloodstains.
Near mint.

The hospital room was quiet save for the solemn beep of the heart monitor. Their resident doctor, Agent Jemma Simmons, moved through the room efficiently, checking over her patient's vitals. There wasn't much she could do though. Skye was dying.
She'd been shot in the stomach twice and it was a miracle she was even still alive, but she was strong. Despite the fact that her vitals were slowly fading.
"I'm sure she'll pull through," Agent Simmons said to the room's other occupant, her British accent gentle and encouraging, but Agent Phil Coulson didn't respond. He stood unmoving in a corner of the room, his blue eyes unfocused and trained on a spot above Skye's bed. Simmons offered him a small sad smile before quietly leaving him to his own thoughts.
It was awhile before Coulson finally moved, taking slow steps until he was standing by her bed. He didn't know how long he stood there watching over her, but he was brought out of his reverie by the sudden presence at his side and he huffed in irritation as Loki bent down over Skye's prone form, poking her cheek with his index finger.
"What are you doing here," he snapped, his patients long since worn thin.
Loki flashed him with a cheeky grin. "I happened to be in the neighborhood, as you mortals say."
"35,000 feet in the air?" The god shrugged, his curious green eyes straying to the heart monitor and IV drip. Coulson ran a hand over his tired face and rolled his shoulders warily. "Loki, it's been a really long day. What do you want?"
"I thought you could do with my assistance."
"She's dying. So unless your assistance comes in the form of healing her, I'm not interested."
"There is a means for everything," the god said offhandedly, instantly catching Coulson's attention.
"If you can save her then do it."
"And for what possible reason would I do that?"
"A life for a life."
Loki turned then, his piercing green-eyed gaze locking with Coulson's earnest blue eyes, searching them. "This would settle my debt with you?"
"It would," the agent said adamantly, trying hard to keep to the flicker of hope from his voice.
"Not all lives are equal, and I am not naive enough to believe that restoring hers would fully compensate you for yours."
"Her life is just as important as mine or anyone else's. What makes you so goddamn sure it isn't?"
"Odin has seen fit to bestow upon me a form of allsight," the god said as he raised a hand to his temple to rub away the sudden migraine. "I can look at you and see instantly how your death has effected those around you, like unending ripples in the water. But I cannot see how I am to remedy it."
"Then consider this a start."
Loki cocked his head to side as he considered the man before him. Finally he nodded in agreement, a slow devious smile spreading across his face like poison.
"I've heard good things about T.A.H.I.T.I."

Director Nicholas Fury was dead.
Or at least that was what he would have everyone believe anyway. Being dead had its advantages after all, even more so considering SHIELD had gone to hell in a handbasket. All courtesy of HYDRA.
There were still people he trusted however, few though they may be, and he already had them set in motion to defeat HYDRA and restore SHIELD. Almost anyway. Coulson and his little team had gone off the radar, but Fury wasn't worried.
Unfortunately, playing dead had its disadvantages too.
Fury rubbed his hands together, warming them by the open fire coming up from the rusty metal barrel he had out in the alley behind his safe house. Cliché maybe, but it certainly helped him look the part of a homeless person. Gone were his signature leather trench coat and eyepatch, replaced instead with a worn leather jacket and hoodie, blackout sunglasses and black knit beanie.
He doubted anyone would recognize him now, or would have if the fucking god of mischief wasn't standing right there in front of him sharing his fire.
"It amazes me how many dead men roam your world, Director."
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Cannot two men share the same fire?"
"Not when one of them is supposed to be imprisoned on another goddamn planet." Loki's impish grin had Fury's hands twitching with the urge to strangle, shoot, disembowel or otherwise mutilate the fallen god. They all seemed like valid options.
"Perhaps we should take this little meeting of ours inside," Loki suggested.
Fury muttered under his breath, but conceded. Starting a street brawl with an alien deity out in broad daylight would pretty much guaranty his cover being blown to straight to hell. He turned, leading the god down the alley to an alcove where he quickly punched a code into a hidden keypad, disengaging the locks to a heavy metal security door.
Loki stepped through first, his sharp eyes sweeping over the desolate interior. The main floor looked to be completely gutted, consisting of only smooth cement floors, brick pillars and an industrial metal staircase that led up to the second floor where Fury had set up camp with a small kitchenette, a military style bunk and a vast array of high-tech computers and equipment. Across the open cavernous of the first floor, Loki could see a row of shiny cars, black stakeout vans and typical government issued SUVs and a wide lift gate garage door. And from behind him Loki could hear the sound of a gun being cocked.
Loki spun around in a slow dramatic turn, his impish grin still firmly in place. The director didn't even hesitate in firing off a round making the god stumble back from the blow, but once again came away unscathed. Loki's green eyes glinted dangerously, but just as he opened his mouth to unleash some snarky little comment, Fury pulled the trigger again and again until the magazine emptied.
"If it didn't work the first time," Loki snapped, "what made you think it would work the next fifteen times?!"
"I didn't," Fury stated calmly. "I just like shooting you."
Loki huffed irritably and echoed the directors soft chuckle with low threatening growl. "So happy to amuse you, Director," he groused.
Fury ejected the spent magazine and slid in a full one, smirking internally as the god watched him cautiously. His .45 pistol might not have broken skin, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt like a bitch. "So, to what do I owe this little impromptu visit of yours," he asked, leading the way to his makeshift office on the second level.
"Atonement," the god said as he claimed a seat on a spare office chair before going into further detail of his parole. By the time Loki had finished the god's eye was twitching in annoyance and Fury was on the verge of unleashing a very uncharacteristic cackle.
"And how exactly do you plan to repay me for the men you killed and my shit you destroyed?"
"You're a reasonable man, Director, though to be clear I'm indebted to you for the destruction of your helicarrier and for the theft of the tesseract."
"You killed over eighty of my agents!"
"For which I owe their families, not you."
Fury's scowl returned full force and even though the dark sunglasses were obscuring the man's eyes, Loki could tell they were narrowed. "And for my helicarrier and the tesseract? What do you owe for that?"
"Not as much as you might think considering your windfall following my defeat. What is the name of that shiny new base of yours? Ah yes, the Triskelion. As for the rest, I do have an idea or two on how I can repay you. Perhaps even one that you will agree to."
The god's appearance shifted then as a green-gold light enveloped him and when the light faded Fury was left staring at a gorgeous, dark-skinned woman. Dressed in a dark midnight green dress that hugged his...her curves, Loki's inky black hair had lengthened and twisted into a luxurious mass of braids and her sharp features had softened. Loki crossed her long legs and folded her arms under her ample breasts, pushing them up more to provide him with a generous view of cleavage.
She was beautiful, Fury would admit, a Nubian princess, but he was far too seasoned a spy to fall prey to a pretty face. Plus his wife would rip his balls off with her bare hands if she ever knew.
In the end he was unimpressed and uninterested.
"As eager as you are to whore yourself out for redemption, you'll have to do better than that with me."
Loki rolled a thin shoulder. "Then you leave me with only one option," she replied in a smoky voice, her vibrant green eyes locking with his. And then she was upon him, flying out of her chair and over the cheap metal desk to tackle him to the floor.
Fury's gun was still in his hand, knowing better than to let his guard down, but before he could take aim his arm was knocked to the side and his hand slammed to the ground hard enough to make him squeeze off an accidental shot.
Loki straddled his chest and dug her knees into his upper arms, pinning them down with her weight as her hand went to his throat and squeezed for a brief, threatening moment. Her other hand came up to his face, ripping away the dark sunglasses and throwing them aside to reveal his eyes, one so dark brown it was almost black and the other milky white.
Loki pressed her fingers to Fury's dead eye, spreading the eyelid wide apart so she could inspect it better. After a moment she let go, only to press the heel of her hand to the milky white eye. Bright golden light flared under her hand, searing into the director's skull with a blinding heat and light that made him thrash and kick out.
And soon the empty building was filling with his screams.
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Near Mint